A/N: Disclaimer: Bakugou does something really, tremendously stupid in this chapter. Don't be like Bakugou.


Everything hurt. His chest ached, head thrumming, pulsing, thoughts jumbled by the pain. But above all, he was exhausted.

As his senses slowly came to him, Katsuki could start making out voices. They were far away, like he was trying to hear them from under water, their words hard to grasp, not retaining any meaning. But their tones sounded urgent, and the more he focused on them, the louder and clearer they seemed to become, eventually anchoring him back into reality.

"…it's true that I knew about his condition, and if I had known of the severity of the side effects as well, I would not have let him participate in the first place."

That voice was low, soft-spoken and nearly unfamiliar. Yet somehow, it was unmistakably All Might's.

Someone else sighed. "It's honestly alright, you didn't know." This voice belonged to someone he recognized, too. A woman.

"I truly am sorry, Recovery Girl. You as well, Aizawa."

"It's not me you should be apologizing to," a third voice mumbled, tired and gravely. "Look, he's finally coming around."

As his motor skills finally came to him, Katsuki couldn't help but let out a groan. He finally opened his eyes, squinting at the bright lights of his surroundings. Sure enough, he was lying down in the nurse's office, white and pristine, flushed orange by the sunlight outside. Three pairs of eyes were trailed onto him. Katsuki couldn't look, couldn't bring himself to see their pity staring back at him.

Of the three adults in the room, Recovery Girl was the first to speak up. "Young man, can you tell me why you're here?"

"I…" Katsuki trailed off, swallowing, wracking his brain for answers. Sensations, images, flashed into his head one by one as the memory came back to him in full. The dodge-ball match. The dizziness. The impact. Well, that certainly explained this fucking insufferable headache. He shut his eyes again, grimacing. "I fell."

"Good. And, your name, age, and school."

"Bakugou Katsuki. Fifteen. UA."

"Now, lift both of your arms in front of you, please."

He did.

"Now lower them. And, blink a few times for me."

He did.

"Good." Recovery Girl swiveled to her computer, typing. "You must have hit your head pretty hard back there. You had a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder, and one of your elbows got shattered. The bruises and fractures in your ribs were not a pretty sight, either." She shook her head, tutting. "With how All Might described you slamming into the ground like that… I've seen much worse, but you're quite lucky that you passed out afterwards. You managed to avoid feeling the worst of the pain."

"Hm." Katsuki blinked a few times, trying to take it all in, but the words were swimming around in his head. When he finally started grasping them, he looked to his shoulders. Moved them a bit. They felt fine now. So did his nose, and elbows, and torso. The aching was still everywhere, and he was utterly worn out, but he could move.

"Any traumatic brain injuries you might have gotten seem to have healed already," she continued. "But if you start to notice your memory acting funny in the next few days, be sure to stop by and I'll treat you again. Other than that, you've made a full recovery."

"And the flowers?" The question had left his mouth before he had a chance to stop it.

Recovery Girl tilted her head to the side. "What about them?"

"Did you heal the flowers? Are they gone?"

She leaned back in her chair, resting her clasped hands in her lap, a curious expression on her face. Her voice turned low. "Hanahaki is just as much a physical disorder as it is a psychological one. My quirk could help your body deal with any resulting harm, like internal bleeding, should the flowers get too out of control. But I can't cure you." Recovery Girl shook her head. "Not to worry! The flowers seem to be dormant now, so your medicine is working just fine."

"Right." Slowly, Katsuki pushed himself off of the cot, swinging his legs over until his feet touched the floor. He couldn't help but let out another long groan, bringing a hand to his temple. Fuck, now his head was spinning again.

After typing a few final details to the report, Recovery Girl swiveled her chair around so she could face the teachers. "I suppose this just goes to show how even the fun training exercises can go wrong." She let out a resigned sigh. "Now All Might, what do you have to say for yourself?"

All Might took a step forward, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry about what happened today, young Bakugou. I wasn't fully aware of how your treatment was affecting you. It was negligent of me to let you go straight into training in that condition."

Katsuki stayed staring forward, his hands balled up into fists on his lap, jaw set. He said nothing.

It was then that Aizawa cleared his throat. "This is why I've been overly cautious so far. Holding you back on training seemed like the most rational thing to do, at least until we know the full side-effects of your medication."

"And the side-effects are?" Katsuki finally managed to rasp out through his clenched teeth. "What happened to me back there?"

"Vertigo," Recovery Girl spoke up from her desk, her voice firm and composed. "Your treatment affects the consistency of the fluid in your inner ear, causing disorientation. It's a pretty common effect for this type of medication. Until your brain gets used to it, you should probably avoid using your quirk for mobility. More strenuous exercises should be avoided as well, in case you get dizzy."

"In other words, you're not gonna be training any time soon," Aizawa mumbled from behind his scarf. "Not for a few more weeks, at least."

Those words pounded in his head, again and again, like a final nail being driven into a coffin. Katsuki looked down. Even after all of this, and he still couldn't train. He felt the frustration boiling underneath the surface of his skin, anger and resentment all rumbling like a monster ready to awaken at any moment.

But it was subdued. Muted. Numb.

Numb, numb, numb.

"You should be all set now, but you'll be tired from my quirk, so take it easy for the rest of the day," Recovery Girl reminded him. "One of your classmates has offered to walk you back to the dorms."

Great, now he couldn't even walk without supervision? It was already too much to begin with, but now this? Damn. Katsuki could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge Recovery Girl, or any of his teachers, or their words. Could only keep staring into the distance.

Numb.

With a nod from Recovery Girl, Aizawa opened the door, allowing a new figure from the hallway to enter the room.

"Hey, man."

Katsuki snapped his head up in alarm, frozen like a deer in headlights. Red eyes smiled back at him. Pointy teeth, spiky hair.

The universe was definitely mocking him now.

"Come on, you two," Aizawa began as he continued to hold the door open. "It's getting late. We teachers still have some things to discuss, not to mention your parents to update."

Katsuki glanced out of the window behind him. The sun was hanging lower in the sky – late afternoon. How long had he been out? And just how long had Kirishima been waiting for him?

But his coughing really did seem to be completely under control. And, as much as he wasn't in the mood to see Kirishima right now, he didn't have much of a choice. So with one last, apprehensive look in the redhead's direction, Katsuki pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the doorway.

As they entered the corridor, the door closed behind them, leaving them completely alone.

"Here, I got your school bag for you!" Kirishima started, not allowing any sort of silence to envelop them for more than a single second. He grabbed the backpack from one of the waiting chairs in the hallway. As he held it out, he smiled, but there was some underlying tension, something straining his expression. He looked… tired.

Without a word, Katsuki took the bag by the strap and slung it over his shoulder, making his way down the corridor ahead of Kirishima. Maybe if he created enough distance between them, the guy would take a hint and leave him alone.

No such luck. Thinking nothing of the growing gap between them, Kirishima did a little jog to close the distance.

"Do you have a clean uniform at your dorm?" He asked as they fell into step.

Katsuki let out a frustrated puff of hot air through his nose. "Yeah, why?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you're still in your work-out uniform. I wasn't gonna root around your gym locker for your stuff, so today's school uniform is still there."

As they reached the stairwell, Kirishima held out his arm, as if expecting Katsuki to take it for support. Katsuki ignored the offer and began down the stairs.

Kirishima wasn't far behind. He was never far behind. And his voice was still just as cheery and insufferable as it ever was. "Since you have a spare, we can just go straight to the dorms now. You can just grab the other one another time."

Katsuki just grunted, stepping onto the landing, heading to the entryway lockers so he could put on his outdoor shoes. They had taken off his gym shoes, and walking around in just socks was plain weird. After rummaging around in his locker, he sat down on a bench and began unlacing his gym shoes.

"Did I miss anything?" Katsuki finally managed to grumble out.

"Not really," Kirishima took a seat next to him, his own pair of outdoor shoes in hand. "All Might actually ended training early. He managed to transform, just so he could take you to Recovery Girl himself. I think he felt pretty bad for not catching you."

"So, I've been out for…"

"About two hours, yeah."

This time, as they changed shoes, Kirishima did let silence take hold of them. The guy was worried, that much was obvious, but the resulting quiet was so stuffy. It made Katsuki feel uncomfortable, and restless. He wanted nothing more than to get away.

But surprisingly, Kirishima was the first to push himself off of the bench and make his way to the door. Katsuki could only follow suit.

The two made their way across campus to the dormitory. The air between them was filled with Kirishima's mindless rambling about this and that, their pace set by a slight hop in his step. On the surface, it was just like any other day after training. But there was something off about it, Katsuki could tell. There was a lag in Kirishima's step, too many uncomfortable pauses in his chatter. It was all a front. Kirishima's attempt to distract himself from his worry. And it wasn't working.

And Katsuki wanted to be angry about it, too. There was no reason for Kirishima to worry about him, or to act differently around him because of it. It was bullshit. But so much of him just felt like not caring.

As soon as they entered the dormitory common space, the room went quiet, and all eyes turned to them. Turned to Katsuki, focusing on him, gazes boring into him. Curiosity. Worry. Pity. He ducked his head and began making his way toward the stairwell, when Kirishima grabbed his forearm.

"Let's take the elevator today." He kept his voice low, quiet enough that no one else would overhear. "Aizawa told me to make sure that you take things easy."

Katsuki huffed. Jesus fucking Christ, now he wasn't even allowed to take the fucking stairs. At this rate, he wouldn't be allowed to walk to his toilet by next week. But at the same time, he didn't have much of a fight left in him. So when Kirishima started steering him towards the elevator, he just let it happen. What else could he do?

But as soon as the doors sealed shut, Kirishima turned to him.

"Hey…" His voice was soft. Uncertain.

And this was something Katsuki should have anticipated – Kirishima, once again, using their solitude as an opportunity to have some sort of conversation. A conversation that Katsuki was determined not to have. So he stared at a fixed point ahead of him, hoping to block everything out. Hoping to just ignore the problem away.

But then there was a hand on his shoulder, tugging him back to his surroundings.

"Bakugou, are you sure you're okay?"

He shook off the hand. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to pull that 'I'm fine' crap with me. I know you're not."

With a snap of his head, he turned to stare at Kirishima, eyes widened just a tad. Other people weren't usually so perceptive of his emotions. Hell, Katsuki wasn't usually so perceptive of his own emotions, either. But he quickly turned away, eyeing the floor numbers as they ascended, willing the elevator, or even time itself to go faster so he could escape far away from this.

But escaping the elevator wouldn't escape the fact that Kirishima was right. He wasn't fine. Of course he wasn't, he had just dropped from 20 feet in the fucking air. He couldn't feel things like he used to, the numbing static in his brain wouldn't let him. He had some bullshit disorder that fucked up his body, made him cough fucking flowers. And he was cornered – between the Hanahaki and the stupid medicine, he couldn't fight. Couldn't train, no matter what he did. It was all sorts of fucked up, how was he supposed to be fine with any of it? What could he even do to fix it?

But this whole other people caring about him thing wasn't something Katsuki was used to, either. It was uncomfortable. The elevator dinged, and as soon as the doors opened, Katsuki darted out of it, away from it all. But before he could make it to his dorm, retreat to the safe seclusion of his own room, Kirishima called after him.

"You're not okay." His words carried over Katsuki's shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. "And, that's okay."

"Kirishima…" he rumbled. A warning.

"I don't mean that your suffering is okay or anything! All I mean is, it's okay to be not okay, if that makes any sense…?"

"Kirishima," Katsuki tried again, his voice turning dangerously low.

"What I want to say is… you don't have to pretend to be okay when you're not. Especially around me."

At that, the air between them turned still, as if each of them were holding their breaths, waiting for something. Anything. The tension between them was too much.

Finally, Katsuki managed to let out a shaky breath. "Just, drop it."

There were soft footsteps behind him. "Bakugou—"

"I'm serious. Drop it."

"No."

There was a strong hand on his shoulder again, enough force to make Katsuki turn around in surprise. Then there were arms wrapped around him, Kirishima's chin resting on his shoulder. A proper hug. Katsuki froze, hands prepared to push away but brain first trying to process what was happening.

"Kirishima—"

"You scared me today, okay?" He cut in, his words muffled by Katsuki's shoulder, circling his arms tighter before Katsuki could push away. "You've been scaring me all week. You still are, even now."

That hug, so gentle, with Kirishima's hair against his nose, firm arms around his waist, a quiver in his voice as it shook with emotion… it should have been overwhelming.

"And I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's fine."

It should have made him feel a lot, just like he would have felt before.

"But I'm worried that you're bottling it up, not taking care of yourself."

He should have felt embarrassment. He should have felt infuriation. He should have felt confusion, and warmth, contentment. Gratitude. More than even that.

"So if you're going through something tough, you don't have to go through it alone."

He should have felt so much. So fucking much.

"Right?" Kirishima lifted his head to meet Katsuki's eyes, his brows drawn together in worry. "Right, Bakugou?"

Katsuki lowered his gaze. He searched within him for something, anything. An end to the static.

With a grunt, he pushed Kirishima away. He opened his door and let it fall shut behind him.

He felt nothing.

~oOo~

"Katsuki?" His mom's voice nearly shrieked through the phone.

Katsuki winced at the sharp sound and pulled it away from his ear. "Yeah?"

"Oh my god, you actually picked up, I can't believe it."

He huffed at that. Surely it wasn't that fucking surprising? Katsuki swung his backpack onto his bed and sat down next to it. "What do you want?"

"The school called a while ago and explained everything." She sounded… tightly-strung, to say the least. "They said you were healed up and fine now, but I wanted to hear it from you. You alright, kiddo?"

Katsuki rummaged around his bag for a bit, searching for something, the actions distracting him from his answer. Eventually, he let out a clipped "I'm fine."

"You sure as hell don't sound fine."

Fucking hell, not with this again. Katsuki groaned. "This is just what I normally sound like?"

"Maybe that's the problem," his mom's sigh carried loud and clear through the phone. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay? You seem a bit… well, from how the nurse described your injuries, falling like that must have been not fun."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "Ri-ight. I'm hanging up now."

"What? Don't— Fuck, Katsuki, I swear to God, I will march over there—"

"—Fine, fine, fine, whatever, I won't! Sheesh." With a shake of his head, Katsuki turned his attention back to his bag, where he finally found his pill bottle in a side pocket.

His mom sighed again. She'd been sighing too much lately. "We haven't heard from you much, how's everything else been? How are the petals?"

Katsuki stood from his bed and let out a stretch. "They're fucking fine."

"… Really?"

"Yeah. They've gone away already." He made his way to the bathroom.

"That's… really nice to hear, actually." This sigh was more in relief than anything. "Wish you'd let us know earlier though, ya brat. Not like we're holding our breaths over here or anything."

"Yeah, yeah." Katsuki carefully shut the bathroom door behind him.

"Well good news, the doctor said that you don't have to go to him for an appointment since UA's nurse handled everything."

He took a second to examine the pill bottle's label, glancing through the side-effects, muttering a passive "Sounds good."

"And— oh hold on, your father's calling."

"Mmhmm." He gave the bottle a little shake against his free ear.

"I'll text you or something. You better text back, alright?"

"Uh, yeah." He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, peering at the contents. "Sure thing."

"Bye."

"Hm. Bye." He hung up the phone, set it on the counter, held out the bottle in front of him.

And dumped every last pill into the toilet.


At first, nothing changed.

Not Friday night, not Saturday morning. Not even Saturday evening, after an entire day of not taking any medication. With the chemicals still lingering in his system, it was probably too soon to notice any effects. But that night, sleep didn't come as easy as it normally did. Maybe it was withdrawals or something? Or maybe it had nothing to do with the medication, just one of those nights where sleep was nearly impossible. But it was the weekend. A little lack of sleep was the least of his worries. At least the petals were still at bay.

Although that night, the thought did cross his mind once or twice that maybe what he had done hadn't been the best idea. Ignoring a doctor's instructions, stopping cold turkey on a medicine that he knew nothing about, that was supposed to cure him from a disease that he also knew nothing about… It wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do.

Scratch that. He was a total dumb-fuck.

But hey, what's done is done. There was nothing Katsuki could do about it now but hope for sleep to come. And in the early hours of the morning, he did finally manage to nod off.

But, as Katsuki woke up to the bright light of late Sunday morning, it was like a circuit had switched inside his brain. It was like there was a pool of energy, his energy that had been frozen over without him even realizing it. And now, the surface was finally beginning to thaw.

And by the end of the day, he was swimming in it.

It made his heart race, just a bit. Made his legs bounce restlessly as he tried working on his homework. It was exhilarating, all of the energy that he used to have was coming back to him all at once. But with that energy, came the anger. The resentment. It was distracting. He needed to work it down to a manageable level.

So Katsuki spent the rest of his Sunday afternoon drilling. Sit-ups, lunges, push-ups, jogging in place, jumping jacks, any reps that he could do in the small confides of his dorm, until sweat was dripping down his face and his muscles were worked to exhaustion. Anything that would elevate his sudden restlessness. Distract him from the all-encompassing frustration that was finally starting to creep back into his mind after so long.

But even that wasn't enough. Warm-ups weren't going to catch him up to the other students. He needed more.


Which, as expected, Aizawa wasn't gonna let him do. That Monday afternoon, Katsuki was forced to sit in the sidelines again, working on alternative assignments while he watched his peers train. On a positive note, his grades had never been better. And his grades had always been really fucking good. All of the extra time to study the material and work on homework over the past few weeks had paid off, albeit in a small way.

Yet all of that meant jack shit when he couldn't even do what he came to UA to do. If he wanted to be a regular student with regular classes and regular assignments and regular grades, he would have applied to fucking General Studies or something. But Katsuki sure as hell was not a regular student. He was supposed to be in the hero course, for fuck's sake. And at this point, he had absolutely nothing to show for it.

But Katsuki's homeroom teacher had no say in what he did outside the classroom. And he had to do something, because at this rate, whatever compromises the school had made for him and his condition weren't gonna work.

And that's how, that very evening, Katsuki found himself knocking on Kirishima's door.

It wasn't too often that Katsuki turned to people for help. But lately, if he ever entertained the idea, Kirishima was the first person to come to mind.

"Coming, coming~"

The door opened, revealing Kirishima in sweats with a headband running across his forehead. The sight didn't have an effect on Katsuki. Not a sign of the flowers.

Kirishima's face immediately lit up. "Bakugou? Hey man, what's up?"

"Wanna go sparring?"

"Uh." Kirishima's lips pouted in slight confusion. "What?"

"You, Me. Sparring. Now."

At first, Kirishima just blinked a few times. But then, his expression sagged, just a little. "Bakugou, you shouldn't."

Katsuki let out a huff. "I need to train."

Looking to the side guiltily, Kirishima chewed at his bottom lip. "You're supposed to be taking things easy, though."

"Oh sure, but 'taking it easy' and 'doing fuck-all' are not the same fucking thing, and you know it."

"I suppose, maybe, I could go with you to a practice room, spot you while you do warm-ups or something?"

"That's not training, that's stretching. Come on, Kirishima."

Not to mention that, Katsuki had tried using a practice room yesterday, but apparently, his student ID's key swipe no longer had clearance to that area of campus. Go fucking figure.

"…Right. Well…" Kirishima shrugged a little, clearly thinking through some options. "I do have a punching bag. I know it's not the same as actual hand-to-hand combat. But I think it could do you some good. Help you release whatever you've got bottled up."

Katsuki couldn't help but let out a tch. He didn't bottle things up. Hell, even if he did, some stupid punching bad wasn't gonna fix it.

"Hey," Kirishima let out sharply at the disgruntled look on Katsuki's face. "It's my punching bag. I didn't have to offer it to you. Do you want to use it or not?"

Katsuki thought for a second, considering his options. Either train alone in his room, or beat up something. And, he had already trained alone in his room.

"Fine," he grumbled, pushing Kirishima aside and stepping into the door. Without wasting any time, as soon as he reached the bag, he squared up, lifting his fist.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, hold up, stop." Kirishima hopped across the room to a drawer in his desk. He rummaged around in it before offering Katsuki two boxing gloves. "You're gonna need these. Jeez," he muttered under his breath, "you're certainly… enthusiastic today."

Katsuki just looked down at the gloves, upper lip lifted in repulsion.

"They're just my spare. I haven't used them, they're clean." Kirishima shoved them toward him again, more forcefully this time. "Boxing wraps. Gel ones, the good stuff. Please don't blast them too much."

With another petulant huff, Katsuki snatched the gloves and pulled them on. He wrapped the Velcro around his wrists, giving each a few rolls to gauge their support.

"…Thank you," he mumbled, as if saying it low enough would make it feel less significant.

"No problem, man!" With a smile, Kirishima crawled back onto his bed, where a textbook and notes were sprawled about. "Don't mind me, I'll just be working on that English vocab."

Katsuki nodded in Kirishima's general direction before turning his attention once again to the punching bag.

He didn't really get the point of punching bags. Sure, he knew the techniques, knew a jab from a hook, but he didn't see the appeal in beating up an object that couldn't fight back. Where was the challenge in that? It just didn't seem like training to him, and it certainly wasn't what he had been planning to do with his afternoon. But, as Katsuki gave the bag a few experimental jabs, then an undercut, then a short right hook, he realized that maybe Kirishima had a point. This would certainly be better than nothing.

So with a satisfactory grunt, Katsuki began. Keeping his elbow loose and close to his body, left foot forward, right foot back, fists held high, he jabbed the bag for real this time. Then he let out a few hooks, wides and shorts, then a few body-shots.

And he thought. He thought about his condition. He thought about his medicine, he thought about his parents and teachers, his training, how much he was being set back. How much he would rise above it all when this all boiled over. He imagined all of those souring thoughts to leave him, lifting weights off of his shoulders, burdening themselves on the bag instead with every hit.

When he felt his frustration building up to dangerous levels, he let out a cross with his back arm, lifting his right heal to help him carry through the motion, the extra momentum making a much stronger impact. Powerful. When his anger became too much, he would switch it up, hop back and test out a few kicks. But he wasn't a fan of kicking as much lately, so he mostly stuck with the punches.

It didn't take long for him to find a rhythm, a sequence that worked with the natural movements of his body. Jab, cross, hook, undercut. Over and over again. Eventually, he found himself bouncing from the ball of one foot to another, could feel his heart rate pick up, could feel his cheeks flush and his forehead acquire an even sheen of sweat, and everything started to recess to the background. And for just a moment, things were starting to melt away. In that one moment, he felt just a little bit free.

Goddamn, this really was cathartic.

But, it still wasn't enough. It wasn't long before it all came crashing back to him, the like the ocean tide reclaiming his thoughts to the depths. No matter how hard he swam against the current, no matter how many punches he threw, his mind sank back to how trapped he was. How fucked up everything was. How it had all turned to shit. He needed more distraction, needed to train harder, he couldn't fall behind. Not again. It started consuming his mind, he had to do something else, something more.

With a snarl, Katsuki hit the bag with an open palm, and the sound of an explosion filled the room, so sudden that even he jumped a bit in surprise. As the little smoke cleared away, Katsuki lowered his hands to his side, panting, letting the familiar, comforting burning scent to fill his lungs.

"You, uh… You okay?" a voice piped up behind him.

Damn, he had almost forgotten Kirishima was even there.

"Felt good," he grunted out.

Kirishima's eyes turned hopeful. "Yeah?"

Katsuki turned to Kirishima, his lips upturned into a devilish grin. "Fuck yeah."

At first, Kirishima just looked at him, eyebrows raised, blinking. But then, he let out a smile, so wide it was nearly blinding.

"Glad to have you back."

For a second, Katsuki froze. Those words, they were the same ones Kirishima had said before the dodgeball match, when Katsuki was allowed to train again. But this time, he got the feeling that Kirishima wasn't talking about the training.

Katsuki nodded, to himself more than anything, his own grin refusing to leave his face.

Yeah. He was glad to be back, too.


For a few days, the punching bag became a normal, and quite welcomed part of his schedule. Every day after the class' training, while Kirishima worked on homework, Katsuki would run a few drills. On Tuesday night, Kirishima even showed him a few exercises than an instructor had taught him a while back. They incorporated more footwork, more mobility, working with a wider range of muscle groups. More ways to spend his newly abundant energy reserves.

Because it was like two sides to the same coin. Right along with his energy, came that anger. And not just rumbling under his skin, either. By now, it had grown into a beast, fierce and untamed. It was everywhere, trying to consume him. And so were all of his other emotions. At least with a punching bag, he had an outlet.

But, hey. The flowers still hadn't returned. Katsuki wasn't so naïve to think that he was cured completely, but even so, some small part of him still wanted to hold onto hope that maybe, it was all over. He needed to get back to training already. Real training.


"Are you sure about this?"

Katsuki clicked his tongue impatiently. "Of course I am, Shitty Hair."

"It's just… Ehh, I'm not really sure we should be doing this."

"Oh come on, you're the one who'd been bugging me about this, for fucking ages."

"That I have," Kirishima gave a smug little grin. "Alright, in that case…" He rolled his shoulders, stretched the joints a bit. Katsuki did the same. "We're gonna take things easy at first. Just to get you back into the swing of things."

Katsuki sighed. "Right."

"No quirks yet, though. No contact, either. Just…" The redhead let out an uneasy breath. Seems he was more nervous about this than he was willing to let on. "Just go through the moves in slow motion, see if you get dizzy at all, yeah? Maybe then, we can move up to something more. But if I think you should take a break, I'm calling 'break'."

"I don't need to be fucking babied," he snapped. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like waiting outside the nurse's office for two hours again. Not to mention that your key swipe doesn't work on these practice rooms anymore, right? You need me to get in here, so..." Kirishima shrugged. "I could always just, take back my offer…?"

Dammit, Kirishima had a point there. That asshole. Katsuki glared to the side, jaw clenched.

"So… you accept the terms?" Kirishima chirped. "Take it easy, slow-mo, no contact, no quirks, yeah? In the beginning, at least."

"Whatever, just get on with it already."

Kirishima brought his hands together in a clap. "Alrighty then. Let's do this."

He squared up with Katsuki, facing him head on, only a little less than a meter away. The stance he took was low, knees bent, a slight bounce to him as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. With a duck of his head, he brought his fists in front of his chest and face, like a boxer's pose. Immediately, Katsuki mirrored his position.

Then, Kirishima brought a fist forward, aiming it at Katsuki's face. It was fast, sure, but not anywhere close to speed, and with a swerve of his head, Katsuki could easily dodge it. In response, he aimed a hook at Kirishima's jaw, just as slowly and without much force. Kirishima lifted an arm, his forearm blocking the hit.

Their 'fight' was more like a call-and-response. Their movements were too slow to be helpful, each so painstaking that it looked as if they were performing some bizarre dance with Kirishima taking the lead. He'd take a step forward, Katsuki would take a step back. One would attack, the other would defend, each taking their turns.

There was no spark behind their jabs, no intent to injure or to even make contact. Each of Kirishima's hits stopped short of their targets, each implementation so predictable that Katsuki had no trouble dodging and retaliating in turn, and he had no choice but to match the nearly unbearable pace.

But after an agonizing minute or so at this speed, Kirishima let out an upper-cut that was just a little more forceful than any of the throws before it. Katsuki immediately noticed, and leaped back to dodge accordingly. Seemed as though things were kicking up a notch, and Katsuki was eager to match the new pace.

This pace had the hits coming faster, with more purpose behind them. The time between each attack lessened as well, so it was a lot easier to rely on instincts than think through every move. Just how Katsuki liked it. But, Kirishima was still holding back, tremendously. Even with the change, he still wasn't aiming to hit. Even as Katsuki blocked and dodged, he could see that each strike stopped just short. If Katsuki chose to stand perfectly still, refuse to get out of the way, Kirishima's jab would still probably not hit him.

It was absolutely maddening, nearly insulting. This half-assed bullshit wasn't gonna cut it, he needed a full-on fight. He needed to actually train because he sure as hell wasn't going to let himself fall any more behind than he already was. He needed to feel his muscles strain and feel the sweat on his brow. He had anger, and frustration, roaring inside of him for the first time in days and he needed to let it out, fight it all out. He was ready for it.

So with a bellow, Katsuki let his next punch make contact with Kirishima's shoulder. Not too hard, but enough to take the guy by surprise and cause him to stumble on his footing a bit.

"Oi," Kirishima grunted, hand instinctively reaching up to sooth the point of impact. After a quick roll of his shoulder, he turned back to Katsuki with a dangerous smile and a glint in his eye. The tension was nearly palpable. "Alright then, if you're up for more..."

Kirishima stepped forward, and his next punch was fast, almost full-speed, a jab aimed straight at his face, and Katsuki was sure that if he hadn't leapt to the side, he would have gotten a bloody nose.

That was more like it.

In this new off-centered position, Katsuki's dominant arm was in the perfect position to strike Kirishima's midsection. So he let out a body-shot, aiming for the underside of Kirishima's ribcage. Kirishima pivoted to dodge, and the force of his own attempted punch caused Katsuki to lose balance and stagger forward. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his neck. He grunted, stumbling forward a few more steps, rubbing his nape. The bastard must have whacked him with his elbow, right where it hurt.

"Break," Kirishima puffed out through his deeper breathing. "Ohh man, I've missed this. Also, that was really good for having not trained in so long, although I suppose I don't expect anything different from you—"

"What do you mean, 'break'?" Katsuki growled. He turned to Kirishima, eyebrows lowered, a smirk on his lips. "Not when I'm just getting warmed up! Don't underestimate me, bastard!"

Kirishima paused for a second, looking Katsuki up and down, seemingly considering his options. Finally, he shrugged. "Well, come on then. Show me what you're made of."

And the way he raised an eyebrow, playfully, like it was some sort of a challenge… in an instant, the cinders in Katsuki ignited into a full-blown fire. It was a challenge, one that he was sure to face head-on with all his might.

In a blink of an eye, Katsuki lunged toward him, trying to knock Kirishima off balance. Kirishima braced himself, widening his stance and holding his ground to withstand the attack. He even managed to aim a hit in the process, right at Katsuki's stomach as he approached, nearly at full strength, and as the fist made impact, pain blossomed in Katsuki's abdomen. He stumbled back. It hurt, but he'd had a lot worse than that. He breathed deeply, composing himself, giving himself a second to recover before an attack that was sure to follow.

Sure enough, this time Kirishima lunged at him, fist raised and ready to strike, his lack of subtlety giving Katsuki the chance to anticipate where it was aimed – his shoulder. He darted out of the way. With one hand, he grabbed the wrist of Kirishima's punch, and with the other hand he whacked the inside of Kirishima's elbow, forcing the arm to bend. Then, maintaining his strong hold on Kirishima, he pushed his entire body forward. In an instant, Kirishima pushed back, his arm folded up between them, their bodies so close that neither of them could attack with any significant momentum.

Now they were in gridlock, tension building even higher, like two head butting deer locked at the antlers. Their heavy grunts filled the room as they struggled for some sort of dominance, trying to push the other away first. And Katsuki could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his brow, could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was exhilarating.

But it still wasn't all there yet. He needed more, he needed to feel himself go all out, reach his full potential, like he hadn't been able to do for weeks. He needed to feel the power in his hands, needed to feel the fire in his veins ignite between his fingers.

"Quirks," he managed to rumble out through clenched teeth.

Kirishima peered over to him, eyes wide. His hold slackened, just a bit as he panted, "Really?"

"Quirks," Katsuki grunted again. "Don't you dare hold back."

"Heh, if you say so..."

Suddenly, the skin underneath his fingertips became rigid, a tough armor, sharp and glossy like obsidian. Katsuki blasted into the quirked skin, the sparks offering the little push that he needed to get the upper hand. He pushed Kirishima away, aiming a blast towards his face.

The room erupted in light and a loud boom.

"Ha, you're gonna have to do more than that to get me!" Kirishima croaked out a laugh as the smoke cleared around him. The top of his shirt was singed, and small puffs of smoke were rising from the tips of his hair, but otherwise, he looked fine. "I've improved since the sports festival, you know!"

"Yeah?" Katsuki grinned back, dangerous. "Then show me."

With a bellow, Kirishima charged at him, letting out a tirade of throws, causing Katsuki to take the defensive as they took step after step, Kirishima pushing onwards and Katsuki having no choice but to fall back for the time being.

"I've learned control," Kirishima panted between hits. "I've learned efficiency." He threw another punch. "How to localize my quirk even more," punch, "so it's only activated where I need it most."

The attacks kept coming. At this rate, Katsuki was going to get backed into a wall. He needed a way out, and fast. For just a second, there was an opening at Kirishima's side, so he aimed a blast there.

Even if it didn't do any damage, the force was enough to push Kirishima off of him, and Katsuki seized the opportunity to put some distance between them.

Kirishima just leered at him from across the way, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I told you, that won't work on me."

"Yeah, but what about when localization doesn't matter?" Katsuki brought both of his hands out in front of him, palms facing forward. "Ya see, that's the good thing about explosions – they aren't very picky about their targets."

Without warning, he fires his quirk, as big as he dared, loud and bright, hot waves exploding from his very fingertips, and god did it feel good. He let out a little laugh, not giving a single fuck about how absolutely bat-shit crazy it made him sound.

But then there was the smoke, thicker than it had been from the smaller blasts, and slow to clear in such a small, unventilated space. Through the veil, he could hear Kirishima in front of him, coughing as he scrambled to his feet. Then, there was just an eerie stillness. Katsuki lowered hands, listening closely for any sign of movement.

All of a sudden, to his left were footsteps, stomps, running, and with a shout, Kirishima burst from the smoke and tackled Katsuki, bulldozing into him.

The next thing Katsuki knew, the back of his head was slamming into the ground, and his arms couldn't move, his body couldn't move. When he creaked his eyes open, he saw Kirishima looming over him, straddling his torso, pinning down his wrists.

The air was filled with their heavy panting, their chests expanding and contracting with each hot breath that mixed between them, the smell of their sweat as it beaded and trickled down their faces. Katsuki needed water, his mouth was dry. And, they were close. So close.

"Break," Kirishima finally wheezed out.

Katsuki couldn't find the will to object.

With a sigh, Kirishima released Katsuki's wrists and brought his own forearm up to wipe the sweat away from his brow. His other hand grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and waved it around, cooling off his chest. Meanwhile, Katsuki managed to prop himself up on his elbows, closing even more of a gap that was between them, head hung low, chin against his collarbone as he just let himself inhale, and exhale.

"Heh, see?" Kirishima breathed, a grin lighting up his face. "I've gotten better. You okay?"

"I'm…" Katsuki trailed off, still struggling to catch his breath. The weight on his chest was really not helping – nor was the fact that, even with the fight finished, the tension between them hadn't yet dissipated. If anything, it was getting stronger. "Yeah," was the only affirmation he could manage to croak out.

Kirishima looked down to him, his warm smile now radiating from ear to ear. "I can't believe it." His voice was airy. He leaned his head back as he took another deep breath, looking to the ceiling. "Hah! I won! Finally!"

He let out a weak little whoohoo, fist pumping the air in victory before promptly dropping to the ground beside him. He laughed as he brought his head back to look down at Katsuki. Tuffs of his ridiculous hair fell across his forehead, sticking to the sheen of sweat. The corners of his eyes were creased, from what must have been years of smiling and laughter, kindness, joy. His cheeks rosy and glistening, the small points of teeth showing between his lips, lips that were sure to still be upturned in a proud smile, pink, soft.

With a flicker of his eyes, Katsuki stole a glance, for just a moment. Some part of him wanted to know what they would feel like against his own.

And then, his eyes widened as realization slapped him in the face.

Because, right now, he wanted to kiss. He wanted to be kissed. He wanted to feel that stupid red hair between his fingers, he wanted to feel hot breaths against his lips, wanted to feel sharp teeth bumping into his. For the first time in his life he wanted all of that.

They were close. So close.

His eyes snapped up to meet Kirishima's gaze again.

Kirishima was still looking down at him. His smile had lessened, his face taking on a curious expression, head tilting to the side, just a bit, eyes wide, like he was in some sort of a confused trance. He lowered his own gaze, eyes fluttered close.

The air around them stilled, a beat speeding up in Katsuki's chest. And maybe it was just his imagination, but the distance between them felt like it was disappearing, slowly. And it would be so easy to lean forward, just a little bit, close the last remains of the gap between them, press their lips together.

They were close. So damn close.

His heartbeat grew, louder and louder, pounding in his ears, deafening.

It would be so easy, and it was so fucking stupid.

His breaths came out shorter and shorter, his lungs burning.

Because there was no fucking way that Kirishima wanted it too.

Then, there was a fragrance in his lungs and throat and nose, overpowering, unmistakable.

Roses.

The blood in Katsuki's veins turning to ice, his breath shuddering against Kirishima's lips.

"Get off."

Kirishima blinked his eyes open. "What?"

"Get off," Katsuki growled, pushing Kirishima off of him. There was too much pressure in his chest, his lungs and heart screaming out, this was bad, shit, shit. He scrambled to his feet. "Fucking, stay away from me," he snarled as he sprinted to the door.

"But… Bakugou, wait, I-I didn't—"

The door slammed behind him, drowning out the shout. With a mad dash, Katsuki bolted down the hallways, skidding around corners until he found himself in the bathroom. Throwing a stall door open, he kneeled over the toilet, just in time for the coughing to begin.

And, once the coughing began, it wouldn't stop.

And it was worse, so much worse than any time. It was as if the flowers had reawakened, and were determined to come back with an absolute vengeance. He hacked and gagged and hurled into the basin, his stomach lurching, lungs shuddering for breath, and it hurt like a motherfucker. It hurt so much, leaving his muscles tense and cramped and weak, limbs shaking, forehead clammy, eyes damp, his body screaming for oxygen.

The only chance that he had at actually stopping the petals, and in one moment, one stupid, impulsive moment, he flushed it away.

His hands grasped the seat of the toilet, knuckles white as more petals forced their way out, their scent more pungent and nauseating than ever. He kept gasping, hoping every heave would be the last. But as soon as it felt like they were relenting, they came back again, like a never-ending cycle, refusing to stop. Why wouldn't they stop?

That medicine had been his only chance. His one chance, and he blew it.

Tears stung at the corner of his eyes, only one thought on his mind, a myriad, over and over again: make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop, please, just make it stop.

"Uhhh… Bakugou?"

In an instant, Katsuki's head snapped around, panic-stricken, coming face to face with candy-cane hair and a pair of concerned multicolor eyes.


A/N: Disclaimer, continued: take ur meds, kids. please.