Katsuki was studying in his room when there was a knock on the door. It was sharp and fast, as though the person on the other side didn't actually see the point of knocking.

For a moment, he considered whether or not it was worth answering the door. He was busy, dammit. But not many people were brave-or stupid-enough to knock on his door like this, and the few who were usually had a damn good reason.

Just as Katsuki decided to get out of his chair, he heard a voice call out authoritatively, "Bakugo, open the fucking door."
Katsuki couldn't help but roll his eyes, even as surprise rolled through him. Why the hell was Uraraka knocking on his door.

Crossing the room in a few strides, Katsuki yanked the door open as he muttered, "Jeez, what the fuck has you all worked up?"
In the hallway outside, Uraraka stood with her arms crossed, determination on her face. It wasn't quite as steady as that expression usually was, though; she seemed to be deeply unsettled over something, hesitant almost. Maybe she was having second thoughts about talking to him.

Hell, Katsuki couldn't blame her. He'd been having plenty of second thoughts himself lately.

Before he could even invite her in, Uraraka shouldered him aside, marching into his room like she owned the place. It impressed Katsuki, honestly; then again, it wasn't like that was new. Uraraka was damn impressive in her own right. Even his first-year self, all anger and ego and smoke, had managed some grudging respect.

And Katsuki wasn't that person anymore. He tried not to be, at least.

Stealing the chair Katsuki had just been sitting in for herself, Uraraka snapped, "Close the door. We need to talk."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, but figured that whatever had Uraraka this focused, it was probably not something he should take lightly. He obeyed, shutting the door and setting himself down on his bed, facing the shorter girl.

"Alright, now explain why you came barging in here like I killed your cat or some shit," he demanded. Katsuki may have been trying to be less of an asshole, but some things-like an acid tongue that still got away from him more than he would have liked-stuck around.

Uraraka took a deep breath, as though trying to settle her thoughts and come to terms with something she still hadn't fully processed or accepted. At last, she looked up to meet his eye, and said curtly, "You were right. Shimura isn't All Might's daughter, she...she came back from the dead somehow."

Katsuki…genuinely didn't know how to respond to that. He'd been pretty sure of it himself, but having it confirmed by someone else, someone who rightly hated him at that, was…it took him a second to process it.

The first short, half-formed words that escaped his lips were "How?"

It could have been about anything, but Uraraka seemed to understand what he was asking. She explained, "Last night, I went downstairs to get a snack, and I…overheard Shimura and Deku talking. Deku said it himself."

Katsuki's mind whirled in circles. That confirmed his half-baked theories…and shattered them at the same time. Clearly, the nerd knew what his girlfriend was, or at least some of what she was. Katsuki wasn't sure what that meant.

"I see," he said quietly, lost in his thoughts.

For a long, strange moment, Uraraka didn't say a word. She just stared at him, her eyes sharp and cutting like a razor. They seemed to strip away every layer Katsuki had, examining each one…and being surprised at what they found.

Eventually, Katsuki felt a shard of his temper flare up. With an echo of the dangerous heat he'd become so infamous for, he demanded, "Why the hell are you starin' at me like that?"

"I don't know," Uraraka admitted after a hesitant moment, "I guess…I was expecting you to be more, I don't know, Bakugo about this?"

That made Katsuki cross his arms and lean back against the wall, his body language bitter and dangerous and unsure all at once. A derisive snort bubbled up in his throat as he snapped, "What, you want me to gloat? Brag about how I was right and you weren't about us maybe being in danger? Put my fucking pride over actually dealing with the goddamn problem?"

They both knew that he would have, once. Maybe still would, if Katsuki wasn't trying so fucking hard to learn a lesson he never should have needed. He'd been doing everything he could to stop being such an egotistical asshole…but of course, it wasn't enough. It never would be, and he knew it.

"I don't think she's a danger to anyone," Uraraka told him, looking thoughtful as she reviewed her sleep-colored memories of the night before, "she seemed more… scared than menacing. She was nearly crying. I think…I think she doesn't have her memories from before. Or not all of them, at least."

"Hmph," Katsuki snorted, tilting his head back further to stare at the ceiling. Inside, his thoughts were still scrambled. It felt like every response his instincts and habits tried to force on him was the wrong one. They probably were; he knew himself well enough to know that now.

Uraraka's expression grew even more confused than it had been previously. Waving her hand at him as though snapping him out of something, she told him sarcastically, "Hello? This is the part where you disagree?"

"I don't know if I do," Katsuki admitted heavily, forcing the words out from between reluctant lips. As soon as he had, he felt lighter somehow, as if the weight of being unwilling to admit his doubts had finally begun to lift. He knew the old him would never have done that, never admitted hesitation, because it would have meant admitting weakness.

Suddenly, Uraraka jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing with suspicion and confusion. Jabbing her finger at him, she demanded, "Okay, seriously, what the fuck is going on with you? You're the one who told me about this in the first place, and now that there's proof, you're getting cold feet?"

As hard as Katsuki was fighting to keep his temper in check, he couldn't win forever. He tamped down the urge to set his palms crackling as he leaned forwards, snarling, "Oh, so I should go in guns blazing? Blow shit up and hurt people, based on nothing more than me being a paranoid asshole who can't handle the thought of someone beating me in a fight?"

The words hurt as they left his mouth. Katsuki wasn't sure if he was speaking truths or not anymore. He didn't think he was any of those things…but he didn't really trust what he thought anymore. He'd thought he was the strongest person in his class, and Shimura had kicked his ass without breaking a sweat. He'd thought he was naturally heroic, and then Deku had shown him what heroism actually looked like.

Uraraka crossed her arms again, looking thoroughly unimpressed by him. He couldn't blame her. "That's what you've always been," she pointed out harshly, "What makes this time any different?"

Katsuki clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought to control himself. Taking deep breaths and closing his eyes helped, but he couldn't lose sight of the topic at hand. Eventually, he knew how he wanted, needed to respond. "Because…because you're right," he admitted, his voice achingly quiet, but ringing through the small room nonetheless. "That's what I always do, and I always hurt people. I don't know how to not hurt people when I try to help them."

For a second, Katsuki saw something that might have been surprise, and pity, flicker in Uraraka's gaze. But as soon as it might have appeared, it was gone again, disappearing as though behind a curtain of hard, unforgiving steel. "It's about a decade too late to start having a conscience, Bakugo," she told him, her stormy eyes filled with righteous anger. It was one of the first things Katsuki had learned about Uraraka. She was willing to forgive a lot of things, willing to reach out to almost anyone…but hurt her friends, and both of those were forever off the table. The worst part was, Katsuki couldn't blame her in the slightest. Maybe he even welcomed the scorn, just a little bit; finally, here was someone who would stand up to him, look him in the eye and tell him that no, nothing he'd done was right, or good, or okay.

He felt as though his soul was being scraped with sandpaper as he softly agreed, "I know. I can't take back all the shitty stuff I've done…but I can try to fucking learn a thing or two from it."

Uraraka met his eyes steadily, her expression unreadable. Katsuki didn't know what she was seeing in him, what she was scrutinizing so closely; even so, he tried to pour sincerity into his eyes, tried to communicate just how much he meant his words. He hoped against hope that, somehow, she saw that he really was being honest, with her…and with himself.

At last, Uraraka's gaze shifted, as though she'd finally found something worth acknowledging. With fire in her voice, she snapped, "You know what? Fine. You wanna actually try to fix how shitty you are, go ahead. Heaven knows I wouldn't mind you being an actual hero for once. But that doesn't change the fact that we don't know what we're going to do."

"What do you mean, we?" Katsuki countered, heat filling his voice as well.

Uraraka rolled her eyes; with her hands on her hips, she reminded Katsuki of his mother, about to tell him off for being an absolute fucking moron again. She told him, "You got me into this mess. However you plan to fix it, I'm going to help make sure nobody gets hurt. After all, I actually give a damn about the people I call my friends."

Katsuki took the thinly veiled jab silently; what, was he supposed to get pissed? It was only the truth, after all.

Instead, he answered, "What do you think I've been doing, this whole time? I've known something isn't right with Twinkle Toes for a long time. But I still can't figure out what the hell to do about it! Hell, we don't even know what she is!"

Without even really being conscious of what he was doing, Katsuki rose to his feet, pacing endlessly as the words exploded out of him. Raw and angry, he continued, "She might be a Nomu, or the product of some freaky quirk, or something else entirely! She might be evil, or not…and if I fuck this up, if I do act like the aggressive asshole I'm trying so damn hard not to be anymore…then we might lose the best damn hero Japan has ever fucking had!"

At last, he fell silent again, taking deep breaths as his words seemed to hang in the air between them, filling the room with oppressive, ominous heat. He yearned for Uraraka to yell back, to give him something to focus on, to fight against. But instead, she just kept staring at him in silence, her body language stiff, her eyes strangely guarded and unreadable as she regarded him.

At last, Katsuki couldn't take it anymore. He roared, "What the fuck is that look for now?"

Uraraka blinked, as though stunned back into reality, out of her thoughts. In a tone that was almost conciliatory, she admitted, "I'm sorry, I just never expected to hear you refer to Deku as-"

Ah. So that was it. Well, today was just full of admissions Katsuki never expected to tell anyone else, huh? Softly, Katsuki sank back down onto the bed, staring at his clenched fists.

"He's better than me," Katsuki rasped, again feeling like a weight was slipping off him. It felt right, somehow, to say the truth he'd known on some level since a long-ago day with a creek and an outstretched hand, "he always has been. It shouldn't have taken me this long to see that…but, well, there's a lot of things I should have done better. It's all in the past now. I can't change it."

Had he really changed so much that he could admit the unthinkable out loud? This wasn't Shimura's doing, not exactly-he'd been slowly beginning to crawl out of the depths of his own stupidity for months, if not years-but the literal kick in the pants had helped. If that was part of the reason he wasn't so sure anymore whether she was evil or not…well, Uraraka already knew enough about the troubled state of his thoughts without him mentioning that detail.

Uraraka nodded to herself, almost imperceptibly, though her expression scarcely changed. As if deciding to move on with the conversation, she told him, "Whatever you do, do it quick. You've noticed Deku's quirk acting weirdly recently, right?"

"Yeah. You think Twinkle Toes is causing it?" Katsuki asked, remembering the bus ride when Deku had doubled over, wreathed in lightning. One For All, that guilty secret still at the back of his mind. How did that fit into all of this? Was Shimura affecting it somehow? What about the lightning that Shimura sometimes emitted, only when she went truly all-out?

Tapping her lip thoughtfully, Uraraka admitted, "I think…I don't know what I think. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my best friend is fucking a woman who's been dead for thirty years. Anything is possible next to that."

"Now that's a fucking image I didn't need today," Katsuki grumbled quietly. It earned a soft chuckle and irreverent grin from Uraraka. Somehow, that one little gesture made the tension in the room thaw, just a tiny bit, like the sun peeking through gray clouds.

Uraraka studied him for a moment longer, then sighed, "Listen, Bakugo. I don't like you. You're an arrogant, loud, pigheaded moron who thought a flashy quirk made you hot shit. Worst of all, you're a bully. If I had my way, you'd never have gotten into UA."

Once again, Katsuki felt nothing but a soft pang at her harsh words, the kind that came when someone cut through layers and layers of bullshit to hit at the truths you tried to hide from yourself. Once again, Katsuki remembered that no matter how much he changed, it would always too be late. The damage was done, and nothing could undo it. That didn't mean he shouldn't change…it just helped him remember why he needed to change, before he sank even further.

In a voice devoid of anger or sadness or….any emotion, really, he said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. Believe me, I do."

Uraraka brushed aside his words as though she'd barely heard them, or recognized the bottomless regret they hid. Instead, she continued in that same brutal, honest tone, "But for all that…you know those things as well as anyone else, now. And you're trying to change. Lord knows you're doing a shitty job of it; you keep fucking things up, and relapsing, and…and hurting people even when you're actually trying to do the right thing. But you're still trying. And for that…for that you have my respect."

Katsuki wasn't sure how to respond. He might have stammered out some words, but he didn't know. Even as Uraraka gave him one last nod and left the room, Katsuki was left sitting there, staring at his own hands, wondering what all the conflicting thoughts warring in his head meant.

He didn't even know what he was going to do with the truth, now that he had it. Did he have it?

Well, he could make one decision: whatever else he was, Katsuki Bakugo was not a coward. And all this sneaking around, investigating, keeping quiet, hiding what he knew…it felt like cowardice to him. It hadn't, before, but now Uraraka's stern gaze reminded him that there was something more than being right at stake here.

Maybe…maybe he should stop hiding. Deku, for everything else they were to each other, everything else they had done to each other…had never lied to him. And Katsuki was acutely aware that he didn't really deserve to know the truth, for all that that had never stopped him.

So at last, he made a decision: Enough hiding. Enough being afraid. Katsuki was going to go up to Deku, and Shimura, and ask them the truth. If they didn't tell him…that was okay. Katsuki would do his best to understand.

He still wasn't sure if Shimura was a threat or not…but Deku obviously didn't think she was, or he probably wouldn't be having bed-breaking sex with her every goddamn night. Maybe it was time Katsuki trusted his judgement.

If she was a threat, though, Katsuki would fall back on the one thing he still knew he was good at: fighting like nobody else could.

For the first time he could remember, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Elsewhere on the campus of UA, another argument was brewing.

Toshinori stared across the table, at the man who still terrified him to his very core. He tried to find some way to start the conversation, one that hopefully wouldn't get him punted around.

"So, uh," he began awkwardly, "that's a pretty nice black eye you have there."

On the other side of the table, Sorahiko snorted, rubbing the truly magnificent mark with a tender hand. "Yeah," he agreed, "Nana's still got one hell of a kick. This still hasn't faded from her test."

"Didn't Recovery Girl offer to heal it?" Toshinori asked.

Sorahiko shook his head, an amused smile on his face. He replied, "Nah. She said I deserved it. Which I did, to be fair."

Toshinori snorted at that. Eventually, though, his unease came back. He asked, "So…why did you fly all the way here again?"

Sorahiko sighed heavily, setting down the teacup Toshinori had given him. "I'm gonna take a wild guess here," he began heavily, "and say you still haven't told Nana anything from her past."

Toshinori's guilty wince was all the confirmation necessary. The look of disappointment on Sorahiko's face sent Toshinori right back to UA.

Even though he'd already admitted it, Toshinori muttered, "No, I haven't."

"Why not?" Sorahiko asked, blunt and straight to the point. Toshinori set his own teacup down as he tried to find some way to explain the blanket of terror that settled over him whenever he considered the idea.

At last, he looked up, into Sorahiko's unyielding gaze. Toshinori told him, "Every time I try…hell, every time I see her, I'm tempted to. But then…I remember what she was like the last time she knew all of those things, had all those memories. I can't let her go through that again. I can't go through that again."

"You have to tell her eventually, kid," Sorahiko replied, his voice gruff but not unkind, "the longer you go without telling her, the worse it'll be."

"It's easy for you to say that," Toshinori muttered, fighting off a wave of muted resentment.

Sorahiko met his eyes steadily again, as he said, "I knew her first, kid. I know exactly how hard this is to do. Hell, I felt that same pull at the test. It took everything I had not to ask her about things she'd never remember."

Toshinori looked up in surprise at that. But somehow, his own guilt turned that surprise into hollow-feeling frustration and anger. He demanded, "If you're so determined for her to know the truth, why don't you tell her? Why does it have to be me?"

Suddenly, Sorahiko couldn't meet his eyes anymore. He muttered, "You're closer. It'd be easier to break it gently."
The excuse was so obvious, Toshinori didn't even bother pointing it out. He simply repeated, "Why can't you do it?"

For a moment, Sorahiko looked up at him, surprised at the steel in Toshinori's voice. Toshinori saw regret in his old teacher's eyes, and pain, and finally some pride and respect.

Hanging his head again, Sorahiko told him bluntly, "Because you're stronger than I am. Always have been."

Toshinori had never heard that before. He was more used to getting scorn from Sorahiko than admissions like that. All he said was, "Excuse me?"

Sorahiko looked up at him once again. "You heard me, brat," he said in a voice filled with pain, "I would tell her if I could, but I can't. I can't look her in the eye and put her through that pain."

"So you expect me to?" Toshinori nearly snapped. He was fighting his own temper now; he was lashing out because he was still afraid, and he knew it. Shame flooded through him almost immediately.

For a moment, Sorahiko didn't respond. When he finally did, it was in a voice heavy with the weight of years. "You remember that day, a few months before Nana died, when we went into her apartment and found her sobbing?" he asked.

Swallowing hard, Toshinori nodded. Every moment of that day was engraved in his mind; how could it not be?

Sorahiko continued, "The first thing that went through my mind when I heard her crying was "I can't see her like this." That's why I wanted to get out of there, to preserve that image of who my best friend was. Your first reaction was to run to her, because that was the woman who was the closest thing you'd ever had to a mother, and you were not gonna leave her to feel alone like that. Am I right?"

Toshinori nodded uncomfortably; he hadn't realized that Sorahiko had noticed that…or that he'd understood so much.

Ignoring Toshinori's expression, Sorahiko finished, "That's the difference between you and me. You don't care if the people you love are hurting or weak, you're gonna help 'em anyway. Me…I ran from it. And a month later, she gave up her son. A few months after that, she was dead. I have to admit, I've wondered sometimes about whether things might have gone differently if I'd let you go to her that day. So, that's why you have to be the one to do it: I've failed her. You never did…and you can look her in the eye when she learns it and help her through that grief. I ain't strong enough to do that."

Toshinori was silent; what else could he be after that?

Softly, Sorahiko added, "When everything in her life fell apart, when she lost her husband and gave up her son…she clung to me, first. I'll carry the memory of holding her in my arms as she fell apart until my dying day. Trust me, kid, there's nothing worse in the world than watching your best friend break her own heart. You do everything you can to hold them together, even though you'll fail. Even though some tiny, guilty part of you is saying that she brought this on herself."

Toshinori flinched, wide-eyed. He hissed, "It was not her fault! Kotaro would never have been safe with her!"

Sorahiko nodded, ashamed but still smiling. "Aye, it wasn't her fault," he agreed, "but it took me a long time to remember that. I spent years hating her for giving up, for willingly giving away her own son. That's another reason you're stronger than me: you grieved, but you never blamed her for it."

Once again, Toshinori shifted, uncomfortable with the topic; he and Sorahiko had never talked this out, never really come to terms with any of this. For him, the wound hadn't so much healed as scabbed over, always ready to bleed again if he paid it too much attention.

Sorahiko sighed, long and loud. He mused, "Of course, you're right about the other stuff, too. That fucking bastard would have killed Kotaro too, just for kicks."

Toshinori hung his head, and whispered, "Instead, he died in an even worse way."

Sorahiko reached across the table then, his hand landing on Toshinori's stick-thin arm. Sternly, the old man said, "Don't go there, Toshi. Not until you have to tell her that, too."
Toshinori looked up in alarm. "Don't tell me I have to explain that to her, too!" he begged, "I…I can't do that! If she learns about Shigaraki…"

"It'll tear her up," Sorahiko agreed, his voice heavy, "but she's gonna learn about it eventually, one way or another. I'd rather it come from you. The two of you have the same hero complex. Somehow, everything that ever happens, even after you're long dead, is your fault."

Toshinori still couldn't quite stop the wave of bitterness then, irrationally angry at Sorahiko for being weak, for not taking a burden he couldn't carry…that Toshinori could carry, but was too afraid to.

Suddenly, another thought came to him. Toshinori protested, "Nana told me that she didn't want to know about her past!"

"Of course she didn't," Sorahiko replied gruffly, "she's terrified of what she'll learn. I think she knows, on some level, that she won't like what she finds."

Toshinori must have made a face as his mind came screeching to a halt; somehow, the words "Nana Shimura" and "scared" just refused to fit together in his mind.

Sorahiko watched his old student's expression with a sad smile. Gently, he said, "She's always been like that, Toshinori. Scared to death of herself…and for those she loves. She's a lot like you in that; she doesn't know how to love without fear. That's why she gave up Kotaro…why losing Tomura broke her so badly."

Holding back another flinch as he thought about Nana's husband, Toshinori replied, "But won't telling her just bring back that fear?"

"It's already there, kid," Sorahiko pointed out, "it's as much a part of her as the strength or the smile. But I don't think we have to worry as much about that as you fear. She's already got more than enough love to carry her through it."

"What do you mean?" Toshinori asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Sorahiko just replied with a cryptic grin, the kind he used when he didn't feel the need to share his insights. He said, "Don't worry about it."

Toshinori was too busy getting lost in his own thoughts again to respond to that. He tried to think of some argument, some counter to Sorahiko's points that would let him get out of his fate…but he couldn't think of anything.

At last, Toshinori sighed, deeply and painfully, looking up at the paneled ceiling. "You're right, aren't you?" he asked, feeling himself finally accept what he had to do.

There was no trace of Sorahiko's typical smug grin on his face as he replied, "I usually am."

Neither of them stayed long after that. Sorahiko left to return home, looking as though he'd aged twenty years in the span of one conversation. Toshinori, meanwhile, wandered through the halls of UA for a while, trying to figure out why he felt so doomed by this.

He couldn't escape this any longer, he knew that now.

Nana had to know the truth about her past. The whole truth.

He just hoped she could forgive him.