Acceptance (Still a Bit Angry)

Izuku never showed up to class the next day.

As Aizawa, wrapped in bandages up to his eyeballs, lectured on all the mistakes they had made against the villains, Katsuki found his attention drawn towards the unsettling silence from the empty seat. Without the background noise of scrawled notes and rapid muttering, he felt tense and on edge in a way he couldn't explain.

Even when he's not here, he's still distracting me, Katsuki thought irritably.

On the walk back home, Katsuki found himself looking over his shoulder, hunting for any sign of Deku. A flash of green hair drew his gaze, but the crowd parted around a very much alive, and very much not Deku girl in a U.A. uniform. Snorting to himself, Katsuki turned away from the extra and kept walking towards home.

When he opened the door, he nearly bumped into his mom. In a grocery bag, she had a stack of meals in tupperware containers and a box of garbage bags.

"Hey, looks like you're home early. Any villains attack the school today?"

"No mom." Katsuki rolled his eyes. "You're heading over to Auntie Inko's?"

Mitsuki's face grew somber. "Just helping her out. She needs a bit more time, since, you know."

A twinge of guilt twisted like a knife's blade in his chest. Suppressing the growl creeping up the back of his throat, Katsuki reached for the bag. "I'll take it."

Mitsuki blinked at him. "You sure? What brought this on?"

"They didn't assign any homework," Katsuki lied, "And I'm bored. I'll take it."

"Well, if you're offering…" Mitsuki stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before handing him the bag. "Make sure you get my other containers back, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

"And be nice to her! If I find out you bad-mouthed her, I'll spank your bottom harder than those villains!"

"I fucking get it! Sheesh!"

"And no swearing, dipshit!"

"You first, old hag!"

"Old hag! That's it, I'm going to-"

Katsuki slammed the door before his mother could finish the threat. Shouldering the grocery bag, Katsuki walked over to Inko's apartment. He paused before the door. Looking at the chipped wood and tarnished door handle, Katsuki realized he couldn't remember the last time he had been over. Maybe when his mother dragged him there, years ago.

Angered by his own hesitation, Katsuki lit a droplet of sweat in his palm. A flash of heat and pain touched his skin like the brush of a feather. With his still-smoking hand, Katsuki knocked on the door. No answer came. Katsuki knocked again, louder, hard enough to rattle the door.

Katsuki waited a minute. He grumbled under his breath, "You better not be dead in there," and tried the doorknob. The door opened but stopped halfway after it hit something.

The moment he crossed the threshold, his nose wrinkled. A noxious stench of old sweat and rotting food permeated the air. Unwashed clothes and takeout containers were strewn about the floor and furniture. Piles of dishes sat in the sink, with mold and crusted bits of food clinging to them.

The television blared out news about the latest villain attack that All Might had stopped. Bathed in the television glow, Inko sat on the sofa, surrounded by a pile of crumpled, tear-stained tissues. Dark bags stretched under her eyes, and her hair sat like a greasy, unkempt mop atop her head. Pit stains dampened her shirt around her armpits, and her sweatpants were covered in crumbs and food stains.

"Mitsuki, is that you?" Inko's voice sounded faint and uninterested. Her eyes glossed over to Katsuki and widened in shock. "Oh, Katsuki! I, uh, how have you been?" She glanced around the room and took in the disgusting mess that had taken over her home. "I, uh, I was in the middle of cleaning. Sorry, you caught me at a bad time."

Katsuki looked around the room. Deku was nowhere in sight. Grimacing, he tiptoed his way through the mess and opened the refrigerator. Empty tupperware containers, with moldy bits of food clinging to them, filled one shelf, while the produce drawers and other shelves were bare. Katsuki put the stack of fresh meals inside and shoved the empty containers into the bag.

"Mom got you some garbage bags." Katsuki set the box on the only counter space available.

"Oh. Um, thank you. So… how is school?" She frowned in concentration. "I remember Mitsuki saying you made it into U.A.? Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Inko coughed as the silence stretched out. "Izuku wanted to get in there as well, even though… you know…"

"Can I see his room?"

"His - sure, I'll let you in."

Inko panted as she struggled out of the chair. Her legs wobbled, and she leaned against the arm of the sofa to catch her breath. She led the way down to Izuku's door. An All Might poster grinned down at him. One corner was peeling down where the tape had come undone.

Inko opened the door. A layer of dust covered the hero merchandise arranged on the desk and bookshelves. The sheets were neatly tucked into place, and Izuku's desk had been tidied up. Katsuki opened the closet door. Piles of folded-up t-shirts with corny phrases and heroes' faces rested in an open drawer.

Inko dragged a finger across Izuku's bedframe and frowned at the dusty smear. "I haven't been in here since… I should get this cleaned up."

"Worry about the rest of the place first," Katsuki said with a flicker of heat. Stepping into the Midoriya residence felt unsettling, and from its trash-strewn appearance, he could easily envision Auntie Inko wasting away before his eyes. Seeing Deku's room preserved like a shrine sent hot prickles of disgust across his face. In death, as he had in life, Deku dragged everyone down around him.

Tucked in one corner of the closet was a pile of journals. The burnt seventeenth journal sat on top, its cover cleaned and patched up with construction paper. Katsuki flipped through the book, taking care not to crumble the ashen blots that marred the pages.

Towards the end, he found a drawing of himself, uncannily lifelike, as though he stared into a mirror. In the drawing, he wore a hero costume, eerily similar to the design he had U.A. make him. The messy scrawl, rambling like Deku's muttering, detailed his Quirk and worked through multiple ways he could use it, from flying with consecutive blasts to carefully clearing away rubble, along with the method to make AP shot that Deku had given him.

Katsuki flipped through the rest of the book. A few other classmates from Aldera were in there, along with a number of rookie pro heroes, but not one page had Deku.

"I've never looked inside those," Inko said morosely. Tears glistened in her eyes. "It seemed like the only thing that made him happy."

Katsuki slammed the journal shut, smearing ashes on his hands, and tossed it back onto the pile. "They're nothing important."

Inko stared mortified at the pile of journals and hurried over to straighten them. She reverently closed the closet and went back to staring at Izuku's merchandise collection.

Deku was still nowhere in sight. Thinking of an excuse to check out more of the apartment, Katsuki asked, "Mind if I use the restroom?"

"Oh, sure. Right down the hall."

He left Inko behind and opened every door on his way to the bathroom. Inko's bed in the master bedroom had a layer of dust, as though it hadn't been slept in for months. The closets were in disarray, items shuffled around and knocked over. Katsuki opened the bathroom last and was greeted with a musty smell. The shower had crusty lime stains where the shower-head dripped.

Katsuki flushed the toilet and ran the faucet on the sink. His thoughts wandered back to Deku. Had the ghost simply wandered off to find someone else to bother, or did Deku disappear? Was he gone forever?

Katsuki clenched the edge of the sink hard enough to turn his fingers white. Deku wasn't coming back, just like he said. Had Deku thrown his life away as well, figured that a villain attack was a cleaner way to go than leaping off a building?

Why? Katsuki screamed in his head. Why do you keep disappearing? And why is it always my fault?

"Katsuki?" Inko called out. "Are you alright in there?"

Katsuki shook himself and looked down at the sink. The water was nearly up to the brim. He hastily turned the faucet and said, "I had a smudge that didn't want to come off. I'll be right out."

Once he got back into the kitchen, Katsuki tore the box of garbage bags open and tossed one onto the counter. "You should get this cleaned up. It stinks in here."

Without looking back, Katsuki slammed the door. He leaned against the railing of the stairwell and stared out across the cramped Musutafu cityscape. Driven by restless energy, Katsuki's legs carried him by instinct down the sidewalks. The rumble of cars and scuffing of countless shoes on pavement receded, replaced by the whisper of leaves swaying in the wind.

Alerted by the sudden change in scenery, Katsuki looked around. He recognized the park, one he had played in many times as a kid. On a whim, Katsuki followed the path to the playground. The monkey bars, once painted a vibrant yellow, had faded to a rusty brown. The plastic slide had a huge dent in it, and the carousel had most its bars ripped out. The gritty sand had soda bottles and trash from decades gone by strewn about like an abandoned archaeological dig site.

As Katsuki rounded on the other side of the park, the swing set came into view. Deku sat in one of the swings. His legs kicked back and forth, but the swing never moved.

Katsuki felt rooted to the spot. Deku's back was to him, and he hadn't turned around. A part of Katsuki screamed at him to turn away, to leave the parasite behind and never think about him again. Katsuki called it a coward and crushed the urge to slink away.

Taking a deep breath, Katsuki stepped forward. He walked up to the other swing and took a seat. The chain, made with children in mind, groaned under his weight. The sides of the swing bit into his waist.

Deku didn't look at him, nor did he stop kicking his legs, but he asked in a dull voice, "What are you doing here, Kacchan?"

Katsuki didn't know. He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about Deku, why he felt the soul-crushing guilt gnawing at his chest and the anger setting his heart aflame and the numbing grief that crept up his spine.

"Why did you die?" Katsuki asked. "Was it because of what I said?"

Deku stopped swinging his legs. "I thought about doing it. But, when I got up there, I couldn't do it. I was too scared."

Katsuki felt his throat dry up like a desert. "You - you weren't supposed to actually do it. You - I wanted you to…" Why had he said it? He couldn't remember. He remembered scorching the book and tossing it out the window, but looking back, none of it made sense.

Why? Katsuki asked himself. Why did I do any of that? How come I can't remember?

"It wasn't your fault. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and too weak to do anything about it. I am Quirkless, after all. Or, well, I was. I still have no idea how all this ghost stuff works."

"You always were weak." Katsuki kicked at the ground under his swing. "It pissed me off, you always trying to be like me, trying to be a hero, when you couldn't do anything. I felt like you were mocking me, holding me back, clinging to me like a parasite. I tried everything to get rid of you, and yet…"

"I knew you didn't want me around," Deku admitted. At Katsuki's shocked expression, Deku chuckled. "I'm not an idiot. You said as much many times."

"Then why? Why did you still try to hang around me?"

"Because I didn't have anyone else."

Something in Katsuki's chest shattered into a thousand pieces hearing those sad, simple words. He remembered all the extras teasing him, breaking and stealing his stuff, tripping him in the hallways and cafeteria, shoving his face in his food, extras emboldened by Katsuki's own actions.

It was supposed to make him stronger, Katsuki reminded himself. He was supposed to tell them to fuck off, fight back, kick in their shit so hard that they never messed with him again. So why?

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Izuku gave him a puzzled look. "How? I don't have a Quirk, Kacchan."

"You don't need a fucking Quirk to fucking punch someone's teeth out!" Katsuki's temper uncoiled itself like a dragon, billowing smoke and fire as it clambered over its treasure hoard. "How could you be so pathetic, taking everyone's shit for all these years?"

Deku looked away. "And then what? Every time someone punched me, the teachers always blamed me. What would have happened if I punched back?"

Bakugo remembered the teachers at Aldera, slimy assholes doting over the best and brightest, while the students falling behind got ignored. Soccer stars, straight-A nerds, and anyone with a Quirk worth a damn could commit murder right in front of their noses, and those teachers would sweep the mess under a rug.

And I was one of those, Bakugo realized. They let me do whatever I wanted. They never even let Deku fight back.

"That's not fair."

Deku shrugged. "What could I do?"

Tell the principal. The police. A hero. All Might would do something, right?

"Didn't you tell your mom? Anyone?"

"If I did, you would've gotten in trouble. U.A. is very strict with student records. A write-up for harassment could keep you from getting in." Deku hugged the swing's chains closer to himself. "I never had a chance to be a hero, I know that. I didn't want to do the same to you."

Tears burned in Katsuki's eyes as he tried to force them away. He grabbed the swing set's chains until their rusty links dug into his palms. "You… why would you do that? I treated you like dirt. You should've made me pay for it. So, why?"

"Because you're my friend."

Bakugo tried to yell at him, to tell him he was fucking stupid for still thinking that they were friends after all these years, but his chest wouldn't move. His throat seized up, and it felt as though he were sucking each breath he took through a burning straw. The world faded away to a blur as Bakugo spiraled down off the swing set, through the ground, and into the inky blackness of the abyss beneath the sand.

A cold touch on his shoulder brought Bakugo back to himself. Green eyes, wide with worry, peered down at him. Tears dripped and fell through Bakugo, leaving icy tendrils through his head in their wake.

"Kacchan, you need to breathe! Kacchan!"

Bakugo sat up with a groan. His head throbbed where he had bumped it against a rock in the sand. "Stop crying, Deku, I'm not gonna fucking die. Just got some sand in my throat, give me a minute."

As Bakugo brushed sand off himself, Deku asked, "Do you think you'll be a ghost too if you die?"

Bakugo snorted. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not kicking the bucket until I've left All Might in the dust."

Bakugo stood and leaned against the rusting swing set. His head still spun as he thought over everything he had done, and everything that everybody else hadn't done. Heroes always won, Bakugo knew that, but what did they win for? The heroes won, the villains lost, and Deku still died. Why didn't anyone save Deku?

"Hey, Deku."

"What is it, Kacchan?"

"Is it like that for everyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know…" Katsuki ran a hand through his hair. "Quirkless."

"Oh." Izuku looked squeamish. "I mean, there aren't exactly a lot of Quirkless people left, and I don't really talk to anyone. So, maybe it's better in other places?"

Are there really fewer Quirkless people, or are they all jumping off buildings hoping they get a Quirk in their next life?

The thought brought the taste of bile to the back of his throat. His hands clenched as he imagined a thousand Alderas, with their thousand Bakugos, each with another thousand extras, all hitting and shouting and tipping lunch trays and using Quirks and telling to kill themselves at a thousand Dekus.

Can't the heroes do something about it? Why haven't they? All Might could beat them all up in an afternoon, couldn't he?

Bakugo's head hurt too much trying to think about it. The problem seemed too big, too all-encompassing to wrap his head around, as endless and fraught with pitfalls as playing whack-a-mole in a minefield. However, in that moment, he knew that there was one thing that he could do.

"Come on," Bakugo said, heading down the park path.

Izuku, after a moment of hesitation, followed after him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to Auntie Inko's. I forgot the old hag's empty containers there."

Deku had a confused frown on his face for a few moments. Then his expression brightened. "Thank you, Kacchan."

"If Auntie Inko thinks I've lost it, I'm exorcising your ass."

Deku's laughter rang in Bakugo's ears, bright and cheerful, as he climbed each step to the Midoriyas' apartment.

END

A/N: and that's a wrap! Could the story theoretically go on? Of course. Tournament arc, internships, summer camp, I could do it all. But what's the point? How would it be any different than the thousand other iterations of that same timeline? How would it advance the character development of Izuku or Bakugo? Quite frankly, I feel that the story would go stale if I tried to push it farther than this.

Of course, if anyone wanted to write that story, by all means, go ahead.

I was hoping to get this done weeks ago, but training a new person in my department and other shenanigans in my life have kept me busy and tired. Once the new guy's trained up, I should be back to my regular schedule (which I haven't had in over a year) and should get more free time to write. Can't wait to have real weekends for once. Ugh.

So, what's next? Well, I've resolved to not write a single chapter for any other story (besides DEM, but does that really count?) until Precognition's done. I've put off getting that done for far too long. My goal is to have the next chapter out before the end of this month. With luck, I'll knock out the next chapter over Easter weekend.

Until then, see you next time! Let me know what you think of this story!