the

by lovinfries4

c

Preface

Sink to Swim
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/19388929.

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: M/M Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Matter of Life and Death, Survival, Drowning, Hypothermia, Puzzles, you know like... Saw puzzles, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Sort Of, eventually, Torture, post dvk2, No Manga Spoilers, but here's a fic spoiler, Angst with a Happy Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Protective Midoriya Izuku, look they protect each other, Whump, Death Traps, POV Alternating, Naked Cuddling, Huddling For Warmth, Mild Gore, Electrocution, Poisoning, Near Death, Burns, Blood, Kacchan's Amazing, Kacchan Sugoi, I CAN'T BELIEVE THOSE AREN'T TAGS, Hurt Midoriya Izuku, Hurt Bakugou Katsuki, Major Character Injury, okay this one is really a spoiler, Original Character Death(s), now with art!!, Canon Universe, Midoriya Izuku Has a Bad Time, Bakugou Katsuki has a bad time
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Sink to Survive Collections: Creative Chaos Discord Recs, BKDK Whump Club, GBFOAT: Greatest BakuDeku Fics Of All Time , The deku that tries, BNHA Fanfic W(Rec)ks!, The Good (finished) BkDk, BEST COMPLETE BK, I'd cry over you, fics i wanna hold hands with, Make Me Cy rip out my heart, I'm Gonna Rec It, Bnha Bookclub Discord Recs, The Most Beautiful BakuDeku Fics Ever, BNHA Top Tier, God Tier BNHA, BkDk Greats, BNHA Fics I Adore, Vee's God Tier Fics, MHA fics that keep me from working like a functional adult, bkdk fics that ARE A MUST!!!, For Re-reading Great Bakudeku, Good soup, Best of My Hero Academia, bakudeku love :) 3, Legitimately The Best Works I've Ever Read, Stellar Fics: A Wonder Duo Collection , bkdk starter pack (the classics), FreakingAmazingFics, fics for my BakuDeku addiction, Top Tier BNHA, mha fics that make me want to scream into the void, because in the end we always move on, ️My Hero Stories Worth Your Time️, BKDK fics that are written better than BNHA , for heavy hearts but full souls, bkdk fics that own my, angst stories, what in the bkdk is this, hold on to me, BkDk's firsts n as each others' only, Best bakudeku fics, Simply chef's kiss, Like A Favorite Sweater, Fics that make me feel something, fics that i WILL inject into my veins (and you cannot stop me), They hold me by my neck Stats: Published: 2019-06-28 Completed: 2019-09-20 Words: 35,786 Chapters: 6/6 Sink to Swim

by cinnabee

Summary

"Kacchan, I think we're supposed to—"

"Supposed to?" Katsuki whirled. "Supposed to? Will you fucking.. Listen to yourself? Shitty Deku, we just woke up in a dungeon and you want to play some villain's game? Like it's a goddamn puzzle we can just solve?"

~

As if there's any other choice.

Notes

hellooooo! been a while! if anyone is wondering what is the DEAL with the sequel to Safety Synonym, I'm 35k into it and hit a wall so have this short series that came outta nowhere in the meantime. Will be I think 6 chapters, but might change as I'm playing this one by ear.

enjoy!

EDIT: HELLO Nami on Twitter was so kind to draw amazing art for this fic!!!! You can see it here! It's a little spoilery, so I'm also gonna link it at the end if you wanna wait!

also available in Russian!

I do not condone the podfic version of this. Thanks for insulting my work while using it for your content :)

See the end of the work for more notes

Translation into Français available: Sink to Swim (TRADUCTION) by ThrowMeIntoTheNearestDyingStar

sink

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Katsuki was lying flat on his back, but he wasn't on his bed, or his floor, or even the common room couch. Whatever he was lying on was hard and cold and foreign. He was also staring up into the wide green eyes of the last person he wanted hovering over him while he was sleeping.

"Kacchan, Kacchan, get up!" Deku's voice was worried, panicked. That wasn't abnormal—shitty nerd was anxious about everything—but probably wasn't good combined with the whole waking up not in his bed thing. Katsuki lurched up to sitting, knocking Deku out of the way with a harsh shove.

Something heavy dragged at his foot.

"The hell is this shit," Katsuki hissed, kicking out his left leg. A manacle fit snugly around the base of his shin, just above his ankle and below the cuff of his sweatpants. The long chain running away from it clanked harshly against the metal floor. Katsuki snagged a fistful of the metal links to blow them to pieces, but. Nothing happened. No sparks, no smoke. No explosion.

Snarling, he chucked the chain at Deku, who fell back on his heels to avoid it.

"My quirk doesn't work either," Deku mumbled. His 'pajama' print t-shirt and shorts were rumpled and it looked like he had also been ripped right out of bed. If they had been taken from the UA dorm, that didn't bode well for everyone else at the school. But Katsuki had his own skin to worry about right now.

"This is bad, Kacchan."

"Shut. Up." Katsuki leapt to his feet, the chain tugging at him as he stomped around the room. It was a ten by ten room of plain, metal, twenty-five foot high walls. He slammed his palm against one, and the resulting sound reverberated around him. "Oi!" Katsuki yelled. "Let me out, you fuckers!"

"Kacchan, I don't think—"

"Piss off, asshole! I don't give a shit what you think!" Katsuki seethed, crossing the room to test another wall. The weight around his ankle continued to nag him, and in a fit of rage he snatched it up and wrenched it, hard. With a yelp, Deku fell flat on his back. Katsuki looked down at him, then down at the chain across his palms. His eyes followed the length of it down to the floor, through a thick metal ring in the center of the room, and over to where it was attached to Deku's right ankle.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Deku propped himself up onto his elbows, staring at the ceiling. "Ow. Kacchan, look."

Katsuki looked. A rectangular opening punched out of one wall pressed flush against the ceiling. The only entry or exit and it was ten feet of smooth metal above his head. If he didn't have his quirk, he had little hope of getting up there, especially while still tied to Deku through the floor.

"There's a key, I think. Hanging across from the doorway." Deku was still talking. He pulled himself up to his feet and shuffled to the center of the room, chains rattling.

"I'm guessing it unlocks this," he ventured, pointing to the metal ring that the chain ran through. "It's got a lock with a keyhole on it. Oh, so do these." He shook his manacled leg.

Katsuki moved to see for himself. Thick and sturdy, the hinged ring didn't look like it could be budged. So Katsuki decided to budge it. Gathering up a foot of chain on either side of the ring, he leaned back and pulled. And pulled. His muscles strained and his heart beat too fast as he fought viciously against the lump of metal screwed tight to the floor, bellowing "Die!" at the top of his lungs.

A pair of scarred hands joined his on the chain. Katsuki snapped his teeth but begrudgingly allowed Deku to take a side and add his strength—not that it made a difference. They pulled and yanked but the ring stayed firm. It didn't even look mildly affected.

Finally Katsuki started slamming his shackle against it. The edges bit into his skin and the shockwaves vibrated in his very bones.

Still, neither piece of metal yielded.

"The metal's just too thick, without our quirks we can't break it. The key must be the solution. We just have to figure out how to get it! It's obviously too high up for us to reach. Even if we stood on each other's shoulders it would still be too high. So, what have we missed? I don't see anything else in the room. I'm thinking there might—"

Katsuki slapped his hand over Deku's mouth. "Do you ever. Stop. Talking?" he hissed through his teeth.

Deku blinked once, twice, before narrowing his eyes and stepping back, dislodging Katsuki's hand. "Kacchan, we… we're tied to each other, we have to work together, just like the final exam—"

With a howl of fury, Katsuki turned to the nearest wall, threw his weight onto his shackled leg and kicked the wall with his unfettered bare foot. The slap of skin on metal was quickly drowned out by the cacophonous echo of reflected, resonating sound. He drew back and kicked it again. And again.

And again.

When the noise finally faded, Deku was glowering at him with his hands over his ears. "Are you done?"

Katsuki's heavy panting filled the room. Admittedly, getting to hit something helped quell his seething. Slightly. "No," he spat. "These walls are hollow. And thin. You want to work together? Put your stupid rabbit legs to work."

"My…? You want to break through the wall? Without our quirks? What about the key, I think we're supposed to—"

"Supposed to?" Katsuki whirled. "Supposed to? Will you fucking… listen to yourself? Shitty Deku, we just woke up in a dungeon and you want to play some villain's game? Like it's a goddamn puzzle we can just solve?" He gestured sharply at the tiny object hanging high above their heads. "Stupid key probably doesn't even work. You want it so bad? Kick the wall under it, maybe it'll fall down, 'cause I sure as hell don't know how we're supposed to get it otherwise."

He raised his leg to resume his assault, but stopped himself just before he made contact.

A new sound had begun steadily building.

Katsuki slowly lowered his leg and turned back to the only other person in the room, hoping he was responsible for the rustling noise that was growing louder and louder.

But Deku wasn't making it. He twisted back and forth, expression troubled. "Do you hear that? It sounds like…"

Water.

A torrent of it burst out of the opening at the top of the room and began to rapidly cascade down the wall. It hit the floor with a violent splash, quickly spreading out to cover the entire area until they were both standing barefoot in an inch of cold liquid.

Fucking great.

"Oh, no," Deku said, barely audible over the rushing din. He looked up at Katsuki. "Kacchan—"

"Shut it," Katsuki snarled, turning back to the wall to deliver another kick. His wet foot squeaked and slid over the metal wall, lessening the impact.

Rapid splashing alerted him to Deku striding over, the chain slithering behind him in the ankle-deep water. "That isn't going to work!"

Katsuki gathered up an armful of chain and yanked.

Deku went down with a splash and a cry. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he choked out, fists shaking and tears beading at the corners of his eyes as he struggled back to his feet. Great, because what they needed were more waterworks.

Bodily throwing the chains down into the water, already at their calves, Katsuki slammed the side of his fist into the wall. He grit his teeth. "We are about to run out of time until we can't do anything but let the water take us up to your precious key, so if the key is a red herring, we are fucked." He slammed the wall again. "So stop shrieking in my ear. Make yourself useful and kick this goddamn wall with me. If we can't get through, then we just float up anyway."

With a dizzying spin that should have been accompanied by green sparks, Deku landed a devastating kick to the wall. The reverberations were deafening and Katsuki had to flinch away from it.

But the wall held. It wasn't even dented.

"This. Won't. Work!" Deku yelled. His eyes were glittering green wildfire when they turned to Katsuki. "If the wall breaks, we're still chained to the middle of the floor! And we can't just float up. Kacchan. Kacchan. The chain isn't long enough."

Katsuki looked down. The chain curled around them under almost three feet of water.

Then he looked up.

Then back down again.

Well, Deku wasn't exactly right. The chain was just about long enough to reach the key.

For one of them.

"Fucking hell," he growled.

The water steadily rose as they stood there in silence. Deku began to shiver.

"Kacchan," he said softly. He placed a hand on Katsuki's elbow, now underwater. "Please strategize with me."

Katsuki shook him off, sloshing the water, a muttered "Die," under his breath.

Deku's laugh rang out sudden and manic. "I'm… I'm going to!" He splashed Katsuki with a violent wave like they were just kids at the pool messing around. Katsuki let the water roll down him. In a few minutes, it wouldn't make a difference.

"We are literally going to die, Kacchan."

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, Katsuki resisted the urge to splash back. "We are not going to die, idiot. We will just alternate breathing until one of us reaches the top. There. Happy? Strategy."

"Oh, sure, because we're really in sync right now! We won't be able to talk to each other once that starts. We need a system." The water lapped at their shoulders; they'd be treading it momentarily.

The ceiling lights were far overhead but the refractions in the water still lit up the underside of Deku's face in wobbly patterns of intense brightness. Panic and desperation reflected alongside them in his shimmering eyes.

"Please."

Katsuki swallowed.

It's not that he couldn't work with Deku if forced to.

But he sure was tired of it being the only time he did.

"The… chain. We can tug on it. When we need to switch."

Half of Deku's mouth rose in a smile, and relief was evident in his eyes. "Okay. Let's test it while we can still speak." They were treading water now, with the chain still slack below their pedaling feet. They had probably a few minutes before they'd have to start alternating—when the water was about halfway up the wall. Deku reached below and fished around for the chain. "Did you feel that?"

Katsuki shook his head. There was still too much slack, it would need a larger—

Suddenly, he was ripped under the surface. He pushed back up, spluttering.

"Asshole!" Katsuki kicked his leg up in retaliation and was rewarded with dunking Deku in return. When the other boy surfaced, his hair was flat and bedraggled and hilarious. "Hah, you look like a lump of seaweed," Katsuki sneered.

"K-Kacchan!" Deku protested, but he was laughing. Like they didn't have their lives on the line. But, the mirth was short lived. "It's going to get harder the closer we get to the top. We'll have to hold our breath longer, and the person underwater won't know when the other reaches the surface."

"Multiple tugs, then. Tug when you get to the top so the person below won't go too far down. Tug at the bottom when you need to switch. Tug again at the top to confirm. Then we both start moving. Whoever gets to the key first, unlocks their shackle before they signal, then the other when we're both at the top. Got it?"

And the smile was back, this time bright and full with stars in his eyes. "Got it. I trust you. Kacchan's amazing, after all."

"Tch. Tell me that when we get out of this. We're almost out of time, let's test it for real. I'll go down and signal first."

At Deku's nod, Katsuki drew in a breath and slipped under the water. Liquid filled his ears and clouded his vision. The sudden quiet was disconcerting.

It was only going to get worse.

He swam down nearly to the floor and gathered the chain until he could feel the tension. He tugged. The cold metal under his fingers was indistinguishable from the cold water pressing in all around. After a beat, he felt the chain jerk back in his hands. Katsuki passed Deku swimming down on the way back up to the surface. So far so good.

Katsuki tugged on the chain to indicate he had hit air. Deku's head popped up shortly after the return signal, spraying water droplets that glinted like diamonds.

"Good?"

"Good," Deku confirmed, panting. He shook the hair and water out of his eyes pointlessly. "I think we're almost at the halfway mark."

Katsuki grunted. At this point, he just wanted to start so they could get it over with.

"Um, look, Kacchan," Deku began, drifting close enough that Katsuki could count his freckles. "This is going to sound weird, but I need you to uh, eat a piece of my hair."

There were a lot of things that Katsuki had expected the nerd to say to him in their last moments before their do-or-die trial really began. Good luck, you can do it, I believe in you, Kacchan is amazing, I love you, that kind of thing. This was not one of them.

"Hah?? No. What the actual fuck, Deku."

They stopped rising with the water. The chain held taut evenly between them on either side of the hook keeping it, and them, anchored to the floor.

"You just have to trust me, All Might will explain, but j-just in case I don't make it, and you do—"

Only their faces were out of the water.

"Like hell you're dying without me, shitty nerd," Katsuki spat. "Shut. Up."

Deku's teeth chattered and his voice spiked with panic as he held out a single hair he had plucked from his scalp. "Please, please, Kacchan, I need to—"

But Katsuki didn't find out what Deku needed. With a gurgle, the water covered him; the few inches of height or chain giving Katsuki the advantage of not submerging first. The fist with the offending follicle poked out of the water, insistently stretching forward.

Katsuki backstroked away from it and the movement yanked Deku fully under the water. After scowling down at the distorted image of Deku glaring back at him for a tense minute, a sharp tug on his ankle signaled the first swap.

It had begun.

It started easy. The tug system seemed like overkill at first as they see-sawed back and forth just a few inches. Even as the water rose higher, how far they needed to go down to let the other breathe was still small, and switching was manageable.

Until it wasn't.

Katsuki's muscles ached and his lungs burned. Swimming with a shackle and chain attached to his ankle was slow and painful. If they didn't move together at the same speed, the chain made it that much more difficult as they dragged each other up and down. Every time he dove under to take his turn, Katsuki had to hold his breath a little longer. By the time he got the signal that Deku had surfaced he already wanted to tug back to switch. He resisted. He needed to let Deku catch his breath. Well, he resisted at first, anyway. It quickly got to the point where their turns at the top were extremely brief—just a few lungfuls of air before the weight on his ankle beckoned him back into the depths.

They passed each other in blurry silence. It's what Katsuki had wanted since he woke up in the cold steel box; for Deku to shut off his never ending stream of babbling. Now that they were completely isolated in this eerie underwater fight for their lives he wasn't sure it was actually better.

His vision was starting to black at the edges when he surfaced.

Katsuki strained his arm up, up, up, until he felt the pull on his foot and slapped the water in frustration. The key was still out of his reach. But he knew they were swimming almost all the way to the floor with hardly any slack left in the chain to draw from. They were close; either Deku would get it on his next turn or Katsuki would.

Deku didn't get it on his next turn.

Bursting out of the water, Katsuki lunged for the key. His cold, shriveled fingers grasped and fumbled and he couldn't even curse through his chattering teeth at each missed swipe. Come on, come on! Deku would be tugging him back any second and he needed, he needed to get the key on this turn. He barely made it to the surface this time. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the keyring slipped off of the hook. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of him as he held the key aloft. Victory.

As Katsuki brought it down to unlock his shackle, a small card attached to the keyring glinted in the reflected lights. His shaking hands could barely hold still enough to read the tiny print on it: 'Will only work once.'

If Katsuki freed himself, he could get out of the water right now. Deku would be able to surface but the unlocked manacle wouldn't fit through the ring—he'd be stuck treading water until his body gave out from exhaustion and he drowned.

Who did these fuckers take him for?

Katsuki clenched his jaw, waiting for the return signal.

…

But it didn't come.

He tugged on the chain.

…

Nothing.

"Fuck," Katsuki swore before diving below with the key in his teeth. His heart, which had already been straining and pumping madly trying to supply his body with what little oxygen he gave it, hammered in his ears as he descended. Deku wasn't coming up. Deku wasn't coming up.

Through the hazy water Katsuki saw him: floating listlessly at the bottom, his green hair fanned out all around his head.

This had better fucking work.

If it didn't, Katsuki wouldn't be able to pull Deku to the surface. He would drown.

He was already drowning.

There wasn't time to think. Katsuki's fingers were numb and slow as they fished the key out of his mouth and maneuvered it to the lock; the high ceiling lights and his blurry vision offering him only just enough visibility to get it in on the first try.

He felt the mechanism unlatch as the key snapped off. The sound reverberated in his bones instead of his ears and relief surged through him along with it.

No one can tell if you start crying underwater.

With the bolt undone, the ring easily opened and Katsuki pulled the chain free from its clutches. He slammed the ring back shut so it couldn't catch the chain on their way up—something like that would be fatal.

He was covered in water but his lungs were on fire.

And his head was pounding and his muscles were screaming but like hell he was going to let them drown now when they had won.

Katsuki grabbed the chain by Deku's ankle, towing him along upside down as he raced to the surface. It should have been slower with two people and limited use of his right arm, but Katsuki's adrenaline surge had him shooting through the water like a dolphin on speed despite the added weight.

The darkness at the edges closed in.

Almost, almost.

Bubbles erupted out of Katsuki's mouth.

Nearly there.

His lungs spasmed inside his ribcage, desperate to inhale.

Die!!

…

With a final, brutal push, Katsuki broke free of the icy death clawing at him, spraying droplets and spit as he gasped raggedly, sucking in air greedily. He pulled Deku's head out of the water after him, but. No gasp. No sharp intake of air or a sputter. No sunshine smile or childhood nickname.

The water had stopped flowing and was blessedly level with the entryway by the time Katsuki and Deku surfaced for the final time. Every fiber of Katsuki's being shrieked in protest as he heaved Deku out of the water and into the passage with a wet thump. He dragged his waterlogged self up after him, the chain one last additional hurdle still trying to keep him weighed down in the watery coffin.

Katsuki crawled over Deku's unconscious body. His face was pale, unnaturally so. Far paler than it should have been. No rosy blush at being too close, no deep red flush from the embarrassment of almost dying.

"Come on, shitty nerd," Katsuki bit out weakly. He was himself trembling, gasping. He probably had hypothermia. "Don't die on me yet."

Chancing a glance down the hallway for any immediate threats—just a long passageway and a door—Katsuki let his training kick in and began to administer CPR.

Not breathing. Weak pulse.

Don't think. Don't think. Just do.

Chest compressions, check breathing.

Not breathing. Weaker pulse.

Was this it?

"Fuck, Deku," Katsuki choked out. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

This wasn't how he was supposed to win.

With shaking fingers, Katsuki tilted Deku's head back and lifted his chin. Pinched his nose shut. Gave him two breaths, followed by chest compressions.

A really shitty first kiss.

Two breaths. Chest compressions.

His skin was as cold as ice.

Not breathing.

Not living.

No more Deku meant no more annoying kid trailing at his heels, always sitting behind him in class, asking stupid questions, fighting side by side, nonstop muttering nonsense—

"Fucking say something, you piece of shit!" Katsuki roared, and Deku finally, finally spluttered, coughing violently before he rolled over and retched, spewing more water over the wet metal floor.

Katsuki fell back on his ass, shaking, his heartbeat still slamming against his skull and adrenaline dragging a sharp current of electricity through his skin.

"Fuck," he breathed.

The stillness in the absence of rushing water was deafening; only broken by chattering teeth and wet coughing. The tank of water next to them gently lapped at the entryway as if it hadn't been trying to drown them just moments before.

"Ka," Deku finally rasped. Unfocused green eyes rolled around blearily before settling and dialing in on Katsuki. "Saved me," he whispered hoarsely, followed by a wobbly grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Katsuki grumbled. "Don't get used to it. Did you not signal on purpose?"

When Deku spoke, his voice was quiet and ragged. "Knew I wouldn't make another round. Knew you could get it. Had to give you time."

Huffing, Katsuki began reeling in the chain. They'd have to move with it. "Idiot. You could have died."

"Knew I wouldn't. Knew you'd save me. Kacchan's amazing."

Katsuki felt his cheeks warm, so foreign on his freezing cold face.

"Tch."

He glanced down the hallway at the door. Was this it? Was it over? Katsuki had a hard time believing they were out of the woods yet. Would they even be able to face what was next? They were both half-dead, Katsuki only faring marginally better by the grace that he hadn't drowned.

Deku pathetically tried to wrap his arms around his shivering sides as if he had any hope of eking warmth from his frigid limbs. "M'cold, Kacchan," he croaked.

A shudder wracked Katsuki's frame. He was cold, too. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep forever, sinking into that fuzzy cocoon that offered his terrified mind and aching body the blissful relief he so deserved. Had they survived that drowning nightmare only to die in this dark hallway?

Fuck that.

"Get up," Katsuki growled.

A breathy whine was all he received in response.

"Up. Now. I can't carry your carcass for you, shithead." Katsuki lurched up to standing, falling heavily against the wall as his vision blacked out at the apex. Not a great start.

Deku managed to get himself onto his hands and knees, but there he stopped. Katsuki should have laughed. Here was this perpetual pain in his ass, prostrated before him, unable to even lift his stupid head. But now all Katsuki actually wanted to do was scoop the idiot up and get him into a hospital bed, shortly before falling into one of his own.

Katsuki very much doubted there were any beds on the other side of that door.

"If you have to crawl, crawl," Katsuki grit out. He took a shaky step forward. "That door is gonna help or hurt us, but we die here either way. So fucking move."

And so they moved.

They must have made a sorry sight as they inched toward the door, the chains rattling behind them as they staggered, stuttered and crawled. They left a trail of damp in their wake from their soaking wet clothes and falling tears. Barely suppressed sobs echoed around them, though the truth of who they belonged to would stay in that hallway forever.

Chapter End Notes

pleASE look at this beautiful art from this chapter, gifted to me by Julezy! Thank you!!!!

don't make it weird

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The door slid open as they reached it.

A hand fisted the back of Izuku's collar, and with a sharp jerk he toppled over the threshold. He could only pray it was Kacchan dragging him across the floor; his head was too heavy to lift, let alone capable of any kind of defense.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Coming to a stop at what Izuku dimly pieced together as the center of a room, the hand at his neck dropped him without preamble and he slumped flat to the floor. Izuku felt less like a person and more like a numb, wet bag of organs and bones.

"Strip. Now."

Okay, that was Kacchan's voice. But the words didn't make any sense.

A wet thwap alerted Izuku to Kacchan's tank top hitting the floor where his face was still pressed. Before he could process what that meant, his own sopping wet shirt was being peeled off of his clammy skin. At any other time, Izuku probably would have been mortified; would have squeaked in protest, sputtered in embarrassment.

But he couldn't do anything.

He was just so tired.

"You really gonna make me take your fucking pants off? Deku." A toe nudged Izuku's bare ribs none too gently. "Just… just gonna up and die on me, huh? Make me drag your corpse attached to my ankle outta this shithole?"

Kacchan's words were mean but his tone was wrong. He wasn't angry.

He was… scared.

Kacchan wasn't supposed to be scared.

"Kacch," Izuku tried weakly. So tired. But he had to, he had to. For Kacchan. His fists curled limply around the soggy waistband of his shorts, slowly and painfully sliding them off his hips. He didn't know why he was taking his clothes off, but if Kacchan had a reason, Izuku trusted it.

"All of it, nerd! Are you fucking… are you really this far gone? Shit. Shit. Fuck! Okay, okay. I've got you."

Something warm curled in Izuku's chest; the only warmth he had felt in an eternity.

Izuku's underwear swiftly followed his shorts, both of them bunching together just off his right foot over the chain still tethering him to Kacchan. Hands on him maneuvered his body this way and that, until he was seated upright. Damp skin pressed against his back and oh, this was weird, wasn't it? But he trusted Kacchan. Something soft enveloped him and the ache in his chest soothed itself fractionally with a sigh.

"Don't know why they're giving us this if they're trying to kill us," Kacchan muttered, the broken timbre of his voice rumbling through Izuku's entire body. "But fucking… stay alive, Deku."

Izuku would try. He had to.

Kacchan hadn't eaten his hair yet.

---

Just a little longer just hold on you can do this it's fine the human body can go without oxygen for like four minutes it's barely been one I mean I hardly got any air last time but it's fine Kacchan will get it he's taller his arms are longer I can't do this anymore oh my god oh my god it hurts so much I didn't give him One For All it's all over no no no Kac ch an wil l s av e

Inhaling ice and fire and glass, blackness clawing, digging, burning, choking, screaming—

Izuku awoke with a start, his heart racing wildly, struggling against the pressure that closed in tight all around him—until a gruff voice cut through his panic.

"Oi, knock it off, idiot!"

Kacchan. Izuku exhaled in relief. It was just Kacchan. Kacchan, whose bare arms were wrapped around Izuku's bare shoulders; bare legs caging in bare sides; bare chest pressed against Izuku's bare back. A blanket was wrapped around them both and Izuku almost felt warm, although any warmth between them paled in comparison to the fire that burned in his face.

This had to be just a fever dream, right?

Not daring to move, Izuku glanced furtively around the room. It was devoid of pretty much everything: besides the blanket, themselves and their discarded clothes, the only other things present were an unlit fireplace full of wood and a single set of clothes (a robe and a pair of pants) hanging next to it. A door to the left seemed to be the exit. Ominously, a digital sign with a countdown clock hung over it, ticking down every minute with just over four hours left.

"You alive?" Kacchan's voice was low and full of gravel, and Izuku had to suppress the shiver at it vibrating so close to his ear. They were in about as dire of a situation as they could get and now was not the time to be flustered by the close proximity, even if they were completely unclothed and touching each other.

Izuku tried to respond but it just came out as breathy gibberish. His own voice was unrecognizable, even rougher than Kacchan's—It sounded like he had been gargling rocks. He swallowed and tried again.

"We're naked."

Kacchan snorted. "Don't make it fuckin' weird, pervert. Only way to stay warm."

Hypothermia. Izuku's foggy brain could put together that much. Basic survival training had taught them how conserving body heat was crucial, wet clothes were a death sentence and skin-to-skin contact could be life saving. Kacchan felt lukewarm now, but must have still been pretty cold when he bundled them up together. Izuku certainly had no body heat to give back.

That Kacchan would willingly wrap his naked body around Izuku to save his life was… well. Izuku was sure if he had asked yesterday if Kacchan would do just that, he'd at best have only gotten a die in response, and at worst Kacchan would have threatened to chuck Izuku into a frozen lake just to prove otherwise.

But Kacchan was a hero. So it wasn't a surprise, not really.

"Thanks, Kacchan," Izuku whispered.

"Whatever."

A weak smile tugged at Izuku's mouth before his focus moved back beyond their blanket bubble. Unlike the gray steel walls and floor of the water chamber, this room was painted bright white and lit with strips of similarly white lights along the edges of the floor. It looked like something out of a modern magazine: minimalist and cold, but oddly homey and nothing like a villain's dungeon. And it was all white. The hanging clothes were white, the blanket around them was white, the firewood was even white. Birch, his brain uselessly supplied.

The only thing with color was the black and red digital clock above the door. "Wha's wi'the timer?" Izuku said sluggishly. He coughed sharply, trying to clear the cobwebs from his speech.

"Fuck if I know. Whoever put us in here hasn't said shit. Door's locked. Figure it's gonna open in four hours, started at six. Trying to not die in the meantime."

Izuku's eyes drifted until they landed back on the fireplace. "Don't s'pose there's a way t'light… that," he croaked with a nod in its direction. Izuku had regained some cogency but their body temperatures were still dangerously low. Just forming words through the thick cotton in both his skull and mouth was a struggle.

"Not unless you can get me my quirk back."

Huh. What was suppressing their quirks? Izuku had at first suspected they had been drugged, but no quirk suppressant he had ever heard of lasted over two hours without re-application. His next theory was the cuffs on their ankles, but they would have been removed… Wait. Izuku could still feel it on his right leg, and Kacchan's manacle was pressed against his left. He absently registered that they had still been dragging the chain with them this entire time.

"Wha happen' to th'key?"

"Broke. One-time use, if you can believe such a shitty thing exists. Had to use it on the ring on the floor. At least it was labeled that way; else you'd be pretty fucked."

Oh. Oh. Kacchan was saving Izuku over and over again. If he had used it on himself, Izuku would probably have been stuck in the water. He would have died. But Kacchan could have gotten out of the water sooner and wouldn't be so cold and he wouldn't have had to drag Izuku along or be forced to cuddle naked with him and if the cuffs were the suppressors then he would have his quirk back by now so he'd be able to light the fireplace and—

"Are you fucking… serious right now? You really think I'd just leave your sorry ass to die?"

Izuku froze. Slurred and disjointed as the words spilling out of him had been, they were apparently clear enough. He couldn't even bring his hands up to cover his traitorous muttering mouth because they were trapped inside the blanket.

At least the shot of adrenaline woke him up fully.

"N-no, I just," Izuku stammered, his cheeks burning. Kacchan was amazing, was a hero. Of course he wouldn't choose convenience over someone's life. But. Wouldn't it be better if Kacchan survived, rather than the both of them dying to hypothermia anyway?

"I just… just thought you might have had a better chance without me—That is, with your quirk, if the shackles are what's blocking it. We might both die without it."

Kacchan pressed in sharply on Izuku's sides, and if Izuku didn't know any better he might have categorized it as a hug.

"You are such a goddamn self-sacrificial idiot, shitty Deku," Kacchan snarled right into Izuku's ear and it sent shivers directly down his spine. "You were ready to throw your life away the second the water hit the floor. Should have known you'd pull that stunt that drowned you when you started waving your nasty ass hair at me, saying shit like if you weren't gonna make it. The hell was with that, anyway?"

Ice prickled along Izuku's already cold skin. At the time, he had been desperate—There was no time to explain, and frankly no guarantee that he wouldn't have just passed One For All only for it to die with the tenth bearer minutes later. And he would have willed it to Kacchan when he started losing consciousness. But Izuku had ultimately survived, and because Kacchan had refused, All Might's legacy was still sleeping in his own veins.

If they were being watched Izuku might have already said too much; he couldn't possibly explain it more now. But the next room might yet prove fatal for him. Shouldn't he still get Kacchan to ingest his DNA just in case? How the hell would he manage that without explaining it??

Izuku mulled over his options, ultimately deciding to trust in Kacchan's powers of deduction.

"You, um. Remember our fight at Ground Beta?"

Kacchan was silent. Of course he remembered; it hadn't been very long since it happened—since Kacchan confronted Izuku about getting his quirk from All Might. If Kacchan had figured that out, then maybe he'd put two and two together—

"I'm not taking any of your shit, asshole," Kacchan snapped, punctuated with the sharp clack of his teeth.

Ah. Kacchan was amazing, after all.

"It's not—I mean, it isn't automatic… I would only uh, finalize it if I knew I was actually about to die." Izuku winced. He was definitely saying too much. He was practically inviting some villain to come take One For All, or at the very least demand Izuku explain what the hell they were talking about. Probably via gruesome means that Izuku definitely didn't want to be introduced to.

"Shove it. You're not dying. That's final."

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. It was really hard to process everything that had brought them to this: at what point had Kacchan gone from flippantly telling him to jump off the roof to fiercely insisting Izuku wouldn't be dying here? Old, confusing feelings resurfaced and Izuku's pulse picked up the pace in response.

This was really not the time for that.

He took slow, deep breaths through his nose to try to calm his thunderous heartbeat that Kacchan surely could feel with their bodies practically melded together. Which really didn't help matters!! In, out. In, out. In… Wait. His brain registered something he was inhaling: something he was so used to that it hadn't seemed out of the ordinary to smell.

Throwing caution to the wind, Izuku fished around under the blanket for one of Kacchan's hands, wrenching it from its position of holding their pocket of warmth together. Kacchan hissed as cold air flooded in, quickly sealing it back up with his other arm.

"The hell, nerd?" Kacchan growled, but allowed his hand to be pulled up to Izuku's face.

Smoky, sweet, like burning sugar.

The water would have washed it away if it was just left over from before they were captured.

"Kacchan," Izuku said shakily. "Your sweat. It's still potent."

Immediately Kacchan shot his arm out, flexing his palm. But, nothing.

"Tch," Kacchan spat. "Can't detonate it."

Izuku's heart sank. They really needed to get that fire going. But it likely meant that the suppressors couldn't do anything against Kacchan's biology, even if it could turn off his explosions. That at least was something.

"M-maybe you could use it to help ignite the wood? If we can get a spark out of striking the shackles or chains against each other?"

Kacchan clicked his tongue and was silent for a long moment. "Worth a shot," he said finally. He rose from the floor, deftly wrapping Izuku back in the blanket before striding over to the clothes hanging on the wall. Naked.

Izuku averted his eyes.

Even if it was a really good view.

Seriously, Izuku?

"We can fight over who wears what later, but for now I'm putting this shit on," Kacchan said. As he dressed, Izuku kept his eyes downcast; when Izuku looked back, Kacchan was zipping up a seam on his left pant leg. Huh. It almost seemed thoughtful, generous—a regular pair of pants wouldn't have gotten over the chain. But it wasn't thoughtful, it was calculated. Generous would have been two pairs of pants. Extra keys. A heater. Food. Medical attention.

Not kidnapping them in the first place.

Kacchan shoved his hands into the pockets of the robe and withdrew something small and dark. "Flint. Maybe we won't freeze to death after all."

The chain rattled behind him as he moved to kneel in front of the fireplace, dragging his discarded sweatpants and boxers across the floor. It would be funny if it wasn't such a stark reminder of how much danger they were still in: chained together in a cold, locked room without even a full set of dry clothes between them.

Izuku watched silently as Kacchan rubbed and arranged the wood in the fireplace with sure movements, placing some larger logs off to the side. Kacchan's wilderness training was evident—though it was likely a long time since he hadn't just lit a fire with his quirk. But Izuku wouldn't have even known what flint was.

He began to doze off watching Kacchan's methodical movements. Visions of warming himself in front of a cozy fire did little to chase away the horror that was the actual situation they were in. Why was there even a fireplace here? Why offer them any chance of survival?

"Oh," Izuku blurt out, jerking himself awake, as Kacchan drew up his leg to better situate the manacle for producing sparks. "Check the chimney, first?"

Kacchan shot him a skeptical look but ducked his head under the small opening regardless. After peering into the shaft, he thrust his arm up and pulled back out with a roll of paper in his fist.

Izuku's heart started beating faster.

"How the hell did you know about this?"

"I didn't," Izuku admitted. He pushed back against the fuzzy drowsiness in his brain to articulate himself clearly. "Just a hunch. The fact that there even was a way to survive that water room, and that this one exists, means whoever did this is not solely interested in killing us. I mean, why not just chain us directly to the floor if they wanted to drown us? Why have a key? Why have any kind of way out? For that matter, why not just kill us while we were still asleep?"

Kacchan growled, stilling Izuku's questions. "Get to the point, already!"

Izuku swallowed. "They're giving us a chance but they aren't making it easy. A single-use key with three choices. Give something up to get something else. There was flint in the robe pocket, and firewood… they wanted us to light that fire. Knew we'd have to. I thought there might be a trick to it; something that would be jeopardized if we got the fire going."

With a huff, Kacchan unfurled the paper and squinted at it. "Zero zero one three. That's it. Just a shitty number."

"Oh my god," Izuku moaned, pulling the blanket up over his face. "We're in a real life escape room."

"Hah?? A what?"

Izuku poked his head back out, frowning. "I mean, not really, but… They're group activities where you solve puzzles, and they always involve collecting a series of codes and keys. I think that number might unlock something. In the next room, probably, since there's no keypad on the door."

"So we're just playing some sick game for our lives, great," Kacchan snarled, stuffing the paper into his pocket before resuming his previous attempt to get the fire started. "See, shitty Deku? If I had let you drown I would have just lit this sucker and burned the paper to a crisp. So."

It was far more likely that Kacchan would consider someone else's involvement as interference than admit it might have helped him. It was a small concession, not even an outright thank you, and still Izuku had never felt so touched.

Maybe they both needed each other after all.

A shower of sparks landed on the firewood as flint struck steel, and before long they were flaring to life. Kacchan coaxed the tiny flames into bigger ones with a delicacy Izuku wasn't used to, but a skillfulness he had come to expect. The nitroglycerin had the logs catching in no time and soon the fire was crackling and popping along merrily.

"Good enough," Kacchan declared. He stood up, stretching and shaking out his limbs, before shucking off the borrowed clothing and once again standing completely bare. The firelight danced in his ruby eyes and haloed his slightly less spiky than usual hair, and Izuku found him utterly breathtaking.

"Get over here, popsicle."

Izuku deliberately avoided looking at the nudity so brazenly on display in front of him as he scooted closer to the fire. The blanket was wrapped tightly around his body; with an impatient huff, Kacchan ripped it from Izuku's shoulders.

There wasn't much time for Izuku to short-circuit over being exposed. Kacchan swiftly resumed his previous position behind and around Izuku, bringing the blanket back to cocoon them both. Now Izuku could instead go back to short-circuiting about Kacchan's naked body pressed against his own. Was the skin-to-skin contact still necessary now that they had a heat source?

But, the fire began to seep warmth into Izuku's chilled bones, and he found that he wasn't as bothered or as embarrassed as he thought he would be. He was alive, he was warm, and Kacchan was keeping him that way and that was all that mattered.

Izuku just hoped he'd be able to do the same in return.

"So, tell me more about these escape rooms." Kacchan's voice returned to rumbling against Izuku's back and he hadn't realized just how much he had missed it even in such a short time apart. Every word soothed the horrid ache under his sternum just a little bit more.

Fighting off the sleep that threatened to overtake him, Izuku recounted everything he could remember about the activity: the codes, the riddles, the timer; the chain reaction of following clues to more puzzles to get more clues until a final key to the exit was found. He described the two different themed escape rooms he had done with his friends along with several of the trickier riddles that had tripped them up. When he finished, Izuku realized he had completed a full muttering storm and Kacchan hadn't told him to shut up once.

What a weird day.

"It's… it's not exactly the same; this is multiple rooms with—I'm guessing—just one really bad puzzle per room. I don't think this room counts… Although there is a countdown clock." Izuku glanced nervously up at the timer ticking down above the door. "Which could mean we have a few hours to find a way to open that door or we lose, which probably, uh, means we die. But I don't know where else there is to look for clues besides the fireplace and the clothes. Maybe we can check the air vents?"

"You need every second to recover, dumbass," Kacchan said bluntly, and that warmth in Izuku's chest bloomed again. Was it just a few hours ago that Izuku had to beg for cooperation? Now Kacchan was willingly strategizing with him, and furthermore caring for him. They both needed to get out of this alive if only because no one would believe it otherwise.

"I'm betting they're just giving us a shitty break. Wouldn't be much of a show if we died immediately in the next challenge."

The good feeling curdled. "A show?" Izuku repeated weakly.

"Tch. Like these fuckers aren't getting their rocks off watching us struggle to stay alive in their sick game. Hah?? You enjoying this shit, assholes?" Kacchan hollered, raising his voice. "Get a nice eyeful of my ass? Gonna jack off to it in your mother's guest bathroom? Piece of shit," he spat.

Izuku curled in on himself under the blanket, suddenly feeling even more exposed despite being surrounded in fabric and Kacchan's protective limbs. He already knew they must be being watched. But to think their lives were hardly worth more than someone's amusement, to be given the barest rest and recovery only to make the torture last longer… it sank heavily in the pit of his stomach. The clues, the puzzles, they weren't there to help them, just to turn them into sport.

"Don't goad them, Kacchan," Izuku said quietly. They didn't need to make this any harder. It was entirely possible—most likely, even—that they'd just be killed off anyway even if they 'won'. But if there was even a slim chance they could get out of this alive by playing the game, they didn't need to stack the deck against themselves.

"Don't tell me what to do," Kacchan bit back, but it was more petulant than venomous.

The absurdity of their typical banter while wrapped naked together in a death trap hit Izuku like a truck and he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him. A chuckle turned into full belly laugh that morphed into side-splitting hysterics until Izuku was sobbing.

Kacchan said nothing.

But he didn't kick him out, either.

It twisted something in Izuku's chest. At some point they had crossed a threshold and he knew there was no going back. The thought that Izuku might not even get the chance to see what that meant for them going forward had the tears falling even harder.

"You're gonna dehydrate yourself, idiot," Kacchan finally said, nudging Izuku's left side. "Even if you swallowed half a pool." The softness in his voice was bizarrely gentle and incredibly foreign and only served to spur more liquid to dribble down Izuku's face. But Kacchan was right, and Izuku gamely stifled his weeping with the edge of their blanket.

The clock continued to count down.

What would happen when it ran out?

Izuku hoped Kacchan was right and the room would open, rather than filling with a poisonous gas that would slowly and painfully kill them. Although maybe that's just what the next room would do anyway.

Doing another escape room was probably not something Izuku would ever be doing again in the future.

If there was a future.

Kacchan adjusted the arrangement of his arms and legs around Izuku, jostling them into a slightly more comfortable position. "Get some rest, nerd. I need you in good shape for whatever round two has in store."

Izuku was weak to Kacchan's demands on a good day, let alone when the surly blond had brought him back from death's doorstep and wrapped his bare limbs around Izuku's hypothermic body. The heat of the fire, his companion and his gut had sleep dragging Izuku into its welcome embrace not much longer after his heavy eyelids fluttered shut; secure in a temporary safety carved out somewhere warm between rival and friend.

Chapter End Notes

a little breather for the boys! Aren't I so nice??? Next chapter will ramp back up (you can probably see the pattern) and will be another Izuku POV so he gets a shot at narrating a 'puzzle.' Thanks for reading!

rewards and penalties

Chapter Notes

tags have been updated for content warnings in this chapter, but are also spoilers, so I'd avoid them if you're not sensitive (and if you are sensitive uhhhhh this is maybe not the fic for you because it's uh. Death traps.)

enjoy?

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Oi, get up."

Izuku jolted awake. Curled up in a ball on the floor and swaddled in the soft white blanket, he had briefly forgotten where he was. Where they were. Nightmares and unsettling dreams had always been commonplace enough for Izuku, slowly changing over time from schoolyard bruises and crushed hopes to more vivid, bloody and world-ending affairs. It wouldn't have been that strange for his sleeping brain to conjure this whole thing up.

But he was rarely that lucky.

A bleary check of the timer through the crust in his eyes clued him in on how long he had been out. There was just under half an hour left. At some point, Kacchan had managed to extract himself from the blanket without waking Izuku, and was now wearing the white pants and idly twirling one of the spare logs. The fire had burned down to embers.

"Did you sleep at all?" Izuku asked drowsily, pushing himself up into a seated position.

"Hah?? No, dumbass, someone had to watch the clock. Or watch for other shit. Put this on," Kacchan ordered, scooping up and tossing the robe at Izuku. "You're not hypothermic anymore. And I want to make sure we haven't missed anything, but I don't feel like dragging you around the room."

Kacchan had let Izuku sleep for over three hours, on top of the two he had been initially passed out for. Despite getting no rest, Kacchan looked alright—if a bit tense—but that wasn't too far out of the ordinary for him. Izuku, on the other hand, felt like wet garbage.

Letting the blanket fall away, Izuku slipped into the robe, pulling it over his stiff arms and tying it around his waist as he stood up. It was soft and white, just like the blanket, and it really shouldn't have been comforting at all but Izuku was grateful to at least be a little less nude. Even if the robe didn't exactly cover everything.

"Your ass is hanging out," Kacchan pointed out bluntly.

Izuku felt his face heat up as he turned his backside out of Kacchan's view—although the front was only precariously more decent. "You don't have to… look at it!" Izuku protested, automatically wrapping his arms around his neck in embarrassment. Really? After what they had just done, where they were, what they had been through, Kacchan was going to tease him about this? And how could Izuku possibly still be so flustered by it??

"Careful, you'll pass out again with all that blood rushing to your dumb face," Kacchan remarked, tone flat and dry. He jut his chin toward the wall behind Izuku. "Move it. Let's get this over with."

They circled the room, checking for loose panels and any other clues they might have previously missed while they were recovering from their watery escapade. But, even after a thorough twice-over, poking at tiny air vents and clawing at seams, nothing of interest turned up. Izuku was already feeling faint after the first pass, and severely lightheaded by the second.

Kacchan snapped out an expletive, fuzzy and harsh, grasping Izuku's arm to keep him from toppling over as they moved back in front of the fireplace. Izuku swayed, desperately fighting against the assault on his consciousness until it faded a moment later. How was Kacchan faring so much better? It was Izuku who had gotten to rest. But, oh, the hand at Izuku's elbow was clammy, and slight tremors made their way from Kacchan's arm into his own. The furious red eyes glaring at him were glazed, sick.

Neither of them were in good shape.

Kacchan was just better at hiding it.

With a grunt, Kacchan thrust the last spare piece of firewood into Izuku's hand. It wasn't much, but it was the closest they could get to being armed. In a pinch it could be an effective club, but. They hadn't seen any other people, villain or otherwise, since waking up here. It was likely their captors had no intention of engaging them face to face anyway.

Picking up the blanket and folding it neatly, Kacchan placed it just in front of the door as if he meant to take a seat. But instead, he took up a defensive stance behind it. Izuku cocked his head in confusion; was Kacchan going to stand there for fifteen minutes? Surely they could afford to sit for a few more, right? They really needed all the rest they could get. "Uh, Kacchan—"

Kacchan silenced him with a withering look.

It's not like Izuku had much of a choice, what with still being chained together and all. He nudged their wet clothes out of the way and moved into position next to Kacchan.

When the timer hit thirteen minutes left, two things happened at once: the door snapped open, and the fireplace exploded.

Izuku couldn't help the scream that tore itself from his throat as his entire right side lit up with blinding white pain, overwriting his synapses with nothing but static and agony. Chunks of molten firewood and steel embedded themselves into the fabric of the robe, melding the fibers right into his skin. Because I really needed more scars on that arm, he thought hysterically as Kacchan flung him forward into the next room, some wordless howl roaring in his ears.

Writhing on the floor, Izuku barely registered his sleeve being torn off—heedless of the skin and flesh that went with it. His arm was already in so much pain he didn't feel it. But it must have been bad; Kacchan twisted away from him and heaved, green bile spraying on cold steel.

Izuku didn't dare look.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Kacchan was slapping out the last of the embers on his pants, largely left unscathed from the explosion. Izuku's arm took the worst of it, though his bare right leg was also throbbing with scattered burns.

Everything hurt. Izuku had only just barely recovered from drowning, and now all he could do was stare blankly at the floor in shock and hope his right arm would just do him a favor and fall off because it wasn't going to do him any good otherwise. He gasped in pain as Kacchan suddenly grabbed it, hovering over Izuku's prone form with a long strip of the slightly charred blanket in his bared teeth.

"No," Izuku choked out, dread coiling in his stomach. "I can't—You can't—" but his protests fell on deaf ears as Kacchan shoved his birch log sideways into Izuku's mouth moments before his arm was swifty, efficiently, brutally bound in cloth.

Even around the wood splintering between his teeth Izuku screamed.

It was wrapped so tight, it hurt so much; Izuku was overwhelmed with burning, burning, shrieking pain somehow so much worse than the initial explosion. He let the wood drop out of his mouth, panting, whining, desperately wishing to claw the suffocating fabric from his burned and blistered skin. Knowing he shouldn't, Izuku chanced a look: red was already seeping through white, like ink blooming in milk. A strangled sob caught in his throat as he was yanked upright by his good arm.

"Shit, fucking—I'm— The timer is still going, Deku, we gotta start." Kacchan's voice shook, and it slammed Izuku's awareness into the room they were standing in for the first time since he flew into it. With hot tears in his eyes, Izuku clenched his jaw, swallowing his agony to focus on the next challenge. He could lick his wounds later—there was no point in doing it now if they failed.

Like the water room, this one was plain, steel, and narrow—but long instead of tall. It was also divided into a series of double chambers running the length of it, separated by thick walls of transparent plexiglass. The first wall was only a few feet in front of them, and he could see at least three parallel partitions before a blurry exit at the other end. But more pressing were the words seemingly sharpied onto it: 'One in each place to begin the race, two on one will be much less fun.'

"I fucking hate this place so goddamn much," Kacchan snarled.

Izuku scanned the rest of their surroundings, his gaze landing on the floor. Two circles with footprints were painted on each side facing down the corridor of glass. Presumably, the places they were meant to stand in to 'begin the race.'

"Less fun for whom? Us? Them?" Izuku muttered, scrubbing at the tears that continued to spill over his scrunched-up cheeks. The pain was impossible to ignore. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he forced himself to bear it through sheer will alone.

"Them, probably," Katsuki spat. "They're going to separate us and make us race each other. Like hell. We should stick to one side, fuck their fun."

"How would separating us work? We're chained together."

Kacchan shrugged one shoulder. "Fuck if I know. Maybe the cuffs will open when the gate does."

"Oh," Izuku breathed, wincing at a particularly painful throb in his arm. He looked between the manacles, the floor markers, and the cryptic instructions. "Then… they probably won't if we stick together. That's likely the trade-off. Kacchan, we could get our quirks back!"

"The hell?" Kacchan turned to Izuku with disbelief painted across his face. "You want to split up?"

Izuku glanced at the timer over the closed door behind them, a mirror of the one in the white room. Just four minutes left; not much time to make the decision, assuming the timer was even related. Wait.

"…How did you know?"

"Hah??"

Thrusting his good arm at the clock, Izuku gestured wildly. "The timer. You were ready fifteen minutes before time ran out, and then the door opened like a minute later. Why?"

"Two minutes. At thirteen. The number on the paper, you said it was a code but the only other numbered thing in the room was that clock. Had a hunch something would happen at thirteen. Good thing we weren't still sitting in front of the fire, eh."

Izuku gaped at him. The blood pounding in his veins pulsed insistently in his skull and his burns. "What? Why didn't you tell me??"

Kacchan scowled at Izuku's outburst. "Tch. It's not like I knew I was right! And I didn't want them to fucking… catch on, and change it! I told you to get ready, didn't I?"

"No!" Izuku yelled. He couldn't believe this. Just when he thought they were finally working together! "You didn't! You just… looked at me! I'm not a mind reader, Kacchan! And now my arm is half melted off!"

"Don't you dare put that on me," Kacchan hissed, jabbing his thumb to his chest. "I didn't know the room was going to fucking blow up! I thought some assholes were going to come in and jump us. And it wouldn't have helped anyway!" He roared, eyes flashing dangerously. "Christ. This is the thanks I get after all I've… You know what? Fine. Go stand on your stupid side. I'll race you. And I'm going to win, too, shitty nerd." Kacchan stomped the three feet over to the right side of the space, chains rattling, coming to a stop at his designated marker. He stood staring straight ahead, arms spread, flexing his fingers into claws.

Izuku deflated. He didn't want to race Kacchan, or fight with him. But there was just one minute left, and no time to argue further. So he took his place on the other circle. Thus far all of the minimal directions and clues given to them hadn't been outright lies; Izuku prayed the pattern would continue and they were making the correct choice by following the instructions. He desperately hoped he was right and they would get their quirks back by choosing to race separately.

The clock hit zero.

Kacchan wasn't meeting his eyes, and Izuku held his breath.

With an ear-splitting screech, a metal panel abruptly descended from the ceiling between them, slicing through their chain like a guillotine. Izuku flinched away from the violent slam and the snapped links. His heart racing wildly, he braced himself, biting back the ever-present pain in his arm and leg to get ready to run. But. Only the first plexiglass wall, the one with the riddle, retracted into the ceiling. The next wall about five feet ahead remained down and blocking their way.

Izuku stepped forward into the chamber, seeing Kacchan do the same from the other side of the clear divider down the middle. The first wall slammed down immediately behind after they entered, trapping them each in a small five by five square.

Kacchan was glaring at Izuku through the plexiglass. "Still no quirks, shithead. But at least I'm not tied to you anymore." His voice was muffled, but still audible. Still dripping with disdain.

"Yeah," Izuku mumbled. His stomach twisted. Having the chain severed was small comfort. They had been trapped since they woke up here, but now they were completely isolated. No way to help each other.

Izuku's arm throbbed.

No way for Kacchan to save him again.

The next gate in front of them turned slightly opaque, and an orange symbol of a flame lit up in the middle of it, straddling the plexiglass divider between their two chambers. At his feet a bright green circle of LEDs lit up in a round button embedded in the floor. The words 'Take Penalty' were inscribed in the center. Izuku frowned at it.

"Kacchan, do you have a—"

A loud stomp, and Izuku's button de-lit. He turned to the divider in horror.

"Kacchan?! What did you do?"

Blazing red eyes burned at Izuku through the transparent wall. "Took the penalty."

Izuku's mouth dropped open. "Kacchan! W-Why?! You didn't—We didn't even discuss it! We don't know what it is!" His voice spiked alongside the panic under his breastbone. What had Kacchan just agreed to??

"It's fire, dumbass! And you have third degree burns on half your fucking body! There was nothing to discuss!" Kacchan seethed, baring his clenched teeth in a feral snarl. He angrily swiped a sheen of sweat off of his face with his arm, panting.

Fingers ghosting along his makeshift bandage, Izuku swallowed. Kacchan was right. His arm was in excruciating pain just sitting there; Anything related to fire was sure to push Izuku right into passing out.

But they still should have discussed it.

"Kacchan," Izuku began, before he started in shock at the view of the boy on the other side. Kacchan was absolutely covered in sweat, now; his bare chest was rising and falling in deliberate, slow heaving. "Kacchan?"

"It's hot," Kacchan ground out. He shook sweat out of his spiky hair. "They jacked the temperature in here. S'fine. I can take it."

Izuku bit his tongue. He twisted back and forth, attempting to discern if there was anything more to this test. It seemed less like any kind of puzzle and more just a series of torture trials they'd just have to endure. It wasn't like an escape room at all. All Izuku saw was the symbol, the buttons, and Kacchan. There wasn't even a countdown timer this time. How long would Kacchan have to suffer through this?

What if there was something they had to do to stop it?

Panic fully set in at the thought. Izuku began pacing the tiny space, his chain curling around him like a tail. He ran the fingers of his left hand over everything he could touch. The floor, the walls, the button, the fire symbol. But. There wasn't anything. Nothing to trigger, nothing to pull Kacchan out of the literal hell he was in.

Izuku watched as Kacchan doubled over, groaning, fisting the fabric of his borrowed pants at the knees. Sweat poured off of him. He said nothing. Izuku said nothing. There was nothing he could do.

He was completely useless.

Placing his shaky good hand against the divider, Izuku felt his throat closing up. The hard surface was hot under his palm. He couldn't bear to watch nor could he look away.

"Deku," Kacchan growled, his eyes screwed shut, voice tight with exertion. He slumped to the floor. "What are you doing your paper on for Mic's class," he hissed from between clenched teeth.

Izuku blinked.

What?

"What?" Izuku repeated out loud. "Wh-Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I am being cooked to death over here and I need you to distract me, asshole!" Kacchan choked out, thumping his left foot against the divider. It squeaked.

"Kintarou!" Izuku shouted. "The… golden boy," he clarified, as if Kacchan needed it.

"Really?" Kacchan asked breathlessly, cracking one eye open to peer scornfully through the sweat collected in his eyelashes. "Not… a real hero?"

Izuku couldn't help the heat prickling in his cheeks, though it paled in comparison to the inferno on the other side. "It's just a translation assignment. I write about real heroes plenty! Like, all the time. And Kintarou is a real hero, he was based on a real person! I mean, this was way before quirks, but he was super strong even as a child, and he lived in the mountains and wrestled bears and giant fish and—"

"Fuck!" Kacchan howled, lurching upright. He furiously tried to shove the edges of his damp left pant leg into the manacle around his ankle. "It's fucking… a thousand degrees in here! This shit is branding me!"

Izuku's heart leapt into his throat.

He couldn't do anything to help.

He couldn't do anything.

Abandoning the impossible task, Kacchan buried his face in his arms on drawn knees. "Doesn't, fuck, hah, even matter. I'm, hah… gonna, fucking, hah… pass out, it's too, hah, hot."

"Kacchan, no!" Izuku shouted, his blood thrumming under his skin, as he slammed his palm against the clear divider. "You have to stay awake! I can't get to you!"

No response but heavy, labored breathing.

Izuku frantically cast around for something—anything—until his eyes landed on the button on the floor. It was lit up again. This time, it said 'Take Reward'.

"Kacchan!" Izuku began slapping the wall between them repeatedly. "The button! Hit your button!"

"Hah?" Kacchan lifted his sweaty, miserable face to gaze blearily at Izuku before lolling his head to the side. "Reward…? What… What if you need it?"

"Now you want to discuss this?" Izuku shrieked wildly, fully pounding on the plexiglass with his fist. "You're dying! Hit the goddamn button!"

With a bark somewhere between a grunt and a sob, Kacchan rolled himself over the button and slammed his hand down onto it. Immediately, the frosted wall flew open, and Izuku could hear the sound of fans violently whirring.

"Thank fuck," Kacchan moaned, crawling forward out of the first penalty chamber and into the second. The door slammed shut behind him as his chain crossed the threshold. He stayed on his hands and knees, panting, sweat still rolling off of him in sheets. "Never thought I'd… want to be cold again. Fuck. God. This feels so fucking good. Hah. Hah." Kacchan stilled, twisting his head back over his shoulder. "…Deku?"

Izuku's half of the wall hadn't opened.

He was still in the fire room.

His button read 'Take Penalty'.

"Shit," Kacchan spat.

"One in each place to begin the race," Izuku whispered.

Kacchan spun around, facing Izuku in a crouch. Their chambers were diagonal to each other, both boys still visible through the transparent and semi-transparent walls. "Oi, just… don't fucking do anything yet, okay? Just give me a minute."

Izuku balled his good hand into a fist. His entire body began to shake, trembling violently as the adrenaline surge and relief rolled right into this next horror. He hadn't avoided anything. They both had to take each penalty, just one at a time. He was going to get broiled alive just like Kacchan. The pain in his burned arm would become insurmountable, unbearable. He'd pass out. He wouldn't be able to hit the reward button.

He was going to die.

Fat tears rolled down his face as it crumpled. No, he had to be strong. He had to believe he could do it. He can do anything, right? Izuku never gave Kacchan One For All, so dying here wasn't an option. It wasn't. It just wasn't.

"Nerd, are you listening to me?"

"What, Kacchan?" Izuku asked, only just loud enough to get through the plexi. "It's only delaying the inevitable. I might as well get it over with." He raised his foot over the button.

"No! Fucking… just wait. Let me do the next one first."

Izuku paused, confusion halting his movement. "Kacchan, are you actually trying to race me? You just came out of an oven. You need the break right now, a few more minutes won't matter for me—Hey!"

But Kacchan had taken advantage of Izuku's hesitation, and activated his penalty.

Izuku's button went dark.

He stared at it with wide eyes.

"Are you… serious right now, Kacchan?!" Izuku was near hysterics. He was going to have to watch Kacchan suffer through some horror twice in a row. "And you think I'm the self-sacrificial one? What are you doing??"

"Taking the penalty," Kacchan said gruffly before his entire body seized up. He shook, almost like he was vibrating, before collapsing flat and boneless to the floor. Izuku's heart stopped. He rushed to the corner, fingernails curling uselessly against the fire symbol. Through the frosted panels he could vaguely make out the yellow zig-zag of a lightning bolt.

"Kacchan!" Izuku choked out. "Kacchan!"

But there was no response.

He hit his fist weakly against the orange flame. "Damnit," he sobbed. "Damnit, damnit! Kacchan, please! Get up!" Izuku slid down the wall to his knees, cradling his ruined arm in his lap. The tears fell hot and heavy now, pouring out in torrents of anguish and bitter grief. No, no, this wasn't happening. Kacchan was fine, his body wasn't twisted at an unnatural angle, chest failing to rise at all, splayed out in some cruel imitation of sleep as he left his life on the floor of some unknown villain's torture chamber, blinding light snuffed out too soon without purpose or reason.

With a sudden, horrible sound, Kacchan's body jolted, jumping several inches off of the floor. His eyes flew open and he gasped, and it was the most beautiful sound Izuku had ever heard.

"Kacchan!"

"Fuuuck," the boy on the floor groaned. He covered his face with his hands. "Fucking OW. That shit sucked. Like making out with Sparky but a thousand times worse."

Izuku's relief at Kacchan's revival took a hard left into something ugly that withered in his stomach. "You've… done that?"

Kacchan quirked an eyebrow at him through the frosted panel. "What's it to you?"

Spinning, Izuku hid his surely beet-red face from view. But before he could blubber out a response, his eyes landed back on his button. Even upside down he could see it now read 'Take Reward.'

"Oh," he breathed.

"Oh?"

"I can take your reward," Izuku said thickly. "Um, I mean, if you—"

"Fucking take it, Deku," Kacchan growled, slamming his fist so hard against the divider it made Izuku start. "Why do you think I wanted to go next? Shit. Electrocution isn't a walk in the damn park but it was better than being roasted. Hit your stupid button."

Izuku nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak through the swirling emotions welling in his chest. He pressed his button. The door opened and Izuku advanced.

When the wall closed behind him, the ceiling came down with it.

"Holy fuck," Kacchan swore, jumping away from where the fire room had just been, now replaced with a solid metal block behind the plexiglass. He ran shaking hands through his sweaty hair.

Izuku stomped on his button.

"Oi, what the fuck? Deku!"

Everything went white.

"—ku! Deku! Fucking wake up, you shitty idiot!"

Static, ringing in his ears, and a horrible throbbing in his head was all Izuku registered as his consciousness came back to him. By some miracle he hadn't landed on his injured arm, now splayed out next to him on the cold steel floor.

"Ow," Izuku rasped, his tongue thick and numb. He didn't know why he thought he was in pain before. It was nothing compared to now. An intense, horrible ache throbbed insistently just about everywhere he could feel anything.

"Piece of shit," Kacchan hissed. His palms were pressed against the divider, red eyes lit up with fury and something unreadable, staring down at Izuku.

Izuku groaned and rolled over onto his good side. He glowered back up at the angry blond. "Now you know what it feels like."

"Yeah? Think you're so smart? Take your reward, asshole."

"No. You take it. I'll do two of these."

"The hell you will," Kacchan snapped.

"Fine, then I'll move forward and take both from the next room." Izuku reached for his button.

"The hell you will!" Kacchan roared, ramming his heel into his own.

His next door flew open and Kacchan barreled forward, activating the next penalty before the room even finished closing. Izuku balked.

"Stop. Doing. That!" he moaned helplessly as he watched purple smoke billow from the vents, swirling and filling the chamber until it swallowed Kacchan from view. What the hell was that stuff?? "Don't… Don't breathe it in!"

But Izuku knew Kacchan wouldn't be able to avoid it. Soon enough he heard gasping and coughing as time won out. Not long after, the fog dissipated, revealing Kachan crouched in the center of the chamber, a rag over his face—torn off from one pant leg, likely aided by the burn holes left from the fireplace explosion.

Only when the purple completely vanished did the reward buttons light up.

"Kacchan?" Izuku ventured from his position still on the floor. The symbol in the next room was a skull and crossbones. He swallowed. "Are you alright?"

A cough. A grunt.

"That's… the last chamber. You'll get out if you take the reward," Izuku said hopefully, forcing a smile and trying not to think about whatever Kacchan had inhaled, and Izuku would have to next. After shocking himself again.

Kacchan lifted his foot over the button.

"No," he said, slowly lowering it back to the floor. His voice was audibly scratchy, even muffled through the rag and the walls. "The first penalty box. Why did it get crushed?"

Izuku pushed himself up onto his left arm. "Because we were done with it?"

Kacchan twisted toward Izuku, shaking his head. "Why? Why would it do that? We can't go backwards. Only reason for the shitty ceiling to fall would be if there was a chance we'd still be in it."

Oh. Izuku glanced up at the ceiling, a sheet of solid metal poised and ready to come crashing down on his head.

"Two… Two rewards," he said. "It came down after the second reward was taken."

"Then get up here or get pancaked, idiot," Kacchan growled, something desperate running under his sharp words.

Izuku pressed the button, wobbling to his feet and tottering into the next room. He was exhausted. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

He flinched as the electric chamber was crushed behind him.

"Um, I'm gonna… make a mask out of the other sleeve, but I have to take it off—sorry, my arm—just a minute," Izuku mumbled, moving to untie the belt and disrobe. He was far beyond being embarrassed about being naked in front of Kacchan; on top of their nude hypothermic snuggle, he was wearing a half-destroyed robe with his rear end on display. He was sure he must have flashed Kacchan when he lost consciousness anyway.

A stomp.

Izuku's hand froze on his belt. No. No, he wouldn't have.

"Kacchan are you insane?" Izuku yelled at the smoke-filled chamber next to him. "At least let me take a turn! You just did it!"

He fumed silently through the plexiglass until the fog lifted once again.

Waving his left arm to clear the clouds with the other pressing cloth to his face, Kacchan only glared back. The whites of his eyes were dark and glazed, and when he pulled the rag from his face, it came away red.

"Okay," Izuku said, his voice shaking. His entire body trembling. "Take the reward and get out. I'll be right behind you."

"No," Kacchan gurgled around the blood in this mouth. Oh no. Oh god. "You go."

Cold sweat prickled along the back of Izuku's neck, tears welling up anew as his throat constricted. "What? Why are you doing this, Kacchan? Are you trying to punish me? Prove you can be a martyr? Well, you won! Stop trying to kill yourself!"

"Not," was the strained reply. Kacchan slapped his palm against the last plexiglass wall, smearing a dark streak across it. "Look."

Izuku looked. This end of the room mirrored the start: a small area before a door. But instead of footprints painted on the floor, there were two of the reward buttons, with 'Take only one to proceed' scrawled in black marker between them. In front of each button was a clear plexiglass box bolted to the floor. In one, a small key; similar in size and shape to the one Izuku had seen hanging in the water room, and would likely unlock one of their manacles. In the other, there was a hypodermic needle filled with a yellow fluid.

An antidote.

"Just one." Kacchan spat blood onto the floor. "So it's gotta be me again."

"Kacchan," Izuku barely breathed. "Three times? Why… Why did you rush it?! Why didn't you let me do the shock again?"

Kacchan shrugged. "Mistake. Angry." He coughed more blood onto his fist. His face twisted. "…Didn't think you'd survive another zap."

"Wh-What? So you gambled on this one??"

"Just fucking go, you damn idiot!" Kacchan rasped, snarling. "Let me get this over with so I can get the damned cure! Christ!"

Izuku pressed his button, the ache in his bones bearing down on his heart.

He walked forward, and the door shut behind him. He kept his eyes averted from the purple smoke swirling in the chamber, trying to block out the horrible sounds coming from within when Kacchan stopped being able to hold his breath.

The final door opened, Kacchan toppled forward into Izuku's arms, and they both crashed to the floor. The shrieking pain from his right arm shot straight up Izuku's spine, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the tears running down his cheeks and mingling with the wetness on the face of his childhood friend.

"It's okay," he whispered thickly, reaching for the antidote button, now finally lit up and ready to activate. But Kacchan snagged his forearm before he could hit it, grip still surprisingly strong.

"You said… the cuffs. Are blocking our quirks?" Kacchan panted, his eyes heavy and glazed, chest rising and falling erratically. His hand slipped away, leaving a bracelet of blood on Izuku's wrist.

"I—It's just a theory, I—"

"Take key. Get your quirk. Break the second box."

Izuku froze.

Would that work? He looked at the plexiglass housing the needle—it was several inches thick and bolted to the floor, but One For All would make short work of it. Yes, even in his exhausted state, he'd be able to wrench the box clear and retrieve the antidote. He'd be able to cure Kacchan, and he'd have his quirk back for whatever happened next.

If the cuffs were the quirk suppressors.

If the key was even for the cuffs.

If the antidote was actually real!

"Kacchan," Izuku warbled. "I don't know, I don't know!"

But Kacchan wasn't listening, his head lolled to the side, pressed against Izuku's burned shoulder.

"K-Kacchan?"

Silence.

Izuku had to make the choice on his own.

He slammed his fist down on the button.

Izuku wasn't sure how long he spent curled around Kacchan's head on his lap, his quiet sobs the only sound audible in that miserable, literal hell. The next door was open. Beyond it, Izuku could see white: not an exit, just another rest room. Mocking tenderness only to prolong his suffering. But it didn't matter. Izuku was going to die here anyway, it might as well be next to his oldest friend. What comfort could the next room even offer now that Izuku had lost everything?

"I'm sorry, Kacchan," he said for what might have been the thousandth time. He gently smoothed sweaty, spiky locks back from Kacchan's forehead, as he never could have dared before. "I never even got to tell you… Well. You probably knew. You're amazing, after all."

"You need a new catchphrase," came the guttural response, and Izuku's heart stopped.

"Kacchan!" he cried, jolting upright. "You… You're alive!"

"Ow. Stop moving. Of course I'm alive, shitty Deku. You gave me the antidote, didn't you? Fuck, stop crying on me!" Kacchan rolled off of Izuku's lap, pushing himself up into a wobbly crouch. He looked over at the key still encased in the plexiglass box. "Went with option A, hah?"

Scrubbing at his face, Izuku hiccuped, unable to stop the tears flowing. "S-Sorry, c-couldn't risk it. And th-then I thought, thought it was too late anyway, and I—I—"

"Oi."

Izuku looked up.

"It's fine. Thanks."

Mouth dropping open, Izuku stared back incredulously.

"What? I can be grateful. Piss off!" Kacchan moved to stand but faltered back to his knees. "Shit, okay. So it's gonna be like that."

Izuku stood up, not much more steady on his feet, but now in slightly better shape than Kacchan, having only taken one penalty to Kacchan's five. He offered his good arm. Kacchan stared at it, hard. Izuku's mind flashed back to every time he had done this exact thing—and had his arm slapped away.

Kacchan took his hand.

"Thank you, Kacchan. I know what you did. I wouldn't have made it through this room without you," Izuku said softly as he pulled Kacchan to his feet. "Although we really need to work on our communication."

"Tch," Kacchan huffed through his teeth, and Izuku tried to ignore the dribble of blood that came with it.

They stumbled awkwardly forward into the white room.

"Oi, what the hell was it you 'never got to tell me,' anyway?"

The door slammed shut behind them.

Chapter End Notes

I think when I originally conceived of this chapter it was going to be Izuku taking most of the penalties (it was also just one to proceed and I made it WORSE), because Katsuki has been doing most of the protecting thus far and also Izuku is ohhh kind of self-sacrificial, but Katsuki needed to get whumped to level the playing field a little bit and it's hilarious to think of them angrily trying to out sacrifice each other

I'm just writing this as I go without like... an outline or a plan, so the chapter count might change. I still think it's just gonna be 6, but I reserve the right to extend it or end it sooner!

slice of life

Chapter Notes

hi!! just want to say a real big thank you for all the support I've gotten on this fic, your comments mean the world to me and I'm really grateful 3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Whatever jumble of broken muttering that was coming out of Deku's mouth shriveled and died, his eyes flying wide as he beheld what awaited them in the very center of the next, circular room. Given the white walls and the pattern of the first three chambers, it was conceivable that this would be another opportunity for recovery—a breather after the last trial, to get them at least back to zero so their shitty dancing was more lively for the amusement of their unseen audience. But what didn't quite fit with that was the fucking guillotine staring back at them, also painted white with its blade angled like a grin, glinting and underlit gruesomely by the floor lights.

Katsuki pulled forward. Walking upright wasn't in his current list of skills, and as much as he hated it, he needed Deku—Deku, who had been drowned and burned and electrocuted—to help him totter over to the ancient execution device towering over them.

"Wait, wait, Kacchan—"

Affixed to the left post was a pink sticky note. Katsuki ripped it off, ignoring the continued pleas spilling from his companion. Scrawled in a smaller version of the same black marker script from the previous room read the following:

"Sorry about the arm; Better get rid of it before it gets infected - Wouldn't want you to come to more harm."

Without warning, Deku's knees buckled; collapsing to the floor and bringing Katsuki down with him.

"Oi!" Katsuki barked, feeling his equilibrium shift and the world tilt under his feet as he hit the ground with a thud. Antidote or not, he was still feeling like he had been dragged across a highway behind a horse, on top of the sandpaper in his lungs still producing more red than clear air. He knew Deku couldn't be faring much better but did the little shit really have to just fucking drop him?

"My—I— I can't, they, Kacchan—I can't c-cut off m-my arm!" Deku was near hyperventilating, his left hand ghosting over his injury. It didn't look good: the makeshift blanket-bandage was saturated red and yellow, grimy and soaked with sweat. Getting zapped probably didn't help it much either. They'd been in this hellhole for less than a day, but who knew how long it would be until they escaped? Another day? A week? Never? Even if they didn't lose their lives, it was possible they'd still lose other things—like limbs. Especially if their only respite was time and not medical attention.

"You're not fucking cutting off your stupid arm," Katsuki spat, but it was weak and raspy. His usual growl was reduced significantly by whatever purple shit he had inhaled three times over in the last torture room.

Deku burst out laughing. It wasn't the first time he had reacted to this horror with laughter, and similarly again it was devoid of any mirth. Katsuki found that he hated it.

"I've—I've destroyed this arm, over and over, and I've been finally… finally taking care of it, and it's… I'm going to lose it anyway. Oh god, I'm going to lose my arm."

"Deku," Katsuki rumbled, snatching at the arm that wasn't in jeopardy. "Will you just. Calm down? They're fucking with us."

"You don't know that! What if we have to do it to proceed? What if it's the trick to this room—like the fireplace—oh, no, the timer—" Deku's head snapped up to the clock hanging over the exit, an identical triplet to the other two on either side of the first rest-room door. Nine hours left. Generous. But, if it was the same as the first time, it was nine hours until the next trial began—the door would likely open sometime before that. And something would probably explode.

Katsuki stuck the sticky note directly to Deku's forehead, bringing those blinking green eyes back to focusing on him. "They. Are. Fucking. With. Us." He punctuated each word with a tap on the pink paper. "Someone has been in here since your arm got roasted. They saw that happen, then came in here and stuck this shitty note. Okay? We're not cutting your arm off."

"Then why is there a guillotine here?" Deku asked quietly, peeling the note off of his face.

Opening his mouth to respond, Katsuki was seized by a fit of coughing, the sudden punch to his sternum sending his stomach for a loop. He tasted copper and his hand was splattered in dark red droplets. Katsuki's eyes narrowed at it.

A pair of worried green ones did too.

Next to them on the floor, at the base of the guillotine, was a single bottle of water and one pillow. Generous. Katsuki wiped his hands on his decreasingly-white pants before snatching up the bottle and unscrewing the lid. He shoved it in Deku's face. The other boy looked like he wanted to protest—Katsuki was the one coughing up blood, after all. But all the more reason to not go first and contaminate it. Deku ultimately took the proffered water, after briefly examining the menacing note for numbers and letting it flutter to the floor.

Katsuki watched Deku's throat bob as he slowly, carefully drained half of the liquid.

Maybe this was poison, too.

Deku handed over the half-empty bottle and Katsuki downed the rest of it.

"Look, our priority right now is finding out when that," Katsuki rasped, wiping his mouth and jabbing a finger at the door, "Is actually opening. Then we can get some rest." He shook out the pillow before tossing it behind him, clear of the guillotine. "We'll worry about ol' slicey here later."

"…Are you okay to get up?"

Ears burning, Katsuki bit down on the urge to tell Deku to go fuck himself. What use was his pride when he couldn't stand? His pride couldn't search the room for clues. His pride couldn't save himself.

Couldn't save Deku.

So he put it away. For now.

With some maneuvering using Deku's good arm—and, somewhat distressingly, the guillotine—they managed to struggle themselves upright. Katsuki swept his gaze across the room. Like the one with the fireplace, it was all white. But there's where the similarities ended; this one was entirely circular, and tiny, its walls composed of large, layered brick. It felt like they were in a castle tower; or a dungeon. The room was entirely dominated by the guillotine at its center. Lining the walls were a variety of empty picture frames. Once again, painted ghostly white.

Katsuki nodded toward them, coughing into his fist. The two boys shuffled around the perimeter side-by-side just as they had in the fireplace room. Except they weren't physically chained together this time; now instead bonded even tighter by predicament and need. And perhaps something more.

"Hope they do mind me redecorating," Katsuki said dryly, running a hand across a frame and leaving a red streak. With a yank, he wrenched it off the wall. After checking the back—blank—he threw it to the ground with a clatter. The space the frame vacated was similarly fruitless.

This continued until nearly all of the wall was bare.

Until the second-to-last picture frame didn't budge.

"Bingo," Katsuki allowed himself to grin, withdrawing his arm from Deku's shoulder to get both hands around his prize. He pulled, and pulled, and yanked and twisted and shoved. He grit his teeth as Deku joined in with one arm, adding what little strength he could. But their combined effort got them nowhere; the frame remained solidly stuck to the wall. Maybe if they had been at full capacity they could have gotten it off. But they were both drained. "I hate this place," Katsuki snarled. "I hate this place so fucking much."

"Me too," Deku chuckled humorlessly. "Expletives and all."

Katsuki's eyebrow quirked at that. "Yeah? Let's hear it, then."

The red that flushed across Deku's ears and cheeks was adorable. Adorable? Christ, but this place was really fucking with Katsuki's mind.

"N-not the time, Kacchan! Let's focus!"

"Hmm," Katsuki hummed. He kept pulling at the picture frame, but he couldn't help the smile that had curled up the corners of his mouth.

Deku stopped moving. The teasing forgotten, he was swept away in a sudden muttering storm, unintelligible words spilling rapidfire from his lips. Katsuki watched quietly, surprised at his own patience. After a minute or so of nonsense Deku caught up the chain attached to his ankle with his left hand, shaking it in Katsuki's face.

"Leverage, Kacchan! We can barely get a grip on the frame, which means we can't pull very hard. But if we attach the chain to it—I think we can get a link around the knob at the top—we'll be able to pry it right off!"

"…With your leg still attached to it."

"Uh," Deku twirled the end of the chain lightly, then inclined his head toward the center of the room. "Actually."

Katsuki's eyes widened. "You want to use that fuckin' thing?"

"Not to cut my arm off!" Deku protested. "But if we can use it to remove the chains, we'll have them as tools and weapons and they won't be hindering us anymore."

"Fine, whatever. Better plan than staying awake for over eight more fucking hours." Katsuki let Deku loop his arm around his waist, and they ambled over to the intimidating piece of machinery. The guillotine.

"O-okay," Deku said shakily, disentangling himself from Katsuki to crouch down by the business end of it. "You pull on the thing, and the, um. Blade will go up, and I'll feed the chain through… and then you drop it when I say go. Okay? Do you think you can h-hold it that long?"

"The hell do you take me for, shitty nerd," Katsuki groused, pulling down hand over hand on the rope to raise the heavy, weighted blade. It wasn't easy, and Katsuki was definitely exerting himself—but like hell he was going to accidentally chop off Deku's fingers.

"Wonder if this could cut through the shackles, too," Deku muttered as he sat back on his rear and began to shove the links through the circular opening. Meant for someone's fucking head.

Katsuki grunted. "If this thing can slice through the cuffs it sure as hell is taking your foot off with it. You ready?"

"R-ready."

The shackle was around Deku's right ankle, held up awkwardly, and he twisted away from it with his left arm wrapped protectively around his head and mangled right arm as much as possible. Something clenched in Katsuki's chest at the sight.

"Bombs away."

Katsuki let go, and in the blink of an eye the blade had dropped; hitting home with a deafening crash, slicing cleanly through the chain. It was so fast Katsuki couldn't track it. His heart stuttered.

If he had slipped, there wouldn't have even been time to give a warning.

Christ.

"Ah, hah, that wasn't so bad." Deku beamed a hesitant grin up at Katsuki. "Your turn?"

"Hah??" Katsuki snapped. "You can't operate this thing one-handed. No fucking way."

"Oh." Deku looked crestfallen.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "Idiot. It's fine. Let's just get this stupid shit off the wall, we're wasting time. I need to nap like fuck."

Deku retrieved the chain from the other side of the guillotine, and with Katsuki's help—and giving some of his own—they attached the end link to a sturdy metal decorative knob that jut out of the top center of the frame, almost like a hook. Almost as if it had been designed for this exact purpose.

A sour feeling wormed its way into Katsuki's stomach. "This is all some stupid setup, using the chain isn't clever—it's what they wanted us to do."

Deku looked at him, brows knit together over confused eyes. "Well, of course it is, Kacchan—it's a puzzle. Maybe there are multiple solutions, but they have to give us a way to solve it, right? And with so little here…" He glanced around the barren room. "The chain was naturally what we'd come to."

Katsuki scowled. If he had left Deku to die in the water, he wouldn't have the chain with him anymore. If Deku had picked the key over the antidote, and Katsuki had perished, he also wouldn't have had it. Unless Deku dragged his dead body with him into the next room.

They knew exactly what choices they were going to make.

Because they weren't really choices at all.

He really, really, fucking hated this place.

Katsuki yanked on the chain. Nothing. He planted his feet on the wall and strained against it with what little strength he had left, and Deku pulled on the chain with his left arm.

"Fucking die already!" Katsuki roared, but it had little effect.

"Are you kidding me right now," he gasped. The chain fell from his shaking fingers and he slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor. He buried his face in his hands. Blood in his ears pounded insistently against his skull, making him dizzy and lightheaded. Copper soured on his tongue. "I can't, Deku." The words tasted foul and his stomach curled. Unwelcome tears gathered hot and angry behind his eyelids.

"H-hey, it's okay," the voice above him said uncertainly. "We can take a break. The number is probably low, we c-can rest a little. We didn't even find the first one until a few hours in."

Katsuki grit his teeth. "All the more reason for this number to be in five fucking minutes," he hissed. He raised his eyes, glaring furiously at the guillotine standing proudly before them. "Too bad we can't just chop it up, at least I can still pull that stupid shit."

Deku moved silently over to the final picture frame, pulling it down from the wall. Nothing on it, nothing behind it. "Just checking," he whispered. "Maybe… maybe inside the pillow—"

"Wait," Katsuki bit out. His heart began racing as the beginning of an idea tingled in his run-down brain. "Maybe we can use it. Oi, help me up." He held his hand out to Deku, who looked at it with wide eyes for a moment before pulling Katsuki upright. He motioned to the aforementioned device, and they moved over to it. "See if there's anywhere on the top of the blade we can attach the chain."

"There's a few big bolts… it won't reach, though," Deku pointed out, gesturing to the chain that trailed behind them with his head. Pulled taut, it would just make it to the base of the guillotine.

"Perfect."

"What?"

"Look, nerd." Katsuki pointed to the top of the structure. "At the top it'll be level with the knob on the frame, and the distance is shorter. We hoist the blade up, attach it, then let 'er fall. If the chain is stronger than the glue or whatever, it pulls the shit off the wall. Boom. Pythagorean theorem."

Deku stared at Katsuki blankly for a moment before the gears started turning. "Oh! Of course!" He grinned, goofy and lopsided. "Kacchan's so smart!"

"Tch. Don't fucking get ahead of yourself. We still have to get you up there to attach it."

"Oh, right."

Katsuki chewed on a fingernail as he looked the guillotine up and down. "Alright. I think if you stand on my shoulders, I can still pull the rope. You'll have to lean on the post with your stomach, and you might need to use your bum arm. Think you can handle that?"

Deku wasn't looking at Katsuki. He had turned bright red.

"Oi, shitty Deku. You listening to me? Think you can handle that?"

He couldn't bring both arms up to wrap around his face, so only the left one curled into its normal position-of-embarrassment. "Kacchan," Deku squeezed out, "I'm not wearing pants."

Katsuki snorted. "Yeah, I fuckin' know. Your junk and ass have been on display this whole time. Can you handle it or what?"

"Kacchan!" Deku squeaked, clearly mortified. "If I stand on your shoulders…!"

What.

Why was he acting this embarrassed about nudity? When their lives were at stake? And why were Katsuki's ears burning?

"Oh my god, Deku," he sputtered. "Like… Like we haven't been at an onsen together! Changed in locker rooms at the same time! We just shared a blanket fuckin' naked. Need I remind you, this is a matter of life and death and we don't have time for your schoolgirl bullshit? I won't look at your goddamn dick, now get the fuck on my back!" Katsuki was practically frothing, his unbridled rage in contrast to the big deal such a thing supposedly wasn't.

They had known each other their entire lives and had seen each other nude plenty of times. Katsuki didn't give a fuck about nudity anyway! Why was it suddenly awkward?!

Deku said nothing, but stopped tugging at the front of his tattered robe with the hand of his injured arm. He nodded, and silently moved to stand behind Katsuki. He had looked like he was about to cry.

Katsuki hated this place.

"O-Kay," Katsuki breathed, dropping into a crouch. He scooped up the chain from behind him, handing it to Deku, who took it gingerly in his right hand, wincing. Arm's length from the post was enough slack to reach. "Up," Katsuki ordered.

Deku climbed onto his shoulders, his bare feet curling to grip as best they could. The few links still remaining on his right shackle draped cold across Katsuki's back.

"Ready?"

"Y-yeah. Ready."

With a deep breath, Katsuki began to rise, pulling himself up hand over hand on the guillotine post, relying entirely on his arms. The added weight was excruciating; the burn under his shackle, which he had been largely ignoring, flared with a sharp pain that shot in piercing waves up his entire leg. His muscles strained, sweat burst out of every pore and he clenched his teeth so hard he could feel it all the way through his jaw into his skull. Why did he think he could do this? He couldn't even stand on his own.

"Kacchan's amazing," came whispered reverently from above him.

Fuck yes Kacchan's amazing.

With a harsh, guttural grunt, Katsuki pushed himself and his hitchhiker all the way up to full height. He was panting, hard, leaning his head against the post in an effort to catch his breath and calm his speeding heartbeat. He knew he had to move—just holding Deku upright was effort, and this wasn't really resting—but god if he could just have a second.

No. He set his mouth in a grim line. He couldn't. Carefully moving his hands from the post to the pulley without jostling Deku too much, he began to raise the blade. It was much, much harder this time around. Inch by inch it moved upward. Little by little. Breath by breath. Strain by strain. Sweatdrop by sweatdrop. Until finally it hit the apex, and Deku shakily leaned forward, fumbling to affix the chain to the blade. Fumbling, fumbling.

"Deku," Katsuki hissed between clenched teeth, his entire body wracked with violent tremors as his grip threatened to give out.

"Sorry, sorry, oh my god, I've almost—got it! Got it!"

Katsuki nearly let go.

It would have been so easy.

"Get. Down," he wheezed.

For once in his life, Deku didn't question it. He scurried gracelessly down the post and off of Katsuki's shoulders, as quickly as he could with only one functioning arm.

"NOW!"

Katsuki let the rope rip from his hands as he dove out of the way, dragging Deku down with him. Not half a moment later, the guillotine crashed down, followed immediately by the picture frame smashing into it, the chain whipping over their heads just shy of decapitating them. Bits of wood and plaster pelted Katsuki's bare back, but did no real damage.

"Fuck," he groaned, flopping down onto his stomach next to Deku. Every single inch of his body screamed in agony. His gas tank was empty. Well and truly at zero.

"I don't believe it," Deku whispered next to him.

"Hah??" Katsuki picked his head up as much as he could, following Deku's line of sight.

Written on the wall where the picture frame had been were the numbers they were looking for.

Zero. Zero. One. Three.

Thirteen.

The same fucking number from the first white room.

"Wow, that's great. Just fucking great. You know what? Fine. Fuck everything, I'm passing the fuck out. Wake me up never."

And Katsuki passed the fuck out.

---

This time when Katsuki woke up in that nightmare, Deku's face hovering over him was only an unwelcome sight because of the confirmation that they were still in it. His hair was a bedraggled disaster, even more so than the usual wild mess of green curls, sticking out in every direction including plastered to his forehead. Dark circles hung under droopy, red-rimmed eyes, the vivid emerald color muted and lacking its usual luster. Even his freckles seemed to have paled along with his skin over the duration of their inhospitable stay.

It was the best and worst thing to wake up to.

"Sorry, Kacchan," Deku said softly. He sounded like he had been crying. "I wanted to let you sleep longer, but I'm afraid I'm about to faint—and I don't want us to miss lucky number thirteen."

Katsuki glanced up at the clock, rolling his head on the pillow that had at some point been wedged under it. Two hours left. Two hours left?? He sprang up to a seated position, pulse racing, brimming with renewed energy despite the overwhelming feeling of having been hit with a truck still being quite present.

"Shitty nerd, you idiot," he snarled. "You let me sleep for over six fucking hours?! We have to split it—What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Sorry," Deku repeated half-heartedly, tugging the pillow toward him and immediately tipping forward down into it on his left side. He sighed, curling his knees up to his chest, heedless of how it effectively pointed his bare backside right at Katsuki.

Fuming, Katsuki bit down on the lecture he burned to deliver. The idiot was already out like a light. And since he had barely left himself any time at all to sleep, Katsuki wasn't about to keep him awake by yelling at him. Even if he really, really wanted to.

Fuck. Katsuki dragged his fingernails across his grimy scalp, trying to bring his sleep-addled brain to full power. Had Deku really sat here for six hours, watching Katsuki sleep, effectively alone? Sure, Katsuki had spent about as much time watching over Deku after he had drowned, but the nerd had woken up halfway through it, on top of the fact that Katsuki was just cold and a little tired at that point. He didn't have untreated third degree burns eating away at him.

And, if he was being honest, the skin-to-skin proximity had been soothing to Katsuki, too.

Not that he would ever tell anyone that.

Deku looked so small. So fragile. Katsuki knew he wasn't; even without the use of his quirk, Deku was a survivor. But coiled into a ball, snoring lightly, his right arm draped stiffly down his side standing as a gruesome reminder of the danger they were in, he looked far younger and frailer than he was. And he had given up a chance at sleeping almost a full four hours so Katsuki could sleep six.

Katsuki hated him.

And yet.

He found himself absentmindedly running his fingers through Deku's hair before he snatched his hand away. What the fuck was he doing? He scooted back a foot or so, heart hammering in his chest.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

I never even got to tell you… Well. You probably knew. You're amazing, after all.

No, this wasn't happening. Not here. Not now. Not ever. This was just… some trauma-induced need to seek comfort in a time of extreme stress, or some shit.

Katsuki was suddenly grateful for Deku's martyrdom because it meant he didn't have to spend quite so long alone with his traitorous thoughts.

It was going to be a long hour.

---

With forty-five minutes to go, Deku began to stir of his own accord. Dumbass wasn't even taking the entirety of what little time he had allotted himself. With a quick movement, Katsuki pushed himself away from where he definitely wasn't letting the nerd's gross foot drape across his shin.

"Go back to sleep, idiot."

"Nnn, nyahh, Kacchan," Deku yawned. "I wan… want to be up. I'm up. I'm up."

He looked like a sleepy kitten and again what the actual fuck.

Rubbing at his eyes, Deku winced sharply as he jostled his right arm in an effort to sit up. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and he frankly looked worse than when he had gone to sleep.

"How's the arm?" Katsuki wasn't sure why he asked. He knew the answer.

"Bad."

"…Figured."

Silence stretched between them for what felt like the first time since they had been forced into it underwater. They had rarely stopped yelling at each other, and now suddenly Katsuki was at a loss for anything to say. Even Deku, with his muttering that never seemed to have an off button, was quiet and subdued.

Their eyes were trained on the countdown clock. They were probably both thinking the same thing.

What was going to happen at thirteen minutes? Would they sustain further injury from it?

Would they survive the next room, when they were both barely clinging to life to begin with?

Would… only one of them?

"I can't watch you die anymore."

The words were soft and barely audible, and still Katsuki turned incredulous eyes on his companion, a familiar fury flickering under his breastbone. "That's rich, when I've had to watch you croak way more times, asshole."

Deku's morose expression quickly twisted to something defiant. Some of that light that had gone missing returned to his glimmering eyes. "No? Did you forget about the entire last room we just went through, where you took five penalties?"

"I didn't take five penalties, idiot," Katsuki sneered. "And I had to watch your stupid body get electrocuted and go limp, for like, three minutes!"

Struggling up to standing like a wobbly, baby deer, Deku balled his left fist and shook it. His voice also shook. "I had to watch that, too! And it was five! The heat, the electricity, and three! Three poison attacks! Five!! And then you died! You died, Kacchan!"

Katsuki was on his feet before he realized he didn't need help to stand up anymore. His brain raced over the events of the past room. Had he really taken five penalties to get Deku through the chambers as unscathed as possible?

"Well, so did you!" Katsuki bit back, stomping forward until he pushed right into Deku's face. "How do you think I felt seeing your corpse floating at the bottom of a pool? Had to drag you out! Your heart almost stopped! You weren't breathing! I had to give you mouth-to-mouth!" He was shouting, now; though he really didn't know why.

All of the remaining color drained out of Deku's face.

"You… what?"

"Hah?? Don't you remem—"

Oh. Of course he didn't remember.

He was dead.

Deku's left hand came up to hover over his lips, his eyes wide and panicked. "I've… I've never…"

The feeling of his ears burning was one that was happening far too frequently, and Katsuki was starting to despise it almost as much as he loathed everything else about his life right now.

"It wasn't… It wasn't a kiss, you dickhead!"

Even if that's exactly what had gone through Katsuki's mind when he was doing it.

Tears began to cascade down Deku's cheeks as his entire face scrunched up, turning a familiar shade of bright red. He clutched at his hair. "My first kiss, and I don't even remember it!"

"IT WASN'T A—" Katsuki choked on his words.

"You're," he began, breathing heavily through his nose, "Upset that you don't remember it? Not that… not that it was… me?"

A wet laugh gurgled out of Deku's throat, for once actually genuine and not in response to fear. His lower lip trembled as he struggled to smile. "W-why would I be upset that it was Kacchan? Why would I want it to be anyone else?"

Katsuki seized the lapel of Deku's grungy, borrowed robe in his shaking fist. He stared down at wet green eyes in a tired, dirty, somehow still infuriatingly charming face. His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared.

"I told you, it wasn't a kiss. This is."

And he yanked him unceremoniously forward, crashing their mouths together.

Truth be told, despite his cavalier comments in the electricity chamber, Katsuki was no more experienced at this than Deku was. He knew the basic mechanics from watching movies, and his parents, but that mostly flew out the window and he just kind of went for it. They were both filthy; Katsuki tasted blood and sweat and pain, not mint and sunshine and roses and whatever the hell kisses were supposed to taste like. But under the grime and the desperation was a current that connected them. Above all else, it just tasted right.

They broke apart like they had come together: violently, stumbling backward and gasping. Staring wildly at each other, chests heaving, the magnitude of the situation crashing down heavily on them both.

"What are we doing," Deku whispered, his tone less of a question and more of a plea. Why do this now, when they were just going to die anyway?

"Getting out of here," Katsuki hissed. That was it. He'd had enough. They'd tried it Deku's way, playing these little games, but Katsuki was done. No way he was just going to turn belly up and die in some two-bit villain's torture chamber when he had this shit to figure out.

Casting wildly about the room, Katsuki grappled onto the first plan that struck him, throwing whatever little caution he had left straight to hell. He stormed over to the guillotine and began raising the blade.

"Kacchan…?"

"When the weight's at the top," Katsuki grunted, "Pull the chain. Topple it over. It'll land right under the air vent."

Deku gaped at him. His left hand immediately came up to hover over his injured, useless arm.

"I know you can only use one arm and you got two seconds of sleep, shithead. But I also know you can do it. Plus Ultra."

Setting his mouth in a crooked, determined grin, Deku nodded. He caught up the chain as he hurried into place. "…Plus Ultra."

When the blade was fully raised, Deku pulled, yelling, and Katsuki angled the rope to add his own force. Slowly but surely, the entire contraption began to tip, raising the base entirely off the floor, until gravity took over and the top wedged itself right between the bricks, a foot or so under where the ceiling met the wall. After a few harsh tugs to secure it, they gently lowered the blade back to the bottom, hoping the guillotine wouldn't just stand itself back up.

It remained in place.

Katsuki blew out the breath he had been holding. He detached the chain from the blade, then began to scale the entire structure like a rungless ladder. At the top, he wrapped the links around his fist. Then he punched out the air vent cover.

"C'mon, Deku," Katsuki called back as he hoisted himself up into the air duct, his own shackle and chain dripping out behind him.

"Won't they just come after us, if we're being watched?" Despite the hesitancy, and the labored breathing, Katsuki could hear Deku ascending—albeit a bit slower with just the use of one arm. When he reached the top, Katsuki extended his arm down.

Deku looked up at him with something unreadable in his expression, but took his hand anyway. Katsuki pulled him up into the small passageway.

"Probably," Katsuki shrugged. It was completely unwarranted, but he couldn't help the feral grin that spread across his face. "But at least we're not just following some shitty pre-set puzzle. It's a whole new game."

Biting his lip, Deku nodded; his brows lowered and his eyes fierce.

"If it's with Kacchan… I'll take those odds."

Chapter End Notes

edit: AHHHHH pleASE look here (18 account) for amazing art that skai did of the kiss in this chapter, I'm losing my goddamn mind (EDIT EDIT skai's account is gone :( but i have them saved here and here. i'll never forget u skai thank you)

what's going to happen next??? no, really, I mean it.. I have no idea. This has been a really fun ride of just writing this chapter-to-chapter, and I hope I figure out something good for the next one :P

also I apologize for how many times I pointed out that Deku has an injured arm in this. I know you know he's using his left arm. I should just stop pointing it out. I can't. I can't.

I won't apologize for smooches this isn't a slow burn

rats

Chapter Notes

edit: tags have been updated with a MAJOR SPOILER for this chapter, I'd avoid it if you can but it really should be tagged for people who need the warning.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For the fourth or fifth time since they entered the airways, the shuffling behind Katsuki stopped. He craned his head back over his shoulder, knowing what he'd see even in the limited light spilling in through the nearest vent. Hoping by some miracle it would be something else.

Slumped against the duct wall was an absolute mess of a human being. Whatever little energy reserves Deku had left had dwindled to zero, the adrenaline high of escape deflating like a popped balloon within minutes. He had needed to make frequent stops as they crawled through the narrow passage. A sliver of white illuminated the excessive beads of perspiration along the edge of his cheek under eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Oi."

Only heavy breathing as a response.

Katsuki clenched his jaw. He still felt like he could sleep for a week, each hand-over-foot step like dragging lead through molasses. But the six hours of rest he had received had at least gotten him mobile again. Deku, in his infuriating need to out-do Katsuki in everything, had barely slept a wink and was now paying for it in spades.

The idiot didn't even require his quirk to recoil to sacrifice himself right out of commission.

What was going to happen if they had to actually fight someone? Katsuki could barely take care of himself, let alone carry Deku's dead weight. But it's not like Katsuki could leave him behind and berating him wouldn't do much good either.

"Nerd. Have to keep moving."

"I know," Deku moaned softly. "M'fine, just… dizzy. Hot."

That got Katsuki's attention. It was freezing in the air ducts, the chilly current slamming into them as it tried to get past their bodies so rudely blocking its way.

A few feet ahead the ductwork opened up at a four-way junction. Katsuki pressed ahead just so he could make a U-turn, the chain that wrapped snugly around his shin clanking softly as it grazed the duct floor. The free chain, formerly attached to Deku, was looped around his waist.

Katsuki's calloused palms weren't particularly great at gauging temperature, so he placed the back of his hand against Deku's forehead, nudging some greasy curls aside. Deku shivered under the touch, though he wasn't cold. He was hot. Way too hot.

"Christ, Deku," Katsuki swore. His voice shook as it echoed back in the metal box wrapped tightly around them. "You've got a goddamn fever."

"Oh?" Deku responded like Katsuki had just pointed out something mundane and mildly interesting. Like it was going to rain tomorrow, or Shitty-Hair thought something was manly. He didn't even open his eyes.

A soft thump sounded as Katsuki dropped the side of his own head against the cold metal wall, reverberating back not unlike when he tried kicking his way out of the water room. He blew out a sigh through his nose. Deku's condition had deteriorated rapidly, and would only continue to do so the longer this went on. He wasn't just tired; he was in real danger. Somehow, despite his best efforts—despite taking the heat and the poison and the guillotine pulley—Katsuki couldn't keep the idiot from knocking at death's door.

The only way they were going to get out of this was if they could follow the air flow to the exit of whatever building they were in. And they had to do it quickly; their adversaries likely knew they had made an unsanctioned detour, but a tiny sliver of hope remained that it had caught them off guard.

A few wrong turns and dead ends had already cost the boys time. Katsuki didn't know where he was going. If he left Deku behind, he could move faster; potentially locating the exit quickly and then doubling back.

But Katsuki feared what he might find—or not find—on his return.

"Deku you gotta move," Katsuki said quietly.

With a swish, Deku's head slid down the wall in an arc, colliding with and lolling against Katsuki's collarbone. "M'moving."

"You are not." Katsuki hesitantly brought a hand up to cup the back of Deku's head, pressing it gently to his chest. It was strange, and he didn't want to think about what compelled him to do such a thing.

"I'm in the way?"

Messy curls tickled Katsuki's neck and his heart squeezed. His eyes stung and he blinked it away.

"Yes, idiot. Now get out of it."

"Kacchan's in the way, now."

"Son of a… Alright, smartass, I'm going and you'd better fucking follow me."

Katsuki dislodged Deku's head as gently as possible before shuffling backwards into the junction, glaring daggers all the way. With a weak smile, Deku pushed off of the wall and limped forward, his right arm curled just enough to keep from dragging along the duct floor.

And they continued.

Vent after vent they passed, peering down into the rooms below to discern if they'd be any help. From what Katsuki could gather, they were all just more metal-walled puzzles and white rest-rooms. Full of ominous machinery and deceptively friendly household objects. Empty of any other people, at least. For the first time in hours Katsuki spared a thought for his classmates and found himself relieved that they weren't down there. But were all these rooms really just for the two of them? How could they possibly have been expected to survive?

Well. They probably hadn't been.

Katsuki paused over one room that was entirely filled with water. His heart sank. Had they just circled back to the beginning? Even without really knowing where they were, he had tried to keep track enough to stay moving away from the rooms they had been in.

Something large and dark moved in the water.

They pressed onward.

---

"Kacchan," Deku called weakly from behind. Katsuki paused to glare over his shoulder at the boy behind him, looking worse and worse as time dragged on.

"What?"

"Remember… the thing. About… my hair?"

Whipping his head forward, Katsuki resumed his crawling march. "Can it, nerd. We're not talking about this."

"That's okay," Deku sighed. "Kacchan kissed me with tongue. That probably counted."

Katsuki stopped moving. He felt his face heat up in that impossibly cold airway.

"I swear. To god." The words could barely tumble out, fury and frustration and fear causing his entire body to shake. "If you give me your shitty quirk you'd better fucking die because I will strangle you to death with my bare hands."

Silence.

Plip. Plip.

Katsuki chanced another glance back. Tears were streaming silently down a freckled face, the tiny dots just barely visible in a slice of light from the vent between them. The liquid rolled off the edge of Deku's chin, splattering on the cold metal between his good hand and his bad one, no longer even held up but bent awkwardly against the duct floor. Well, fuck.

"I don't want to die," he sobbed, his voice raw and broken. "I just—I just—It hurts so much." Deku trembled violently, collapsing once more against the side of the duct, chest heaving.

Katsuki twisted, but couldn't fully turn around. His heart beat rapidly against his ribcage, the need to do something clawing uselessly against the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"Kacchan should go," Deku whispered wetly. "You, hah, shouldn't… s-see this."

"I'm not fucking leaving you," Katsuki snarled, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the metal keeping him pinned. They were making too much noise as it was.

Deku laughed, and it was that manic pitch that signaled fear rather than amusement.

"That's not fair. That's not fair at all. Kacchan should leave. He should hate me. He shouldn't be gentle. Kacchan certainly shouldn't kiss me. Not when I won't get to do it again. Not when I'm going to die."

"Deku, shut up," Katsuki tried to demand, but it came out as a desperate plea. "You're delirious."

Teeth chattering, Deku curled in on himself, glazed eyes slipping shut.

"Y-yeah, probab. Probably."

"Oi, do not go to sleep. Just… It's just a little farther." The words dragged like sandpaper across his tongue.

"Must be d'lrious," Deku slurred. "Kacchan's no liar."

Katsuki scowled.

Maybe he didn't have to be.

They weren't getting anywhere bickering at a standstill in the air duct. If Katsuki could find the exit, if he knew where it was… he could come back and drag Deku out. It was exactly what he had wanted to avoid—what if their captors found him while Katsuki was away? But they were running out of options.

"I'm gonna go ahead and come right back, Deku. Okay?"

Green eyes opened slowly, reflecting back poorly in the dim light. There were many things Katsuki had seen in those eyes over the years, but doubt was rarely one of them. Especially not about Katsuki.

"I'm serious, asshole. I'll be right back."

Kacchan's no liar.

---

Quiet.

The white noise of the air flow drowned everything out. Katsuki's shuffling, the iron scraping against steel, his labored breathing. His thoughts.

It was a left, a right, another right and straight through before Katsuki found something. It wasn't the exit, but it wasn't a torture room either. Looking like some kind of control center with monitors, switches, buttons and blinking lights, he figured it just might be their ticket out or at least some way to call for help. The only problem was that it was a one-way ticket; if Katsuki left the air ducts, he wouldn't be able to get back up.

And it was probably a big fucking trap.

Why else would it be empty?

But it was still the best shot he had.

If there had been anything to attach the chains to, he could affix one as a backup plan. But unlike the perfectly shaped knobs and bolts in the guillotine room, there was nothing explicitly laid out for them this time. No neat puzzle space to slot right into. So Katsuki moved on until he came to a junction that let him turn around, and he went back to Deku.

Back across the control room, straight through, left, left and right.

Deku was right where he'd left him, asleep.

He's asleep he's asleep he's asleep.

Katsuki shook him, gently at first and then more forcefully when he didn't rouse. Finally, Deku groaned, eyes snapping open briefly before fluttering at half-mast.

"I'm really sick of swapping death scares, Deku," Katsuki said lightly, but his heart hung heavy. It was unlikely they'd manage another trade off.

"Sorry, Kacchan," Deku sighed. It didn't seem like he'd actually heard what Katsuki had said.

"Come on. I found something."

A left, a right, another right and straight through. It felt like hours to retread.

Katsuki hesitated over the vent.

"Deku," he whispered, tight and strained, his blood pulsing in his ears. Katsuki had ridden high on anger and bravado for so long. But there in the quiet, cold and dark, with his oldest friend behind him hanging on by a thread, he felt small and scared. "I don't know what's gonna happen."

"Hmm. No one ever does, Kacchan. It's okay."

Heart in his throat, Katsuki pried up the vent cover, newly bloody fingernails hardly even a concern. Unwrapping the loose chain from around his waist, he handed it back to Deku. It was perfunctory; there was no way Deku would be able to pull Katsuki back up into the vents. But the gesture at least let them pretend.

Gripping the edge of the opening, Katsuki dropped his body down into the room below. He hung on briefly, holding his breath, waiting for the sirens or alarms. When nothing sounded he dropped to the floor like a cat. A quick scan gave him not much more than he had already seen: an open hallway that had been just out of sight of the vent. With one last glance up at Deku's sick, worried eyes, Katsuki turned to the wall of monitors and consoles.

If this was a communication system, Katsuki figured he had one shot to get out some kind of distress signal before security found him out. If it was security, then maybe Katsuki could use it to his advantage, or find a way out.

Katsuki glanced over the screens. Live camera footage. The penalty boxes. The water room. Plenty of other empty torture rooms. Security system, then. He narrowed his eyes. He didn't see any of the white rooms. Were they really not monitored? They had traps in them, too! Maybe they really were lucky and had even more time undiscovered. Katsuki's gaze swept over the remaining feeds and froze.

The air ducts.

They had cameras in the air ducts.

"Such intelligent rats, such clever rats!"

Katsuki spun, ice in his veins, falling back against the console with both hands. Standing before him was a man, a short old man he had never seen before in his life. Wearing a white lab coat and pointing a gun right in Katsuki's face.

"I have to say, it's the first time anyone's ever actually made it into the ductwork. I of course had it monitored to be thorough, but! You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Katsuki? I can call you Katsuki, right?" The man smiled, his eyes crinkling pleasantly behind thick, round glasses.

"Who the hell are you?" Katsuki had to dig deep to growl. He was shaking.

"Oh, you don't need to know that. We were never supposed to meet, yeah? But you're special, Katsuki, so I guess I'm not surprised. You see, usually I pay a lot of money for rats like you. But this time, I was the one who got paid! Isn't that something?" He motioned sharply with the weapon. "Hands where I can see them, if you please!"

Katsuki brought his hands off of the console, snarling to cover the click they dragged in their wake.

"You too, little mouse," the man called cheerfully to the ceiling. "I know you're up there, Izuku. Come on down and join us, won't you?"

Deku was just visible in the shadow of the air duct, left hand covering his mouth under wide and horrified eyes.

"Don't," Katsuki barked.

The man sighed. "Special rats are too much trouble." He raised the gun and fired.

For an agonizing moment, everything slowed down.

"Kacchan!!"

Pain erupted across Katsuki's left bicep, and he looked dumbly down at the red line that drew itself there, holding static for a moment before blooming open and pouring blood down his arm in a sheet. He staggered, clamping his right hand over it, the gunshot still ringing in his ears. The bullet had buried itself in the wall next to the monitors.

"Don't worry, don't worry! It was just a graze," the man soothed nonchalantly. "But next time, it won't be, yeah? So. Izuku, if you please."

"He. Can't. On his own," Katsuki grit out. "He's sick," he explained, as if it would make a difference to the monster that made him that way.

The villain tutted at him, like he might admonish a child. "Oh, have more faith in your little mouse, Katsuki!"

"I'm c-coming down, d-don't hurt him, please!" Deku cried out, before abruptly swinging down into the room with one arm, his bad one pressed to his crotch to preserve what little modesty he had left. He hit the ground and collapsed in a heap. Katsuki made to lunge for him but the man stopped him with the gun in his face.

"See? He's perfectly capable." Keeping the gun trained on Katsuki, the man dipped down and grabbed Deku by the arm, wrenching him upright. Grabbed him by the right arm. Blood and pus oozed out from between the latex-clad fingers that dug into the filthy makeshift bandage. Deku's eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Stop it!! What the fuck are you doing?!" Katsuki's heart beat wildly in his chest, barely contained within the bones encircling it. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

"Do you know what you do when rats climb out of the maze, Katsuki?"

Katsuki could only glower at the demon before him, seething.

The man smiled.

"You build higher walls."

---

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

At least, that's what it ostensibly looked liked. But Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that, despite being marched at gunpoint down the corridor by an insane villain, he had a better chance than if the bastard had remained hidden. If he could just get close enough, if he could get Deku away from him… if Katsuki could wrap his bloody hands around the shithead's neck, he had a hell of a better shot of getting them out of here than through solving a bunch of death trap puzzles.

"Eyes forward, if you please!"

Katsuki very much so did not please. He kept stealing glances back behind him, where the sick fuck was still dragging Deku along by his bad arm. The poor idiot was already bad enough off. The glimpses Katsuki stole now weren't giving him much hope for improvement; Deku was far paler than Katsuki had ever seen him, and he looked completely out of it. The crying had stopped, along with all other sounds and signs of life, and his dull eyes just stared straight at the floor as he stumbled along.

No other people, villains or otherwise, were in the hallways with them. They passed closed doors, open rooms, broom closets… even something that looked like a cafeteria. Empty. No one to help them. No one else to hurt them.

It was just this one man.

One man with a gun.

Quick reflexes were a matter of pride for Katsuki, but he didn't have them now. Slow and dulled by exhaustion and pain, they had utterly failed him when the bullet grazed his arm. What hope did he have of wrestling the gun away when even this dumpy shrimp of a man could outshoot him? To make no mention of whatever quirk he had waiting in the wings.

"Here we are," the villain announced brightly. They had stopped at an open door to a plain, unassuming room. He nodded at it. "In you go."

Hesitating, Katsuki stalled in the doorway; they were already trapped, but whatever was inside the next room likely wasn't going to end well for them.

With a sigh, the man pressed the barrel of the gun to Deku's temple. Deku didn't even flinch.

"Fine, fuck! Fine!" Katsuki jolted forward into the room, shaking. Last time, Katsuki had been shot with no preamble; he wasn't taking any risks with Deku's life. He turned back to the two still at the entrance.

"Unfortunately I don't have any toys for you to play with, so you'll just have to sit and wait until we're ready. Toodle-loo!" And without any further ado, the door slid closed, leaving Katsuki staring at empty space.

Utterly alone.

"Wh-what," he choked out. His pulse throbbed in staccato, staticky bursts behind his ears. He could hardly even process what had just happened. For the first time since they had arrived in this wretched place, Katsuki and Deku were completely separated. Not just by water, or clear plexiglass walls, or consciousness. Deku was gone. Deku was gone.

"No, you… Oi! What the fuck!? Come back! Bring him back!! You can't fucking… You can't fucking have him!" Katsuki howled, prowling the tiny room like a caged tiger, snarling and snapping and sobbing. Blood ran down unchecked from the barely-coagulated wound that split back open like a sick smile. Spatters followed him, painting the floor in smeared circles of red and pain. He barely had the energy for the fury, however, and he sank to his knees in the center of it.

Defeated.

He had let the stupid nerd slip right through his fingers, to his death. Katsuki didn't even get to say goodbye.

Katsuki flexed his palms. Useless.

He sat down, drawing his legs to cross in front of him. He put his head in his hands, and he wept.

And waited.

---

Minutes, days, hours, weeks. Katsuki didn't know how long he was left to rot in that plain box of white and gray. He floated in and out of consciousness, through dreamless sleeps and harrowing nightmares. Several times he woke up in his dorm bed, Deku at his side, so relieved he broke down in tears and laughter and didn't question why his rival was sleeping with him. But he always jerked back to reality eventually. Just Katsuki, alone, starving to death in purgatory.

He had to accept that this was the end of the line. Katsuki had never really, truly felt despair until now. The belief that they would make it out of this somehow had always been underneath every puzzle, every brush with death, every dizzy slide further into the depths. Now, Katsuki wasn't so sure. Deku thought he could do everything. Kacchan's amazing. But Deku was gone. And Katsuki couldn't do anything.

Couldn't do anything but wait to die.

Alone.

When the man came for him, he was also alone, his pristine white coat streaked dark across one side.

Katsuki didn't even bother asking. He didn't want to know the answer.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder. Did Deku fight? Did he cry? Did he call out for Katsuki, was he even coherent enough to know what was happening? Somehow that thought hurt the most, despite being somewhat comforting. For wasn't it better if Deku didn't know? That he was spared further suffering in his final moments before slipping into the afterlife, if there was one? Maybe. But it still robbed him of last words, last thoughts. Robbed them both of everything they had yet to figure out together.

The man motioned for Katsuki to leave the room. If you please.

There was no way for Katsuki to keep track of where they were going through the labyrinthine halls, even if he had the will left to care. He was being led to his death. Or maybe to a final puzzle; the end result would be the same.

All of the doors in that place had been plain, sliding and automatic. Katsuki looked up at the ornately carved stone doors their journey ended at with a modicum of surprise. They were completely out of place. Still, despite their antique veneer, they swung open on their own, revealing a circular room ringed with a few rows of empty amphitheatre seating. Katsuki's breath caught in his chest.

At the center was Deku.

Suspended in a purple-tinged liquid in the middle of a cylindrical tank, wires branching out of him like a gruesome network of external veins. Gold flecks like glitter shimmered around him. A black breathing mask covered the bottom half of his face, its tube threaded through the top of the enclosure and fed right up into the ventilation system in the ceiling. The same thing they had made their aborted escape attempt through. Had they passed over this room? Katsuki couldn't remember. He couldn't think at all.

The mangy robe and bandage were gone. In their place, Deku was wearing what looked like a plain black pair of swim shorts or underwear; Katsuki wasn't sure that was less violating than just stripping him naked.

But he was alive. Deku's eyes were closed and he looked half-dead but he was alive and all of the burning fury came flooding back through every passageway in Katsuki's body. He was getting the fuck out of here. And he wasn't leaving without Deku.

The doors closed behind them.

"Do you like it?"

Katsuki jolted. He had nearly forgotten the villain was still there, too caught up in the swirling maelstrom within him.

"It's new, and I haven't had a chance to test with it fully. You two will be guinea pigs, in addition to rats! Isn't that exciting?" The man's smile was genuinely giddy. It made Katsuki sick.

"What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Oh, fear not, your little mouse is fine. He's not in any pain! He's in my very special sensory deprivation tank; I have complete control over his pain receptors. I can keep him completely pain free while the suspension gel restores him. But." He pulled a small remote out of his pocket, his other hand still pointing the gun at Katsuki. "If you misbehave." And he pressed a button.

Deku's motionless, still form began thrashing wildly in the thick liquid, bubbles spilling and streaming out from the edges of his mask as his eyes snapped open. Katsuki couldn't hear anything but he knew that Deku was screaming.

"Fuck, stop! Stop it!"

The remote switched off and Deku resumed his listless floating, peering bearily out of the tank at them through the haze. His chest was heaving, a few stray bubbles still squeaking out.

"Sadly I only have one of these tanks, so you have to wait your turn. But don't worry, it will only take another," he checked his watch, a near-replica to the red and black countdown timers, "Four hours before he's reset. Once you're both back in shape we can start you on the advanced track!"

Katsuki's heart sank.

This fuck intended to keep them here forever. If they had actually done something fatal in the torture rooms, would he have just revived them? Made them start all over again?

He looked at Deku in the deprivation tank. His mangled arm already looked a little better, still likely to leave him with a swath of ugly scars but far less gory than Katsuki was expecting. Was the purple sparkly shit really healing him?

"Well, let's begin, shall we? Partner play is even more ill-tested for this, so I'm going to have to be here for it. But I'm very eager to see how it goes. Take your mark, if you please."

Katsuki stared at him. "Fuckin' what?"

The man didn't even bother to sigh this time as he raised both of the menacing items in his hands. Katsuki threw his own hands up, barking, "I'll do it, I'm gonna do it, fucking wait," before either could be used. "Just explain it first!"

"Your mark. On the floor." He pointed with the remote to a set of footprints painted next to the tank. "Begin the program. And no funny business, if you please! There won't be any sneaking off into the ductwork this time. Do you know how long it will take to reset the oil cauldrons in the room you so rudely skipped?"

The what?

Katsuki numbly moved over to the tank, and the footprints lit up green. He raised his eyes to meet Deku's for the first time. They were barely open; squinting through the gel like it hurt. Which it probably did. But didn't the asshole say he wasn't feeling pain? Katsuki pressed his right palm to the glass automatically, heedless of what punishment it would bring. It was cool under his rough fingertips. Deku's left hand came up to match, and Katsuki's heart shuddered.

"Izuku has already been briefed. You will each be given the same selection of images, words or phrases, in different orders. Izuku will choose one. You will have to select the same option, or." The man shook the remote in his hand. "But it will be automatic."

"What the fuck," Katsuki mouthed, breaking eye contact with Deku to glare at the villain, without taking his hand from the tank. "So we have to play goddamn charades?"

"Hmm," the man hummed in response. "You can certainly try. Izuku might have some difficulty miming anything, though." And he smiled. "He cannot hear you, but you cannot speak or gesture after he has made his choice, or you will fail the round. Don't try leaving your mark, either. That will also result in a fail."

Katsuki turned his attention back in front of him. Six blank white circles illuminated on the glass. Before Katsuki had even finished registering it, Deku had removed his hand from opposite his own and pressed against one of them. Even with the healing goop, he was still favoring his bad arm.

A chime sounded and Deku brought his hand right back down to Katsuki's.

The circles filled on the outside of the tank, each with a different picture or set of text as previously described. Brows furrowed, Katsuki searched Deku's face in confusion; he had made a selection so quickly, and wasn't miming anything, and… Oh. Katsuki finished reading the options: a stove, a storefront, the word 'fear', a forest, a haiku, flowers, and a mountain. But not just any mountain; Mount Hakusan, which Katsuki has been dying to climb. It's technically a volcano.

He pressed his free hand to it.

Two chimes this time, and the images cleared. Katsuki almost smiled.

"…Impressive," the man muttered, although he didn't sound impressed. "Continue."

And so they continued.

Round after round of images and phrases and the tank never had to turn on its occupant. There was always something that stood out like a colorful thread in the tapestry of their lives together, and Katsuki only had to run his fingers along it briefly to know which one to pull.

It was true that Deku couldn't gesture much while being weighed down by wires and moving slowly through a thick gel. If it was really a sensory deprivation tank, and the villain had his pain receptors turned off, he probably couldn't feel anything at all. He only had his blurry vision, sometimes squinting at the images in front of him one by one with intense concentration. A few times he made movements with his arms, but ultimately would just point at himself (notebook) or Katsuki (chili pepper) if two options could have matched.

Katsuki's right hand remained on the glass the entire time. Deku always brought his left back against it.

Until a round where it took significantly longer for Deku to make his selection, and when the options came up it was clear why. Every single item was a match for him in one way or another. Katsuki's skin prickled. Up until now it had all seemed random, but this had to be deliberate. He chanced a glance at their captor, who stared back with the same calculating look he had put on when the trial started. It didn't look like he was doing anything, but Katsuki didn't know what else the remote controlled. Or if this guy had a tech quirk. He seemed the type.

Katsuki went over the options: red sneakers, curly hair, the word 'nerd', the color green, katsudon, and the word 'quirkless'. His heart stuttered at that last one.

But then Deku pointed at Katsuki.

What? None of these had anything to do with Katsuki. Green, maybe? Because of the grenades and accents in his hero costume? Or quirkless, because of the barbed weapon he had turned the word into and their history with it? Or… no. Katsuki had to fight the grin as he pressed his hand to the glass.

"You sonuvabitch," he chuckled as his face split anyway. Deku couldn't hear him, but still he said, "'Cause I say it, or you callin me a goddamn nerd, nerd?"

The pass chime sounded and Deku's eyes crinkled.

Right before they rolled back into his skull and he started screaming.

"What the fuck!?" Katsuki's head whipped over to their villainous proctor, who was holding his thumb down on remote. His face was a mask of ugly, unbridled anger.

"You're cheating," he hissed. "It's statistically impossible for you to get every single one right! He isn't even miming anything!!"

Deku continued to thrash, and Katsuki felt it like it was hitting his heart directly. Even doing the tasks correctly was getting them punished.

"You— You said it needed testing! It's not his fault! Turn it off!"

"The program doesn't need to be tested! The rats need to be tested!" The villain howled, and he pointed the gun right at Katsuki. "I should have known something was off about you two. Why would I get paid to take you, when I'm getting two free test subjects? No, no, you're not special rats at all. You're outliers, and outliers need to be removed from the results."

Katsuki stopped breathing, his fingertips curling pointlessly against the glass, unbearably hot under his palms.

Wait. No.

In his palms.

Deku was already getting penalized so Katsuki paid no mind to the red lights under his feet as he left his mark, sailing directly toward the man that held their lives in his latex-tipped claws. The air around him lit up with bullets. Katsuki paid them no mind either. He caught one in his hand.

And exploded it.

He collided with the man in a tangle of limbs and blood and gunpowder, punching and biting and wrestling and sparking everything he could get his hands on. They slammed into the ground hard, rolling, and when they stopped moving the man's lab coat was singed in a dozen places and Katsuki had a gun pressed to his forehead. But he also had his explosive hand wrapped around the arm holding the weapon, and he detonated it without hesitation.

A blood-curdling scream filled the room and the caustic smell of burnt flesh assaulted his airways.

"Sorry about the arm," Katsuki spit through his clenched teeth.

Scrabbling for the remote through the blood and gore coating his fingers, Katsuki finally stopped the tank from frying Deku. Now he just had to get him out of it and… then… they…

Katsuki rolled onto his side and looked down at himself, at the handful of dark red circles blooming on his filthy white pants and bare skin. Oh. He fell back flat on his back, his vision starting to swim. That probably wasn't good, right? To his left, the man stirred, pawing for the displaced gun with his uninjured arm.

A tinkling noise to his right brought Katsuki's head rolling back the other way. And, oh, hundreds of fractures spiderwebbed across the surface of the tank, barely masking the glowing green demon behind it. The liquid churned as lightning whipped through it, glittering purple liquid oozing out of the cracks in greater and greater volume until the entire contraption shattered in a deafening, cacophonous roar.

Deku spilled out with a wave of goo, the mask ripping from his face and the wires and diodes violently popping out of his skin as they snagged on the mechanical wreckage left in his wake. He hit the ground with a thud and a squeak. Gasping, he tried to push himself upright, but only slipped and slid in the gel, his limbs quaking like a newborn giraffe. Green flashes danced across his skin as he rocketed forward anyway, his features grotesquely pulled into a terrifying snarl of rage and fury. Just as Katsuki heard the gun scrape on the floor behind him.

A force like a freight train sailed overhead, and Katsuki followed its path above him as it smashed home, sending both Deku and the villain spinning across the room. Katsuki pushed through the pain and dizziness, struggling to his feet to follow. Blood continued to seep out of him like an open tap but it was all or nothing, now.

The man was on his back with Deku above him, absolutely wailing on him with his left fist, holding off the hand with the gun in his right. Hoarse cries that might have been attempts at words spilled from him in a torrent of anguish. Katsuki stumbled over to them, reaching out, reaching them just as the man surged upright, the gun level with Deku's throat.

And his face level with Katsuki's open palm.

It was over in an instant; the man's body slumped to the floor as Katsuki hauled Deku off of him and into his arms. They collapsed together, landing gracelessly on the floor and rolling away from the grisly scene.

Their heartbeats slammed in sync as they settled side-by-side in the purple goo still spreading out all around them. Katsuki let his head fall to the floor and his eyes slip shut. Tears welled up behind his eyelids, choking his throat, threatening to erupt like they never had before. He clutched Deku's body tight to his chest, barely cognizant of the other boy frantically smearing the gel onto his bullet wounds. Katsuki had just killed a man. He killed him. He was a murderer, he killed someone.

And he knew he'd make the same choice a thousand times over.

Deku pushed out of his sorry excuse for an embrace, moving to work on Katsuki's legs. He was crying, trembling, and his mouth was moving like he was muttering but no sound came out. Katsuki suddenly realized how badly he wanted to hear that nickname from those lips.

"Deku," he breathed. He held out his arms like a child asking for a toy. "Come back."

Face crumpling, Deku shook his head, sending teardrops flying as he stubbornly continued his ministrations. The gel tingled on Katsuki's skin. It really did feel better. The gold flecks in Deku's hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights. It made him look like some kind of fairy creature.

"Please," Katsuki entreated, stretching his arms insistently. "I'm fine. Didn't hit anything important."

"All of you is important, asshole," Deku tried to bite back, but the words were breathy and weightless, like he had been screaming and lost his voice. Which he had. Still, he relented, administering the slippery ointment to one last graze on Katsuki's hip before crawling back into his arms.

They held each other in silence, just breathing.

Katsuki didn't actually know if the bullets had hit anything important, but it hardly mattered. He felt okay enough. And the remote had been a casualty in the fight; it was unlikely they'd be able to make those big stone doors open anyway. Maybe Deku could push it if he was at full power, but even with his stint in the healing goop he was still clearly drained. Katsuki sealed their fates when he took a life.

But still better than the alternative.

"Why'd you thih, think our q-quirks came back?" Deku asked quietly, swallowing a few times to try to make his voice work. "Guess it wasn't the shackles."

Katsuki allowed his mouth to curl into a smug grin. It had been a complete shot in the dark, but it wound up paying off. "Switch under the filtration section in the control room. I turned it off. Guess fuckface didn't know every single thing we were gonna do. It was labeled Q-Suppressant; must have finally worked its way out of the air, or our bodies."

Deku gasped, eyes widening. "Kacchan's amazing!"

Snorting, Katsuki ruffled the damp and sparkly green curls with the hand that was at least a little less bloody. "Oi, Deku's amazing, too, idiot." He wrinkled his nose. "Tch. Doesn't have the same ring to it."

With a wobbly smile, Deku tucked his head under Katsuki's chin, like it was the most natural thing to do. Katsuki's heart flipped.

"Do you want to know something stupid?" Deku whispered after a few moments.

"Hah?"

"…I wish we hadn't needed them."

Katsuki grimaced.

"Do… Do you think he was quirkless?"

When Katsuki didn't respond, Deku continued. "If the suppressant was in the air system… it'd be unlikely he'd want to suppress his own quirk. And it didn't look like he had a Mutant-type. And he used a gun. And—"

"Deku," Katsuki growled, cutting through the rambling. "It doesn't matter. He was a villain, quirk or no."

"Y-yeah," Deku agreed quietly. He pressed tighter to Katsuki's chest. Katsuki ran his hands along his back.

Their breathing slowed in tandem.

"Is this it?"

Katsuki's nostrils flared as he inhaled slowly. "Seems that way."

Deku hummed softly. "I'm… I'm glad it was you, Kacchan."

Something thick tightened in Katsuki's throat that he was unable to swallow.

"…Yeah. Me too."

Chapter End Notes

me: I'm not making a villain for this fic, I'm not doing, you can't make me, I won't do it
also me: this

look don't think too hard about the plot holes I am literally making it up as I go!

I'm gonna go pass out

edit: I have been gifted some very lovely art of Deku about to bust out of the tank, which you can see here!

swim

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"Kacchan, what'd you get for the last answer?"

Izuku kept trying to read the question, but the words didn't quite make sense and staring at them stung his eyes. Hot afternoon sun spilled across the page in sharp contrast to the cool morning air filling his lungs.

"Nerd. You can't talk to me during the fucking test."

Looking up, Izuku was startled to find Aizawa's burning gaze boring directly into him. Right, of course. He's not supposed to talk. What class was this for again?

"Oi. What are you doing after this?"

We're not supposed to talk. Izuku's mouth couldn't form the words. Kacchan hadn't turned around. Aizawa was gone. Come to think of it, so was everyone else.

Water lapped at Izuku's waist, steadily rising until it swallowed his desk completely. Panicking, Izuku attempted to jump out of his seat, but something around his ankles held him in place.

Kacchan!

The water turned viscous: thick and suffocating as it wrapped around Izuku's face and poured down his throat. He reached out for the back of the boy in front of him, but he was gone.

Darkness swallowed everything and Izuku couldn't even scream.

---

With a sharp intake of air, Izuku jolted awake. The relief at surfacing from the nightmare was short lived as reality came crashing back down a moment later. Though he surely had no tears left to cry, they welled up anyway, squeezing his throat as he curled against the body wrapped around him. Kacchan's skin was warm and his breathing steady. Still alive. But still trapped.

It wasn't fair. They had made it through every obstacle and solved every puzzle. Izuku had accepted and rejected that he was going to die so many times he had no idea what to feel anymore. He could barely feel anything beyond exhaustion and pain overriding everything else. If Kacchan died in his arms right now, would Izuku finally believe it? It never got any easier. He wasn't even granted the grace of being numb.

Kacchan stirred, sighing gruffly as he nosed into the curls on Izuku's forehead. A gesture that might have been gentle and soft if Izuku couldn't feel the grimace behind it. Couldn't smell the blood and sweat and defeat. The tears fell harder.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair it wasn't fair it wasn't fair it wasn't fair.

"Life's not fair, quirkless," Kacchan rumbled.

Izuku stilled. He was surprised Kacchan could understand any of the sounds he made, still breathy and hoarse from leaving his voice behind in the 'healing' tank.

"You're a jerk," he whispered.

"Yeah," Kacchan agreed, the slightest smile and warmth worming its way into his voice. "Always have been."

After a few minutes, Izuku's weeping settled down, and only their breathing hung between them.

"Oi."

Izuku tried to lift his head, but Kacchan seized the back of it in one hand to settle his own chin over the matted curls. Whose heartbeat Izuku felt hammering in his ears, he was unsure.

"Deku… Look. I know it's too little, too late, but. For what it's worth."

Izuku held his breath.

"I'm sorry."

What?

"None of this was your fault!" Izuku tried to protest into the neck he was pressed against, but only every other word was audible. He had to keep his voice down at a whisper if he wanted to be understood.

"Not this shit," Kacchan snarled, getting the gist anyway. "The other shit. When we were brats. Aldera. Et-fucking-cetera."

Izuku's breathing faltered as his chest wrapped bony fingers around his heart and squeezed.

That Kacchan would apologize to him for anything, only to have it be everything… Well. That was unfair, too. Trapped against sweaty, sweet skin and imprisoned within his heart, Izuku drew back the scar tissue to bare himself fully. There was nothing left to hide.

"…Me, too."

"Hah??" Kacchan snapped, his fingers tightening in Izuku's hair. "The hell you have to be sorry for? Idiot."

Izuku pushed back, squirming out of the arms that held him closer than he ever thought he could be. His entire right arm was a swath of pink, ugly, puckered skin that sent shooting pains to his bones with each movement but still he raised it up to shakily cup Kacchan's face and slide their gazes together. The gold glitter smeared across high cheekbones only enhanced the sheer brilliance, blazing through exhaustion and blood and pain. An old, unwelcome heat warmed Izuku's face as those piercing red eyes looked straight into his very being.

"You had no… obligation to be my friend, Kacchan," Izuku said quietly, every word a whisper to ensure it would be heard. "I should have left you alone. But I didn't. I didn't have anyone else, and so I wouldn't let go."

Kacchan's face twisted. Still beautiful. "Stubborn," he muttered, placing his left hand over the one on his face.

"Always have been," Izuku returned with a weak smile. He withdrew his injured arm, curling it against his chest and ducking his head back down. "I forgave you a long time ago, in any case."

"Then you really are an idiot."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

"…Hey, Kacchan?"

Kacchan grunted.

"Are we really going to just lie here until we die?"

"Tch. Can you get up?"

Kacchan had been shot five times. Although most were superficial grazes and the gel had stopped the bleeding, he wasn't in great shape. At least two were serious wounds needing medical attention that just wasn't coming.

Izuku's entire body was spent; just staying awake was an effort. Lifting his head made him dizzy. Whatever little energy he had gained from being in the restoration gel had been used up by One For All in the final fight.

"No," he admitted.

"Then yes, nerd."

It was unlike Kacchan to give up. But then again, it was unlike Izuku as well and he had given up a half dozen times already.

It really wasn't fair.

Izuku didn't want to die here. He didn't want these first tender moments between them to also be their last. He wanted to live a life next to Kacchan, with Kacchan. Wanted to fight side by side and win. But. Fighting side by side and losing would always have been a possible outcome. Izuku just didn't expect to roll snake eyes on the first toss.

Kacchan's body twitched against him.

"Kacchan?"

Ice crawled along Izuku's skin when he didn't get a response, but Kacchan's chest was still expanding against him. Just asleep, then. Izuku dreaded when that would no longer be the case. He pressed his forehead back into Kacchan's neck, feeling the reassuring pulse throb against his skin. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, waiting for sleep or death to overtake him, unsure at this point which he preferred first.

At least he did for about forty-five seconds.

The steady thrum of their heartbeats was joined by a new sound. Izuku tried to ignore it, burrowing tighter into Kacchan's chest as he fought against losing the last of his sanity with the ghosts of words tickling at his periphery. Until he couldn't ignore it anymore and the realization shocked his entire body.

Voices.

He heard voices.

And they weren't just in his head.

Izuku rolled to face the doors, every nerve ending alight with sudden, coursing adrenaline. Like distant drum beats the sounds only just filtered through the thick stone. But they were unmistakably voices, and they were yelling. They could have been more villains… but if death was the only other outcome, then it was a die he was willing to cast.

"Help," Izuku tried to cry out, but only formless air squeezed out of his lungs. Desperation and panic tightened around his neck, further cutting off his ability to say anything. He rolled back over. "Kacchan," he mouthed, and still nothing came out. Was this just another nightmare? Trapped just out of sight of rescue, unable to scream or shout or signal?

He grasped Kacchan's shoulders and shook him, forcing a strangled sound out of his own chest. If there was one thing he could rely on it was Bakugou Katsuki's lung capacity, and he needed it now more than ever.

"The hell," Kacchan growled, swatting Izuku away. "Trying to die in peace over here." But Izuku wouldn't relent, squeaking and shaking and gesturing wildly at the doors. It only took a moment longer for Kacchan to catch on.

"Shh," he shushed, clamping his hands down around Izuku's waist to still his flailing, cocking his ear toward the exit. Realization lit up his ruby eyes and Izuku was not disappointed in the result.

Kacchan was loud.

"OI, WE'RE IN HERE, ASSHOLES! OIIII!"

Kacchan kept hollering, but even through it Izuku could hear a change in the sounds outside of the doors: getting louder, getting closer.

He held his breath as they stopped right outside.

Suddenly, a spool of red ribbons began pouring into the room from the narrow crack between the doors. The grip on Izuku's sides tightened, but before either of them could react, the 'fabric' spun itself up into the Number Four ranked Pro Hero, Edgeshot.

Izuku burst into tears.

Edgeshot faltered backward as his horrified eyes landed on the two boys. Izuku could only imagine what they must have looked like: nearly nude, bloody, and burned, curled up on the floor in a puddle of purple sludge, clinging to each other fifteen feet away from a corpse. But he couldn't bring himself to care. A hero was here, they were saved. The relief that washed over him was so intense it hurt, leaving him lightheaded and shaking. His broken, wheezing sobs almost masked the fact that Kacchan was crying, too.

The ribbons returned and retreated and moments later the stone doors flew open.

In an instant the room had filled: heroes and police and emergency personnel, all moving too fast to track, all speaking and yelling at once with words too garbled for Izuku to understand. Everything sight and sound blurred together but at the center stood one man, sharp and unmoving: Aizawa, staring down at them with an expression Izuku hadn't seen on him since the attack on the USJ. But before he could process what that meant, there were hands on him—touching, prodding, pulling him out of Kacchan's arms and away.

Izuku had no voice left but he screamed.

All sense and rationality flew to the wayside as Izuku thrashed feebly against his rescuers, reaching out for the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. Pink lines flickered across his skin but he couldn't wrap full cowl around himself at any percent.

"Deku, calm the fuck—Oi, hold up, will you just let me—"

What if this wasn't real? What if this was just a trick, another test? A puzzle? And they were taking Kacchan away from him again!!

"Ma'am, can we get an assist over here?"

A shadow loomed over him and Izuku's stomach dropped when he saw who cast it. Long, dark hair, bright red cat-eye mask and a skin-tight hero costume. But it wasn't the handcuffs on her wrists or the whip at her hip that scared him; it was laughable that anyone could call her a sadist. No, Izuku was struck with the sudden fear that if he descended once more into nightmare, he'd never be able to claw his way back out or know the difference if he did.

"Please, don't," Izuku mouthed, before covering his face with shaking hands. "I d-don't want to dream." His words were hardly even a squeak.

"You won't," Midnight cooed, gently prying Izuku's fingers away. Pink, dusty clouds enveloped him and he was lost to darkness.

But, true to her word, Izuku did not dream.

---

Cricket song and a steady rhythm vibrated Izuku out of unconsciousness gently, slowly. Soft and velvety awareness pulled on his periphery. He inhaled slowly as his eyes fluttered open, the air in his lungs cool and sharp, swirling in from the rubber over his face. A dim light behind and above him barely illuminated his darkened surroundings. Sighing, Izuku allowed his eyes to slip back shut, his own mechanical heartbeat in his ears. He was in a hospital. Again.

Izuku's eyes snapped open. He was in a hospital. He was in a hospital!!

"Kacchan," he croaked, fumbling against the awkward weight of the IV line for the nurse call button. His right arm was ensconced in a sling, suspended in the air, and his entire body felt like lead. He choked on a sob as it refused to obey him, the steady beeping spiking in speed.

"Izuku?"

He froze.

Squinting in the darkness, he could just make out the shape pushing out of a chair and hurrying across the room.

"M-Mom?"

His mother practically flung herself on him, wrapping her arms around his head and neck and burying her face in his hair. Izuku's face crumpled and he began to tremble.

"Izuku, oh Izuku, baby. Shh-shh-shh," she soothed, even as she herself burst into tears. "It's alright, I've got you. I'm here."

"Mom, Mom," Izuku could only barely force out. He clutched at her with his free hand. Everything came bubbling up to the surface, overflowing without hope of stopping, spilling out in tears and sobs. "Mom, I was s-so s-scared, I, I—"

"I know, baby," she said, stroking his face around the oxygen mask and running her fingers through his curls. "But it's over, you're safe, and I'm so, so proud of you."

Izuku twisted her sweater in his fist and he wailed.

But he couldn't let himself go entirely. Not yet.

"Mom, Kacchan," he gasped, shaking. "Kacchan, Kacchan, is he—"

"Katsuki-kun is fine, Izuku," his mother assured, and he collapsed back into the bed and her arms, boneless and drained.

"A-anyone else?"

"Any…? Oh, no, baby. No one else."

Relief caused something in his chest to swell, pushing all of his bones and organs out of the way as it expanded and consumed the cavity entirely. Tears welled up anew, streaming silently down his cheeks. He covered his face with his left hand and wept.

His mother held him until he cried himself back to sleep.

---

Birdsong and sunlight brought him up the next time. His mother was gone, but in her place was Kacchan's, reading a book with her ankles kicked up on the foot of Izuku's bed.

"Mitsuki-san," he said breathlessly, his voice still raw and foreign.

She looked up at him with a smile that could have been categorized as a smirk. Like mother like son. "Hey, kiddo. Welcome back."

"Kacchan?"

Snorting, she dropped her book on the bed and sat up. "Brat's in the next room with his father. Your mother is getting some much needed rest, poor thing hasn't slept a wink since you went missing. You two are going to be the death of us."

"Sorry," Izuku mumbled, curling the fingers of his left hand into the thin hospital coverlet. Everyone must have been so worried. Guilt swirled in his stomach.

Mitsuki reached over and shook his knee. "You're just like your mother, always apologizing for shit. I'll tan your hide myself if you do it again."

Izuku blinked at her owlishly. He couldn't remember the last time he had even spoken to her, beyond a cursory hello in passing when he still lived at home, and now she was slotting right back into a familiar, familial role. The rift between Kacchan and himself had all but severed the relationship between their mothers, or so Izuku thought. He supposed he didn't really know everything about his mother's life—as she surely didn't know everything about his.

Biting his lip to stop the automatic apology for apologizing, Izuku turned his eyes down to his battered body. He had no idea what state his arm was in; it was suspiciously numb, still suspended above the bed. The rest of him was intact. Just bone-weary and exhausted.

"How is Kacchan? Can I see him?"

"What, you think you're ready to get up?" Mitsuki teased. "I'll get the nurse. Maybe they can wheel him over and he'll finally calm down. Dumbass has been trying to claw his way over here since he got out of surgery. Had to tie him to the bed."

Izuku's heart froze. "What?" he squeaked. One, Kacchan had surgery. Did Izuku also have surgery? Two, they tied him down?? Though it certainly wouldn't have been the first time Kacchan had to be restrained, that it would be necessary after what they just went through…

"Kidding. Kidding! Izuku-kun, breathe." She tousled his hair as she stood up. "Just relax, I'll go see what I can do. I think your grumpy teacher is around here, too."

"O-okay, thank you, Mitsuki-san," Izuku said quietly, his heart still slamming against his ribs. He watched her leave the room, flag down a nurse just outside the door, exchange a few words and then disappear. The nurse walked in shortly afterward.

"Midoriya-kun," she began with a smile, "My name is Hirata. How are you feeling?" She spoke to Izuku but her eyes were on her medical tablet, likely with Izuku's chart pulled up. It was a process he was all too familiar with.

"Fine," he said simply. The nurse chuckled.

Hirata was quick and efficient, checking over him and his vitals. With deft movements she unhooked and removed the oxygen mask from Izuku's face and packed it away, before ratcheting the bed and Izuku up into a seated position. Soon enough she was tucking away her tablet and turning to leave.

"Um, ab-bout my arm," Izuku stammered.

"The doctor will be in to talk with you soon," the woman said brightly. Izuku looked for the telltale pity: the soft smile and sad eyes. But she either had nothing to hide or was very good at hiding it. Without another word Hirata slipped out the door, and Izuku was alone.

He was suddenly very thirsty.

A carafe of water and a cup sat next to his bedside table. Izuku looked forlornly at it. His arm keeping him pinned in place was even more of a hindrance now than when it had been nothing but a lump of pain attached to his shoulder. He stretched his left arm out but came up woefully short.

"Need a hand, problem child?"

Izuku stared back at the man in the doorway like a deer in headlights, arm frozen in place. "Aizawa… sensei," he whispered. Up until that moment Izuku could have almost pretended this was a normal hospital stay—even if the fact that his hospital stays were normal was concerning in and of itself. But seeing Aizawa standing there in casual clothes, hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, looking somehow twice as tired as usual… made the enormity of the situation come into focus with painful clarity.

Izuku and Kacchan had been missing from UA for… a day, at least. It was the second time Kacchan had been kidnapped. Izuku could only imagine the heat the school the must have caught this time around. To make no mention of the hell the teachers and pros must have gone through to get them back.

"S-sorry for the trouble."

Aizawa strode across the room, snatched up the carafe and poured a glass of water. He stuck it into Izuku's hand still outstretched.

"For what, the water or the rescue? Because I won't accept either apology."

Izuku brought the cup to his parched lips, too desperate and thirsty to process his teacher's words. The intravenous drip would have already taken care of his dehydration, but his throat didn't know anything about that. Cool water filled his mouth and rushed down into his stomach as he gulped it down greedily, tipping it back faster than he could swallow with excess spilling out and dribbling down his chin.

"Easy," Aizawa chided, gently taking the glass back out of Izuku's weak grip. "Not too much so fast."

Izuku gasped, chasing the retreating liquid. "Sorry," he mumbled, wiping at his mouth.

"I don't accept that one either."

Cheeks burning, Izuku stared at his covered lap. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Aizawa sighed. "How about just, 'okay?'"

"…Okay."

"Amazing. My teaching skills are unrivaled."

Izuku wanted to laugh but he couldn't bring himself to.

"Aizawa-sensei," he said quietly. "When… I mean, how…" he trailed off when Aizawa held up his hand.

"I know you have a thousand questions. But let's wait until you're both together, so I don't have to say everything twice." He sat down into Mitsuki's vacated chair with another sigh. Izuku had to bite down another apology. Aizawa's appearance was always a little haggard, but the man looked like he had aged ten years since…

"What, ah, day is it?"

"And here I thought you had started listening to me."

Brows furrowing, Izuku went to protest—surely Aizawa could answer one question—but he was interrupted by yelling in the hallway.

"Oi, stop fussing, you old hag!"

Izuku's heart leapt.

"Will you just let your mother take care of you for once in your life, you ungrateful brat?"

The Bakugou family entered the room with Kacchan in a wheelchair, rolling IV in tow, pushed by his father. Masaru gave Izuku a smile and a wave, soft and warm and exactly like Izuku remembered him. He wheeled his son up to Izuku's hospital bed.

Kacchan was wearing a standard hospital gown and looked completely fine; any injuries he had would have been hidden under the garment. His eyes met Izuku's and they both froze.

Suddenly, seeing Kacchan out in the real world made everything that had just transpired between them feel surreal, like a dream.

What did this mean for them? Izuku's heart twisted. Would they just go back to being acquaintances, rivals? Were they even friends? Was it all left behind in the dungeon?

Was it only because Izuku was there, and not because it was Izuku?

"Deku."

Izuku inhaled sharply. He hadn't been muttering, but he had been staring, and the rapid chirping of his heart rate monitor had filled the room. He tentatively touched his fingertips to his face and they came away wet.

"I—I'm sorry!"

"For what. Are you—Oi, I swear, get your paws off me," Kacchan snarled, batting away his mother's hands as she tried to adjust the blanket on his lap. She just swatted him right back. He crossed his arms with a huff, scowling. "Will you make yourself actually useful and get the damn nurse? Deku's having a panic attack."

"I'm not!" Izuku blurt out, pressing his left hand over his sternum as if it could quiet the beeping being projected for all to hear. "I'm not, really, I'm not," he repeated, wilting slightly under all of the skeptical and worried gazes trained on him. "J-just a little overwhelmed."

"We'll get your mother," Mitsuki said, tugging at Masaru's arm. She flicked Kacchan's ear. "Behave yourself, brat. And you, too," she leveled at Aizawa with a pointed look. "Don't make these kids cry after what they've been through."

"Speak for yourself!" Kacchan snapped at her as she and her husband disappeared into the hallway, the door shutting behind them with a click. "Pushy old hen," he grumbled, turning back toward Aizawa with a scowl that matched his mother's. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself, hah??"

"Kacchan!"

"It's fine, Midoriya," Aizawa said, waving him off. He laced his fingers together under his chin, leaning his elbows on his knees and exhaling slowly through his nose. "You both deserve an explanation."

With a grunt, Kacchan kicked his legs up onto the foot of Izuku's bed, settling back into the wheelchair. Knocking his mother's book to the floor.

"UA security went down for approximately four minutes just after one in the morning on Saturday. During that time, you both disappeared. Neither the breach nor your disappearance was discovered until approximately two-thirty in the afternoon, when Uraraka reported you missing."

Kacchan raised an eyebrow. "Both of us?"

"Yes. I'm sure they'll give you the full story when you see them, but while you ignoring your friends seemed normal enough, in conjunction with Midoriya it raised your classmates' suspicions. They broke into both of your rooms after Jirou heard nothing from either."

Something warm rose in Izuku's chest, alongside the growing guilt at the worry and trouble he must have caused his friends.

"Better not have fucking touched anything," Kacchan grumbled. Izuku glanced over at him, and his eyes were down but the tips of his ears were pink.

Izuku turned his gaze back to his teacher. "What day is it?"

Aizawa frowned. "Tuesday."

"Hah??" Kacchan sputtered, eyes wide, disbelief washing away any trace of his previous emotion. "Last thing I remember was going to sleep on fucking Friday. We were only in there for a day, tops!"

"You've already been here for a day," Aizawa said flatly. "We recovered you yesterday morning."

Although Izuku could add up the time spent in the rest rooms, and guess at how long the trials took, everything before and after was a blur. Honestly, it was hard to believe it had only been two days and three nights in that nightmare. It felt like an entire year. "How'd you find us?"

Aizawa dropped his forehead against his fingers. He spoke more to his lap than to his students. "Because you vanished without a trace, our suspicions started with Kurogiri and The League. After much difficulty we discovered their current base of operations and raided it, but…" he trailed off to silence, his eyes shielded from view. Izuku knew they hadn't been there. It would have been a failed mission. He could only imagine what it had been like, to show up at a villain hideout praying for a rescue and coming up empty.

"We weren't there," Kacchan finished.

Nodding, Aizawa sat back in his chair. "You weren't there. However, we weren't wrong."

Izuku flinched in surprise. "What?"

"Our suspicions had been correct, it was indeed Kurogiri who managed to abscond with you in the dead of night. But The League didn't keep you. We were able to get Spinner to cough up that they… sold you." Aizawa ran a hand down his face. "You're children. You're just children and they…" he trailed off again, shaking his head. "We tracked down their buyer and raided his compound, which is when we did find you."

"They didn't sell us," Izuku mumbled absently, twisting the thin fabric of his hotel gown in his fingers. "It was the other way around. The man, he… he said that he was paid to take us."

"Yeah," Kacchan confirmed. "Said that a few times. Like it was unusual for him, even."

Aizawa's gaze moved slowly between them, his brow deeply furrowed. "I don't need to tell you that you two have made some very powerful enemies in a very short time at this school," he said lowly. He quickly held his hands up. "None of this was your fault. But this was your second time being targeted by The League, for each of you. Any of these incidents could have been fatal."

"Yeah? And what do you want us to fucking do about it, hah?" Kacchan snarled, his hands moving to fist at his knees as he pulled his feet down from the bed. "Quit? Retire? Go plant flowers in the countryside?"

"No," Aizawa sighed. "I want you to be safe. At the school. But I'm not going to sugarcoat it: we failed you. I failed you."

"Sensei…" Izuku whispered.

Kacchan snorted. "Whatever." He crossed his arms again, scowling, before drawing in a measured breath. "So what happens to me, now?"

Their teacher cocked his head. "In what regard?"

Izuku's skin prickled.

"I fucking—shit. I blew that shithead's face off. I killed him."

"No!" Izuku yelped. "I—I did it! It wasn't Kacchan!" The incessant beeping of his heart rate blasted out of the machine.

"The hell, Deku, don't you fucking dare lie—"

"He—He was protecting me, I—"

"Both of you, stop," Aizawa growled, cutting through Izuku's babbling. "No one is pressing any charges against you for self-defense while being held prisoner. Ugh." He ran his hand down his face again. "It's ironic that the unit on this was supposed to be next week. And, Midoriya, it's no use lying. You should know that we recovered the compound's surveillance footage. It's highly sensitive, and I've only been briefed—but I'm already aware of the horrors you've been through."

Izuku felt his face flush hot, a perfect match to the cherry red of Kacchan's cheeks.

"All of it?" they cried in unison.

---

Their parents and the doctor arrived at Izuku's room at the same time, and Aizawa quietly excused himself. Izuku was happy to see his mother, and anxious to speak to the doctor, but what he really wanted was to be alone with Kacchan—even if they had just spent literal days isolated together. As Masaru began to wheel his son away, Izuku couldn't help but reach out.

"W-wait! Wait, can Kacchan stay? Please?"

Their mothers exchanged looks. Izuku didn't know how much they had been told; from their perspective, their sons were contentious acquaintances at best. What must they have been thinking?

"It's unusual, but not unheard of," Dr. Banno responded. She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses as she stepped over next to Izuku's bed. Even if he was standing he'd still have to crane his neck to look up at her; she was very tall, with close-cropped brown hair and a warm, trustworthy face. He noticed she wasn't carrying any documents or devices like he was used to. Memory quirk, he vaguely recalled from a previous visit. "If your parents consent to having your medical history discussed, we can talk about both of your conditions openly."

Another set of looks exchanged, before Mitsuki nodded her assent. Inko hesitated, her fingers flexing and curling around her purse strap. "Izuku, are you sure?"

"Yeah," he responded. At this point, was there any use hiding anything from Kacchan? He glanced over at the boy in question, who was staring back steadily. It further steeled Izuku's resolve.

"Alright, then. I'll just go over broad strokes, and we can get into the minutiae individually. You both came to us severely dehydrated and exhausted. Midoriya-kun had a low fever, and Bakugou-kun had a first-degree burn on his left leg and five gunshot wounds—two of which required immediate surgery to remove the bullets. He also had minor damage to his lungs, which thankfully was reversed with only moderate difficulty, but," Dr. Banno paused, directing her next words to Kacchan, "You will probably feel like you have pneumonia for a few days."

Kacchan dragged a hand across his chest with a half-hearted shrug. Five penalties, Izuku thought morosely.

"Now," she said, turning her attention fully to Izuku. "Your arm. As you are probably aware, you suffered third-degree burns up the length of your right arm, partially healed by unorthodox methods. This was uncharted territory for us, as we were unfamiliar with the substance you were submerged in."

Izuku's stomach curdled. Is that why he couldn't feel his arm? Why couldn't he feel his arm? Was he going to lose it after all?

"According to your records, the ligaments in that arm were already under extreme stress, after severe injuries sustained over your summer break."

"Hah??" Kacchan snapped, at the same time as Izuku's soft, "I know."

"But I have good news," the doctor continued, ignoring Kacchan. "Not only did it allow us to move forward with skin graft surgery immediately, but there were additional benefits. The material penetrated through your damaged flesh to your ligaments, and they have been given a second life, as it were."

The steady beeping proved otherwise, but Izuku swore his heart stopped.

"Wh-what?"

"It's not a complete, one-hundred percent reversal, and you'll still do well to avoid taking that kind of damage in the future. But your ligaments are in much better shape now than they were before this."

Inko covered her mouth with her hand.

Izuku felt dizzy. "Why can't I feel it?"

"We are numbing it to mitigate the pain; it's about time for me to administer another dose of the local anesthetic."

"Oh," he breathed.

"I think it's time for us to go," Mitsuki announced, nudging her husband aside to grab the handles of Kacchan's wheelchair. Kacchan glared at her, but didn't resist. If Izuku was being honest, it looked like Kacchan was struggling to keep himself awake.

"No, wait—"

Selfish, selfish.

"Izuku," his mother said softly, coming over to stand by his bedside. "The doctor needs to work, and you both need to rest. You'll see Katsuki-kun again soon."

Izuku wilted as he watched Kacchan get wheeled out of his room, their reunion unsatisfactory and cut short. He was already anxious about being separated again.

The lights were on and there were people in his room but Izuku was alone in the dark.

---

"Deku-kun!!"

Izuku looked up from where he was trying to set up his new phone left-handed. Uraraka, Iida and Todoroki stood in the doorway, arms laden with flowers and toys with colorful ribbons spilling up into huge, cheerful balloons above their heads.

"Everyone!" Izuku squeaked. He dropped the phone onto his bedside table; the whole reason he had been setting it up was for the people in front of him now.

"Everyone wanted to be here, I assure you, Midoriya-kun!" Iida barked, waving his arms as best he could under the gifts. "But due to the policy of this hospital and out of respect for your health, only a fraction of us are present!"

Uraraka pushed past him, shaking her head. "Kirishima-kun will come by later, he's with Bakugou-kun right now." She dumped her armful of color onto the foot of Izuku's bed. The balloons and a few stray All Might plushes floated to the ceiling. "Oops," she giggled, tapping her fingers together to drop the toys down to earth. Picking up one of them, she hesitated at Izuku's bedside, her smile faltering. Big, brown eyes glazed over as she stared down at him. "Deku-kun, I—"

Izuku tried to say something, but his throat was entirely closed. He was eternally grateful that none of his other friends had been taken. To see them standing before him, hale and hearty, was so incredibly relieving it took his breath away.

Todoroki waved.

Hiding her face behind the toy, Uraraka hiccuped on a quiet sob. "Deku-kun, I'm so sorry, I should have reported it sooner, but I thought—you'd been working so hard, you could use the r-rest a-and, and—"

"Uraraka-kun," Iida gasped, still struggling to gesture around the flowers in his arms. "This isn't what we discussed!"

Izuku flailed his free arm frantically. "Wah, it's okay! It's okay!" he cried, despite nothing about his situation being okay. "You still reported us missing!! You saved us, Uraraka-san!"

"But it could have been sooner," she nearly wailed, muffled by the stuffed toy her face was pressed into.

"I think this is having the opposite effect it's supposed to," Todoroki said flatly, depositing his bag of goods at Izuku's feet.

"Todoroki-kun!!" Iida looked like he was about to pop a vein.

Izuku's heart swelled and he couldn't help but laugh, wet and broken but genuine. His friends were a mess, just like he was, and he loved them. He pressed his forearm over his eyes to shield his burgeoning tears from view. "Please, everyone, it's fine," he squeezed out from behind it, scrubbing at his face. "I'm just so h-happy to see you."

Uraraka lowered the toy, peeking out between All Might's hair antenna. Her eyes swam. "Oh, Deku-kun," she warbled, before flinging the toy aside and launching herself onto Izuku's chest. He squawked, startled, composing himself only just enough to dissolve into a blubbering mess himself once the girl started crying on top of him.

Iida's arm chopping finally stilled and Todoroki began artfully arranging all of the gifts they had brought.

For some people, having friends is a given, a constant, a fact of life. They take them for granted or worse take advantage, because these people feel they are entitled to friendship. A god-given right. Midoriya Izuku knew he wasn't entitled to anyone's friendship. He knew that fact very well.

Izuku should have felt like one of the most unlucky people in the world. But in that moment, he could hardly believe he had people in his life who cared about him at all, let alone as much as these people did.

He was extremely fortunate.

---

Izuku's next two visitors were very welcome and not-quite-so-much, respectively. The tall, gaunt form of the retired Symbol of Peace, although projecting concern from behind sunken eyes, would never not cause a surge of comfort and joy for Izuku. His companion, although always friendly and polite, only ever showed up after the worst circumstances. It was hard not to see him as a harbinger of misfortune, even if it was Izuku himself that had brought it in the first place.

"All Might! Tsukauchi-san," Izuku greeted, as warmly as he could manage, pushing himself into a higher seated position. His arm, freed from its previous suspension, now hung from his neck, tucked tight against his chest. Feeling had returned, and it hurt—but nothing like the bone-deep ache that had been clawing its way across his collarbone before it was reconstructed.

Izuku tried to smile. If the detective was here, it could only mean he had questions for Izuku. Questions he probably didn't want to answer.

Was Kacchan going to be brought in? Were they going to be questioned separately?

It still all seemed so detached, fake. What they had gone through was so extreme it was hard to wrap his head around. Had it even happened? If Izuku were to be interrogated, it would make it real. Would force Izuku to acknowledge it had happened.

Would force him to acknowledge what had happened.

"Midoriya, my boy," All Might boomed, his big voice easily filling the room and at least somewhat melting Izuku's worries away. An effervescent feeling curled around him, like inhaling saltwater breezes at the shore. Everything was alright, because All Might was here. "You're already looking better!"

"Y-yeah?" Izuku hadn't seen himself, but nor had he seen All Might yet at all. So if All Might had seen him while he was unconscious, he could only imagine what that had looked like. Just about anything would be an improvement.

"Definitely," the detective confirmed, adding yet another person who had seen Izuku while he was out. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, this not being anything close to a run-of-the-mill hospital stay.

"It's… I still have it," Izuku said vaguely, without preamble. Both of these men knew about One For All, and would likely be concerned about its current status. Although it had been suppressed during their imprisonment, Izuku had been able to call up his inherited quirk during the final confrontation. It slept now within his skin and himself.

"We know," All Might said, waving a hand, dismissing Izuku's misplaced concern. "We were assured that both of your quirks were still intact. That's not what I—It's not why I—" his words and his smile faltered, slipping from his face and letting his worry come through in deep creases and lines. Like Aizawa, All Might's edges seemed frayed; the stress of the last several days had taken its toll on the retired hero, and he had enough health complications to begin with. "I just wanted to see you. And to apologize."

All Might held up both of his large hands to cut off Izuku's sputtering rebuttal before it even began. "Please. Just allow me this. I am responsible for you, and I neither prepared you for nor protected you from what happened."

"The fact of the matter is," Tsukauchi began gently, "This is entirely unprecedented. Never before in UA's history, or really in any other hero school's, have attacks been this targeted, this frequent or this catastrophic. The League has all but declared war on the school."

"All of this beginning at the same time as my employment is not a coincidence."

Izuku's eyebrows shot up. "All Might! Surely you don't mean you're going to quit?!" Having his idol and mentor on the school's faculty had been a constant since the school year started— for the entirety of Izuku's new life— and Izuku didn't want to think about going forward without him.

"No, no," All Might answered with a slow shake of his head. "I'm afraid it's too late for that. That would do nothing to deter the League's fixation, now that they've set their sights on you two. We will have to expect and endure it, and furthermore be prepared next time."

Next time? Izuku glanced down at his arm in its sling. It should have been an entirely negative thing. But… against all odds he had not only survived this encounter, he had somehow recovered during it. Because of it. Izuku wasn't sure how to feel about that.

On top of… other things gained.

The detective pulled the visitor chair over and sat down, drawing a pad of paper and a pen out of his tan overcoat. "I don't want to take up much more of your time. If it's alright with you, I have just a few questions. You don't have to answer anything you're uncomfortable with."

Izuku drew back into his pillows. This was expected, routine. But it still didn't make it any easier. "Don't you already have the, ah, security footage? O-or whatever it was? Aizawa-sensei had said—"

"Yes," Tsukauchi confirmed with a click of his pen. "But we still have questions that might not be answered by it. Again, you don't have to respond to anything that you don't want to. This is just to help with our investigation; you aren't on trial here."

"It's fine," Izuku murmured. "I w-want to help."

"Thank you." All three of them passed apprehensive glances around, until All Might gave an encouraging nod.

"Can you recount your Friday night for me?"

Wracking his brain, Izuku tapped a finger against his bottom lip. It seemed a lifetime away. "It wasn't anything special. I had dinner with Todoroki-kun, sparring with Uraraka-san, and then spent the rest of the evening studying with Iida-kun. I don't remember exactly when I went back to my dorm, but I think it was after ten. I was on my phone—um, the internet on my phone—until I went to bed."

The pen scratching against the paper was the only sound in the room.

"Before Friday, had you ever heard of or encountered a man by the name of Maki Taigen?"

Izuku frowned. "No."

"What about by the name 'Hypothesis'?"

Izuku shook his head.

The detective leafed a photograph out of his notepad and handed it over. Izuku's fingertips had barely brushed the stiff edges before he recoiled, the flimsy square hitting his thigh before fluttering to the floor. Beady eyes behind thick glasses, an eager expression, a sick smile. The man that had stripped him, forced him into a glorified fish tank, and made lab experiments out of him and Kacchan both. A dead man. Izuku's heart beat erratically, thankfully no longer projected for anyone outside of his own rib cage.

"Sorry," Tsukauchi apologized quickly, ducking to recover the photograph. "I didn't mean to surprise you. But you've never met him before this?"

"Never," Izuku whispered, his voice small and tight.

The man nodded, his face grim. "Had anyone from The League attempted to contact you since the last time we spoke?"

Izuku continued to shake his head, feeling the hot beads of tears swelling at the corners of his eyes. He wasn't being helpful at all.

"Okay," Tsukauchi nodded, slipping his pen back into his pad and standing up. "That's it. Sorry again. I know this is terribly distressing, I really appreciate you answering my questions."

All Might had been wringing his hands during the entire exchange. He stepped forward, hesitantly placing one overtop of Izuku's curls. Izuku's neck compressed with the weight of it, but still he leaned into the touch, feeling entirely drained. From three, four questions.

"I'll be going, then," Tsukauchi said quickly as he curled his hat atop his head. "Thanks again."

Izuku said nothing, nodding his goodbye, not trusting his thick throat with speech. Tears shook free onto the hospital bed.

All Might stayed with him long after the detective had departed.

---

Visiting hours were long over by the time Izuku received his final guest.

"Oi, you should be asleep."

Izuku twisted from his kneeling position on the foot of his bed, where he had been picking through his gifts and toys just to give his wired brain something to focus on. Something other than the last four days, something other than the boy backlit in his doorway.

"So should you, Kacchan." Izuku swung his legs over the edge. "Were you just going to come watch me sleep, then?"

With a soft snort, Kacchan rolled his IV stand into the darkness, letting the door pinch out the hallway brightness and noise. He shuffled over, leaning more on the thin metal pole than he was probably supposed to—until he was standing before Izuku, only his edges illuminated by the low hospital lights.

And they were finally, finally alone.

Izuku's heart lodged itself in his throat. He was rarely ever at a loss for words, as rambling and disjointed as they often were, but now he found none. What now?

"Can I sit? I'm fucking dead on my feet, here."

"Oh!" Izuku nearly jumped off the bed. "Of course!"

But instead of dropping into the chair, Kacchan hoisted himself up onto Izuku's bed, ducking under and rearranging their IV lines.

"Um. Are you even supposed to be walking around?"

"Nope."

"Ah." Izuku fiddled with the strap on his sling.

"Deku. Look at me."

Turning, Izuku found himself caught. Caught by those searing red eyes, even in the dim light. Caught by that blinding everything that was Kacchan. Was there any future where he could be kept?

"What's going on? You've been giving me bug-eyes since we got out."

Izuku licked his dry lips. He was never good at hiding anything from Kacchan; he might as well get it over with.

He took a deep breath.

"S-sorry, I—It's just, I'm still kind of reeling, and, well—I know that there's, um, video, but—b-but, I won't say anything, and I don't think Aizawa-sensei will either, so, so. If you want to just forget everything," Izuku swallowed, the words physically paining him as they fell from his lips like shattered glass. "That's—well, I understand."

"Well I fucking don't," Kacchan snarled, snatching Izuku's left arm and yanking him across the bed, until their noses were practically touching. Izuku squeaked. "The hell, Deku? You telling me all that shit meant nothing?"

"No!" Izuku protested, arching his spine to prevent toppling into Kacchan. Without the use of either arm he couldn't even flail. "Of course not! I just didn't think you'd—Sorry! Sorry!"

"Would you stop that? Fuck!" Kacchan shook him, his intense eyes boring holes right through his skull. "Couldn't even get my own apology out without you shoving your own back in my face! Deku," he growled, dropping his voice, his expression pained. "Deku, I don't know how to say this shit, but all that wound up mattering to me back there was keeping you with me. I can't leave that behind. I—I don't want to."

"Oh," Izuku breathed, feeling familiar wetness trickle down his cheeks. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, elated. His poor overworked heart was just about beating right out of his chest. Kacchan was so close, and… and he wanted to be. Izuku trembled as he whispered, "Wh-what now?"

"Fuck if I know," Kacchan said with a hint of a snort. "I could smash my teeth into yours one more time."

Izuku felt his face warm under cooling teartracks. "It—It wasn't that bad!"

"Yeah?" Kacchan's voice was low and rough.

"Y-yeah," Izuku's was hardly audible at all.

Red eyes flicked down.

"We could try it again, then."

The words between their lips had hardly any distance to travel. With no room left for doubt, Izuku closed it, pressing his mouth against the one waiting for him. It was only their second kiss (third, if you count the mouth-to-mouth), so it was still new and uncharted. But this one was far slower, more gentle. They had all the time in the world.

"And again," Kacchan said quietly, drawing away for only a moment before melding their lips back together.

Kacchan was so warm. So incredibly warm and he tasted like caramel and salt. Their hands fumbled for each other, gripping hospital gowns and faces and hair, unsure and unskilled but needing, seeking, wanting.

"And again. I'm gonna be the best at this, too."

Izuku had almost lost his life, had almost lost Kacchan—which was effectively the same thing. It was horrifying and wonderful and overwhelming; he suddenly realized the salt he was tasting was his own, the dam broken and flowing from his eyes like a flood.

"Crybaby," Kacchan huffed, his voice thick and raw and his own eyes moist. His rough palms held Izuku's face, thumbs swiping through the torrent in vain.

"I—I'm happy, Kacchan," Izuku warbled. "It's just so much. It's so much."

Expression softening, Kacchan not-so-gently pulled the green mop of curls under his chin, arms crossed behind Izuku's neck. "I know," he rumbled.

Izuku bit back a sob, trying to hold himself together as that burnt sugar draped over him like a blanket. "What happened was bad, but this is good. Right? Did—Did this only happen because—"

"No," Kacchan barked, arms tensing. "This is despite that. Not because of it."

"Okay," Izuku said shakily. He gripped Kacchan's hospital gown, the thin material crinkling in his fist. "Okay."

Okay.

Kacchan pulled Izuku out of his arms, holding him steady again with warm hands on wet cheeks. His eyes flicked back and forth. "Oi, did he… do anything to you?"

"Huh?"

"Rat-face. Shit Science Man or whatever the fuck he called himself. When he put you in the tank, did he… try any funny shit?"

Izuku's mouth formed a silent Oh.

"You don't have to tell me, I just… was left alone with my thoughts, and—I'd fucking kill him if I hadn't already if he—"

"No, no," Izuku interrupted, trying to shake his head in Kacchan's palms. "I mean, I d-don't really remember; I know he undressed and dressed me, but. It was very, uh, clinical. I couldn't do it myself."

He dropped his voice and his gaze. In the daylight tomorrow it might be hard to talk about, but now, in the dark, in Kacchan's hands, Izuku shared his fears with the only person capable of receiving them. "The worst part was actually when it was f-filling. I couldn't move, the wires must have switched off my motor functions, and even with the breathing mask I thought I was just waiting to drown again. But, so, so much worse that time, since you weren't there."

Fingertips pressed into the sides of Izuku's skull. "That guy fucking sucked," Kacchan hissed.

"He really did," Izuku said with a mirthless laugh.

Wrapping the fingers of his left hand around Kacchan's forearm, his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his face further into that big right palm. His inheritance, his quirk, his deadly weapon. Capable of the ultimate destruction, and of delicately brushing curls from a feverish forehead. "Thank you, by the way. I know you don't want me to apologize, but I'm sorry you had to do it."

"I'm not."

Izuku opened his eyes. Kacchan traced a line down Izuku's jaw with the fingers of his left hand, moving down to his neck, lightly pressing against its pulse. "This was more important."

"Kacchan, don't—"

"Shut up."

Izuku shut up.

"I'm not sorry I killed him. Maybe it's gonna fuck me up, I don't know. Aizawa said they've got therapists and shit. Fine. Whatever. But I'm not the first hero to kill a villain, and I'd do it again. I will do it again, if it's you or them."

"Kacchan," Izuku squeezed out, shaking his head. "Don't—You shouldn't—"

"Would you kill for me?"

Izuku's heart seized. "Without hesitation," he said quietly.

"Then we're both fucked up." One side of Kacchan's mouth curled up in a smirk. Even in a hospital gown in the dark, he was devilishly handsome.

With a wet laugh that morphed into a yawn, Izuku scrubbed at his face. "Guess so. But I don't think that's new."

Kacchan snorted. He flipped Izuku's IV line over his head and slipped off of the bed, shifting his weight onto the waiting metal stand with a rattle. Before he departed, he leaned over, depositing one last featherlight kiss on Izuku's lips. "Goodnight, nerd."

Izuku watched him go until he was left alone in darkness. And yet, he felt anything but.

"Goodnight, Kacchan."

*

*

Epilogue

Things didn't go back to normal, because Izuku and Katsuki had never been normal, and their new normal was even further from it.

But they eventually settled into 'familiar enough'.

Classes resumed after a short break, and both boys were eased back into them with minor difficulty. 'Therapists and shit' started a week later.

On the surface, nothing changed. They still fought tooth and nail during combat matchups, yelling obscenities and goading insults. They sat at separate lunch tables. Had separate friends. Katsuki still teased Izuku and Izuku pushed right back.

But things were different if you knew where to look. Katsuki stopped screaming Die at inanimate objects. Izuku's compression sleeve now extended to his wrist. And they spent almost every minute outside of class with each other.

"Sure you're ready?"

Izuku nodded, jaw set and lips pressed firmly together. He nodded a second time.

"Oi," Kacchan said quietly, placing his warm palm on Izuku's bare waist. "We don't have to do this today. Just say the word and we'll fucking stop."

"No, we can do this. We have to do this. I'm ready." Izuku looked up into burning red eyes. He was trembling slightly but he swallowed, determined. "Besides, I owe you a race."

"Midoriya-chan! Bakugou-chan!"

Asui waved a long-fingered hand from her position at the center of the pool. She didn't really need to be there, but her reassuring presence helped set him at ease nonetheless.

"Coming, Asu—Tsuyu-chan!!"

Kacchan squeezed Izuku's hip before hopping down and into the water gracefully with hardly a splash. Izuku sat himself on the edge of the pool. With a deep breath and a glance at Kacchan's furrowed brow, he stuck his feet in, water lapping at the tops of his shins. It was cold and unpleasant even in the afternoon sun and it made his skin crawl. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey," Kacchan reached up to grab Izuku's knee. "Stay with me."

"I'm fine," Izuku breathed. "This is the easy part." He twisted and lowered himself into the water, stomach clenching as the oppressive liquid swallowed him slowly. It went up to his shoulders and Izuku began to breathe heavily until a solid grip closed around his bicep.

"Still good? Need me to chuck you out of the pool?"

Izuku laughed, and it melted away some of the anxiety closing tight around him.

"You can do this, Deku," Kacchan said softly, in a voice reserved only for Izuku. "You're amazing."

"Stop," Izuku mumbled, turning his red face away.

Kacchan floated closer. His wet skin bumped against Izuku, still warm even in the cool water. "Now you know how I feel. Get fucking used to it, nerd."

Izuku's arms came up to wrap around his face automatically, letting go of the edge of the pool in the process.

He slipped under the water.

The first thing he noticed was the silence, then the overwhelming pressure. Cold and dark and thick and sparkling and suffocating. The panic under his breastbone spiked, but before it could fully unfurl, Kacchan's hands on his elbows brought him back down and oh, it was just water.

It's just water.

Surfacing with a splash, Izuku clung to Kacchan, shivering, shaking, smiling.

"Oi, oi, you good?"

"Yes!" Izuku flung his arms around Kacchan's neck, scattering droplets, capturing his mouth with his own. The water still felt sick and wrong, but it was just water and what was water when Izuku had Kacchan? Kacchan whose warm lips pushed back, whose warm fingers dug into Izuku's damp curls, whose warm body pressed Izuku into the slick concrete.

"Do you still need me for this, kero?"

"Sorry! Sorry, Tsuyu-chan," Izuku laughed, pushing away from Kacchan and paddling over to his lane, his fear reduced to a low buzz. Still there, but manageable. "I'm ready now."

"Yeah?" Kacchan quirked an eyebrow at Izuku, backstroking into place. He grinned. "Ready to eat my wake, Deku?"

Izuku smiled sweetly. "If you're ready to eat those words, Kacchan."

Asui raised a dripping flag out of the water. "Ready!"

Kacchan's grin widened, feral and full of teeth.

"Set!"

Izuku's mouth pulled into a determined line.

The flag snapped down. "Go!"

And they took off.

Together.

Chapter End Notes

the end!

can you believe this was originally a 3k oneshot that ended with Aizawa showing up after the first puzzle and saying 'Congrats problem children you passed' and it was just a fucked up UA test? the only reason I even started writing this was because I thought I could bang it out quickly. Oops.

I hope you enjoyed this!!! If you liked it, PLEASE TELL ME! (even if it's like years after this posted!) If you *really* liked it, TELL SOMEONE ELSE! Once this drops below the front page it's gonna sink (heh) into obscurity, and it really REALLY means a lot to me and all writers when readers share our work. Thank you.

an extra, extra special thank you with sugar sprinkles to my regular commenters, and those who left me novel-sized comments. You really make this worth it. I couldn't do this without you.

but to EVERYONE: THANKS FOR READING!!!! please come yell at me on twitter, link below! Thank you! Thank you!

UPDATE: Nami on Twitter was so kind to draw amazing art for this fic!!!! You can see it here!

UPDATE UPDATE: the art you see here in this final chapter was commissioned from the ILLUSTRIOUS Yuki, whom you can and should find on Twitter and Tumblr!

Afterword

End Notes

Universal End of Fic Note: I am not looking for critique, and asking for more/updates/sequels or pointing out how long it's been since I've updated just makes me sad and less motivated. I do not respond to individual comments but I read and appreciate each one!!! If you would like a response or have a specific question, you can reach me on twitter or my curiouscat. The status of what I'm currently working on can be found here. Thanks for reading!!

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