So, yeah... I'm going to try and update all my stories this week... XD I hope you all take a look at them!
Thank you for all of your support!
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What I've Done
Chapter 15
I was wrong and this is absolute bullshit. I'm currently attempting to move a refrigerator through the sand with an extra 540lbs sitting on top of it. In case it isn't abundantly clear to All Might at this point, I don't have a quirk and there's simply no way I'm going to actually budge this thing.
He has the audacity to laugh at me and tell me that people move these things all the time. Is he stupid or simply that out of touch with the realities of human beings' physical limitations? Normal people need help shuffling things this big around—they don't just up and lift 500+ pounds like a toy. I keep my annoyance to myself, however, as I don't want to give him any reason to revoke his offer to gift me his quirk.
After several more minutes of fruitless struggling, he jumps off and tells me to take a short break, likely because he needs one more than I do. Sure enough, he deflates like a punctured balloon just moments afterward and drops down on his boney ass. I take a few breaths before deciding to lift the machine without him weighing it down, however, I pause when I see Bakugo slowly making his way over.
"Hey, Deku…" he murmurs nervously, his eyes stuck on the ground. "Your, uh… Your mom called and asked if I'd come down here to um… She's still worried and shit, so…"
I frown slightly, tilting my head as I try to understand what he seems to be incapable of telling me. Bakugo seemed fine a few days ago when he found me walking to school in the rain like a lost puppy; whatever it is Inko wants him to do has clearly made him feel uncomfortable.
"What?" I finally question, somewhat impatiently since I really need to get back to furthering Tomura's dreams. "Why does my mom want you here?"
"To keep you safe… or something…" he mumbles even more quietly.
I blink a couple of times before it dawns on me that I'm the one that gave Inko that idea. "I'm surprised she changed her mind… She seemed very against the suggestion before." I respond absently. It's silly to have Bakugo guarding me when I literally have the world's strongest 'hero' around, but oh well, she's never seemed to use common sense anyway.
"Wait, you asked Inko to let me protect you?" he gasps, causing me to look back.
There's such confused excitement on his face that I think he might combust, but I nod anyway and explain my reasoning. "You have a strong quirk that you're adept at using and have a mind suited for reactive combat… plus you seem intent on being near me even after she threatened you. I figured your presence would make her less worried about my safety so that I could go to UA."
An edge of doubt clouds the red of his eyes for a moment before it's washed away with gratitude-filled acceptance. I can already tell that he's going to hug me again before he moves, but I stand still and let it happen; he seems to need periodic physical contact with me before he can function… and I suppose it's not the worst sensation in the world.
"I'll fucking protect you with my life, Deku. I swear it."
My diaphragm stutters almost painfully, especially when I feel how unevenly Bakugo's heart is beating against my chest. I don't have time to dwell on how warmth starts in my cheeks and spreads across my face though because I hear All Might clear the blood from his throat moments later.
We both look back at the straggly pro and Bakugo's eyes bulge out of his head, his mouth gaping like mine did when recognition hits him like a speeding train. Before I even realize it, my lips are curling into a light smile at the sight.
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Despite my considerable fitness from all of Tomura's training, I'm still rather small—not weak by any means, but… small. Bakugo isn't of course; he's what our teachers and classmates call a 'natural athlete'.
That notion has always been apparent but never so much as it is now. For as much trash as I can haul around the beach, Bakugo can pick up more. Every day we train, I find myself peering over at him, my eyes catching the way his muscles flex from even the slightest usage.
Bakugo doesn't appear to notice my staring, remaining completely oblivious to the cyclic rut I've fallen into. He strips out of his sweat-soaked shirt mid-way through our training habitually, flustering me further. If the air hadn't already turned chilly from the start of winter, I'm certain my face would be steam constantly.
It's not as if I'm ignorant of the various *reactions* teenage boys experience as they go through puberty, but still... The coiling in my pelvis when I see Bakugo's tan, glistening skin is disgusting. I belong to Tomura in every way and leering at anyone else is unacceptable. There is absolutely no reason for me to be admiring anyone else's form no matter how rampant my hormones are.
-CRASH-
My harsh self-scolding is cut short by the unnerving bang of metal crashing to the ground and my heart momentarily stops. Tomura knows. He knows I was having impure thoughts about Bakugo of all people and now I'm going to answer for all of the misdeeds I've committed since leaving the hideout.
My immediate reaction is to drop down on all fours and lower my head with submission, a blank "I'm sorry, Master Tomura", tumbling from my lips even though it has never saved me before. I withdraw into the safety of my mind in preparation for my punishment, my fake world soothing the fear I refuse to admit is there.
'I'm not hurting?' I think to myself after a few minutes, knowing from experience that I shouldn't be able to block out everything. It's a gamble, but I allow my senses to reconnect, bringing myself back to reality slowly.
"Fuck, Izuku! Please! Please just say something, anything!"
Bakugo's hands are on my upper arms, squishing them to my sides as he shakes me desperately. His face is frantic and ghostly white, voice almost breaking from fear as he pleads with me to respond.
"K-Kacchan?" I whisper, stumbling over his name from the repressed state of my own nerves. It takes me a moment to remember that I'm not home and that Tomura isn't here with me… I'm alone until I complete my mission.
A wave of solitude crashes into me and sadness isn't far behind, further depressing my already down-swinging mood. It's both surreal and exhausting to bounce between 'worlds' so quickly, especially since the situations causing the shift aren't clear cut anymore.
At home, an unexpected loud noise meant Tomura was angry and I was close enough to him to be an outlet for his rage. The next logical step was to retreat inward, protecting my sanity until it was safe to return to reality once more.
Now though…
"I'm so fucking sorry, Izuku! I swear it was an accident! The stupid pile just fell over and I—I didn't mean to scare you like that! Fuck! I'm such an idiot! Please forgive me, Izuku, I—"
"It's… fine… I'm fine…" I manage to reply, swallowing the sticky dryness in my throat.
His clammy palms slink further up my body, resting on my neck and cheek though I can hardly feel either through my lingering detachment. I watch his lips to help me sort through his garbled voice, trying to understand.
"What's—Izuku, fuck! Come on, tell me what's happening… I don't understand, Izuku, fucking please!"
"Have to leave when Master Tomura punishes me… can't take it…hurts…" I mumble, doing my best to coherently explain my behavior through the misty-haze clouding my thoughts. "Few minutes…"
A chill rushes through my sluggish veins, forcing the warm static away almost instantly; Bakugo is looking at me with an expression so haunting it rocks my core. His skin changes from pale to an almost wet, greenish hue as something close to horrific realization mars his already distorted features. It's not long after that he yanks away from me, tripping over his uncharacteristically clumsy feet as he staggers behind a pile of junk.
The sound of dry-retching bombards my now hypersensitive ears, drawing me from my knees and towards the sound. Bakugo is heaving by the time I wander over, his stomach still lurching uselessly as he coughs up nothing and trembles.
"Kacchan?" I question somewhat worriedly, hesitantly reaching out to flutter my palm over his hunched shoulder. Now I don't understand what's happening… Why did he get so sick all of a sudden?
He keeps the hand nearest me on the ground but reaches across himself with the other to latch onto my fingers, rubbing them between his own as he thumbs a few of the scars he so often stares at. I can't see most of his face since it's covered by his hair, but I can see his teeth clenching together as his nausea finally fades.
"Y-you…" he starts, voice low and shuddering as all of those muscles I'd been feverish over earlier tense and strain. "You don't have to be afraid anymore, Deku. I won't let anyone touch you… I won't let you get hurt even one more fucking time…"
Is that what has him so upset?
I'm tempted to explain that all of my injuries have been of my own doing as I've been fully aware of Tomura's temperament since my first night at the hideout, but I don't. Something, maybe tact or intuition, is telling me that now isn't the time… Kacchan is hurting and I'm the cause.
I settle myself down and lean against the most sturdy part of the heap he'd rushed behind, letting him keep his grip on my hand as he shifts to sit beside me. The warmth from his constantly heated body seeps through the places we're touching and I find myself almost leaning into him as we both calm back down.
But… This isn't right…
The doubt that's always lurking in the shadows of my mind creeps out, reminding me of the saddening truths I couldn't face when I was young and weak. At their core, a person never truly changes… and the boy slowly falling asleep next to me is cruel in the deepest parts of himself.
Bakugo has hurt me before and is going to hurt me again.
Tomura has hurt me before and is going to hurt me again.
They've both left me beaten and bruised in every possible way, but Tomura's abuse is done out of love. Bakugo just liked to see me hurting and I can't forget that; No matter how he behaves now, I can't forget how deeply I hated him before.
I slip my hand out of his grip and quietly get to my feet, deciding to risk upsetting Inko rather than allow Bakugo to walk me home tonight… This is for the best… The part of me that wants to stay is being naïve.
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Shinso continued to chew his food slowly as he watched his father stare at his untouched plate in deep thought. The man had come home from work early and cooked for them—a rare occurrence since he usually ordered take-out or simply let Shinso fend for himself on nights he was out late.
It wasn't as if Aizawa's behavior was so abnormal that Shinso hadn't seen it before, but it had certainly been a while; this level of distraction usually came from the type of case that made even the most seasoned law enforcement officers lose sleep.
Knowing that made him hesitant to pry. After he'd accidentally branded his mother's mangled corpse into his memory, he'd learned that he wasn't ready for some of the realities Pro's dealt with. One day he'd face those atrocities head-on, but… not yet.
Still, he couldn't just leave his dad to suffer alone; he could at least be there for albeit distant support or help Aizawa get his mind off of whatever was upsetting him. "I uh… I have a project deadline coming up; I need to go get some stuff from the store this week so that I can finish it."
The Pro blinked and cleared his throat, nodding his head in acknowledgment as he picked up his chopsticks and poked around his cold food. His tired gaze found its way up to Shinso soon though, eyes troubled as though he weren't really looking at his son… at least, not the healthy young man that sat in front of him.
"What?" Shinso questioned uncomfortably.
The Pro's jaw tightened and fell slack, a defeated breath filtering out of his mouth when his lips unsealed. "I was going through applications today and found one from Izuku Midoriya; he's applying to the UA Hero Course."
Shinso frowned slightly in confusion and popped another wad of rice into his mouth, nodding as he cheeked the unchewed food. "Yeah he said that's what he wanted to do once when I was over at his house; I told him he should go for it."
Aizawa's reaction was to shove his plate forward and rub his face in exasperation. "Why would you do something so irrational, Hitoshi? Someone like him should never be allowed to enroll at UA, especially not in the hero course."
The younger glared back with an immediate, equal intensity, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms and a defiant slouch. "Why the hell not? I didn't think you were such a sectarian; the backward belief that quirkless people are useless is so—"
"Have you learned nothing from watching me work, Hitoshi?" Aizawa snapped, though this time the frustration in his tone was weighted with desperate solemnness. It was enough to make Shinso snap his teeth together, his defensiveness softening from the way his father's usually bloodshot eyes began to grow even redder and glisten.
The elder didn't say anything else for a long time, once more trapped by the thoughts that were haunting him so deeply. He just kept staring at Shinso with a growing torment, like he was imagining the various trauma that painted Midoriya's skin on his precious son.
"You saw some of the scars those villains left on him, but I don't think you fully understand what Midoriya went through, Hitoshi." He finally stated, wiping at his mouth as he pushed his food farther away with a sickened expression.
"I'm not an idiot…" Shinso muttered uncomfortably. "I know he's been hurt badly…"
"Tortured." Aizawa corrected. "They didn't hurt Midoriya, they tortured him. Not for minutes or hours or days or even months, but nine years. The doctor overseeing his recovery said that in all likelihood, he didn't go more than a day without suffering some type of injury—and that's just the physical harm we have visual proof of."
The Pro continued even as his son began squirming in his seat. "Now, I'm not suggesting that he can't heal or that he can't do some form of minor hero work in the future… but not at UA and certainly not just a year after escaping a hell that would have driven most people into insanity."
"But why not?" Shinso argued meekly. "He knows better than anyone who's applying what it means to need a hero."
"Understanding the pain and fear a victim feels doesn't make Midoriya qualified to save them from that situation. You're ignoring the reality of what he had to do to survive his own torment—"
Shinso shook his head in disagreement, voice regaining some of its surety as he cut his father off. "I'm not ignoring anything! You said it yourself, he survived a situation that would have completely broken most people and he still wants to help others. If he is determined to be a hero after everything he's been through then why are you so insistent on stopping him from trying?"
"So, you're suggesting I recklessly allow him to pursue this profession while knowing that the numb apathy he wrapped himself in for protection could wear off at any point? Do you expect me to look the other way when the coping mechanisms he held himself together with begin cracking under the strain of unfamiliar stressors? What then? What happens to Midoriya when UA pushes his unstable psyche too far out of his extremely limited comfort zone? No. This honorable but misguided dream isn't rational; he isn't ready."
Another long silence stretched between them as Shinso absorbed the truth of his father's fears and hesitance. A lot of people gave Aizawa hell for being a hard ass and for lacking any semblance of people skills, but there probably wasn't a hero who cared more for the wellbeing of others than his socially stunted dad… even if he did a piss-poor job of showing it most of the time.
In all likelihood, Aizawa was probably correct in his predictions for what would happen if Midoriya was accepted into the UA hero course for the upcoming term, and Shinso knew that… but he wouldn't accept it.
"People aren't rational, dad…" he responded quietly, his tone light as he thought about his interactions with Midoriya. "We don't always conform to what logic says we should. Maybe Izuku falls apart at the seams if he gets into UA, but maybe he doesn't—maybe he becomes the greatest hero in the world."
"And I'd very happily eat my words if he did, but it's irresponsible for me to take that gamble, Hitoshi." Aizawa sighed, realizing that his son wasn't going to budge. "Midoriya is a child that's suffered more than anyone should in an entire lifetime; I can't willfully let him be damaged further just because I hope his trauma won't get the best of him in life-threatening situations."
"He did rush in to save the guy that bullied him when they were kids…" Shinso drawled almost smugly, returning to his plate. "From what I saw on the news clips, he was more level-headed than most Pro's on the scene during the attack."
"You're just like your mother… always an optimistic idealist…" Aizawa grumbled, his voice proud even though it was equal parts disapproving.
The two shared a quiet smile.
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Thank you for reading the update! Please comment if you want to! I really enjoy reading them :)