Chapter 27: Circling the drain
The first thing I felt was pain. Excruciating, all-consuming pain that threatened to pull me back into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. I wanted to stay there, submerged in that quiet, peaceful oblivion, floating peacefully. But the aches and sharp stabs radiating through my body are insistent, dragging me back to the shores of awareness. Defeated, I tried to take stock of what hurt the most, but quickly realized the better question was what didn't hurt.
My head pounds like a drum, every beat sending a fresh wave of agony washing through me. My back feels like it's been lashed with a whip. I try to move my arms but they remain terrifyingly numb. I could tell my legs were still attached, but I couldn't muster the strength to move them more than a twitch. It almost felt like I was in motion, but that easily could have been the dizziness and disorientation clouding my senses.
Suddenly, my body jerked as the movement abruptly ceased, causing the pain to flare up with renewed intensity. A low groan echoed in my ears, and it took me a moment to realize that the pitiful sound had originated from my own raw throat. Mustering every ounce of strength I possessed, I fought against the leaden weight of my eyelids, struggling to pry them open. When did the simple act of opening one's eyes become such a Herculean task?
When I finally managed to crack them open a sliver, the first sight that greeted me was Kacchan's haggard face hovering above me. His features were drawn and pale, dark shadows smudged beneath his bloodshot eyes as if he hadn't slept in a week. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, yet his expression was etched with deep concern.
I parted my cracked lips, desperate to ask him what had happened, but all that escaped was a wheezing breath. My tongue feels thick and heavy in my mouth, refusing to cooperate. Undeterred, I try again, but the effort sent a searing pain tearing through my throat, as if I had swallowed a mouthful of razor-sharp cactus needles.
"Don't try to talk yet, you idiot," he grumbles as he helps me drink some water, but there's no real heat behind his words. The first sip of cool water is both a relief and agony as it slides down my parched throat. After a few more gulps, I feel like I can breathe a bit easier, but trying to speak still seems impossible.
"The great Midoriya Izuku silenced? I never thought I'd see the day." he quips, but the teasing feels forced, strained. I attempt to muster up a glare in response, but the small movement drains what little energy I have, leaving me even more exhausted than before. How can I feel this weak when I only just woke up?
Trying to get my sluggish brain to cooperate, I take in our surroundings, searching for something, anything familiar to latch onto. But no matter how hard I try, I can't recall this place at all. I don't even know if this is real or dream.
"Where are...we?" I rasped, my voice sounding weak, almost foreign to me. I glanced around in a feverish haze, my mind swimming with a thousand unanswered questions. The last clear memory I have is of... OH NO. Shigaraki...white lava...vomit...blood...camp fire ... wait. There's no trace of ashes or burnt wood here, no scent of wood smoke lingering in the air.
Where was Shigaraki? What had just happened? Each thought jolted me into a heightened state of awareness, but with that clarity came a draining fatigue that weighed heavily on my limbs. I felt my energy slipping away like sand through my fingers, and as the confusion set in deeper, I chose to hold my tongue and let Kacchan break the silence, hoping he would fill in the blanks that felt so painfully empty in my mind.
He jerks his chin toward the rushing stream a few meters away, its clear waters a stark relief against the chaos in my mind. "Below the cliff, near the stream." I frowned, the words taking longer than usual to sink in. "How?" How had we escaped him? Was he still close behind us, lurking in the shadows? Exhaustion hung heavy on Kacchan's face—was that what had drained him? "When?" My thoughts raced, trying to stitch together the fragments of our last moments. The last thing I remembered was a disorienting darkness. How had we found our way here?
Kacchan rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. "Nuh-uh. I answered your question already; now you answer mine. Can you keep it down?" He waved a small bottle of Actortium extract in front of me, the contents swirling ominously. I nodded wearily, my body too drained to protest even as dread curled in my stomach. I knew the medicine would help with the infection, but did it really make a difference if the person was coughing up blood? That article had left so much unanswered.
Gathering what little strength I had, I asked again, "How did we get here?" The words came out almost meekly, and I felt a flicker of anxiety. "I carried you, moron. How else?" Kacchan's bluntness hit me like a wall. As the weight of his words sank in, a wave of guilt crashed over me, so heavy that it felt like I was being pulled under the surface of a dark ocean. My chest tightened, and I could feel the warmth of tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision. A lump formed in my throat as the reality of my situation bore down on me.
"Why?... Why didn't you just leave me?" I sobbed, my voice muffled and shaky as hot tears streamed down my cheeks, wetting my hands that were trembling in front of my face. The shame of it all felt unbearable, and I fought against the urge to let the sobs break free. "I've become such a burden."
Can't he see it? How am I ever going to become a hero if I can't even stand on my own? What kind of hero am I? All the fear, the doubt—the endless questions swirling in my mind—merged into this one moment where I felt utterly lost. In a dark corner of my mind, I thought maybe he should have just abandoned me. I am a lost cause, an injured mess that would only hold him back. Completing the assignment is what matters the most right now; it is what he needs to focus on. Why is he still here with me? Why is he putting himself in danger for someone like me?
I always wanted to be strong, to protect my friends and stand tall alongside them, but right now, I am just a hurdle in his path—a burden weighing him down. "I'm so sorry..." I choked out between sobs, each word laced with remorse.
"I AM NOT LEAVING YOU BEHIND, DAMN IT" he roared. "You might be a burden, but don't you ever fucking say I'm not strong enough to carry your sorry ass. I'm going to be the number one hero, and I'll never leave a man behind. Not even a useless nerd like you. Got it?" He flicked my forehead lightly, but his touch felt like it ignited a spark of hope.
A weak, wobbly smile fought its way to my lips despite the darkness swirling around us. I opened my mouth to ask about my bag—my lifeline in this overwhelming chaos—but I doubled over in a violent coughing fit that wracked my body, the pain snapping me back to reality. Kacchan, unfazed and relentless, pressed a bottle to my lips. I took a few tentative sips, the hot water soothing my raw throat like a gentle balm.
"Thanks, Kacchan," I managed, my voice feeling a little stronger now as the warmth spread through me. "I think I can walk on my own. You don't need to carry me anymore." I said, sheepishly, to reassure him as well as myself that I wouldn't be a burden for much longer.
"Shut the fuck up," he shot back, barely missing a beat. "No one asked for your opinion. I'm not letting you slow us down even more. And YOU will follow MY command. Remember?" I couldn't help but smile at his antics and nodded, grateful for his stubbornness, even if it felt like a double-edged sword.
"Good. Now hold still while I check your wound," he said, reaching for the bandage like it was only a minor inconvenience. Panic shot through me. "No!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of my fear. I can't let him see the wound; I am already coughing blood, and the skin around the stitches felt hot and inflamed. If he see that, he will know just how bad things really are, and I can't do that to him. I had promised him that I would start walking, that I wouldn't be a burden. Yet, here we are—he is the one carrying me.
I scrambled for an excuse, my mind racing. "No, wait! Please, Kacchan, I'm so tired... I don't want you poking at it again. The pain finally came down to a bearable level. Can't we just rest a bit longer, please?" I pleaded with all the sincerity I could muster.
"Tch, fine. We'll take a short break," he relented, his voice lifting the heavy veil of anxiety just slightly. "But you better not fucking die on me, you hear?"
"I'll do my best," I replied with a sigh, the weight of exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. Minutes ticked by in a tense silence, filled with unspoken words and guarded thoughts. Finally, I mustered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at me.
"Kacchan... where's my bag?" I prompted, my voice weak but determined. When he didn't respond, I weakly grasped his arm, pulling him back to my reality. "Kacchan... my bag. Where is it?" His response came muffled.
"What?" I pressed, my heart pounding. "It was too damn heavy, okay?" he snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes. "I couldn't lug around my pack, your useless body, AND your bag. I had to ditch it."
At his words, a rush of disbelief washed over me, constricting my chest like a vise. How could he do this? He knew how important that bag was to me, didn't he? In my bag was my lucky charm, the one thing that always gave me strength when I felt weak - my All Might figurine. And now, it was gone, cast aside because of him. Anger flickered in my heart, mingling with a deep sadness that threatened to drown me.
Can I really blame him? I had been the one unconscious, helplessly draped over his shoulder—completely unable to carry my own weight. The realization hit me like a crushing wave. I can't hold this against him. Yet, I can't shake the urgency that surged within me.
I need my bag. I would bring it back. I would find a way to make it right.
I gathered what little strength I had and tried to push myself up. An unfamiliar energy surged through me at the thought of bringing back my lucky charm. But as I move, darkness swirls at the edge of my vision, creeping in like an unwelcome shadow, threatening to pull me under once more. My legs tremble beneath me, and I can feel the world tilting, blurring into a hazy miasma of fear and exhaustion.
Kacchan try to push me back down, his hands pressing firmly against my shoulders. But I bat his hands away with a renewed urgency. My heart races, each beat echoing my resolve, drowning out the pain and the darkness threatening to swallow me whole.
"I have everything we need right here." he yells, gesturing to his own bag. "What's so damn important that you're willing to kill yourself over it?"
"You wouldn't understand. I need my bag. Just leave me alone." He never could see the value in things that weren't physically productive. The world tilted dangerously again, a barrage of dizziness threatening to pull me down, but before I could lose my balance completely, Kacchan grabbed my hand, steadying me with a fierce grip. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.
"Yeah? Try me, Tell you what, I looked in your precious bag, Deku. There was nothing important in there. So what are you hiding, huh?"
"I want my lucky charm, my All Might figurine, you jerk!" I shout, the words bursting forth like a dam breaking, hot tears streaming down my cheeks as I tried to convey the gravity of it all. Didn't he remember? How could he not understand? It wasn't just a stupid toy; it was the last one he gave me in our childhood before things took a turn for worse, when dreams felt so much closer.
He looked at me as if I had lost my mind, his brows furrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious right now? You're telling me a dumb action figure is more important than completing our assignment? Than your dream?" He mocked, his tone sharp and dismissive.
"YES!" My voice boomed, raw and desperate. "It's more than just a toy! It's a reminder...a symbol of our friendship!" I could see the stunned expression on his face, and for an instant, I felt a flicker of triumph. Good. How could he forget that figurine?
But as I tried to turn away from him, to stumble toward where I hoped I could find my bag, the ground seemed to sway and tilt beneath my feet. I blinked hard, trying to clear the spots dancing across my vision, but it was no use. A brutal wave of dizziness crashed over me and my knees buckled, no longer able to support my weight.
I pitched forward helplessly as the unforgiving ground rushed up to meet me. The impact forced the air from my lungs in an agonized gasp that morphed into a fit of painful, rattling coughs. I felt his hands steadying me as I struggled to suck in a proper breath, the world fading in and out of focus.
"Use your head for once, you idiot nerd," Kacchan said, his voice sharper now, slicing through the haze of pain. "Was it truly a lucky charm at all? After all we survived, after all the near escapes, do you really believe that some dumb piece of plastic is what saved us? That we were just lucky? You almost…" He stopped, his eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something sorrowful, something I couldn't quiet understand. I wanted to retort, to unleash the storm of emotions raging inside me, but the look on his face silenced me.
"It's not just some dumb piece of plastic, Kacchan," I began, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to convey the depth of my feelings. "It's...it's a symbol. Of our friendship." I paused, searching for the right words, my heart racing. "Of everything we used to be."
"Deku, that figurine...it's not some magic talisman, okay? It's not what's been keeping you alive out here. That's all you. Your strength, your determination, your annoyingly persistent will to survive." His voice is uncharacteristically soft, but a flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Did he really believe that? Or is he just saying those things to stop me from going back?
"Please, Kacchan. I... I need that right now." My voice cracked as new tears spill over.
Frustration danced across his features as he started pacing, ruffling his hair in that all-too-familiar way. Then, he crouched down in front of me, his intensity shifting. "Then I'll get you a new one. A better one."
My heart skipped a beat. "Really?" I gasped, disbelief washing over me. Am I still dreaming? Did he just say he would get me one? Was he genuinely willing to replace something so important to me?
"Thanks, Kacchan," I murmured, not wanting to overthink it. I knew better than to press him for clarity. Asking again would probably be a bad decision. I didn't want to ruffle his feathers any more than I already had. I felt a swell of gratitude for this unexpected turn of events. Maybe getting injured had its perks after all; it opened doors I thought had long since closed.
He raised an eyebrow, a playful scowl settling on his lips. "What the hell are you thanking me for?"
"For being a good friend," I replied, the sincerity shining through despite my nerves.
"If you say anything like that again, you're dead," he retorts, crossing his arms. "And if you're as refreshed as you say, you'll have to stay awake. I don't want to get bored along the way. Now hop on. We have an assignment to complete."
I noticed a brief wince flicker across his face before he turned away, trying to mask the pain. I felt a rush of urgency; just because I was struggling to move didn't mean he had to bear the burden alone. A spark of inspiration ignited in my mind, and I couldn't help but suggest, "Actually, I have a better idea…"
With excitement bubbling inside of me, I launched into my plan. "What if you carry me and use your quirk to fly? That way, you won't have to put pressure on your leg, and we can cover a larger distance together!" Kacchan initially scoffed at the idea, of course—when does he ever agree right away?—but after a moment, he relented, his stubbornness yielding to my enthusiasm.
As the wind whipped around us, I concentrated intently on maintaining our balance. But oh boy, the first time we took off was nothing short of a jolting catastrophe! The moment we launched into the air, the force threw my stitches into chaos. "Ah!" I cried out in pain, and in an instant, Kacchan brought us spiraling back down to the ground, where we launched into a familiar argument. But I refused to give up.
"I'm fine. I just looked at the ground from above. It's okay, I will just stare at the back of your head" I lied because I am the problem. I need to keep my back straight and stiff to help us stabilize. The next attempt was slightly better, but then we decided to try again—this time with his bag slung over his front. Balancing was a disaster, and it felt like we were battling gravity itself. But, like every time, I came up with solutions.
Each trial forced me to take about fifteen minutes of rest, my body protesting loudly in pain. Thankfully, Kacchan was right there, and our bickering served as a welcome distraction from the growing ache throbbing in my side and chest.
After what felt like an eternity, I took a deep breath, gulped down some medicine, and announced, "I'm ready to go!" I even grabbed a cloth from his bag to muffle the coughs that were threatening to spill out as my chest tightened, making every inhale a challenge.
So we soared into the sky once more, and for a moment, everything was going surprisingly well. A sudden cramp in my stomach ambushed me from nowhere. I doubled over in agony and cried out, our balance faltering dangerously as I felt sharp, hot pain slice through me, like a knife stabbing repeatedly into my insides.
"Ka...Kacchan," I managed to choke out, desperation clawing at my throat. "C-Can we please...t-take a break?"
I heard him muttering a torrent of curses, but the words were lost on me, drowned out by the frenzied throbbing in my head. I felt the shift in altitude—a swift descent that made my heart race with both relief and dread.
Thank goodness.
With each passing second, it felt like I was suffocating, and my head was about to explode from the pressure building inside.
Breathe.
When we finally touched down, Kacchan helped me lean against a nearby boulder. The moment I settled, a jolt raced through my body, causing me to cry out. The impact jarred my injuries, and I winced. But Kacchan was right there, offering me a bottle of water. Taking a few quick sips calmed my stomach a little, providing a moment of comfort. However, when he waved the medicine bottles, I shook my head vehemently; just the sight of those liquids made my stomach twist and roll, threatening to spill its contents right there. Thankfully, he recognized the look on my face and didn't push the issue.
The throbbing in my head was a persistent, nagging pain, but just as I thought I might drown in it, Kacchan broke the silence with an unexpected question. "Do you have the latest limited edition All Might figurine battling Skrimpo?"
"What?" I blinked, taken aback by the randomness. But then the question began to sink in. "Yes! Yes, I have it!" I exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling up despite the pain. "I purchased it last week. It nearly cost me my kidneys. Hehe—" I quickly covered my mouth, but a fit of coughing escaped anyway, forcing me to turn away in an attempt to stifle it.
"Hmm," Kacchan replied. Oh, now I understood. He was trying to distract me from the pain, and despite the throbbing ache in my body, I felt a spark of gratitude for that.
"Do you...have it?" I ventured cautiously, still feeling fragile.
"No. I don't collect figurines. I'm not a kid anymore," he retorted, a hint of pride in his voice. "But I do collect All Might flash cards. It's a hobby for grown-ups."
"Really?" my curiosity piqued, excitement creeping back into my tone. "How many have you collected so far? I have fifty-six!"
"Hah. I have eighty-two. I beat you," he shot back, his chest puffing out with a hint of pride that only he could muster.
"Would you show them to me?" I asked eagerly, my mind shifting from pain.
"No way am I going to let your filthy hands touch them,"Kacchan shot back, and those words struck a chord deep inside me. It stung more than any physical injury I was nursing. "But I'll let you see them."
"Thanks, Kacchan." I attempted to smile, but it faltered, twisting into a grimace instead. Deep down, I knew he'd never actually let me look at them. A wave of pressure builts in my chest, rising and tightening painfully, and I can't quite tell if it is due to his jab or if something was horribly wrong with me.
As the urge to cough surge again, I turn away, pressing my mouth against my hand. The coughs fight to escape, quick and shallow, desperate and breathless as I struggle to suppress them.
"Don't stifle it," Kacchan urges, his tone softer than I expected.
"H'rts…" I whine, the turbulence in my body overwhelming.
"I know, but you need to let it out," he insists, placing a steadying hand on my back.
This time, I couldn't resist. Every instinct told me to obey because all I could think about was breathing. With a deep, shuddering breath, I finally relinquished control and let the coughs tumble from me. They erupted in a harsh, raspy cadence, each spasm jarring my body. The force of it seemed to siphon the very air from my lungs, collapses of desperate breaths rolling into one another.
It felt as if time stretched and contorted with each jagged burst. My stomach tightened painfully with every cough, the constriction sending fresh waves of ache radiating outward. I felt like I was caught in a riptide, gasping for air while the shadows around me threatened to engulf me.
I barely registered how long I was lost in the storm of my own making, gasping and wheezing, each cough leaving my throat raw and stinging. It felt almost eternal—like I was drowning in a flood of sound, unable to find my footing. In those frantic moments, I could sense the world blurring at the edges, everything fading into an indistinct backdrop of shapes and colors.
Finally, as if the fit had taken all its toll, the violent coughing subsided into a laborious wheeze. I lay there on the ground, utterly expended, my head swimming in a thick fog, as if I were floating far above the ground. My senses had begun to short-circuit; distant ringing sound echoed in my ears, and the world began to dim at the edges.
Desperation coiled around my heart. I couldn't muster the strength to pull in a full breath; it was all I could do to grasp at the remnants of air. Each shallow gasp was a battle until I felt myself shift. Kacchan's presence anchored me, his hand solid on my shoulders, a steady reminder that in the heart of this overwhelming sensation, I was not alone.