NOTE: This story isn't intended for sensitive readers. Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Singlehandedly a pass.

Izuku's focus was going in and out. He's laying on something, and there's a person trying to talk to him, holding him down at his shoulders. He was trying to sit up but they won't let him.

They were saying something too, but Izuku couldn't focus enough to see their mouth and make out what they were saying. One moment he could see his surroundings the next they blurred. He got the gist of it when another person headed their way with a mask and a tube attached to a tank. They're going to try to knock me out. I need to run. RUN AWAY. They can't help me. RUN AWAY! I'm fine. Perfectly fine, I don't need help. I already got attacked earlier and I was fine then and I'm fine now.

The people didn't stop. I'm sorry. I can't hear you. I'm sorry I can't hear you… Izuku thought, he tried say something, but they were still stuck in his throat. Izuku continued thrashing, drawing shorter and shorter breaths. Feeling his movements hindered, Izuku looked down to see his legs strapped to a gurney. He was trapped. They'd take him to the hospital. He needed to get out.

When the pressure on his shoulders lessened just a fraction, Izuku looked up at the person's face and threw a punch. Feeling their nose CRUNCH under his fist his arms didn't hesitate to loosen the straps on his thighs and calves, easily sliding his thin legs out.

I just punched a paramedic in the face…but I'm not trapped anymore. Calm down Izuku. CALM DOWN. He tried to slow his breathing. What next, what next, what next, what—? Something pressed against his face, eyes darting around, he couldn't see anyone nearby other than the person he just punched, they were preoccupied with their bleeding nose. When Izuku took a breath, he felt his muscles relax. NO no no. Izuku forced himself not to take another breath. He turned his head a bit. BEHIND. To my left.

Izuku used one hand to push away the mask being pressed on his face and swung the elbow of his other arm. It connected, this other paramedic drew back and Izuku finally pushed off the mask, he took a gasp of fresh air. Only now, more and more heads were turned towards him.

The crowd had slowed in dispersing to watch Izuku make a scene; he could feel more hands grab at him. More paramedics must have arrived to stop him. He fell limp for a moment on the gurney, the hands on him relaxed, and he rolled off, throwing himself to the ground.

Ow. Izuku scrambled to get his feet below himself. Throwing his hood back on while pushing himself up, ducking down his head from the increasing attention. The eyes of some heroes and possibly the media were on him. So, he turned around and ran—he had to get back home. There he'd be safe. He glanced back and saw Kamui Woods was using his quirk, extending a branch to grab him, Izuku stumbled to the side in a weak but successful doge.

Before he could begin running again, he rushed right into someone, it was the blond boy. Kacchan, I called him that. But I don't know who he is. Kacchan was saying something, Izuku didn't take the time to bother trying to understand. He just shook his head and tried to say something, but the words stayed stuck. Sorry, I'm sorry, I can't hear you… "Sorry, can't hear." Was what Izuku managed to mutter right as he pushed the other boy behind him. Allowing him to duck into the crowd. Thankfully, Kacchan didn't pursue, he just stared.

When Izuku escaped the crowd, he shot a look backward, confirming that he hadn't been spotted by the heroes, now had the space to think again. Does that kid know me? Did he used to? Izuku pushed himself to run as fast as possible. Did I know him?

Sprinting from street to street, Izuku tried to get his bearings and simultaneously hoped he'd been able to shake off anyone who'd given chase. Back on a busy street, crowds on the sidewalk parted as Izuku did his best to retrace his steps. Earlier I decided to take the path from the library and past Aldera Middle School on my way back home.

Izuku didn't slow down, he probably looked mad, running like his life depended on it, only though, to the passerby's surprise, there was no one pursuing him. But Izuku didn't know that for sure, so despite his protesting body that grew dizzier with every step, he pushed himself harder.

Izuku ran and ran until his knees buckled. It didn't matter how his body hurt Izuku wouldn't let himself slow down. Falling on his hands and knees, Izuku felt damp sand between his fingers and the weight of his backpack on top of him. I don't remember grabbing my bag. Or getting here. Then he threw up, there was nothing but bile to spit out. The chill of the cold ocean rushing over his hands and legs broke him out of his daze of dry heaving and gasping down what air he could. Sand softly ran between his fingers and around his knees.

The ocean. I ran to the beach. He slipped his backpack off and flung it back to where it could stay dry. Izuku tipped over to lay on his back, laughing to himself. The occasional wave reached far enoughto run under his back, he let out a giggle. He was still a little dizzy. Though it may have sounded more like crying—not that he could tell at all.

Izuku was deaf.

Maybe lying here letting the ocean run under him would wash away the sweat and grime on his body. Maybe every time to water receded it would take away the smell of the sewers that had stuck with him since the first attack.

Sometime later, Izuku could make out faint stars appearing in the sky; he tried to count each one as he found them. At some point, he lost count, and with the back of his clothes completely soaked, he stood up. Shivering now in the twilight, Izuku tilted his head towards the sky, the red-orange horizon faded away into a deep blue that filled most of the sky—the sun had already set. Darn. I guess missed the sunset too. I missed a lot actually.

Thinking back, he had hints of memories where he was running back to the bushes near the underpass where he'd stashed his backpack. Then, his body knew where to take him from there, home.

Home, was Dagobah Beach. A literal dump, but still Izuku's home. It didn't smell great, and neither did Izuku, but he couldn't really tell anymore. He'd have to clean up before setting out tomorrow morning. If he doesn't, he probably won't be allowed in the library.

When a breeze passed through, Izuku shivered. Now my clothes are wet. Izuku looked around, no one was nearby. Even better there was a wall of garbage on the beach separating the ocean from the road. Izuku was alone—he was safe.

Walking away from the edges of the crashing tide, he began peeling off his shirt, socks, and shoes on his way to pick up his backpack. The edges were a little wet, but nothing worth worrying over. The sand here was warm beneath his feet and between his toes. Using the dry side of his shirt to shake out his hair, countless particles of sand fell out.

Now my schedule is screwed up. If only heroes could do their job properly. Then I wouldn't have had to be nearly asphyxiated by sludge two times in one day. Izuku didn't dwell on it, he couldn't, there were other things to do. He reached the spot he was looking for, this entrance was on the part of the dump closest to the ocean, so it couldn't be used all the time. But the tide would allow it this time of the month. He set down his things next to the spot and zipped up his wet clothes in the front compartment on his backpack. I still have that Anatomy and Physiology final tomorrow. I'm too tired for this garbage. Ha, garbage.

With a sigh, Izuku pushed some trash out of the way to reveal a tire. He grabbed the edges, pulled, and he felt the POP

as a small tunnel was revealed. After sliding the backpack into the shaft, Izuku crawled inside, feet first, and he moved back in increments, pulling trash back in front of the hole. Finally placing the tire back to plug it as best he could. Izuku shuffled backward for a few more meters before the tunnel widened enough for him to grab his bag and turn around.

It was dark, especially with no sun to shine through the gaps in the garbage. But he had memorized this route already, he made it after all, at the intersection take the right path, slide back the grate on the top of the tunnel, crawl through there, turn left, and after sliding down the final section Izuku arrived at a clearing. He stood up and dusted some more sand off himself.

There, was an old school bus, tires long gone. A couple of stones in the sand led up to the folding doors. An overhang created from metal sheets hung off the other side of the bus, underneath was a clothesline Izuku had built.

It wasn't a great situation, he knew that. Izuku guessed that if All Might saw this, he would be disappointed. Izuku pulled the wet clothes from his backpack, hanging them up on the clothesline. I wonder what All Might tried to talk to me about. If I read his lips right, I think mentioned something about becoming a hero, but I just smiled and nodded. He'd probably say this isn't fit for anyone, especially an aspiring hero.

Good thing I lied. I'm barely surviving, me becoming a hero? A deaf, quirkless kid even trying? Homeless too to top things off? That's delusional. Izuku took down a towel he'd put up earlier and collected his books, notebooks, and things from inside his bag so he could hang the backpack out to dry too.

Carefully setting his things on the sand, Izuku took off his remaining clothing, using the towel to finish drying his skin and brush any remaining sand off, wrapping it around his waist before hanging it up the rest of his wet clothes. His stomach growled, he could wait until tomorrow afternoon after the test to eat something. The double Sludge Villain incident had upset his stomach and he didn't want to risk throwing it back up. Izuku couldn't afford that. He was hungry, but hunger pains wouldn't start until around lunch tomorrow. If he dealt with it for a few hours he could wait until he got off work tomorrow night and spend a little bit more money then...that was a good idea.

Things in hand, Izuku walked around and brushed his feet off on one of the steppingstones as he pulled open one of the doors. Hopping inside, Izuku shut the curtains at the front door and on all the windows. With the flip of a switch, the bus lit up, illuminated by several kinds of LED lights he had strung up across the ceiling. All were salvaged and he put them together by himself. They were mostly a warm yellow, but the occasional bulb shone red, purple, or green.

The interior didn't look much like a school bus, not that he had every been in one. Maybe he had…Izuku didn't know. Even when he had found it five years ago, most of the seats were long gone. He's been fixing it up since, it was almost like having his own apartment—or at least he thought it might be similar. He wouldn't know.

After getting dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, Izuku pressed a button to turn on a little space heater at the front of the bus, it was placed at the foot of where the driver's seat still was. The area had been turned into a desk of sorts. He had already put his things from his backpack on top. Those things were used to hold a blanket that hung over the desk and created a little 'cave' underneath where the heater was.

Izuku made sure to flip off the lights before nesting into the space. Salvaged solar panels and batteries couldn't last forever, so it was better to always minimize electricity use. High School engineering classes were great, but they could only get him so far. Lifting the blanket to get under the desk, he laid down, curled up next to the heater.

Finally, he let himself relax. He was warm, he was safe, he was alone. Izuku tried to stop the tears that filled his eyes, but they spilled over anyways. I almost died. Twice. He wanted to be left alone, but he told All Might his fake name and ran away from the paramedics. They might be looking for me…I don't want to have to get a new ID…it took so long to get the one I have now, and I think I just screwed that up. Stupid.

Izuku was his given name, he could remember that much, but that was it. Not his family name, his birthday, his age. He was quirkless though, he never manifested something that could prove otherwise. But his other identity, Akatani Mikumo, gave him all those things. Akatani was 16 years old and on track to graduate high school early. Akatani's birthday is August 5, the first day Izuku could remember.

As far as fake identities went, it wasn't amazing, he wasn't actually in the quirk registry, or any system, and he looked realistically 14 at best. But he could fake a basic analysis quirk and his forged papers confirmed its existence. It was good enough to get him a few part-time jobs at places that didn't check the registry as well as access to some half-decent online classes.

When his eyes grew heavy Izuku forced himself to turn off the heater and leave the little nook he had created before he could drift off further, he couldn't rest, but his thoughts continued. I MET ALL MIGHT! I never knew his quirk acted like that. It's so far beyond anything I've speculated, not to mention the whole All Might fanbase as a whole…the implications of what I saw… Izuku's fingers reached for a notebook but pulled back, he shouldn't waste a single sheet of paper on a drop of ink for anything that wasn't schoolwork. On the other hand… I ran into someone I think I recognized. Kacchan is what I called him. Maybe he knows who I am, if he does, he should leave me alone. I need to finish studying. After stumbling around in the dark Izuku turned the lights back on.

Izuku wasn't attending a public school. He worked only as much as needed to afford basic survival needs and pay for classes, free time was spent doing schoolwork—he had a lot of free time on weekdays. Today was just a really weird exception.

When he moved the things on the desk, the blanket that they were holding in place fell to the floor. Sitting down, Izuku tightly wrapped the blanket around his legs, making him feel secure, and opened a textbook. He had borrowed it from the library. Anatomy and Physiology, he also had a Calculus book somewhere, the last two classes he needed to finish to graduate from High School. With that, he could get a better job, a better identity, and leave Musutafu.

He organized the other books and notebooks on the desk before starting his reading, one folder that he set aside contained notes about his long-term plans. Once he could afford it, he would get a legit ID and apply as a transfer student to some out-of-country university. There he would get a degree in mechanical engineering and work in a middle-class job. Then his past wouldn't matter. Living through his current situation will have been completely worth it.

In the warm light of his bus, he began reading his textbook. He had a final tomorrow morning to study for. Sure, Izuku was going to live an average life. But it would be the greatest average life anyone had ever lived.

-o-o-o-

"Deku." Katsuki was sure of it, "That was Deku." After running into the spitting image of his childhood…someone he used to know, Katsuki was stunned, his attempts at talking to Deku had failed and he felt like he knew why—but the exact reason eluded him. He was preoccupied trying to spot Deku in the crowd, to no success.

Of course, Katsuki knew those thoughts were crazy. Izuku Midoriya was dead. That was supposed to be a fact. The other fact Katsuki couldn't ignore is that the only person who called him 'Kacchan' was Izuku. The stupid nerd couldn't pronounce his name when they were brats and he ended up stuck with the nickname. Katsuki was Kacchan and Izuku was Deku.

Then Deku died and Kacchan was left alone to deal with his shame. Because Deku means useless and he and Izuku hadn't been friends since they were four. That was back when Katsuki didn't have his quirk and no one knew Izuku didn't have one.

But those familiar green eyes he'd seen today lacked any spark of recognition, which didn't make sense because who else would call him Kacchan? No one, one else there would have known. No one else would possibly know. Katsuki stood there trying to process everything, he'd been cleared by emergency services and had just finished briefly speaking with the police when Deku ran into him. But was it really him?

Since the villain had wrecked his phone, the police called his parents. Dad was on his way, Katsuki would have preferred walking home, but the Old Man was at least useful enough to pick up the phone before his mother. Because how could I explain that I don't want her to come? Tell the police like a sniveling brat that her coming here is the last thing I want? With a little time to spare, Katsuki retraced Deku's path. Leading him towards two injured paramedics with newly bandaged noses. Shit. How would he ask? Should he even try? Maybe it'd just be better to not say anything and move on. This wasn't his business to be involved in.

Katsuki's curiosity convinced him to ask, approaching with his hands stuffed in his pockets "HEY! Uhh…was it that Dek—that green-haired kid that wrecked your faces?" Katsuki wanted to get straight to the point.

One of them, female, turned away from the conversation she was having, "Excuse me? Oh, you're that hostage kid, have some respect, I just got my nose broken and I'm not in the mood to be yelled at by a kid no matter what—"

"Just shut your trap." Katsuki interrupted, taking a step closer, getting in her face, their noses almost touching, "Your frustration at being incompetent at your job is no excuse to be a prick to me either." The woman backed off, good, "I think it's pretty obvious by your reaction that he did fuck up your face. So just…please," He almost choked those words out, covering it with a cough, turning his face down to the ground, "can you tell me his name?"

The woman stood there, blank-faced, for a few moments like the completely inept person she is before answering, "We didn't get one."

"You fu—" Katsuki took a deep breath, "Did you get anything?"

This time the man with the bandaged nose stepped into the conversation, "Even if we did have information on this person we couldn't disclose it to you. Understood young man?"

"Yeah whatever…" Katsuki slumped down further. Even though the jerk brushed me off, he indirectly told me they had no information. Assuming they're not just lying to my face, they're just as useless as I am. They don't know a single fucking thing. He kicked at a pebble at his feet.

This threw him into another dizzy spell. It didn't last long, his head stopped spinning after a few seconds. Having recovered a little, he realized his hands were sweatier than normal, he took them out of his pockets and sparked them off as quietly as he could, alleviating some anxiety as he searched the road for his father's car. Hurry up Old Man. You could at least be in a rush after your kid got held hostage…

The search was interrupted when someone came up from behind Katsuki and clapped their heavy hand down onto his back, knocking the air out of his lungs, "What—cough—the—couch—hell?" Katsuki gasped.

"I've got to say kid, you caused quite the ruckus back there with your quirk…you'd make a great hero with it. If you do, don't forget what we did for you today and intern at our agency one day." Death Arms, chuckled, his giant muscled arms loosely folded.

Katsuki looked up at the bulky man, "Remember what you did today…tch," Katsuki let out a gruff laugh, he sparked of his hands a few more times for emphasis before casually putting them back into his pockets, glaring up at the hero's face, "You bet your ass that I by the time I become a hero I'll still remember how a shit 'pro hero' like you stood around doing nothing while I suffocated. The only difference between you and a bystander is that you had the license to do something."

People were watching now.

A camera had turned towards him, Katsuki figured they caught, at the very least, the end of what he said. Perfect, "The hell are you guys looking at!?" Katsuki yelled, turning away, "If you vultures are gonna be here and in the way at least cover something useful!"

After storming away from that, it was only a few more minutes of uncomfortable waiting by a police cruiser before one of the officers, a guy with a cat head, told him that he had just spoken with Marusau Bakugo, his father, who was parked the next block over.

The cat-guy introduced himself as Officer Sansa, who held up his school bag, "We managed to retrieve it from the scene…" It was covered in scorch marks and still damp from the slime, Katsuki hadn't even had the time to drop it before being enveloped by the villain, "I'm afraid most things inside may have been ruined."

The cat officer hesitatingly held it out to Katsuki, who snatched it without a word and walked away. To top off this wonderful day, my stuff is ruined too. Better yet, the Old Man couldn't be bothered to park closer. The area they blocked off doesn't even extend to the road. Coward.

Maybe it was the sewer stench that lingered on him, his disgruntled appearance, or whatever else. But being constantly examined by everyone else was driving him crazy. He wouldn't duck down his head, and hide from their attention, he did pick up his pace.

Soon enough, Katsuki spotted his father waiting outside the car. The Old Man was looking around, panicked, only relaxing when he caught sight of him, Katsuki scoffed as he got into the front passenger seat of the vehicle, "Hey Kat…are you still feelin—"

"Can it Old Man. Paramedics said I'm fine, maybe you should take their word for it and be glad you're not heading to a hospital room…" Katsuki buckled his seatbelt and turned away to look out his window, "or the morgue." He added.

In the corner of Katsuki's eye, he could see his father struggling in some internal battle whether to respond or not, opening and shutting his mouth like a stupid fish. To Katsuki's relief, no more words were exchanged the whole ride home.

That left him to stew in his thoughts, theories about whether that was Deku. None of it made sense, the more he thought about it the more it seemed impossible. Am I losing it? Maybe that was someone completely different and while recovering from the lack of oxygen after being suffocated I was hallucinating. I'll check the news and social media when I get home and that will confirm that Deku wasn't there.

Interspersed with these thoughts was the sickening smell of sewage that he couldn't get his mind off of. Worse, every time his father took a breath through his nose, he made a weird face and grated on Katsuki's nerves.

But what if it is true? That possibility came back again and again during the silent car ride, almost as much as the reminder of the sewage smell. Katsuki replayed the memories from earlier again and again in his head. Once they pulled into the driveway to the house, Katsuki jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, Katsuki panicked a little when his mother unlocked and opened the door as he approached to open it, he had hoped it was unlocked.

Not right now. Tightening his grip around his ruined bag, Katsuki ducked around her, ignoring her shouts for him to come back, "FUCK OFF OLD HAG!" He yelled, purposefully stomping away for emphasis, it definitely pissed off the Hag even more. In his room, Katsuki locked the door and threw his bag onto the floor, going into his bathroom, he locked that door too, and got in the shower as fast as possible.

A convenient secondary benefit of his explosive quirk was semi-heat-resistant skin. He turned the water as hot as it could get, grabbed some soap, and began scrubbing that awful smell off his body and out of his mind.

He scrubbed harder and harder, he wanted the feeling of the Sludge Villain moving around his body to go away, scrubbing alleviated that if only a little bit. But the harder he scrubbed the more he realized that it did nothing to fix the violated feeling remaining inside of him. It was suffocating in a way he wasn't sure how to put into words, but he knew it was the feeling from when his pathetic weak body failed, and the sludge got inside of him. It won't go away. Why won't it go away?

He scrubbed harder.

Knock—knock—knock "Kat…you've been in there a while, are you okay?"

The knock against his door and the Old Man's voice were both muffled by the sound of water falling against the tile in the shower, it was coming from behind his bathroom door, which was in his room. Bringing him back to reality. Did he break the lock? Why the hell would he do that?

Then Katsuki realized that the shower water was no longer hot, instead, ice-cold. The shower knob hadn't moved. He must have lost track of time. Then he noticed the ever-so-slightly pink-tinted water at his feet and flowing down the drain. Looking at his fingers, they were bloody, and his thighs, upper arms, and chest were rubbed raw and cut. Bleeding in a few spots.

He couldn't really feel it though, the cold water must be numbing it.

"Oh, oh my go—" Katsuki held a hand against his mouth to muffle his gasp. He was shivering in the cold now, took as deep of a breath as he could before yelling back, "YEAH I'M FINE!" He took another stifled gasp, "QUIT YOUR WORRYING AND GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

Once Katsuki could feel the subtle vibrations of feet retreating, his attention turned elsewhere. Oh, he was panicking, he couldn't breathe. Why was he just realizing he—Oh COME ON THINK! You complete idiot this is not the time, get a grip on your stupid self! Katsuki could deal with this, he'd done it before, he needed to ground himself. I'm here in the shower. What do I feel? Cold, the water is cold. The tile underneath my feet is cold too. I see…I see the shower curtain, it's wet, I see bloo—NO NOT THAT.

Steering clear of dangerous thoughts, Katsuki repeated that process, and managed to calm down. Shutting off the water, his teeth were chattering. He stumbled out of the shower, grabbed a towel that was hanging up, and wrapped it around himself. His whole body violently shivering.

To his relief, no one was in his room. He didn't bother to try and re-lock the bedroom door—it probably was broken now. He needed to start warming himself back up. While fumbling to dry himself, he turned off his air conditioning unit, which normally kept him cool and less sweaty, but that would only make things worse. After getting dressed in socks, sweatpants, and a long-sleeved shirt, he dug through his closet. There, found them.

Extra blankets, mostly All Might themed ones that he didn't use anymore, with these in hand he collapsed on his bed. Hidden under the sheets and the extra blankets, he began warming up. At some point Katsuki realized his eyes were filling with tears, sniffling like a stupid baby. But he didn't dry them, he'd have to move to do that, and he was too tired and too cold to bother. He didn't let a single tear fall. He wouldn't because he wasn't weak.

With his mind at relative ease, Katsuki thought back to the aftermath of the Sludge Villain's attack. When he ran into the person that had saved him, putting aside whoever it had been, they didn't respond to him. But he hadn't been ignored, it was like Katsuki's words never even registered in the person's mind…and Deku. Hadn't he gone deaf at some point?

After some time, the cold had subsided—Katsuki still hadn't moved. For a few moments, he began drifting off to sleep, his eyes were so heavy—until he shifted under the blankets. When he did it was like his skin was lit on fire. Then Katsuki remembered, his skin was cut and rubbed raw because he'd gone and had another stupid panic attack, thankfully alone in the shower, but he couldn't get any control over it until the Old Man unintentionally helped break him out of it.

You're weak. Heroes have to have a grip over their emotions. Katsuki would deny ever thinking it, but he was grateful that the Old Man decided to break his lock and ask how he was doing. He might have done a lot more damage to himself otherwise. Now feeling the friction of his clothes and blankets against his thighs, upper arms, and chest Katsuki bit the side of his cheek to keep from crying out. Guess my skin isn't numb anymore.

He pushed off the blankets with as little movement as possible and laid motionless on his bed. Only moving his eyes to look at the digital clock on his nightstand, Katsuki blinked hard a few times and looked a second time. It was a lot later than he thought.

He was on borrowed time, the hag knew he wasn't injured, from the villain at least, and would be expecting him to make an appearance after brushing her off earlier. Normally the hag would be yelling at me already to go downstairs for dinner, so stop being weak and push through the pain.

As stiffly as Katsuki could, he got out of bed and pulled off his shirt and sweatpants. Without the AC unit running, it was warmer in his room than normal, he was sweating again. Which was unsafe. Damn it all… He switched it back on, letting out a breath in relief as it blew against the angry red marks on his skin.

Piled on the floor, the grey sweatpants and shirt he had been wearing had spots of blood on them now. He could taste iron in his mouth too, his cheek was growing sore too. Just another injury to deal with. Reaching under his bed, Katsuki pulled out a first aid kit. His parents didn't know it was there, and he only used it when he injured himself during training. Which hardly ever happened because he never fucking made the same mistake twice.

The overpowering smell of the newly opened bottle of disinfectant wasn't pleasant, but it further drowned out memories of how Sludge Villain smelled—at this point, anything was better than that.

As he was about to begin, Katsuki paused and went to pick up his sweatshirt from the floor. Carefully sitting back on his bed to not aggravate his injuries more than necessary, he twisted the shirt up and bit down on it.

No time to be a weak ass wuss. Just treat the injury. With the bottle carefully balanced in his right hand, Katsuki let the disinfectant fall in a thin stream on his left thigh. If he thought his skin had burned before, that was nothing. But he bit down on the cloth between his teeth harder and dealt with it as he moved to his right leg.

The pain made his eyes water, but he wouldn't cry, heroes are strong. They're not weak enough to cry at this. I'm not weak, so this won't make me cry. And with his vision slightly blurred Katsuki poured disinfectant on his chest, and upper arms. IT BURNED. But he caused himself this pain, he deserved every ounce of it.

Then Katsuki realized tears were about to begin dripping down his face. No. Damn it! No-no-no… As he struggled to wipe away the moisture in his eyes with one hand, he nearly dropped the bottle he held in the other. He pressed the cap shut and set it down on his nightstand. He had enough messes to clean up, no need to be more stupid than he already was and make another mess to clean up.

It was a bit of a rush job, bandaging his thighs, upper arms, and chest; he had gone through almost all his bandages as well. It would have to do for now. He could always go buy more tomorrow morning on his run.

It was tempting to take a few painkillers; he came across some ibuprofen while putting everything back inside the first-aid kit. But he tore his eyes away. I have to remember the pain. I won't let it get that bad again. That was the last time. After stashing the bloodied clothes and the much lighter first-aid kit under his bed, Katsuki got dressed again. Opting for oversized shorts and a long-sleeved shirt.

Right before leaving his room, Katsuki grabbed a different pair of slippers from his closet. These made his footsteps quieter. Good for when he didn't want to accidentally make the Hag angrier at him. In his experience, minimizing the things that could potentially set her off was always his safest bet.

Katsuki's parents were waiting for him in the living room. He could hear their hushed whispers. They didn't spot him until he was halfway down the stairs. He stiffened when he saw their heads turn his way. He was trying to walk normally, even though every movement pulled at some of his self-inflicted injuries. The worst thing was, he didn't know how he should act. Were they worried? Mad? Disappointed? What would the best course of action be to make sure this didn't end in a screaming match?

The Hag stood up, walking towards him. Forcing himself to keep on walking he thought, right foot. Left foot. Keep on walking. Don't flinch back. Mentally bracing himself for a slap for the face but carefully keeping his face blank.

It never came. The Hag hugged him.

Shit. Fuck. This again? Katsuki never knew what to expect from this woman. But he would take what he could get; he still relaxed into the hug. Stealing what momentary comfort he could from the embrace. Ignoring the burning of his skin that came from the contact.

The Hag whispered in his ear, "I'm so happy you're safe. You may be a brat, but I care about you so much. When I-I first saw it on the news and I—" She paused to gather herself for a few seconds, "no one was helping you. Not even one of those shit heroes." She quickly dialed back her concern, any hint of previously positive emotions was gone, she smiled, "But who was the person that did help you? The cameras never caught sight of them."

That's the question. Katsuki thought, "I…I don't know…" was the response he could force out as they both sat down, Katsuki now across from his parents.

"Don't lie to me Katsuki." The Hag smiled, "I know you aren't telling the truth."

The Old Man set a hand on her shoulder, "Mitsuki, I don't think this is the time…"

"Nonsense," The Hag brushed Marusau off, "I would love to thank whoever saved our Katsuki. So, honestly, this time, who was it?" Her smile was strained now.

"I don't fucking know Hag!" Katsuki stood up, the Hag did too, he ignored that and the pain that smarted through his body, "I don't know who it was, I even asked the paramedics, the police too! And they didn't know shit."

SLAP—there it was. The Hag had run out of patience, she grabbed at his face. Sharp, meticulously manicured, fingernails dug into his skin, pulling his head so that Katsuki had to look at her no matter how he averted his eyes.

"If that's the case, Brat," Her fingers dug in harder, there'd be bruises to deal with if he was lucky, cuts at the worst, "then at least have the decency to remember that you should never speak like that to your mother. I guess it does make sense, anyone who knows you would have just walked right by."

"How about we go sit down for dinner," The Old Man decided now was the time to interject. How kind of him. Katsuki thought, he couldn't be bothered to try that earlier.

The Hag didn't just let go. She pushed him away, pressing her hand against the side of his face and causing his head to turn harshly to the side, twisting his neck. Oh shit. She's pissed. Katsuki didn't let himself give off so much as a gasp. Bring it you fucking bitch, dish it out all you'd like. He wouldn't ever give her the satisfaction of reacting.

By the time they had all sat down at the table, the mood had changed. Everyone pretending everything was normal and fine. The Old Man broke the silence, "The anniversary is coming up."

That's it. Katsuki remembered, the anniversary of Deku and Auntie's deaths. "This is the fifth year since, right?" Katsuki asked. He already knew, but he couldn't pass the up opportunity this conversation gave.

"Yeah Brat, five fucking years since they blew up in that train. At least grow the balls to say it as it is."

"Before then, Deku, he was deaf, right?" Katsuki said, not taking the bait to start another fight. This was as a good time to ask, they wouldn't want to know why.

"That's mostly right Kat." The Old Man spoke up before the Hag could, a rare occurrence, "I guess you might not remember it well, Izuku lost nearly all his hearing the day he lost his dad. They were on the way back from the doctors, Hisashi just happened to be back from the states, they were going home after poor Izuku had just been diagnosed quirkless and—"

The Hag interrupted, "And the fucking train blew up, leaving Izuku deaf. The Brat should remember that much. About five years later, another train 'accident' killed Inko and Izuku too. I don't think they ever found little Izuku's body either…Yeah, there wasn't a single fucking thing to bury—at least that's what I was told. Better yet, the government got the media to glaze over covering it, claiming they didn't want to disrupt the victim's families any more other words, in their infinite compassion, they never released a list of the casualties for both 'accidents'." She took a sip of water, "What I do know, I had to try for weeks to find out."

It's the exact same conversation every year…but they never found Deku's body? That was news to Katsuki. He didn't remember hearing about that before. They continued eating in silence. Not another word needed to be said. So, the nerd wouldn't have been able to hear me. Another fact in favor of Izuku being the person who saved him. Short, freckles, curly green hair, green eyes, likely deaf. It couldn't be a coincidence. It couldn't. Not when he heard 'Kacchan' leave the boy's mouth.

Katsuki was never one to indulge in conspiracy theories, neither were his parents. But since the death of the Midoriya family, there had been an unspoken agreement that the circumstances around their deaths were less than accidental. The Hag, far more than Katsuki and the Old Man, had trouble dealing with their deaths. Losing an old high-school and then college friend like Inko crushed something inside her, Katsuki doesn't think his mother ever got over it. Not really.

The Hag being harsher than usual wasn't a coincidence. Even in her worst moods, she wouldn't normally go this far. It was just the time of the year. Katsuki knew that. She's just still grieving in her own way. I'm just the easiest person to take it out on. I'm not weak. I can deal with it. He reminded himself.

Katsuki finished his food as fast as he could without arousing suspicion. Carefully playing the dangerous game of gauging his speed against the reactions from his mother and adjusting accordingly, it was working. After clearing his place he took care of the dishes too for good measure. His parents stayed at the table after they finished eating, whispering, probably about the Midoriya's, maybe about work. He deftly cleared their places as well. Just breezing by, careful not to distract them and shift the Hag's focus back on him. Nothing good would come of that. She said she cares about me. That she was worried, does that equate to being loved? Does she love me? Katsuki found himself asking that a lot, he considered it again as he made his way upstairs once he'd deemed it safe enough.

Back in his room, Katsuki took a breath. He didn't feel completely safe though, the lock on his door was broken. Just another thing to grab tomorrow morning at the store. His body hurt. Legs, arms, chest, and now face. He took care of the injuries on his face as well, only a few nails had broken skin, and they were shallow injuries. These wouldn't scar. Maybe the Hag held back.

Past marks inflicted on his arms from the Hag's fingernails itched at the thought, and those had been made through his shirt. Yeah, the Hag was definitely holding back. She's a model. Wouldn't want to scar her son's face. That was nice of her.

He ran a hand through his hair, wow that's so fucked up. Katsuki pushed that matter aside. He had research to do. The bag of his things was still on the floor where he'd thrown it after arriving back home. Reaching in, he pulled out his computer. The smell hit him just as hard as a slap to the face—he would know.

Stupid fucking idiot. Officer cat-head told me it was all ruined. The computer, phone, everything. Katsuki staggered back into his bathroom, turned both handles on his sink as far as he could, and threw up everything he'd just eaten into the toilet bowl. The sound of water running drowning out most of the sound of his heaves and gasps for air.

Weak. Weak. Weak. Katsuki thought. I have my first ever real encounter with a villain, and this is how I react? It shouldn't be affecting me like this. Get OVER IT. How could he get into UA and become a hero like this? A broken mess after one encounter. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine.

Soon, but not soon enough, his body decided it was done being sick. Katsuki didn't look as he flushed down his vomit. After washing out his mouth with water, trying to get the acidic taste of bile off his tongue, he made his way back to his room. Holding his breath as he picked up his bag and the ruined computer, throwing it into the trash can he had in his room and then tying the bag up and throwing that out of his window. He'd deal with that before tomorrow morning's run too. Leaving the window open to try and disperse the smell.

Before sitting down at his desk, Katsuki went into his bathroom and washed his hands, maybe for a little too long and a little too harshly but he didn't care. Katsuki had more important questions about the two train accidents that killed the Midoriya family than he knew what to do with. Rummaging through his desk he found his old phone and grabbed a loose sheet of paper and a pen.

Plugging the old phone in, he tapped the desk with his pen impatiently as he waited for it to boot back up. It wasn't ideal for research, but it'd have to do. Katsuki would figure this out. If Deku was still alive then maybe Katsuki could save him...if he needed saving. Maybe he could apologize too.

Was that a selfish reason? Yeah, but Katsuki didn't care.

Chapter Note: I'm very new to ffnet, I usually post on AO3, there are more chapters there.

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