As the first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, Izuku found himself drifting back from the edge of sleep, anchored by the warmth of Katsuki beside him. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply exist in this serene bubble they had created, away from the chaos that awaited them beyond these walls.
The quiet, so rare and precious, felt like a balm to Izuku's constantly racing thoughts. He reveled in the peace, the steady rhythm of Katsuki's breathing beside him, a reassuring reminder of the reality they shared, however fleeting this moment might be.
As if sensing his wakefulness, Katsuki stirred, his eyes blinking open to meet Izuku's gaze. There was a moment, timeless and suspended, as they simply looked at each other, the unspoken understanding between them more palpable than words.
"Morning," Katsuki murmured, his voice rough with sleep but his eyes clear and focused. It was in moments like these that Izuku was reminded of the depth of Katsuki's feelings, the unwavering certainty he carried about them.
"Morning," Izuku replied, his voice a soft echo. He watched as a small, content smile played on Katsuki's lips, a rare and unguarded expression that Izuku cherished.
"You good?" Katsuki asked, his concern clear even in his casual tone.
"Yeah, just thinking," Izuku admitted, his own smile bittersweet. The peace of the morning contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside him, the weight of his past and the uncertainty of his worthiness pressing down.
Katsuki reached out, his hand finding Izuku's, their fingers intertwining naturally. "You think too much, Izuku. We'll have plenty of time to talk about us after we finish taking Tomura down."
Izuku's heart clenched at the confidence in Katsuki's words, a contrast to the doubts that clouded his own mind. "I don't get how you can be so sure, Kacchan. How can we—"
"Stop," Katsuki cut in gently, his thumb stroking Izuku's hand. "There's no point arguing about the same thing. You'll see I always get what I want."
Izuku chuckled as he looked into Katsuki's determined eyes, not just the detective, but the boy he'd known since as far back as he could remember, unwavering and steadfast.
"Alright, Kacchan," Izuku whispered, the weight in his chest lightening ever so slightly. "I can never win against you."
Katsuki's response was a cocky a smirk grazing his features with an affirming squeeze of their linked hands. "You're finally starting to get it."
In the quiet that followed their mutual admission, the room seemed to hold its breath, basking in the new understanding that had woven itself around Izuku and Katsuki. They weren't ready to face leave their bubble just yet, so they lingered in each other's warmth.
Izuku, lost in thought, traced the lines of Katsuki's back with his fingers, a small smile playing on his lips. He was grateful for this, for Katsuki — his strength, his presence. It was a solace he hadn't known he'd needed until now. Katsuki, ever observant, watched Izuku with a keen eye, recognizing the shift in his demeanor, the unspoken thoughts that seemed to cloud his gaze.
Breaking the silence, Katsuki's voice was gentle, yet carried the undeniable strength that Izuku had always admired. "You've come a long way, Izuku. From the scrawny kid I remember to... well, this." He gestured with a slide of his hands down Izuku's abdomen, the muscles tight and still sore from his last fight.
Izuku's laugh was soft, tinged with a mix of nostalgia and irony. "Would you have believed it?" he mused, meeting Katsuki's eyes. There was a time when such a future seemed impossible, a distant dream shaped by the aspirations of a boy too stubborn to give up.
Katsuki's inquiry came quietly, a thread in the tapestry of their shared silence. "Your mentor, Yagi... What was he like?" It was a nudge towards the past, gentle yet deliberate, opening the door to memories Izuku had kept closely guarded.
The shift was palpable as Izuku's gaze turned inward, transported to a time etched with the clarity of youth and the mentorship that had defined it. Toshinori Yagi—All Might—stood at the center of these recollections, a towering figure whose influence had irrevocably changed Izuku's path.
For Izuku, Yagi was more than an MMA icon; he was the beacon that had guided a lost boy towards a sense of purpose. Their time together was a series of lessons not just in fighting, but in living—a testament to the potential Yagi had seen in him from the start.
Memories flowed unbidden: the grueling training sessions, the setbacks met with unwavering support, the quiet moments of shared humanity that went beyond the physical rigors of preparation. Yagi's home had been a haven, contrasting sharply with the sterile confines of hospital rooms where Izuku's mother battled illness. Through it all, Yagi had been a constant, his presence a bulwark against despair.
Yet, it was the moment of departure that lingered with the sharpest clarity—the day Izuku chose a path that diverged from everything Yagi had hoped for him. The hurt in Yagi's eyes was a wound that time had done little to heal, a reminder of the trust and hope Izuku had shattered in pursuit of a shadowed cause.
Drawing a deep breath, Izuku anchored himself back in the present, facing Katsuki's attentive silence. "All Might was what they called him in the ring before he retired... he was everything to me," he confessed, the weight of his words laden with the gravity of loss and regret. "More than a mentor... he was the father I never had."
Katsuki absorbed Izuku's confession, the magnitude of the bond and the sacrifice it entailed becoming painfully clear. In the wake of Izuku's revelation, the room seemed to hold its breath, bearing witness to the raw honesty that bridged the gap between past and present.
"And you haven't seen him since?" Katsuki finally asked, his voice soft, mindful of the fragile thread of Izuku's composure.
Izuku shook his head, a silent admission of the gulf that had opened between them. "I couldn't face him, not after choosing this life. I don't even know if he'd want to see me now."
Katsuki reached out, his touch grounding, a silent pledge of support. "Maybe it's not too late, Izuku. Maybe he's been waiting for you to come back."
Izuku's thoughts wandered into the realm of 'what ifs,' each more daunting than the last. "What if I can't make things right with Mr. Yagi? What if... what if my past with the organization means I'll never be free?" He couldn't bring himself to look at Katsuki, fearing the judgment he might find there.
Katsuki's response, however, was filled not with condemnation but with a fiery anger that Izuku found overwhelming. "Don't be an idiot, Izuku. You're nothing like Tomura. You've been trying to get away, to do the right thing. That will count for something."
The room felt smaller as Izuku absorbed Katsuki's words, his heart heavy with the gravity of their situation. The possibility of facing retribution for his actions with the organization was a specter that had haunted him since they'd begun this mission. "But Kacchan, the things I've done... I'm not sure I deserve to walk away from this."
Katsuki's agitation was palpable, his voice rising in both volume and intensity. "Listen to me, Izuku. You're not giving yourself up as some sort of sacrifice, you got out and you've been trying to make things right. We'll find another way."
Izuku didn't voice his doubts any further, still ensnared in the residual warmth of Katsuki's embrace, felt a shift in the air as the day beckoned them to face reality once more. It was Katsuki who broke the silence, his voice a firm anchor pulling Izuku back from the tempest of his thoughts.
"I'm going to try to get information from the guests, see if I can gain access into the Pink floor," Katsuki said, as he left the bed Izuku could feel the absence of his presence so he got up to follow and start the day.
Izuku nodded, even though he wanted to protest at the risk Katsuki was planning to put himself in. "I don't have another fight for now, so I guess I can keep Tomura and his entourage busy."
Eri's sweet face came to mind and Izuku's gaze hardened as he got dressed. "At least this way I can keep Eri in sight, make sure she's safe," he stated, his voice laced with determination.
Katsuki reached out, his hand finding Izuku's, their fingers intertwining naturally. "I'm going to need to reach out to Hawk's. I think he can help me find me some unsuspecting idiot that can get access."
Izuku's jaw clenched at the thought of the other man, and Katsuki gave him an incredulous look. "Look, I took last night in stride because your jealousy is cute, but we don't have time for it right now."
"Fine."