Chapter 22: Left for Yesterday
It'd been a day and still no word on the verdict.
Not that the world was privy to the immediate outcome despite the manhunt they had blown out of proportion in the middle of the night. In time other news would sweep what had happened under the rug, though the League of Villains was one of the media's go-to buzzwords to sent off a frenzy. Yet by some miracle, by perhaps divine intervention, his name hadn't been released to the public—only the alias he had gone by with the League.
Japan knew "Deku" only as a formidable young villain with an obscured background. They had no idea he was Izuku Midoriya, a missing person the system simply forgot and society didn't spare a thought about. Perhaps someone on the inside of the law was keeping it quiet or the police were that dense to not make a connection between the two despite the similar features and age.
If anyone from the past dared to identify him, to rat out who he was when they didn't give a damn except to get a pat on the back for informing the public, he'd be the first one to-
"Ah, Bakugou-kun, is it?"
Katsuki looked up from where he stood with his back against the wall, drawn out of his thoughts. With a hoodie pulled over his head and hands shoved into his sweatshirt's front pocket, he didn't expect to be recognized. Everyone had better things to do in the police precinct—even if they did notice him and tried to redirect him all he had to do was flash his license. It was Sunday and no one truly wondered why a student Hero was lurking in the back halls unaccompanied and in casual wear.
"Yeah?" His voice was calm, a hint of exhaustion as he gave a scrutinizing look to the person addressing him.
"I'm Aino Shinsuke." The woman with short violet hair and a dark visor covering her eyes smiled, professional but with a genuine sense of calm and warmth. "I had a feeling you'd be nearby."
"You a cop?" Katsuki kept his tone civil but continued his evaluating gaze, taking in her appearance and demeanor. She knew who he was, possible by numerous means, though it was telling she addressed him by name rather than his Hero moniker even if he was still in training.
"No, I'm just a consultant. I'm currently part of the Midoriya case."
He twitched slightly, clamping down on the frustration and guilt he felt. This wasn't about himself, no matter his ties and hand in what had occurred, for whatever overdue repercussions would follow. Right now the one in the hot seat was…
"Is there something you want? Help? This hardly seems like an official approach."
"No, though I think I can help you." She held out a business card and he took it, skimming over it. Aino Shinsuke, Psychiatrist. Personal Counselor, Memory Specialist. "I hope both of you, actually. I'd like to be in touch if you're up for it."
"What are they going to do with him?" He asked after a moment, clutching the card while his other hand was nestled firmly in his hoodie's pocket. Letting the material absorb his sweat helped prevent any accidental small explosions though his control was impressive compared to when he'd been a reactive child. He needed to be better, keep it under control.
"Given it's an ongoing investigation I can't tell you that." Shinsuke gave a sad, understanding smile. "But they're still deliberating over what to do. I can't say anything else since it's confidential and we'd both be in trouble."
"Of course." Katsuki nodded though his grip tightened and he fought back a scowl. Frustration and helplessness bubbled up in his chest; he was stuck on the outside awaiting the outcome as there was nothing he could do. He'd given his statement regarding everything, owning up to the past and saying he'd be a witness for the defense; but it probably wasn't enough even if a case could be argued it was the culmination of society failing and bullying pushing… him to the point of breaking and turning to villainy. "Did… he say anything?"
He could barely think of his name let alone say it. It was like a weight sat on his tongue and something like acid burned in his chest when he tried. How pathetic was he to let guilt and self-loathing sabotage him, unlike inflicted trauma that caused selective muteness or avoidance to reminders? Why did his body act like he was the victim when he had been the source of another's pain?
"There are things Midoriya-kun can't say and chooses not to… but I know you two have history. I would like to talk with you in a more private setting. While I can't reveal anything about the case, there are things about Midoriya-kun you should know."
He was silent, eyes glued to the floor. The card in his hand felt like a weight, an obligatory ticket rather than a casual invitation. He could flat out refuse and return her card, it wasn't an official order. Perhaps there were things he needed to clarify that would lead to Shinsuke voicing a more favorable opinion regarding the case. He only knew the tip of the iceberg of what had been suffered before the disappearance—Katsuki's stomach churned at the thought of whatever traumas had occurred in the time with the League.
He couldn't shy away from unpleasantries simply to make himself feel better. Willingly staying ignorant only made him guiltier and added a layer of apathy he swore he would never again embrace. This was his chance to find out more, to find out the scope of the damage he'd foolishly started as an unforeseeable domino effect on one life.
Still he felt a prickle of fear, hesitating.
"I…"
"Katsuki-kun?" He looked in the direction of the voice, seeing a familiar green haired short, plump figure glancing around. She looked more put together than he had seen in years though even from a distance he could tell she had been crying—she probably just left the restroom after attempting to ease the redness that accompanied the impressive waterworks. She currently had on a brave face though her eyebrows were pinched slightly with worry and perhaps effort to hold back a torrent of tears that were justified.
He had accompanied Inko not out of a sense of obligation or pity, but namely a fierce sense of protectiveness. Without him as a chaperone there was a chance she would be swamped by the media should they find out her connection. Even now the media was buzzing around outside the police station, trying to get a whiff of what was going on and jumped anyone who chanced being involved or could leak a smidgen of information. If they saw her vulnerability they would be swarming all over her, digging as far as they could to make her break before offering her warm carcass to the masses to judge and harass all in the name of paid viewership.
"Coming, Auntie Inko!" He called, waving his hand to catch her attention. He turned back towards Shinsuke, feeling slightly awkward yet glad he had an out. She smiled and waved in gentle reassurance.
"Simply give me a call whenever you are ready or swing by my office. My hours are on the card." She gave a polite bow to which he nodded and began to turn on his heel after Inko. "And Bakugou-kun: my intention is always for the betterment of people, for a sense of healing even if it's merely the first steps. Whether I can provide that for you is your choice."
Katsuki tried to think of something to say but Shinsuke merely offered another warm smile and turned away, heading back to perhaps whenever the mini summit was taking place. He sucked in his breath as he watched for a few moments before heading towards Inko, stuffing the card into his pocket. "You alright, Auntie?"
"Y-yes, thank you. I will be." Inko indeed had telltale signs of crying, her eyes still a bit red and puffy. She took a small shaky breath, steeling herself as fresh tears threatened to burst forth as emotions were still raw. She turned away for a moment, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that was clutched tightly in one hand. A small sniffle escaped before she faced Katsuki once more, offering a small smile though her eyes shimmered with emotion. "Thanks for waiting."
"Of course." He gave a nod while shrugging, knowing how much she appreciated being accompanied. His chest tightened the longer he stood in the hallway, the noises of the bullpen distant like a television turned down low while time itself felt warped. "Ready to go whenever you are."
"R-right." Inko bobbed her head, gazing at him with deep mixed emotions that he could only imagine to fathom. She had no idea about what he had done in the past, to her own flesh and blood; her son never had been a tattletale, probably excusing his injuries for being clumsy and results of rough play. Maybe she had an inkling given how Quirkless people were treated in society, but she never showed a hint of that when Katsuki saw her. Yet now she looked at him like he was her only anchor given her so-called significant other was hardly that except in the financial department though that had changed some years ago when the divorce had been finalized. "I'm all set."
The truth had to come out before it blew up in a bigger devastating mess than current events. At this point it was a second pressure cooker bomb waiting to go off and who knew what havoc would be wrought following the reveal if not handled properly. Fear of the revelation couldn't keep him back, of what it meant for him or for Inko to find out, if not have confirmation about the ugly side of the young man she looked at so fondly.
He had to tell her.
Not here, nowhere public; it had to be in private, not for his sake but for hers as it was surely Earth shattering news that shouldn't be delivered in a public café or diner for anyone to witness and gossip about. An idea sparked with a sincere sense of concern toward her well-being as Katsuki realized what time it was.
"Have you eaten anything? I can make you something when we get back to your place."
"Oh… Thank you. That sounds lovely but I would hate to burden you. You've done so much-"
"It's not!" He quickly eased back as Inko startled at the curt interruption, his voice dropping softer as he looked at the ground. "It never is."
He felt something against his arm and looked up to see her gently touching it, offering a sincere smile and moist eyes. "I'd love that, thank you Katsuki-kun." She didn't understand that it was never a burden nor would whatever he did be enough. She kept looking at him like a saint, her rock in the middle of the brutal storm that had swept over her life for seven years and was surely only going to worsen starting now.
The knife in his gut twisted and he nodded, hand fishing into his pocket to clutch the card that seemed be burning a hole. He would get around to it eventually—once he ruminated and finished grappling with his emotions rather than trying to stuff them back down only to have them as fuel that detonated with extreme prejudice against whatever he could point his Quirk at like in the past. In time he would consider Shinsuke's words.
First came Inko.
Katsuki stood outside the building before him, apprehensive. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, curling his hands into fists as he felt his heart thunder. Despite being the weekend there weren't many people around and those that were didn't stop to gawk or point with recognition that was either admiration or deprecation. Not that he rightly cared, especially at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, fists slowly unclenching, he strode into the unassuming building, trying to quiet the thoughts bouncing around in his skull that haunted him throughout the week. Mentally he punched them, brow furrowed in concentration and lingering frustration for turning focus back toward himself.
He couldn't run, not any more. Ignorance nor apathy did not make him guilt free, it was his duty to be informed of the cause and effect he had a hand in. Especially if he was ever going to truly be a Hero. No more sticking his head in the sand, nor soothing any guilt nor disgust with acts of pity and atonement. Owning up was merely the first step.
Inko, the other person who was entitled to hate him, curse him and even hit him—he wouldn't hesitate to let her slap and chase him out—had in response to his confession shockingly offered forgiveness and admitted her own faults. The vulnerability both had shared that day after the visit to the police station was unforgettable. However their grief and blame was swept up in the sorrow that held Japan in its grip in the wake of All Might's death that was a week ago to the day, leaving only them to know the true source of their grief.
Today wasn't about him.
It was-
"It's good to see you, Bakugou-kun. Glad you could make it."
"Don't you mean "decided to come?" He eyed the psychiatrist, biting back the remark that bubbled up as he knew they both were full aware of his delayed response. Shinsuke smiled politely, friendly but unreadable as she was calm and professional when he entered her office. "Yeah, got caught up in a few things but I'm here now."
It wasn't a lie. Between school and his turbulent Hero internship as well as everything that had happened, he had hardly a moment's peace. However as soon as school ended he swore no more dragging his feet. Making an appointment, or rather a heads up call, a day ago had cut off his means of escape to back out as he mentally psyched himself to perpetually call himself a coward if not worse—years ago it probably would have been "weakling extra."
"That's all that matters. Please, have a seat." She offered the chair nearby, closest to the door where it was easy for any patient to bolt through it if they had enough. "How are you? Are your studies going well?"
"Let's not beat around the bush, alright? We both know why I'm here." He plopped down, his face a mask as he wrestled with the undercurrent of emotions. He brushed his palms against his pants, wiping them of any forming sweat that stubbornly came out on its own before he curled his fists to rest on his legs.
"Very well then." Shinsuke sat down in the chair set opposite. She was closer than standard respectable distance office etiquette but still a respectful distance away; Katsuki tried not to tense as he recalled the words on her card: "memory specialist." She sat with her hands folded in her lap, calm and open. "First of all, I'm sorry if I lured you here through anxiety or guilt by mentioning Midoriya-kun. That was not my intent, I merely wished to inform you and help any way I can."
He responded with a grunt, not quite trusting himself to speak as his pulse quickened. He gave a shrug though his gaze wandered from her for a moment before snapping back. There was something about keeping eye contact with someone whose eyes were unseen, the uncertainty of what emotion lay in their eyes or whether they were even looking back.
"My Quirk Memory Reader allows me to see other's memories with consent. I namely use it to empathize with my patients, to get a better grasp of their history and help them confront memories for various circumstances."
"You said you're a police consultant, ever been called as a witness?"
"A few times. However even with my Quirk my testimony has to be treated as secondhand information, rather than if I witnessed it myself in person. Mostly I offer my professional opinion and confirm what I learned."
"Hm."
"Memories can be subjective and skew perspective due to the brain suppressing as a form of survival from shock and trauma, even altering details. Memory Reader works best with deeply rooted memories that might be slightly skewed but otherwise fairly accurate."
"So, what? You need to see my memories to confirm what a little shit I was? You've seen his, you know." His tone was tense, waiting for the judgment to bleed through the professional persona.
She had to know what he had done so callously, pure malicious intent that should have been squashed as a child before he reached kindergarten. Even if still a brat by eight he should have had a reality check that sent his ego back to rightful proportion. Yet he had been a source of torment longer—who knew how much longer it would have gone on if he hadn't disappeared and shattered his world with the fallout that followed.
"I've seen one side of the story and I care for all my clients. That paper on the wall qualifies me to listen, not judge." She gestured to where her diploma was displayed along with various certifications. "We're all humans with various traumas that shape us in good and bad ways. This office is a safe neutral place where you don't have to worry about outside perceptions. I'm here with an open mind with the intent to help—if that wasn't the case I'm in the wrong profession."
"Nice philosophy. So we going to talk about specific memories or what?" The lingering hope and dread his own recount of events could add more evidence in favor of the defense gnawed at him. His own admission already would surely put a stain on his career path but ultimately owning up would hopefully spare the other party from a harsher sentence; after all, everything had started because of his poor conduct.
"Normally I'm unable to share memories I've seen as it is more of a passive type Quirk. Certain instances however allow me to connect memories as a chain if they are a shared experience and there are strong emotions towards the people involved in the memory. Think of it like different perspective cameras in film, same scene just different angle and character focus. I'm merely the link."
"Isn't that a breech of doctor-patient confidentiality?" Katsuki straightened with realization. Was she really suggesting showing him memories to see for himself?
"Normally, but in this case I received permission from said patient. It was Midoriya-kun's wish." She drew out a paper from the folder and held it out to show him, displaying the signature of one Izuku Midoriya. "Physician–patient privilege has been waved to a degree."
Katsuki felt himself swallow as he looked, anticipation sending his heart pounding as his hands began to sweat more. He kept his palms planted flatly against his legs, willing himself to calm down as his jaw clenched in concentration.
"As I said before, since it's an ongoing investigation there is information I am not at liberty to share. However anything not directly relating to the case, such as a shared history, is previously known information between associated parties. In a way you are a witness so I can discuss events you share." She paused, regarding him for a moment. "It's your choice if you want to proceed."
"Let's get on with it."
Shinsuke gave a nod and explained the process, the requirements for her Quirk to work and its affects. Katsuki nodded, knowing he'd have to provide the base memory so it could link with whatever Shinsuke had stored in her head. Even though she would know his feelings relating to the memories, exposing that vulnerable side of himself, he agreed. He remained unflinching when she removed her visor and looked at him with pale eyes some with a more poetic mind might compare to the blind eyes of seers from legends.
He gave his verbal consent and Shinsuke, after moving her chair closer and sliding a small table between them that he placed his hands on, gently laid her hands over his. Her hands were light and warm but a comfortable cool against his hands that felt like they were on fire.
"Now, relax. Let all other thoughts fade with a deep breath, quieted for another time. Reach for the clearest memory you have of Midoriya-kun."
And there was white.
Dust went flying as there was a bone jarring thud and the taste of dirt in his mouth. A cough escaped him as he scurried to get up, hands feeling the sting of unseen abrasions. He caught sight of his All Might bandaids before turning to face his attackers.
"I told you to not come to my party, Deku!" Kacchan screamed, explosions in his palms emphasizing his fury. The smell of faintly burnt sugar wafted over the playground, giving the impression someone had opened a caramel factory.
Apparently even though nearly a week had passed Izuku was not in the clear, his tiny false sense of success obliterated. The pot that was Kacchan's temper had simply been simmering and now it was boiling over with increasing volcanic likelihood.
"B-but your m-mom s-said—," Izuku tried, blindsided, and panic seized him. One minute he was minding his business on the playground and the next he heard his nickname being screamed with great offense. The first blast had knocked him to the ground from the force alone and now he backed up, green eyes wide with shock and confusion as Kacchan and his so called friends created a semi circle.
"It's my party! Who cares what the hag thinks!?" Kacchan bared his teeth savagely like a feral dog with all the likelihood to actually bite. "I told you to stay the hell away! She just invited you because she feels sorry for you!"
That's not true.
"But I-I got you—"
"Shut up!" Another explosion filled his ears with ringing, Kacchan's flunkies grinning even though they winced at the deafening noise. Smoke was coming from Kacchan's hands now and Izuku knew it was only the beginning. "Like I'd want the Quirkless Blunder at my party! If I wanted that kind of a joke I would've had a clown!"
The flunkies all snickered, nudging each other as they simply watched as if it were a private show. They were his classmates too, why were they such jerks? He never did anything to them, hardly talking to them even when he hung on the outskirts when they followed Kacchan around like guards and their king—more like buzzards awaiting the lion's kill. Yet they had taken an interest in his suffering as well, probably in part curiosity how it felt to beat someone down since Kacchan hogged all the chances.
It's not fair.
His gut twisted and he fought back tears from the emotional blows as well as the stinging he felt on his skin. Kacchan was supposed to be his friend, he only ever admired him and tried to show that even when the blond got bit out of hand. Roughhousing was one thing but everything had escalated to flat out bullying.
Deep down he hoped his actions would be enough to make Kacchan realize the extent of his behavior and mellow out; it'd worked for Heroes in stories and cartoons. So he stood his ground in the face of danger and did right by the one who wronged him. Like All Might would.
Kacchan's going to be a Hero, he'll get better. There are no bad Heroes.
He was being the best friend he could be despite being Quirkless. It was all he had. That and hope for the good in people—no matter if deep down. After all, Kacchan had been his best friend in preschool and even past that until he seemed to snap one day, growing exceedingly intolerant. Surely he could bring his friend back; Kacchan would come around once whatever this power trip was stopped. He just had to keep being an example, keep having faith and be thoughtful.
He just had to be a good friend.
"Kacchan, I—"
"No one wants your loyalty, you Quirkless freak!"
The insults hurt as much as the blow that came next, a punch that sent him sprawling on the ground. He knew a bruise would be soon to follow while bits of dirt cut into his skin, giving him fresh scrapes. His hands went up to cover his face instinctively, already sporting a bandaid on one cheek from a recent encounter with his tormentors.
Why?
"Are you really stupid as well, dumbass? I'll spell it out for you!" Kacchan's fist twisted the front of his shirt as the blond grabbed the material, pulling him close as spit flew. "Get lost, Deku. Beat it! You're such a waste of space!"
Tsuba-chan was nearby, a vicious grin on his face as he folded his arms, flapping his red bat-like wings that kept him just above the ground to show off. "Can't you take a hint, dumbbell? You're useless, your nickname even says so!"
"Hey, maybe that really is his Quirk, Tsubasa! His thick skull!"
"Ha, that's totally useless, fitting for crybaby Deku!"
The flunkies laughed amongst themselves, eyes full of apathy and a sense of pleasure. They hung back as Katsuki shot a look at them, bristling at being overshadowed, and they promptly shut up. His attention snapped back to Izuku who winced, arms still up as he tried not to tremble.
Kacchan had never punched him before, only detonated rather closely to scare and singe him, letting the force of the blast do the hitting for him. But now… that had changed.
Why does he hate me so much?
"You'll always be Deku. Useless and defenseless." Katsuki's nostrils flared like an enraged beast before he spat to the side, clearly riled. "Stay out of my way, out of my life. No one wants you around. Go have a pity party by yourself." He shoved Izuku backwards, releasing his hold on the shirt, letting the green haired boy fall to the ground once more in a heap. He released a blast to knock him down again for good measure.
This isn't right.
zuku bit his lip to prevent himself from sniveling—something that would have earned Kacchan's ire even more. He ran a hand across his face, wiping away the tears that stung his moist eyes and made his vision swim. Friends didn't treat each other like dirt.
Friends care for and help one another.
But, he wasn't even a friend. He was nobody. He was just Deku. He was nothing without a Quirk to everyone, just a waste of space like Kacchan said.
The truth hit him like a freight train and he swallowed to fight back the tears. The other boys were watching, ready to pounce for the kill at any sign of weakness. Having sensitive and overly productive tear ducts wasn't his fault but they didn't care.
"Let's go. Only babies play here anyways." Katsuki snorted, kicking his foot and sending a dust cloud toward Izuku as he let off a few more blasts though they did not touch the fallen boy. The blond turned and headed back the way he came without so much a glance at Izuku.
Heroes never quit. Just bear with it.
He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, all too aware of his escalating breathing as he fought back a sob. He turned away so the others wouldn't see his tears and got to his feet, ready to retreat to the other side of the playground. If they chased him he always had under the slide since he was small—
Something collided with him and he went face first into the ground, hands splaying and failing to catch himself. His teeth snapped together so hard his skull rattled and jaw ached as his face met the ground. However what hurt the most was the seat of his pants where the impact had hit. It only took a moment to realize just what had happened as he felt the shape of a shoe stinging. It wasn't the first time.
"Stay down." One of the other boys, Izuku couldn't pick out which, ordered in a venomous voice. "We're not done."
Izuku's fists curled in anticipation as he pulled himself up into a crouch, knees planted. Kacchan's work would not go unfinished, even if he was seemingly ignorant of it. He should have known he was getting off too easy when the blond let him go, his lackeys still buzzing about. They wanted their pound of flesh simply because they could.
"Oi, you coming or not?" Kacchan called from the edge of the park, already partly around the corner.
"'Course!" Tsuba-chan called in a cheery voice, his usual happy expression holding something dark despite his smile.
"We'll be seeing you, Deku." One boy hissed, a promise in his voice. Izuku did not move, much like prey wishing whatever predator eyeballing it simply lost interest or merely lost sight.
"Later, Midoriya." Another snickered and the sound of retreating footsteps reached his ears.
Only after a few minutes of no longer hearing voices did Izuku glance in the direction they had gone, tears running down his face. Slowly he got up, dust and dirt covering his clothing while now sporting the outline of a footprint on his behind. His eyes avoided the scrapes on his hands and arms, as well as a few on his face from when he faceplanted.
He trudged across the abandoned playground as night drew closer, the sky surrendering to more red and purple hues. When he reached the swings he gingerly sat down, hands gripping the chains. Fresh tears welled up and escaped as he doubled over, trying to hide his face as his body and heart ached.
Kacchan's right.
He would always be Deku.
He would always be Quirkless.
He didn't belong anywhere.
Deku restrained his surprise as two figures tumbled out of the Warp Gate moments after he had snatched the brunette girl from the Noumu's clutches. One had distinct dual colored hair split perfectly down the middle in red and white. The other was a blond with spiky hair that sent a chill of familiarity down his spine.
Kacchan.
Both fell to the floor in a heap following a thud that had sounded before they emerged. He hadn't even raised a finger yet they lay unconscious nearby. Evidently the two had collided, head-butting each other on accident in their haste to give chase by jumping into the closing portal.
It's too early, what's he doing here?
The brunette, Uraraka if he recalled from watching the Sports Festivals along with Toga while she called her Ochan, let out a cry of surprise. She twisted in his grip but he held fast, finishing snapping the Quirk Suppression cuffs around her wrists before she had a chance to use her Quirk on him.
Of all people, why him?
"Well, looks like I'll have to make room for more guests." He smiled coldly, willing his heart to calm down as his stomach twisted. His red eyes shifted from the still forms to his conscious prisoner, slipping deeper into his practiced composed persona to smother his feelings that threatened to cause him to spiral. There was the faint smell caramel that almost made him throw up, recalling last he had smelled it so strongly. He fought the urge to cover his nose as his brain screamed at him to run and block out the scent associated with danger.
Stop, I'm not helpless anymore. I'm not a doormat.
The plan can still work, it's just more hostages. All Might will have to come out.
This has to be it. He doesn't have much time left.
"Why are you doing this? Who are you?" Uraraka demanded, having landed a successful kick to the shins moments before that still stung. Her voice cut through his thoughts, grounding him in the role he was playing—the role he'd shackled himself to.
"Me? I'm nobody." He regarded the brunette with dead eyes, truth saturating the lackadaisical words as he immolated the enigma that was Dabi. His grip tightened on the cuffs, offering a silent threat before he pushed her into the wall. An involuntary gasp escaped her as she made contact but before she could spring back a translucent door slammed shut, trapping her in the small detainment cell.
"Now, if you don't mind. Please be a good guest and wait until I can get these party crashers situated." He turned his back to her, eyes on the two unconscious forms. There was no sign of stirring and he approached, cautious and calculating. Behind him Uraraka was banging on the wall yelling not to harm her comrades.
Why does someone like him get to be a Hero?
Did he sweep my existence under a rug? Did he forget about me and what he did?
After everything now's my chance to prove him wrong. I'm not weak. I'm not a waste of space.
"Long time no see, Kacchan." He murmured, fists clenching and heart racing as he was within inches of the one he had once called his friend. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and his chest ached as his tormentor was defenseless, an easy target—much like he had been as a child. Catharsis whispered to him, urging him for revenge for all the times he had been on the receiving end of the blond's merciless acts. His teeth ground together and his veins tingled, Dark Aura circling beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed as his muscles tensed.
I'm not him.
No, you're far worse.
You're not a bully, you're a murderer.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out whatever the conscious prisoner was saying as the voice inside his head hissed. His mouth felt dry and Dark Aura buzzed more ominously under his skin, a whisper of it starting to form around his hands. He pounced on the feeling and shoved it away, burying it while banishing Dark Aura back into the mental vault he kept along with the condemning thoughts.
"Let's all sit tight until the show starts." The fake cold smile was present as he reached for the unresponsive U.A. students, the rising Heroes of their generation.
It'll all be over soon.
After all, I'm a villain.
I'm Deku.
His head was throbbing as he came to, vision partly blurry. He touched his forehead, feeling for a wound but found no blood just tenderness. Next came the realization he was sprawled on the ground with no memory of hitting the pavement. Panic settled into his bones as eerie familiarity encroached since the last time he had woken up from being unconscious on the ground was branded in his mind. The recollection delivered a punch to his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Not again.
Please not again.
Wait, pavement?
He had been on a rooftop, choosing to stay behind while the others left the chaotic scene. Plans had to be adjusted for loss of his bait though the lure seemed not enough to draw out All Might once again. As he waited Kacchan had appeared, not through with their confrontation in his private hideout. His ears rang with phantom explosions that made him tense though he realized it wasn't his memory.
Kacchan.
Deku looked around, ears ringing while seeing debris as well as a smokescreen. Various explosions were going off and he could hear someone yelling—someone that sounded like Kacchan. How had he ended up on the street? His gaze shot upwards toward the tall building he had been dueling on top of. A chill went up his spine as he recalled the flash bang that had blinded him and then there was nothing. Chunks of the building were clearly missing and evidently now on the street with him.
A cold anger latched onto him, bile rising in his throat while there was a surge of energy through him. Any pretense was gone as reality was all too clear.
He'd almost died because of carelessness. All because he'd decided he would continue the confrontation then. It was supposed to be a show, the next phase, but it had gone wrong. He wasn't in control, even when trying to work within the perimeters of his plan. He thought he wasn't taken it lightly, going all out even while putting on a show but Kacchan had almost put him under.
What're you so mad about? It's not the first time you've almost died. It's what you deserve.
A fitting end by the hands of a Hero, why not one with shared history?
Heroes weren't meant to kill though accidents or extreme cases did happen throughout history—Sensei was a living example of surviving such an encounter. Yet how was it he was safe on the ground without any serious injuries? One possibility was Kurogiri; even though Kurogiri had relented to his wishes and left him alone, the man was hardly the type to not keep tabs in some way—whether by his own doting or by orders from Sensei. But if were due to Kurogiri's intervention he would have surely been whisked away to safety with the others, not still on the battlefield. So how had he survived falling all those stories?
Did Kacchan…?
A sizable explosion interrupted his thoughts and the smoke bellowed up even more. There was the sound of a crash, not like an automobile accident of metal being demolished but still from a sizable object, and a brief eerie sense of silence. It didn't last for long.
"You better not be dead, Deku." Kacchan's voice growled as footsteps drew closer through the smokescreen. There was a sense of irritability and dread in his voice, signaling he was not finished.
Anger coiled, his bottled up feelings sprung loose from the fall and confrontation of his mortality. His poised character slipped and Deku was moving, feeling cold and hot all at once. The plan slipped to the bank of his mind, still to be enacted but rage and disgust took charge. His expression turned stony as he stepped through the smoke towards the source, his own voice cold like a knife's edge.
"Why, so you can finish the job?"
You were supposed to be better than this, Kacchan. A Hero.
You want me dead? The game's just beginning.
Kacchan's disgust and disbelief upon realizing his involvement with All Might's death was expected. He always had been one of the smartest in class if not the smartest in school when they were classmates; for all his aggression he was just as brilliant so the deduction shouldn't have been hard. The fact Deku had a hand in All Mights's death to some capacity was a logical conclusion and the emotions it invoked were sensible—Deku was thoroughly disgusted with himself.
Whether he had come for confirmation or revenge, it didn't matter. Kacchan had done as instructed, unarmed except for his Quirk. He wasn't there as a Hero but as himself. Just like in the past.
One more time, Kacchan.
What anger that had burned in his veins during the Noumu attack was long gone, a quiet ache remaining as he looked at the blond. He just had to keep playing the indifferent part a little bit longer, he couldn't drop his guard. He was still Deku but Kacchan…
If you've really changed, let me see it.
Fists flew and he baited the blond, egging him on while his Quirk surged through his body. Water sprayed and the two collided, limbs a blur. Explosions punctuated the otherwise serene atmosphere.
You've always had to be the best, what about now?
Bones rattled and Dark Aura flared. The barbed words continued, testing and prodding.
This is the last you'll see of me.
The blond's face was tight with focus and determination but without that savagery and hate of childhood memories. Then there was the mention of his mother and there was a stab in his chest, his gut twisting.
It's true, I've given her hell through all these years. Enough to make you care.
He was in too deep but had to sell this final act, to have his answer before it was all over. Before "Deku" would be through.
All I wanted was for us to be equals but you made it so hard. All for your pride and now for my own satisfaction.
Catharsis or not, he couldn't run from his crimes.
Please forgive me for what I've done. All of you.
If only…
If only I could restart.
Katsuki was back in the office, blinking away the remnants of the memories that bounced around in his skull. Shinsuke had broken the trace, removing her hands and replacing her visor as what she was permitted to share apparently ended. There was surely more but it was enough, the blond feeling the pit in his stomach grow to the point there was a pang of nausea.
"Damn it… I gave him so much hell." He had broken him down to tears how many times? Ever since that day at the tree bridge it was war on the enemy who was a helpless child. How was it justified, the fact he beat up someone who was by society's standards basically a baby, defenseless against others armed with all sorts of abilities? His head was so far up his ass and the adults around him encouraged it, treating those "less promising" as stepping stones. How many had he hurt because his ego went unchecked for years until some years ago? "No wonder he wanted to beat me to a pulp, I'd do it myself. He always was smart, this just proves it with this inventive level of torture."
"This wasn't not meant to cause feelings of guilt. It's merely another perspective to bring understanding for what is unsaid."
"Guilt? Tch, I was a cold blooded brat. A little shit."
Katsuki never talked about it but following… his disappearance there were nights he would wake up in a cold sweat. He swore he didn't care at first but as time went on, seeing Inko alone and mourning her son who couldn't be confirmed as alive or dead, it wore on him. Dreams manifested of the green haired boy being so close, just out of reach and he'd call out before the boy turned to look, eyes full of hurt and emptiness as he simply vanished, enveloped by a darkness that spirited him away. Those dreams had evolved since the reunion, though were few thanks to his insomnia.
"You must think I'm the absolute worst. Someone like me aiming to be a Hero, license issued and all. And you'd be right."
"It's true the past affects the future, but my concern is how you are now and what you think of the past. By my observation, you are remorseful and are making an effort to right your wrongs. However it seems in turn you are neglecting your own feelings, invalidating them to validate others—namely Midoriya-kun. There has to be a balance for your wellbeing."
Katsuki scoffed, eyes on the ground. "Why? I totally disregarded him for years and it's not like it didn't have a negative impact on his life. I can take a backseat for a while."
The uneasy feeling worsened as he recalled how the other boy had referred to himself as a murderer within the memory. The emotion behind that was strong enough to leave the impression of a thought, a conviction, without voicing the accusation. Just what had happened? Was that part of the case Shinsuke couldn't talk about? Was it something he had caused because of his actions in his youth?
"Are you able to say his name?" The question made him tense and he looked up at Shinsuke. His gaze shifted as he felt the pit in his stomach grow.
"I… no… it's stupid but no. I can barely think of it but saying it? It's stupid, it's just a word."
"The feelings you experience in relation are not stupid. You were hurt as well by your actions."
"Exactly! It's my fault! Why do I get to act like I'm the victim? That's weak! It's selfish!" He shouted, bristling and pops went off, causing Shinsuke to tense at the abrupt noise. His fists clenched, smothering the explosions as he chided himself. "Sorry."
"It's alright, thank you." Shinsuke waved her hand before gesturing at him. "It's important to have a balance, which I see you grappling with. It's not healthy to stuff your emotions down, they don't simply go away if ignored—despite popular belief. You need to let your emotions out so you can let them go. It's how we humans process things and that's when we can begin to heal. Putting our thoughts into words."
"Sounds like a pity party to me… talking about feelings isn't exactly encouraged, y'know? It's considered sappy, weak… childish…"
"Yet children aren't the only ones with emotions, are they?" She let out a sigh that held a deeper level of exasperation that was not aimed at him. "Society hasn't gotten any better about it from when I was a child, but it's about processing and learning how to deal with your emotions. People go to physicians to take care of their body, why not a doctor to help with their mind and emotional wellbeing? You are a victim to that toxic societal mentality of strength and power and for that I am sorry. But I'm here to help give you the tools to unlearn and cope with it, if you'll let me."
"I used to beat the shi—crap out of… him just because he was a crybaby; it wasn't the only reason but sometimes I would just go for him because of that. He just was so vulnerable and he annoyed me so much just for existing. I acted like the supreme predator going for the weak prey but we're were both damn kids!"
"Do you feel genuine remorse?"
"I…" The question cut into his anger and frustration he had pointed at himself like a dozen blades. His fists curled tighter, concentrating on control as he took a breath. "Yes."
"Have you acknowledged to those you've hurt you've wrong them? Have you excused your actions?"
"Yes… and I… I don't think so, no."
"Are you respecting your victim's pain and decisions regarding how they wish to interact with you? Are you forcing them to interact to make yourself feel better or to do the right thing? Are they fine with the interaction?"
Katsuki looked at his hands, thinking of the amount of burns he had caused. The memory of the last day he had seen the other boy as children stung and he thought of how the now green haired teenager had sought him out for a rematch. A form of peace in an unsaid truce of mutual respect—something he had refused to give in his childhood.
"I think so? I… don't know. I'm… I'm trying." He felt so tired, exhausted and frustrated with himself.
"Bakugou-kun, you have changed." Shinsuke's voice was soft, drawing his attention from his hands to her. Even with her eyes once again obscured he could feel the kindness, even if he didn't deserve it. "It's an authentic effort and sign. Whether or not relationships can be salvaged is not up just to you but those you've affected. Forcing them to do what you want would make you the focused victim as it would be for your fulfillment—but that does not mean you shouldn't feel happiness or sadness. It's what you do in relation to it that matters."
"You're… not like the other shrinks." He offered after a moment, letting the words sink in even though they seemed unreal. Was he making enough of an effort? His temper alone was still an issue, though he was working hard on it and there had been slow improvements. He still had a bit of an adrenaline bloodlust, especially if it wasn't a rescue mission—something that stood out in the Sports Festival even though it was out of excitement and rivalry to his schoolmates. Would it ever be enough?
"I'll take that as a compliment. I studied in America, earning a degree there before coming home to Japan and obtaining my license so I can practice here. Perhaps that's why my methods seem a bit unorthodox." Shinsuke smiled with a hint of humor. "I like to think of it as thinking outside of the box to meet the needs of my clients."
"Your clients are lucky to have you… him… Izuku included." The word squeeze out of his chest and into his throat and out his mouth with some effort. Saying his name, his actual name felt scary and liberating all at once. It was hard to know what to call him but he had to try, no matter the guilt and self-loathing he felt. "I think I've taken enough of your time."
He rose from his chair, suddenly aware of the time despite there being no clock inside the room. He couldn't sit around any longer, he had to act.
"Bakugou-kun, if you want to talk more, want someone to listen, my door is always open." Shinsuke stood up but did not chase after him, minding his space as he went for the door. He lingered for a moment, hand on the handle.
"Thanks, Shinsuke-san."
If only I could restart too.
Once he was out of the office he stood on the street, trying to process everything. He needed fresh air, time to think. He took a deep breath, flexing his hands open and closed as he counted to ten. What was the next step? He couldn't force himself into the situation, not more than was desired. He needed to know though, just what was going on, where he stood…
What the next step would be. What he should do.
Inko. He had to see her.
Katsuki rushed toward the Midoriya residence, the apartment building that stood unchanging within their neighborhood. He bolted up all the stairs and arrived at the doorstep panting.
"Auntie? Are you home?" He called as he knocked, heart beating from the workout. He waited, panting while apprehension well up in his chest.
She shouldn't have work today. Maybe she went to go see him? Usually she's home.
He counted to ten before knocking again, calling louder in case she was in the bathroom. "Auntie Inko?"
"Bakugou-kun, was it?" A voice came from his left and made him jump. Peering up at him was an elderly man who regarded him through large glasses. There was no obvious sign of mutation, leaving Katsuki to guess the man's Quirk. In all his years of visiting the apartment complex he couldn't remember the man's name though he seemed familiar with him—though the Sports Festival's publicity only added to that possibility.
"Yes?"
"Midoriya-san isn't here."
"Oh. Thanks… I'll come back later. Do you know when she'll be home?"
"Ah, sorry. I meant, she's no longer here." The man waved his hand as if to clear the air of the misunderstanding. "She moved away the other day. Landlord was by earlier inspecting the place for new occupants."
Katsuki felt the air leave his lungs, his brain buzzing with confusion. "Wha… where?"
"'Fraid I can't say. I recognized you from seeing you come by so often and hearing Midoriya-san address you. Seemed rather sudden."
The last part of what was said was lost to Katsuki, all thoughts shut down except for one.
She's gone?
The door slammed against the wall as it swung open, rattling the hinges. Thankfully the doorstopper, a war veteran at its job, caught most of the force but the bang resounded through the house. Thundering feet quickly followed as shoes were barely kicked off in time before their owner left the entryway.
"Mom!"
Katsuki dashed into his house, sliding on the floor as he rounded the corner. His dad was nowhere in sight, presumably at his bookclub meeting. His mom on the other hand was in the living room, amid a workout session.
"Auntie Inko moved! Did you know and didn't tell me?"
"I thought you knew, I'm sorry." Mitsuki frowned, looking in concern at her son as she paused the video. "You've been so busy with school and interning. I figured she told you…"
"Do you at least know where?"
"She didn't say. She only phoned to let me know she was moving and to say thank you."
"What, when? Why? Didn't she say? Didn't you ask?" Desperation clawed at him furiously, confusion inviting itself as he tried to understand her sudden departure. Why didn't she tell him? Was it because of what they had talked about? Was it all a lie? Was it… Izuku's wish?
"Yesterday. It's because…" Mitsuki hesitated, weighing her words as Katsuki looked pale. "Izu-kun was released."
He felt himself reeling, feeling as if the ground had disappeared. He caught himself on the doorframe, panic squeezing his chest as his vision blurred.
They're both gone.
His chance had left for yesterday.
A few days before…
"I'll handle it from here." Shouta Aizawa dismissed the escorting police officers that hovered around like nervous but dutiful flies. They seemed to hesitate but after catching a tired yet pointed look from the Hero they saluted and scurried off toward the bullpen. He eyed his charge, the withdrawn green haired teen who by appearance alone hardly seemed guilty of his accused and admitted crimes.
"This way." He instructed and Midoriya nodded, following silently. The two proceeded down the hall in a near even pace, the Hero keeping the cuffed teenager close but a few steps ahead. He wasn't worried about a stunt being pulled, not with the amount of Suppressors the youth was equipped with as a precaution but he'd heard what had happened in Tartarus. The staff had sorely underestimated a member of the League but they at least learned and rethought their procedures. Still, he wasn't entirely certain of the incarcerated teenager who perhaps could have been a student at U.A. given his apparent ingenuity and tenacity.
Waste of potential.
Part of him was still furious at the danger Midoriya had placed his students in, but they were rising Heroes; they would deal with far worse upon graduation and he had faith in their abilities. Yet it seemed Midoriya's story was far from simple, something he was no stranger to. The whole ordeal rubbed him the wrong way; to top it off Eri had insisted she had been protected by "Deku-san" whom she was certain had sent the Heroes to save her. But was it worth the energy thinking it over when the matter was out of his hands?
He held in a sigh, eyes on the passive Midoriya who had been nothing but cooperative since his surrendering. A complicated mess indeed. "I know this is hard, but you have to face it no matter what."
"I know."
Midoriya's posture screamed a type of submissive that made Shouta's skin crawl; it was not one of a criminal knowing defeat but rather one familiar with beatings they had fully resigned to. He knew thanks to Bakugou's testimony bits about their shared history, giving him more pieces of a puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted. He was the escort, nothing more.
"Sorry about your eye." The quiet tentative voice made Shouta cocked his head to regard Midoriya. The teen seemed to shrink back a bit, bashful and ashamed. "USJ, right?"
"Occupational hazard." He droned, ending the fledgling conversation. The two approached a door and it opened after Shouta gave a knock. Midoriya was ushered inside where he dutifully took a seat, looking over who was in the room. It was Midnight and Detective Tsukauchi.
"Perfect, let's get started. I'm here on behalf of Principal Nedzu." Midnight dropped into a nearby chair, spreading papers on the table. "Here's the situation, Midoriya-kun. We've reviewed your case extensively and it's… very difficult for us to think about the consequences of your actions. Unfortunately not only did your activities involve our school, but the public as well, drawing concern from the Hero Public Safety Commission."
"I understand… just… can you keep my mom out of it? None of this is her fault." Midoriya looked tired, ashamed and sincere. "I'll cooperate any way I can just, please don't involve her."
"We'll see what we can do." Midnight's voice was not unkind but lacked the doting air she showed to those she felt needed her tender embrace, literal or not. Shouta had known Nemuri Kayama long enough to detect a soft spot among her professionalism, noting a sense of pity in her expression. "However in light of some developments, we have a proposal. A deal we've managed to make with the Commission."
Midoriya furrowed his brow, clearly confused. Midnight pushed one document forward for him to read. As he scanned it over he blinked, rereading again to make sure he was understanding correctly. After careful examining, he looked up, expression twisted in confusion and pain. "But… why? How?"
"Sometimes, people just need a second chance. But not everyone gets it." Tsukauchi smiled sympathetically at the bewildered teen. "We could all use someone in our corner to make sure we have a fair shot."
"Why… why did…? I don't… I don't deserve it. I'm nobody. A criminal."
"Mercy is given, it's not earned." Midnight looked sympathetically at Midoriya who looked caught between disbelief and shame. "There are conditions, should you accept."
"I…"
"We can't force your decision. It's only logical there will be consequences for your actions but simply being locked up isn't always the answer." Shouta interjected, watching the silent internal battle raging inside Midoriya that seemed more like a self torture and execution. It was a unique situation he doubted he would ever witness again: the fact strings were being pulled seemingly from beyond the grave.
"If… if it's a way to make things right, I accept." The teenager finally looked up, hands tightening with resolve. "I don't deserve this but I'll make the best of it, not just for myself."
"Then it's a deal." Tsukauchi nodded at the two Heroes, looking relieved as Midoriya took the provided pen and signed. "I'll inform my superiors and make sure the Commission is notified as well."
"We'll do the same." Midnight offered a hand to the detective who shook it before nodding at Midoriya and promptly left the room. She turned toward the teenager, "It's going to take a while to get everything finalized. You'll have to sit tight until then."
"It's fine." Midoriya dismissed but Shouta caught the twitching fingers that were immediately balled into concealing fists; he thought he caught sight of what looked like some sign. "I can wait."
"Alright, let's go." Shouta instructed dryly and Midoriya complied. The two made for the exit, ready for the teenager to be escorted back to his holding cell. Neither was prepared for the ambush that was outside the door.
"So, you're the one who's getting one of my new super cute babies!" A girl with salmon pink hair and steampunk-like goggles perched on her head exclaimed, suddenly too close for comfort as Midoriya jerked back in surprise. His posture was tense while confusion was evident as he backed away, the girl having come out of nowhere to intercept the duo.
The discomfort as well as protocol for caution with a prisoner was lost on the newcomer who only got closer, looking thoughtful. "Mmm, yes! Good physique, features a little plain but passable… A qualified candidate to show off my baby! It'll really shine! Look at how you're showing off them right now!"
"Uh? What?"
"Hatsume." Shouta's level voice held a warning, throughly tired. He couldn't risk Midoriya lashing out though he deeply doubted that scenario, especially after the deal agreement. More than anything, the boy was chancing being drowned by a verbal torrent while being crowded by the overly passionate and tunnel vision girl. "What are you doing here?"
"Just dropping off some of my babies! I finished them early and wanted to bring them since Power Loader-sensei is sleeping off an all-nighter!" The girl didn't bat an eye, intensely staring at Midoriya with her yellow eyes whose pupils looked like crosshairs. "But I saw you and thought I'd check out the client! This is him, right?"
"Uh…?" Midoriya seemed at a loss, clearly thrown for a loop after being tossed out of his depths of wallowing. Shouta noted he seemed to be turning slightly pink, something that would have amused another person.
"Hmm, a few adjustments and it should be just right! I'll have it done come the end of the day!" Hatsume turned and took off as fast as she had come, leaving behind a bewildered Midoriya and exhausted Shouta.
"The police as well as the Commission collaborate with U.A. for tech development. Passible prototypes go to them first. Hatsume is on the project regarding your case, including designing the Suppressors you are wearing." The long haired man expounded, feeling as though he had suffered whiplash while Midoriya probably felt the same. He waved his hand to get a move on and the two started off again down the hall.
"U.A. really has some interesting people."
The comment was an observance, admiration tinging the teenager's tone without a hint of resentment or sarcasm. Shouta eyed Midoriya as they walked, barely managing to hear what was mumbled next in part by reading lips.
"Maybe in another life."
A shared sentiment.