The first time Toga brings an addition to their little sessions, Katsuki tries to look away.
She must have a eye at the back of her fucking head because each time he goes against orders and refuses to watch her tear apart another human being -civilian clothes, young, just a fucking teenager fucking why- she walks over and works on him until he has to give up.
The fact she can get him to do what she wants tastes like vomit on his tongue.
(Or maybe that was vomit. They did feed him in random intervals.)
Toga was unbothered by how much he ended up throwing up, or how he screamed and trashed in his binds, his yells turning into borderline humane shrieks that matched the screams of her victims. Like he was the one being torn apart with the deliberate intent of dragging things out.
Because he could squeeze his eyes shut however hard he wanted, there was no blocking out the sounds.
I'm sorry, Katsuki thinks the second time, Toga merely stripping away her victim's skin while telling him why she was using a short, wide knife and look, you need to slide it this way, isn't it fascinating, Katsuki?
I'm so fucking sorry.
The prisoners never had the time to talk to him, but he could hear the accusation in their cries and he sees the way they look at him while Toga goes to fetch a different weapon. They knew it was his fault they were here. That it was Katsuki's fault that they would never go home and see their loved ones again.
Because he was stupid, helpless, hopeless Katsuki who couldn't even save someone right in front of him, much less himself.
Maybe that's why he hadn't been found yet.
Maybe that's why they weren't looking for him. Maybe it was because they thought he had joined the villains already and the heroes were just waiting for his big debut. For him to turn his Explosion Quirk on the very same people he'd sworn he'll protect as a young child.
The first time this strand of thought strayed into his mind, Katsuki retched.
Then happens again and again.
Eventually, he stops throwing up.
.
.
.
By the time he stops getting sick, they're not just satisfied with him being used to the violence.
They want him to watch.
They want him to learn.
When their intentions became clear to him, Katsuki felt fury. How dare they think he would bend the knee to Shigaraki. How dare they think that he would stray from the path he had been on since his early childhood, when he understood for the first time what the word hero meant.
How did they dare think he was this spineless?
He'd lasted this long in their clutches, hadn't he?
(How long that was, he didn't know.)
He knows their plan. Or at least, their goal. Shigaraki wants him to learn, wants to shape him up into a villain, another pawn. A member of the League's Vanguard Squad, willingly or not.
But they're smart. They don't go all in, promising riches and glory like Katsuki expected. What they're doing now is starting small, and working their way up from there. They're ringmasters in a circus, whipping their chains at him, testing what boundaries they could push, what could give. Trying to figure out what he was willing to do and what he was not.
Discovering what buttons to push to get the lion to perform tricks for the audience.
Over the struggling cries of her victims, Toga cheerfully tells what kind of knife she's using -where to best use it and why. Katsuki silently fumes in between the bouts of helpless rage and the ever fading nausea.
If he looks away, he's punished.
If he looks away, he can stay sane.
If he looks away, Toga will drag it out for hours.
If he looks, the people Toga brings would die quicker. They wouldn't have to choke on their own blood and wait as the blond bitch got him to heel again like one would a rowdy dog. It was the smallest of mercies, but it was the only thing Katsuki had control over.
And he just wants this to be over.
(No one was coming for him, though.)
So, he looks.
He learns.
.
.
.
The first time they let him loose, he lunges straight for Toga.
She's just standing there mere feet away, arms wide, smile dazzling and hungry, the beginning of a laugh bubbling out of her lips like she's enjoying this and it drives Katsuki wild, makes him snap his teeth and roar like a rabid beast as he rushes towards the other blonde-
Then darkness swallows him up.
Kurogiri.
Of fucking course.
Katsuki's not a quitter though. He fights back. Cursing and screaming, he fights back.
He falls into portals again and again, darkness enveloping his senses and scrambling his brains just as well as Toga's mind tricks. His hands unused to exercise after being constricted for so long let out the most pathetic puffs of smoke and fire and the ball in Katsuki's stomach rises up, twisting his insides because how long had it been for him to end up in such a condition?
He tries to get evade Kurogiri; to avoid the vast void the man spread across the room, sending him back to his corner of the cell every time he lunged for his captors. Katsuki tries, his terrified, wild mind pushing through his limit again and again even as his body screams for mercy.
Inevitably, he eventually collapses, exhausted and panting like a dog dying from heatstroke, head swimming. His eyes are open, but he can't focus on anything but the painful dry rasp that comes with each breath he takes.
Consciousness trickles back to him when he feels a hand on his head, caressing the dirty blonde locks.
Small, thin. Not Shigaraki then. Toga.
His empty stomach gives a painful lurch.
"Had enough, sweetheart?"
He hisses at her, wordless and angry.
Toga merely giggles, picks him up and drags him over to his bindings. He's limp in her grasp, mind swimming through tar.
The click of the box snapping shut around his twitching, aching hands sounds like a thunder strike in his ears. A bolt of lightning, brilliant and burning, striking through the haze and reaching his core. He's not getting out of here. He failed. Again.
Toga clicks the final lock in place and steps in front of her. Katsuki's glare is weak and halfhearted, sleep tugging at the corner of his mind, demanding attention. He refuses to give in -not while she's still here.
"It's okay, Katsuki~" She tells him like one would to a terrified child, her gentle voice betrayed by her too wide eyes and shrunken pupils.
Then there's a pair of lips on his forehead. They feel cold against his overheated skin.
"We'll try again tomorrow good?"
They leave him hanging there, weak and exhausted, ready to be prodded at again as the villains retreat to find a new angle to sink in, a new crack in his chassis to dig into and pull.
And Katsuki doesn't know how long he has left before they find the right angle.
.
.
.
Sometimes, in between the bouts of unconsciousness and the villains' visits, he wonders how the other students were faring.
What few names he can still remember float by.
Kaminari. Todoroki. Uraraka. Kirishima. Deku.
(Try as he might, he can't recall the exact shade of red of Kirishima's hair anymore.)
None of them had been captured alongside him -Katsuki would have known, seeing Shigaraki's habit of blabbering to him. The pale-haired criminal would take the opportunity to rub salt in the wound. The man's careful enough to not say anything about what is going on outside in the real world, but Katsuki knew him well enough by now to know the villain would be more than happy to tell him one of the other students was caught.
And didn't that bring the nausea back.
Deku was hurt. He thinks, forcing himself to remember that night. His memories feel muddled and scattered, but he can still remember the dark purpling of the nerd's arms, the way blood dripped down Deku's face -and how despite his grievous wounds, he ran in like a absolute moron instead of retreating to the camp like Mandalay ordered them to, fire in his eyes. He'd nearly jumped into Kurogiri's portal alongside Katsuki.
Deep down, he feels relief that he's alone. He's glad Deku wasn't here.
The other boy was too soft. Too hopeful. Spineless. Even with that augment Quirk of his -and that was a whole other basket of shit Katsuki didn't even want to touch with a ten foot pole -there was no way he would have lived longer than a few hours in Shigaraki's clutches. The man already hated the green idiot, he would have no issue turning him to dust.
Besides, Deku didn't have the same potential as Katsuki had in their eyes.
He was less pliant.
Katsuki wanted to fancy himself as on the same level -but he was starting to think otherwise. It would only take them finding the right temperature for him to grow soft and malleable in their hands.
(Because he was losing the war, ultimately. No matter how much he struggled and snapped and fought back, he was slowly and steadily being dragged towards an invisible finish line.)
Deku wouldn't last. Shigaraki would get fed up with him quickly enough. With all of his yapping and preaching, the green haired idiot would inevitably get killed.
He was just-
...too much of a textbook hero, to give into Shigaraki.
This realization sits prickly and ugly in his chest.
It's the truth though.
Deku wouldn't have lasted here.
But Katsuki could.
.
.
.
Ha.
And he mocked Deku for being idealistic.
.
.
.
If he looks away, he's punished.
If he looks away, he can stay sane.
If he looks away, Toga will drag it out for hours.
If he looks, if he does what they want-
.
.
.
"Why...are you even trying?" He spits out a glob of blood. Some dribbles down the corner of his lips. He's too used to being in constant discomfort by now to be even bothered by it. "I'm not g-gonna break."
Liar.
Filthy, filthy liar.
Shigaraki drums his fingers against the table of tools. The tap tap tap would have been just as maddening as the dripping of the water from the ceiling, but Katsuki over the weeks -or months or years, who knew- had grown numb to the disturbance.
He'd been floating in between a haze of here and not here for a long time now. Some things had eventually faded into obscurity.
"Why? You're valuable." Shigaraki finally answers after a long pause. Katsuki watches from the corner of his eyes as he peers at Toga's tools with mild interest. He wasn't going to use them though -Katsuki behaved today. "You might not be the hero of this tale, but you matter. Somewhat."
He turns his head to his captive, smile all teeth and edges. His eyes almost glow in the dark, ruby red not unlike Katsuki's own demanding his attention -and just like with Toga, the blonde doesn't look away. He's learned not to.
"The childhood rival, always putting dear little Deku down."
Katsuki jolts.
What.
"How-"
"You mumble when you sleep." Shigaraki responds offhandedly as he picks one of his nails with a sharp, thin knife -the same one Toga had shown him how to use today. It was perfect for smaller, more precise cuts that reached deep. Good for dragging things out before the big show.
Katsuki had yet to do anything else than sit there in the corner and watch. A matter of time, Toga told him gently while patting his cheek. Just watch and learn for now, Katsuki~!
"We've had an eye on you for a while, too. You left quite the impression on Kurogiri back at the USJ."
They had been watching him for that long?
Katsuki's stomach makes odd twist in his gut.
Did they really think he was villain material since then?
Was he really that-
Don't think about it, you useless shit.
He snaps back to awareness when Shigaraki steps closer to where he's sitting, bound and tied on a rickedy metal chair. Katsuki can only offer up a halfhearted sneer and bared teeth -a threat that feels emptier and emptier at times goes by- as the man leans close. Pale teal hair flutters against his nose, making him grit his teeth in discomfort.
It's nothing versus the feeling of having his captor looming over him, hands on his bound forearms. Pinky fingers lifted, just barely. Ready to come down and turn his skin into ash.
"It would be right out of a shonen manga," Shigaraki whispers into his ear. "The childhood bully who thought he was hero material, who gave everything for his dream, switching sides and going against the protagonist." The man makes a tiny, excited noise, his hot breath fanning against his skin in a way that sends the world tilting.
"Oh, it will be glorious."
Katsuki tries not to retch at how he says it. The inevitability, how he thought his fate was set in stone and Katsuki had to stop fighting it and bend the knee.
Then there's arms wrapping around him, hugging. Trapping him.
Katsuki twitches in his grasp, but he can't move. He feels part of his shirt decay when Shigaraki clings to him tighter, feeling more like snake constricting around him than a human being. He feels teeth brush against his ear, and freezes at the sensation. The smell of old blood and ash is overwhelming.
Blind, animal terror keeps him pinned where he lay, far more effective than the arms caging him or the binds.
"I will enjoy the look on Midoriya Izuku's face when you stand by my side."
.
.
.
If he looks away, he's punished.
If he looks away, he can stay sane.
If he looks away, Toga will drag it out for hours.
If he looks, if he does what they want-
.
.
.
The next time Toga offers, he picks up the knife.