A/N: The longest chapter thus far...

Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

Chapter Nine: Traitor

[Day Fifteen]

[Uraraka]

Was it possible to die from pure, uninhibited worry? Uraraka really needed to know because everything felt like it was collapsing around her, crumbling to dust. It felt like the world had decided to just take the ground from underneath her feet and leave her floating endlessly in the void with that pit in her stomach… that pit—like the initial panic you get when you miss a stair, right before you go tumbling down, or the racing heart when your body wakes you up from some perilous fate in your dreams. Uraraka couldn't calm herself down, she couldn't quiet her racing thoughts, she couldn't make the pit in her stomach go away. She kept wondering if she had missed something, if maybe she could have done something different or noticed something out of the ordinary… Maybe if she'd gone with Kirishima up to Bakugou's room then things would have turned out differently. Maybe Kirishima wouldn't have been cracked upside the head and Bakugou would still be here.

Uraraka swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over for the hundredth time that morning.

Bakugou was gone.

The teachers and the pros were tight-lipped as could be regarding his disappearance, no doubt because the last time he was taken a handful of students had decided to break the rules and go after him themselves. But their demeanor was different this time—and the implications were enough to make her want to scream until her throat was raw and her voice was gone.

They hadn't said it outright but Uraraka felt it in their questions and had seen it in their faces as they investigated—they were considering the possibility that Bakugou had left on his own. Willingly. Just hours after UA had been placed on lockdown and class had been cancelled because—the teachers finally disclosed—there had been a security breach that they attributed to the League of Villains. She had thought that made it obvious, indisputable, that he was taken…

But Uraraka knew they were also considering the situation at the dorm. No one had seen anyone or heard anything suspicious. The security cameras at the front of the building hadn't picked up anyone other than students and teachers. There was no sign of struggle in Bakugou's room, no sign of forced entry either… the only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that Kirishima had disappeared after going to check on Bakugou and then, a few hours later, he was found unconscious in that room with a hard blow to the head, blood streaming down his face, a nasty concussion, and no recollection of how it had all come to pass.

"The conditions are definitely strange… we should consider every possibility." Midnight had said, not as quietly as she obviously intended.

Uraraka had just watched them work from the hallway, unable to process the fact that Bakugou was gone at all. She stood there for hours. Staring but not really seeing. She watched them wheel Kirishima out on a stretcher with Recovery Girl following quickly behind, some stern, perplexed look on her face. She watched them bring in the police, who dusted for prints and examined doorframes and windowsills. She just stood there, shrugging off anyone's attempt to get her to move, ignoring their questions about her well-being, and watched as eventually everyone dispersed and Aizawa closed and locked the door behind him. Bakugou's door. The door he wasn't behind. The door he wasn't slamming in everyone's faces. The door that he was behind a few hours ago…

Bakugou was gone.

"Get some rest, Uraraka. Class is in session tomorrow." Aizawa had said with a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She had shrugged him off too. Because it felt wrong and fake and she didn't like seeing sympathy on his face. She didn't want sympathy—what was there to be sympathetic about? He should be worried, things should be hectic, and classes should be cancelled, but instead it felt like everyone had just decided that he left. No, no, no, not just left… it felt like they had all decided that he'd left with them.

Uraraka looked over at her alarm clock and sighed. Class was starting soon. She had to get up. She had to move. She had to believe that he was in danger and that he wouldn't just leave and abandon everything, because it was starting to feel like she was the only one who still thought that…

The rest of the day passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Classes blurred together. The teachers seemed determined to pretend like everything was totally fine, that nothing was out of place. But Uraraka was painfully aware of the empty seat in her classroom and her classmates were awkwardly silent. She knew it was to prevent panic, she knew that UA cared about Bakugou, but she also knew that the circumstances were odd, and that people were suspicious.

She shook her head.

It wasn't real.

It couldn't be real… because it wasn't fair. If it was real, then it meant everything that had happened since Bakugou was taken in the forest was for nothing. It meant that All Might retired and fought All For One for nothing, it meant that her friend had started healing just to be pulled back into darkness, it meant that this project, the special move, their friendship, the arguments, and the laughs meant nothing because he was gone.

Uraraka bit her lip but it didn't stop its quivering or the hot overflow of the tears that spilled down her cheeks and onto her blank notebook. Slowly, she put her head down on her desk and clenched her fists in an effort to stop the shaking. She wasn't sure if anyone noticed. She wasn't sure if she cared if they did. In this moment, she was only sure of two things:

Bakugou was gone.

And it hurt. It really, really hurt. More than anything had ever hurt before.

She felt like she finally understood why her classmates had decided to go after him last time—because it felt so wrong to just sit around and do nothing. It felt like a sin. The guilt was suffocating. What sort of hero would she be if she just sat around while someone so important was gone, when he was in danger, when there might be something she could do? She'd criticized them last time; told them to leave it to the pros because they were still students. She hadn't been sure that there was anything they could actually do that wouldn't be a hinderance. She'd known that Bakugou would hate the idea of being rescued. But they proved her wrong.

But the situation was different this time… there was no all-out fight in the middle of the night, there wasn't a wave of villains from all sides, it wasn't life and death. No one had seen any villains at all, just suspicious goings on with the security system that were similar to the first attack from the League. The only thing anyone seemed to know about this situation was that Bakugou had disappeared in conjunction with the breach in security. And that Kirishima had been attacked—either in Bakugou's room by the unknown assailant or…

Uraraka squeezed her eyes shut and resigned herself to keep her cries silent.

Did anyone honestly think that Bakugou would do that to his friend? Sure, from an evidential standpoint it seemed damning, especially with no proof that there was anyone else in that room, but he had no reason to attack a fellow classmate. A friend. He wouldn't. He didn't. He was a hero and heroes didn't do things like that.

"Uraraka…" A large hand landed on her shoulder.

She hadn't noticed until now, but the classroom was quiet, save the voice that broke her from her thoughts. Even without looking up Uraraka knew who it was. All Might. Of course, it was All Might. Of course, it was the one hero she knew she couldn't put on a brave face for; the one she wouldn't even try to fool. She doubted she could even if she tried. She didn't look up though, it felt like all the strength had left her body. Why was it so hard to just stop crying? "Bakugou's a hero… All Might. H-he didn't run away. He didn't…" She choked out, "He's in trouble… I-I know it! We have to go after him!"

He was quiet for a moment, only removing his hand from her shoulder to pull one of the desk chairs closer to her, "Do you want to know why I teamed you and young Bakugou up for the assignment?" There was something like a smile in his voice, she felt her body relax ever so slightly.

Uraraka sniffed and nodded, still not bothering to lift her head.

"He's a young man who doesn't know how to ask for help. That's his greatest weakness. Each of us, all the teachers, we've been worried about him since he was abducted by the League. Since my retirement…" Uraraka could hear the hurt in his voice. She could hear the anguish. He may have defeated All For One, but it had come at a cost, and he knew it better than anyone. "He takes everything in stride, all by himself. Especially his guilt. Of course, he feels partially responsible for this… I suppose it would be hard not to. He's always been unpredictable, but he's been different since All For One. However, I believed you were the best chance he had to start the process of overcoming it all."

Her lip quivered again but she finally lifted her head to look into the eyes of the Number One Hero, unsure what to make of his words, "Me?"

All Might smiled, but it was filled with sadness. She hadn't really considered how it must feel for him, or Aizawa, or any of the teachers to have their student go missing once again. They had an enormous responsibility that she knew she'd never really comprehend. "I partnered you two because I knew he couldn't ask for help and I knew you wouldn't bother waiting for him to ask. That's your strength, Uraraka. Your selflessness. Your heart. That's what makes you a hero."

The tears came back before she could find her voice, flooding over her cheeks like a dam had broken. She tried to laugh but it only sounded like a sob. Her heart was so full she thought it might burst—she wanted to smile, she wanted to wrap her teacher in a hug and thank him for pairing them together, for knowing everything, for his praise, but… his words didn't feel deserved. She felt like she'd failed. Even if she had managed to help Bakugou like All Might had intended, none if it mattered if he was gone now. "But… All Might…" She managed between sobs, vision blurry behind her shame, "B-Bakugou's not… He's not here. I didn't help him when he… needed it most."

The hero placed his large, albeit deflated, hand on her head and shook his own, "He may not be here right now, no. One of the most difficult things about this line of work is that it's impossible to always be prepared. We can't always expect the unexpected. But we're going to get him back, Uraraka. I promise."

Uraraka could only stare back at him, eyes wide. It felt like she was seeing him for the first time—it didn't matter that he was no longer a towering, muscular figure. It didn't matter that he was retired or that there wasn't a giant, confident smile plastered on his face. All Might was a hero because he was genuine, first and foremost. The strength he exuded with a simple promise made Uraraka believe anything was possible. Bakugou may not be here right now but he was with each of them. He was in her thoughts and her heart—All Might's too. Everyone's. She was terrified and worried and a dozen other emotions all at once, but she knew she could trust the promise. She knew she could trust Bakugou to hang in there until he was back, safe and sound, at UA, with her. Until he was back where he belonged. She'd be there no matter what, whether he wanted help or not.

She wiped her hot tears away with the back of her hand and tried her best to mimic the old, signature smile and nodded, "I'll hold you to that, All Might!"

After the conversation with All Might, Uraraka felt like she could finally think clearly. She couldn't forget the terrible tightness in her chest of course, but she was all cried out for now. And now that she was done with all that, it was time to visit Kirishima. All Might said he'd woken up while class was in session and that he'd already been interviewed so he was good for visitors.

Uraraka knew that it probably wouldn't matter what he said. Not really. She wouldn't be able to go running after Bakugou all by herself and all of class 1-A was being monitored, anyway. But she wanted to know if he remembered anything. She wanted to know what happened. She needed to know.

After double checking with Recovery Girl, Uraraka knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Kirishima's head was covered in bandages, but he grinned at her as she approached his hospital bed.

"Hey, Uraraka! Ah, don't worry. It doesn't feel as bad as it looks." He gave her a reassuring smile and she shook her head. His spirit really did seem unshakable. She might have laughed if the situation was less dire… he really was something.

"How are you?" Uraraka sat down in the chair at his bedside and glanced at the monitors. He seemed fine but they were keeping him for a few more days, so the concussion had to have been pretty bad…

He shrugged and held up his arm with the IV, "Recovery Girl gave me some stuff for the pain so I'm not too bad."

She did laugh that time, "I'm glad you're finally awake."

Kirishima gave her a knowing smile, like he knew exactly what she wanted to ask, "Sorry, I know why you're here, but I already told the pros and the cops that I don't really know what happened… Everything's kinda jumbled, I'm not remembering stuff right."

Uraraka sighed, hoping the disappointment wasn't completely obvious on her face, "Could you tell me, anyway? Please?"

"Uh, well… Remember how I went upstairs to talk to Bakugou?" He continued when she nodded, "I went up to the fourth floor and then I heard… you, behind me. When I turned around you, uh, kinda knocked me upside the head with a bat." He said it so simply, like it made sense, but Uraraka just stared back at him in shock.

"But… I was—"

"I know," He said with a frown, "You didn't follow me. Besides, the you that wasn't you was already upstairs. So, unless your quirk also lets you teleport, it couldn't have been you. Oh! And I know you wouldn't whack me with a baseball bat, don't worry."

Uraraka furrowed her brow, unsure what to make of his story. The only possible explanation was that whoever attacked Kirishima had a quirk that made this possible. Obviously, the pros and the cops must have thought so too because no one was questioning or arresting her for attacking him. Still, she felt bad…

"Don't worry about Bakugou," He said, twisting in bed to face her, "He'll be okay. He's manly as hell, remember? I wouldn't be surprised if he beat those villains to a pulp already!"

Uraraka almost smiled, slightly inspired by his optimism, but her eyes landed on a small, square bandage pressed to the left side on his neck. She quirked an eyebrow—no one had mentioned anything about any wounds other than his head, "What's that from?" She asked, pointing to his neck.

"Hm? Oh, I'm not sure. I don't remember this one," He reached his hand up towards the bandage thoughtfully, "Recovery Girl said it was small, like a needle, but she bandaged it because it was bleeding, I guess. But they didn't find any weird stuff in my system during their tests so," He shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Like a needle…

Uraraka reached down, placing a hand on her thigh.

Like a needle.

"The girl… from the forest…" She breathed, her eyes widening at the memory. She'd almost forgotten that girl. The one who liked blood. She'd stabbed her leg with a needle from her weird machine… She'd taken some of her blood and Kirishima remembered someone wearing her face when he was attacked, "Kirishima!" She shouted, jumping to her feet, "I have a feeling my guess is even better!"

Uraraka didn't wait for him to respond; she was already running towards the faculty office.

The fight with the League in the forest had been so chaotic when Bakugou was taken the first time, it had slipped her mind by the time her and her classmates had returned to UA. She and Asui had told the pros about the girl, about her knives and her weird blood fetish, but she'd completely forgotten she'd even been stuck. She was covered in so many cuts and bruises that it wasn't surprising something like a needle prick had gone unnoticed back then, but…

There was no way it was a coincidence.

It was her. Toga Himiko.

She was the one who took Bakugou.

Uraraka's heart clenched once more, tears burned at her eyes as she darted around a corner, as she realized what the implications of this revelation might be. If Kirishima had seen Uraraka on the fourth floor, if the assailant really was Toga, and they were able to alter their appearance with their quirk, then…

She swallowed hard and blinked away the hot tears that were once again threatening to break her mask. If she was right then that meant Bakugou might have let his guard down because he saw her, not some villain in his room. Not my fault, not my fault… She kept repeating it, over and over again, as she ran. She knew it wasn't her fault. She knew that as a logical fact but… that didn't make her feel any better. Maybe… if she hadn't bothered and pestered Bakugou for his friendship these past two weeks, he wouldn't have been fooled. Maybe he wouldn't have let her into his room. Maybe he wouldn't have been taken… Maybe he wouldn't be gone.

Uraraka rounded the last corner with a huff and pulled the faculty door open, not even bothering to knock. She didn't know if any of this would help them find Bakugou but… if there was a chance, she couldn't keep it to herself.

She'd do anything to get him back.

[Day Sixteen]

[Bakugou]

Everything was still dark, and he wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. The assholes would slither in every so often and stick another one of those fucking needles in his neck. Bakugou could feel the restraints holding him in place, chains clanging together whenever he moved. It was definitely more excessive than it had been the first time…

He growled to himself—this was the second fucking time he'd let himself get caught by some shitty villains. It was bullshit and it was unacceptable. But he couldn't even find the energy to reprimand himself. He was too fucking angry.

Every time he'd found consciousness, he waited for the fear to grip onto his throat and drag him under all over again, for the voices to sound off directly in front of him rather than echo against his skull. He waited for the familiar scent of mildew to sneak its way back into his nostrils and bring every memory he pushed back to come back at him in full force. But the fear never rose and there was only silence—no voices. Not in his head and not in reality. The only sounds in the dark room were the chains and his breathing. And even though it was dark, Bakugou knew he wasn't in the bar. If he was, the pros would have come to break the door down by now. He didn't know what the fuck these losers were waiting for, but he didn't intend on sticking around to find out. He'd sooner blow his own fucking arms off to get out of these restraints than wait around for them a moment longer. Bakugou knew it wouldn't be that easy; these restraints prevented him from using his quirk, just like last time. And whatever that shit was they kept poking into his neck didn't just put him to sleep, it sapped his strength. Even now, it felt like he he'd been fighting for hours on end, his muscles were tense and sore, his entire body was being weighed down with fatigue.

Bakugou grit his teeth behind the face mask—the muzzle—and glared into the blackness.

This was bullshit. What the hell was the point of all this? They had him caged and weak, at this point he knew they could do whatever they wanted with him. But no one had said a single thing, no one had showed themselves; there were no slimy words or nasty offers. Just chains and needles. Just unbearable, mind-numbing, fucking silence.

The feeling that settled in his gut was sickening and unfamiliar. It made him want to scream at the top of lungs. Helplessness. Bakugou had faced moments of uncertainty, moments of indecision, but he'd dealt with it. Because he had to, because he knew from the depths of his heart that he was capable of getting over any mountain. But this… felt different. Without his strength, Bakugou wasn't sure how to handle this room or the restraints or the villains, wherever the fuck they were. His quirk was unreachable, his body was so, so fucking tired. It was nearly impossible to turn his head; the weight of the chains were pulling him into the earth, threatening to bury him alive. He wondered, briefly, if this was what it would feel like to be quirkless…

He didn't like it. He fucking hated it. He hated them. He hated himself. For being in this situation again. For not being strong enough to fight it. For getting trapped like a mongrel…

His shoulders sagged and his eyes burned. There wasn't a number to quantify just how fucking helpless he felt in that stupid fucking room, in this situation, alone. It was pathetic and it only made him angrier, but he couldn't do anything about it. Bakugou didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do. He didn't like not knowing and he couldn't stand the exhaustion coursing through his veins—it's like his own body was betraying him.

He knew this was probably their plan—break him down until he felt like there was no other option other than to bow to their whims. To make him helpless and tired and thirsty. To make him feel alone. To make him hate himself more with every second that ticked by. He couldn't give them what they wanted. He knew it. He couldn't sit there wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing, but it took so much energy just to keep himself conscious. He knew he couldn't break down, he refused to give even one of those assholes the satisfaction, but it was so fucking hard.

That was when he thought about Uraraka.

Uraraka.

Bakugou wondered what she was doing… what she was thinking. He knew she was probably worried out of her damn mind, freaking out like the air-headed girl she was. Maybe she was telling off the pros again or rallying 1-A to go after him like they'd done before… better her than Deku, anyway. Maybe she was angry… like she was when he'd refused to try out her "special move". He could see it—her face pulled into a tight scowl, trying to be intimidating even though her rosy cheeks made that impossible. Her chestnut eyes sparkling in defiance. Bakugou thought he might like that expression the most.

Or maybe she was crying—would she cry for him? The thought tugged at his heart the slightest bit, but he reprimanded himself immediately. If there was any energy left in his bones, he might have shaken his head. Idiot. He didn't want her to cry. He didn't want her to be angry and he didn't want her to worry. Although, it probably wouldn't matter if he could tell her not to. She didn't like doing what he said, it was like she went out of her way to do the opposite, like she found sheer, uninhibited pleasure in defying him.

Bakugou let out something akin a laugh. He felt a little lighter now.

I should have thought about her sooner.

If this were any other situation, Bakugou might have found his ears burning at his inner monologue, embarrassed at just how fucking lame it made him sound… But right now, in this dark room, he couldn't even find the energy for that. Instead, he could only take solace in the comfort her memory brought him and the fire she lit in his stomach—he'd almost forgotten just how he ended up here. He'd almost let himself forget exactly why he was so pissed off in the first place.

Those fuckers wore her face. Whatever the hell their goal was didn't matter in the slightest. It didn't matter that they'd locked him away and chained him and it didn't fucking matter how tired he was or how much shit they injected into his neck. They were going to pay. He didn't care how long he'd have to wait. He'd find a way out of these restraints and he'd blow every single one of them into tiny, charred chunks of human trash before he'd give up.

Bakugou grinned behind the muzzle, excitement welling up in his chest. Even though she wasn't around, Uraraka had managed to whip him into shape. Again. He'd have to thank her for that later. He was going to be the best—he was gonna get out of here and he was going to be the number one fucking hero.

And there was no way in hell that he'd let some pathetic chains and villains stand in his way.

Bakugou couldn't see the restraints that were binding his hands together but he could feel the fabric between his fingers—gloves, probably to absorb moisture—and the casing around that was definitely metal, cold against his arms, heavy enough to put a strain on his shoulders. There was some sort of chain connected to that, binding him to the floor. They clanged near his feet with the slightest movement. On top of that, his elbows and upper arms were secured to his torso, bound by a strap that connected him to something behind him. It couldn't be a wall, the villains always entered from behind… He could only assume it was a pillar-like structure rising the ground below him; he could feel the sharp corners pressed between his shoulder blades. The muzzle was attached to it too, keeping his head upright, but it was looser than whatever was wrapped around his body. His legs were the only thing even remotely free, although that was probably a generous description considering his ankles were bound together.

Annoying.

He growled to himself—no matter how shitty these fucking villains were, they'd definitely learned from their past mistakes. They weren't giving him a single fucking way to move, let alone escape. And those gloves were really going to be a problem… He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been restrained but his hands were bone dry despite the sweat he felt dripping from his brow. He hadn't had a single drop of water since he'd been captured either. It seemed like they really did their homework this time around.

It doesn't matter.

Bakugou couldn't let dehydration get the better of him. Under certain conditions, he could control the flow of his sweat to an extent. If he could gather enough in his palms, maybe the gloves wouldn't be able to absorb the moisture fast enough. The problem wasn't necessarily the restraints on his hands, it was the timing. Even if he managed to obliterate those, it would be loud, really loud, and those assholes would be on him in an instant before he could deal with the rest of his bindings. The drug was an issue too—it was hard enough to find the energy to wiggle his fingers inside their metal casing, fucking forget fighting. Bakugou wasn't sure if his legs would even be able to hold his weight without the help of the straps, so fighting was low on the list of possibilities.

He furrowed his brow, unsure how he was supposed to deal with the fatigue. He wanted to believe sheer fucking spite and willpower would keep him on his feet, but he wasn't an idiot—whatever they kept sticking into his neck was meant to keep his body weak. He couldn't just wish away the effects as much as he might want to. That was the first obstacle he'd have to overcome…

He needed a way to get their guard down, to let up just enough to give him an opening. A way to earn their trust, as fucking disgusting as that thought might be, even if it was only a little.

Wait.

For the first time since All Might fought All For One, Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut and sifted through his memories. It made his stomach churn after he'd spent so much time trying to bury them, but he kept digging. If he couldn't just force his body to do what he wanted then he'd have to think of something else, anything else to get the fuck out of here, no matter how much he hated the thought.

"Bakugou Katsuki, the wannabe hero… I know this is taking things a little fast, but… What say you become one of us? Ours is a battle of questions. What is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We'll make everybody question those things, one by one! And we plan to win. You… like winning too, right?"

Bakugou remembered the fear again, he remembered the fight that almost destroyed his hero. He remembered the implications behind their words and their invitation... he remembered wondering if the world would see him the way they did… But even though his stomach twisted into tight, sickening knots, the fear stayed in the memory where it belonged—their words didn't have the malice they once had. He wasn't afraid.

The hands-guy, Shigaraki, had loosened his restraints to earn his trust before. Because he'd wanted Bakugou to join the League… so, at least for now, playing along was probably the only option.

They want a villain. He thought, smothering the memories with all the rage he could muster, pulling the pieces of a plan together in his head, I'll give them a fucking villain.

[Day Seventeen]

Bakugou thought his heart might beat out of his chest as the door behind him clanked and creaked open, letting light into his cell for the first time since he'd arrived at… wherever the fuck he was. Only one pair of shoes echoed off the concrete as they made their way into the cell. He braced himself for the prick of the needle as they drew closer, but it never came. Instead they placed their hand on the back of his neck, dragging their fingers along his skin—small, they probably belonged to that girl. The one who had the audacity to wear Uraraka's face. It took more energy than he cared to admit to keep himself calm as she spoke.

"Sorry, Katsuki," Her voice drawled near his ear, "I woulda loved to see you with Ochako's cute little face again but…" She finally rounded on him, bringing her face into his periphery, shrugging like she was disappointed, "I ran outta blood."

He resisted the urge to narrow his eyes or meet her gaze—none of this was going to work if they thought he was as defiant as the last time. He picked a single point, a scuff on the concrete floor, and stared, trying his best to hide his building excitement. Why was the idea of facing something seemingly insurmountable such a fucking rush?

Bakugou knew he wasn't much of an actor, although he had never really tried, but right now he needed to be, so he would. It was his only option. There was no way he could just stay there, bound in chains until the pros showed up; he'd just be a liability if any sort of rescue arrived and that drug was still in his system—so he'd settled on pretending. He needed to look dejected. He needed to look like he was breaking, like there wasn't an ounce of fight left in his soul. No matter how much he hated it.

That was his only chance of keeping those needles out of his neck. One thing at a time.

The girl sighed at him and let out a small whine, "She's so cute, you think so too, right?" He could barely see her lips curl into a large, toothy smile, but her sharp canines still made his way into his vision. What the fuck was she, anyway? "Oh, you don't have to say anything, though. I already know the answer to that. We were watching. It's what led us to where we are now!"

He didn't speak and she continued after a few heartbeats.

"You know…" She finally made her way directly into his line of sight—the smile was gone, and she was twirling a knife in her hands, "It's really no fun for me if you don't struggle." Her voice was flat, devoid of anything close to human emotion; the tone mimicked the look in her eyes, "I could bring your little girlfriend here instead if you'd like. Her blood would was some of the tastiest I've had in a while… Maybe I could bring her in here," She motioned to the open space in front of him and then ran her fingers gently along the blade, "It would be great to wear her again, don't you think? I just hope I don't get carried away."

Bakugou was suddenly grateful for his muzzle—he wasn't sure what she'd think if he saw the way his jaw clenched as she dug deeper.

"Do you think she'd scream, Katsuki? Do you think she'd beg for her life? Or maybe she'd look at you, asking for help. For justice… and you could just sit and watch."

Fuck. This. Chick.

"Or," Her eyes finally lit back up, like a switch had been flipped in her backwards brain, "Maybe she wouldn't even look at you, after what ya did."

Bakugou urged himself to stay stoic, to look through her, but he couldn't help but meet her eyes at that last bit. He almost shuddered at that wide, ecstasy-filled grin adorning her face—there was more to this than he'd originally guessed. He couldn't tell if he'd underestimated them or if this was some sort of bluff. But as he glowered her smile grew larger.

The shrill giggle that left her lips set his teeth on edge, but she was looking past him now, over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with excitement, "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

"You've done enough talking, Toga."

Toga. That was her name. But he could hardly care in that moment. Because Bakugou knew that voice. It was the one that had plagued his dreams, turned them into nightmares, left him choking for breath each morning for weeks on end. That name he knew.

Shigaraki Tomura.

She pouted but seemed to oblige, stepping to the side to begin circling Bakugou at the owner of the voice stepped into view, still twirling her knife all the while.

"Here we are again, Bakugou Katsuki," Shigaraki's voice was only the slightest bit muffled behind the nasty fucking hand wrapped around his face. His mouth was hidden but Bakugou swore he heard a smile in his voice, "I'd apologize for the chains but you and I both know you can't be trusted to keep calm." He seemed different from before—confident. Grueling. Excited. "Do you remember what I called you? Last time?"

Bakugou's voice was a growl but he could see it on the fucker's face. He wouldn't continue until he responded. "Wannabe hero."

He seemed pleased behind the boney joints, "Back then it was just an observation, you know. But things are different this time around," He leaned forward, just enough that Bakugou had to look into his eyes, "It took weeks getting into that school's security system, but it made for some… interesting reading. Looks like you're already one of us, whether you want to be or not. We just had to help push the narrative."

Toga laughed again from somewhere behind him, and Bakugou thought he might burst. He didn't want to listen to a single fucking word that came out of their mouths—his mouth. His fingers twitched inside their prison; the gloves were finally getting damp. Just a little more.

"What do you say? Want to hear what they wrote about you? Want to hear what they really think of you? Hero?"

"Maybe he wants to hear about how he bashed his friend's brain in?" She piped up again, stomping her feet in time with her laughter.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes but held his tongue, keeping his gaze firmly on the figure in front of him. He knew every word oozing from their mouths were lies. Every bit of his energy had to go to his palms, to redirecting his sweat into those gloves, not to their slimy words or shitty taunts. They wouldn't talk so fucking big when he blew them sky high.

"C'mon, hero," Shigaraki lunged forward, gripping onto the muzzle and tilting Bakugou's chin up as far as the restraints would allow, "Let me hear you."

No. He couldn't. He fucking couldn't. Would he really have to throw out every last bit of his pride just to get out of this shithole? Bakugou knew his limitations, he knew what he was and wasn't capable of. He had been willing to pretend, to feign weakness, to act like he'd given up if it meant he could get out of here. If it meant he could get back. Back to UA, back to being a hero, back to Uraraka. But did that mean he had to throw every last bit of himself out the window? Could he really live with himself if they wanted him to resort to begging for their fucking lies? Bakugou's mind pulled him towards his chance for salvation—suck it up, say the words, kill 'em later—but his heart wanted to refuse. Could he still claim to be the strongest or the best if he bowed to their whims, even for his own sake? He didn't know the right answer, but he could see the syringe in Shigaraki's free hand, and he could feel his sweat running down his fingertips. If they stuck him now, hours of effort would be wasted and he'd have to build up his ammunition all over again later, more dehydrated, more exhausted…

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Whether it was five minutes from now or five years from now, Bakugou vowed to blow that hands-fucker apart if it was the last thing if he ever did.

"What the fuck do they say?!" He roared behind the muzzle, twisting his chin out of the villain's grip to meet his eyes once more, hating himself as the wide, dry grin spread across his face, peeking out from behind that hand.

"You follow orders about as well as the rest of them," Shigaraki drawled in his hoarse tone, shifting his gaze to Toga for just a moment.

After a long, silent moment, Bakugou thought he wasn't going to continue. Rage burned his stomach, making its way to his throat, leaving it raw; it took everything he had to stop himself from shaking in his restraints. But Shigaraki decided to give him what he asked for, of course he did, he was fucking dying to say it. Bakugou could see it in his smug-ass face.

"They've been looking for the traitor," He started, sliding the syringe into his coat pocket, "The one who leaked USJ. The Forest's location. Your location. There's a list in their mountain of investigation… potential villains, like us. And you, wannabe hero, made the cut. Can you believe it?"

"You get it, right?" Toga chided in his ear, wrapping her arm around his shoulder to rest her blade against his throat, pressing harder as she spoke, "It doesn't matter that it wasn't you! It doesn't! They don't care, they've already decided what you are!"

"In their eyes, you're already a villain, Bakugou Katsuki."