Chapter Text
Izuku frowned as he stepped off the plane, hand coming up to shield his eyes from the glaring sun.
The driver stood on the tarmac, sweltering from the muggy heat, and Izuku sighed at the sight. He was in Japan once again, and he wasn’t thrilled about it.
Aizawa had called him a few days ago, requesting that he come in to help on a sensitive case that had developed. Despite not living in Japan for eight years, Izuku was still remembered as one of the best meisters to graduate from Yuuei, and Aizawa personally calling him to work on a case was a sure-fire way to get him back in the country.
“Midoriya Izuku?” The driver asked as Izuku approached the car, and Izuku nodded, handing the man his single carry-on bag. He didn’t plan on this being a long visit. It was the middle of the school year, and his students were in the process of preparing to graduate from Death Weapon Meister Academy. Izuku hated to be away from them at such an important time, but he couldn’t say no when he knew he was needed. His students could survive with a substitute for a couple weeks.
That didn’t stop Izuku from checking his emails on his subsitute’s progress during the ride, however; and soon, they were pulling up to the front gates of Yuuei. It was nostalgic, in a way; Izuku experience some of his best memories in these halls. But those memories were also tainted by his own mistakes, ones that still affected him down to his bones.
Once they had stopped moving, he thanked the driver, grabbed his bag, and made his way into the school, heading to where he was supposed to meet Aizawa. The man’s office was in the same place it had always been. Izuku snickered. Aizawa was still a large creature of habit.
It was only once Izuku was in the office and Aizawa had fully explained why he had been called in that Izuku began to have major problems with being the meister requested for this mission.
“No,” Izuku said with finality.
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Midoriya—”
“I’m sorry, Aizawa-sensei, but if this is what you brought me back for, I’m going to have to decline. I’m not a meister anymore; I’m a teacher. You understand that, right?”
“You never stop being a meister once you’ve become one,” Aizawa said solemnly. “You know that better than most, particularly because you’re a teacher. And we need you on this mission, Midoriya.”
Izuku narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You have plenty of strong meisters here; why do you need me, specifically, when you haven’t in close to a decade?”
Aizawa pushed a file towards him, gesturing for him to open it. “That’s one of our former meisters who has—well, he’s been pushing the boundaries of what he should be doing.”
Izuku didn’t take the bait, not wanting to get sucked into this mission. He was far too curious for his own good, and Izuku knew that if he were to read over it, he would get sucked in and not be able to leave before he saw out the end. And Izuku didn’t even want to be here in the first place, despite having agreed to come as a favor to Aizawa.
“He’s already taken out two of our strongest duos, and he doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Three towns decimated, no survivors.”
Izuku’s fingers twitched on the folder, his interest rising, but he refrained from looking nonetheless. “That still doesn’t explain why you need me.”
Aizawa met his gaze. “The two of you are still our strongest duo to date.”
It didn’t take long for Izuku to figure out who Aizawa meant to pair him with, and Izuku was already halfway out of his chair before he started shaking his head. “No. Hell no.”
“Bakugou has already agreed—”
“But I haven’t!” Izuku shoved the file back towards Aizawa. “As the meister you’re requesting, I refuse. We don’t work well together and will only be a liability in the field.”
“You two are the only pair on record with an almost perfect success rate,” Aizawa pointed out tiredly, voice almost strained as he attempted to convince Izuku. “That doesn’t exactly show that you two don’t work well together.”
“Yes, on paper. But you remember what happened the last time we were in the same room,” Izuku snapped back, voice also growing tight as he tried to reel in his anger.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa warned.
Izuku took a steadying breath. Aizawa was still his elder, even if he was making Izuku want to tear his hair out. Still, he stayed firm. “I won’t do this. Find someone else.”
“There is no one else.”
Izuku frowned at Aizawa. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve seen reports of him working with other meisters, and there haven’t been any glaring issues. Why do I have to be the one paired with him? Can't Kirishima do it? They’ve been having a good run together.”
“Midoriya. You know why I'm pairing the two of you together.”
“That was years ago—!”
“Yes, but you're still one of the strongest soul resonances on record,” Aizawa snapped finally, his tone laced with frustration. “You two are the ones who made Bakugou a death scythe. You two are the ones who mastered using the dual Demon Hunter at fifteen. You two are the ones who took down Shigaraki and All for One with your parents. And now that Chisaki Kai is out there using that little girl to wreak havoc on our world, you and Bakugou are the only ones who have a chance of taking him down.”
Izuku looked away, knowing that Aizawa was right but refusing to accept it. He and Katsuki...it had been almost a decade since they saw each other last at Ochako’s engagement party to Ashido. Izuku had made a simple comment that ruined everything, turning an evening that was supposed to be for two of their best friends into the falling out of the century. It had sent Izuku running—fleeing to the DWMA in the States to take a teaching job he had begged for—and kept him away from his home.
A hand settled gently on his shoulder, bringing Izuku out of his thoughts. He could feel more than hear Aizawa sigh. “Midoriya,” he began, tone somewhere between exasperated and understanding, but Izuku didn’t want to hear it. He knew what Aizawa would say—and knew that it would be exactly what was needed for Izuku to accept the job—so he dropped his shoulder out from under his former teacher’s grasp and started walking out of the office.
He paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku murmured, refusing to look back. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on the man’s face. “I can’t do what you want me to do. You need to find another meister to wield Kac—Bakugou-san. I’m not the right person for this job.” With that, he exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
So, of course, it’s after that meeting that Izuku ran into Katsuki. Although, “runs into” is far too nice of a way to describe what actually happened. A better description of what happened would probably be “gets hunted down and screamed at by.”
“Why the fuck won’t you just stop being a pussy and partner up with me? Or do you not care about anybody here in Japan anymore, since you’ve moved to America and became too good for everyone here?”
Izuku inhaled sharply through his nose, glaring at the weapon standing in the doorway of his temporary housing. Shouto had set it up for him without asking for anything in return, just flashing his father’s credit card and giving Izuku a dry look when the green-haired man tried to offer to pay. It was humbling to know that he still had some friends here despite cutting off all contact for eight years.
But it was also infuriating because Katsuki standing outside of his door meant that Shouto had let it slip where Izuku was staying.
“It’s not any of your business,” Izuku began, voice even and devoid of any warmth, “But I have my reasons for not wanting to be put on this mission.”
Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re a little bitch that would rather run from your problems than put them to the side and do your job. Why don’t you just tell the truth and admit it’s because of me, asshole?”
“Okay,” Izuku said easily, face perfectly blank. “It’s because it’s you. Good night, Bakugou-san.” And with that, Izuku slammed the door in Katsuki’s surprised face, ending the conversation.
If only it was that easy. Izuku settled back onto the couch, pulling the previously discarded throw blanket over his lap as Katsuki began banging on the door, cursing and yelling demands to open the door back up as he wasn’t done. Izuku picked up the remote and unpaused his show, turning the volume up until it blocked out the noise. He smiled, closing his eyes to revel in the peace that came with the simple pleasures in life.
And then there was a loud cracking sound—thunderous, even over the blaring tv—startling Izuku into the foyer. He froze as he saw Katsuki’s superior grin through the hole in the door the blond had created with his scythe blade like he was in The Shining.
“Are you fucking insane?!” Izuku screeched at the top of his lungs, staring in disbelief. He didn’t think Katsuki was this crazy, but, of course, he always did have to prove Izuku wrong.
“Maybe if you opened the door, I wouldn’t have had to do it myself,” Katsuki replied mockingly, reaching his reverted hand in the hole and unlocking the door.
“What? No! Get out!” Izuku slapped his hand away from the doorknob, but wasn’t fast enough to lock it again before Katuski opened it. Izuku grunted from the edge of the door ramming into his sternum as he blocked it from opening more than a few inches, but he didn’t budge. Katsuki could fuck off and leave him alone.
“Seriously, Deku?” Katsuki growled, sounding like Izuku was being the unreasonable one. “Move out of the way before I move you myself!”
“No! This is my house and I’m not letting you in!”
“Your—you don’t actually live here, dumbass, this is an apartment for temporary visitors!”
“That’s what I am, asshole!” Izuku tried to push the door shut, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. Holy shit, how much did Katsuki weigh?
And, of course, it’s as soon as Izuku has that thought that Katsuki decided to shove the door open with a grunt, sending Izuku skidding backwards across the tiles. It was embarrassing that Izuku was still weak compared to Katsuki. The smug asshole just turned and closed the door, disregarding the glare Izuku was sending him.
“What part of ‘goodbye’ do you not understand?” Izuku hissed, throwing his hands up in the air.
“How about the part where you called me ‘Bakugou’?” Katsuki snapped back, turning to look at the shorter man.
Izuku raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That is your name; although I can think of a few others if that one isn't to your liking.”
Katsuki bared his teeth, and Izuku couldn't help but think he looked like a rabies-infected rat. “Listen here, dickhead, you haven't called me that ever, so why do you think—” Katsuki took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. I didn't come here to argue about stupid shit.”
“Too late,” Izuku muttered snidely.
Katsuki growled again. “Will you shut up for one second?!”
“No!” Izuku could feel his blood pressure rising, and knew his face had to be turning red from rage. “You broke into my home, breaking my door like a lunatic, after I explicitly made it clear that I didn't want to talk to you! You're lucky I don't decide to call the cops right now! Who the hell does that?!”
“Who the hell decides to place his own feelings over talking to someone like a grown-ass adult?!” Katsuki shot back.
Abruptly, all the fight bled out of Izuku, turning his insides to ice. Katsuki stiffened as he realized what he had said. “Shit,” he groaned, shoving his palms into his eyes before dropping them. “I didn't mean to say—”
“Yes,” Izuku cut over him icily, emerald eyes locking with crimson. He could feel his lips twist into a scowl. “Who could possibly do that?”
“Izu, I—”
“Don’t call me that.” Izuku closed his eyes, suddenly a lot more tired than he had been in a while. He had forgotten how easily Katsuki could get under his skin—make him feel things that nobody else could create in him, whether they be good or bad. It had been a long time since they were even in the same room, let alone speaking to each other, and Izuku seemed to have lost some of his ability to deal with Katsuki. “Please,” he asked—begged, almost. “Please just leave.”
“Deku, just fucking listen—”
“I'm done listening,” Izuku informed him, opening his eyes. Katsuki wasn't looking at him anymore, and Izuku couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about that. Katsuki couldn’t give Izuku the decency of meeting him eye to eye, even as he berated Izuku.
“You came over here to know why I wasn't taking the job?” Izuku laughed bitterly. “This is exactly why. There isn't anything here anymore. We don't work well as a team, Bakugou. We're different people, who want different things. And I can't work with someone who can't respect that.” It was quiet for a long moment, and Izuku could only hope that what he was saying was understood.
“Different people, huh?” Katsuki finally said, scoffing. “I remember when you used to let me read you like the back of my hand, and we were nothing more than a breath away from our soul resonance. And you know what the funny thing is now?”
Katsuki looked up from the floor, eyes sharp and angry, and Izuku took an unconscious step back. “You might not want me to, but I can still read you, Izuku. Despite this mask you put on to make everyone else believe you're so unaffected by everything, I know better. But you're right about one thing; there isn't anything here anymore.”
He leaned down, bringing his face close to Izuku’s, and said, “But don’t delude yourself into thinking that it was in any way my choice to end things.” He stomped to the door and wrenched it open. “Send me the bill for the door.”
The slam sent Izuku to his knees, and for the first time in eight years, he cried over Bakugou Katsuki.
“Izuchan! Over here!”
Izuku hadn't even stepped fully into the little cafe before Mina was calling out, waving an arm high above her head to get his attention. Ochako sat next to her, sipping her drink and hiding a grin, and Izuku couldn't help but feel a blossoming of warmth at the sight of the married couple.
“Sit, sit!” Mina insisted once he was close enough to the table. He laughed, shucking his light jacket and taking a seat across from her. It had been cool that morning when he headed out, but was quickly getting warmer, as was normal for late August; but he couldn't help but wish for the constant heat of Death Valley. It was a constant reminder that he wasn't in Japan and helped keep his emotions in check over missing his friends. Here, even sitting in front of two of them, he could feel the constant ache of them like a missing limb.
“It's been too long,” Ochako said as if she had read his mind. Although, by the look she gave him, it must have been all over his face.
“It really has!” Mina piped up. “I've missed you like crazy, Izuku. It's not the same here without you.”
Izuku smiled, laughing a bit. “I've missed you all too. People in Death Valley are nice, but they don't compare to you guys.”
Mina grinned before gasping, jumping out of her seat. “Oh! A drink! What do you want, hun? I'll grab it real quick.”
“No, you don't have to—” At her stern look, he sheepishly settled back into his chair. “Surprise me. As long as it has caffeine and a lot of sugar, I'll drink it.”
“Sure thing!” Ochako and Izuku watched her bounce away to the counter, Ochako with a soft smile before she turned to him with a familiar look in her eyes.
Izuku groaned. “Can’t we just have a nice drink and not gossip about my life?”
“Nope!” Ochako chirped. “You've been here for a few days and I haven't seen you until now, but a little birdy told me you've already been in contact with a certain death scythe.”
Izuku rolled his eyes, knowing exactly who she was talking about. “Does this little birdy happen to be tall with red hair and an irrepressible need to call everyone bro?”
Ochako grinned but didn't confirm, and Izuku sighed. “Yeah, I've seen him,” he admitted, “but it wasn't by choice. He broke into my place.”
“What?” Mina handed Izuku his drink and plopped back into her seat. “Katsuki didn't tell Eijirou that.”
Izuku gave Ochako a pointed look before replying. “Yes, well, he went full psychopath on my door and busted through it, even though I made it clear I didn't want to talk to him.”
“How did he find out you were even in town, let alone where you lived?” Ochako asked curiously. Izuku gave both of them a look, causing all of them to chorus, “Shouto.”
“God, that boy is so smart, but sometimes he's dumber than a box of rocks,” Mina said fervently.
Izuku laughed. “It's not his fault. He doesn't always realize what he's saying until it's already too late.”
“At least he doesn’t say anything rude,” Ochako pointed out. “He's too sweet for that.”
“Yeah,” Izuku agreed. Shouto didn’t have a mean bone in his body, especially when it came to his friends. “But he wasn't the reason that Bakugou knew I was in town.” He didn't realize what he said until he noticed both women staring at him in shock. “What?”
“Did you just call him Bakugou?”
“Holy shit, Izuku, did you call him Bakugou to his face?”
“Not you guys too,” he groaned. “It's his name.”
“Yeah, but I didn't think you knew that,” Ochako quipped. “You always called him Kacchan.”
“Yes, well...” Izuku trailed off, fiddling with his cup. He hadn't called Katsuki “Kacchan” since the night they broke up. Had lost the right, really; and calling him Katsuki felt too intimate after everything. Bakugou was safe.
Mina seemed to sense that he didn't want to talk about it, moving to squeeze his hand once before asking, “How did he know you were here?”
“Oh!” Izuku shook himself out of his thoughts. “Aizawa had requested me to come back to help with a mission of a rogue meister named Chisaki, and wanted the two of us to lead point on it.”
“That's great! I know you prefer to be out in the field.”
“I turned it down.”
“Wait, what?” Ochako gave him an incredulous look. “You turned it down? Why?!”
“I can’t work with him, Ochako! I'd have to resonate with him, and the last time that happened...”
They all winced at the reminder of that disastrous moment during their fight, where Izuku had unconsciously tried to sync up with Katsuki and almost tore the entire house down around them in the process.
“Have you tried, though? Chisaki is no joke,” Mina said tentatively. Both of her companions gave her their full attention. She frowned, looking around to make sure nobody was listening in. “He's already leveled three cities and stolen over a thousand souls, and he’s been using a little girl—his daughter—to do all of this. She's only seven and was forced to become a full scythe before her time.” She lowered her voice, forcing Ochako and Izuku to lean in to hear her, and continued. “And he’s been eating the souls himself. We think he's trying to become a kishin with a successfully bonded weapon; if he succeeds, we don't know what he would be capable of.”
Ochako’s lips tightened in anger, and Izuku clenched his hands. Aizawa had only mentioned the bare minimum of Chisaki’s actions, and nothing of his potential kishin status. A kishin with a weapon, especially one so young, wasn't something they’d ever had to deal with before. The possibilities were endless with how this could go, especially if Chisaki was successful and word got out about it.
“I didn't know it was that bad,” Izuku admitted quietly. “Aizawa only told me about the little girl, not about anything else. Based on what he said, I shouldn't have been needed. Eijirou could have been point on this.”
“He tried,” Mina told him, equally as quiet. “He and Katsuki went out and tried to take him down. I was in Command as they went, and Eijirou was able to get his witch hunter activated, but it wasn't strong enough. It didn't even get within range before it shattered. Chisaki just grabbed Katsuki and tossed him away from Eijirou. They both came back half-dead, and the town was wiped from the map.”
Izuku shook his head in disappointment with himself. “I should have known better. Aizawa wouldn't have suggested this unless it was necessary. He was the one who got me my job at the DWMA, and he knows what went on that made me leave.”
Ochako hummed. “He cares about you, Izuku,” she agreed, “and would never ask this of you unless it was dire. I didn't even know about this. Why didn't I know about this?” she asked her wife.
“I think you were on that stealth mission to Argentina with Tenya when it happened. Aizawa asked us all not to talk about it unless necessary.”
Izuku felt so stupid. “I'm going to have to try, aren’t I?”
Both women looked up at his question, faces twisted in commiserating grimaces, but nodded nonetheless.
Izuku sighed. “Fuck my life. I‘ve got to go find Aizawa and apologize for my behavior. And then swallow my pride and admit I was wrong about the mission.”
“Hey.” Izuku looked at Ochako, who was biting her lip. “You don't have to if you don't think you can.”
“That's the thing,” he said wryly. “I do have to. I can't let more people get hurt because of my selfishness. I already almost condemned that little girl; I couldn't live with myself if I continued to do so.”
Mina smiled a little sadly. “You're a good person, Izuchan. I wish you could see that.”
Izuku thought about everything that had gone on since he came back, and things that happened before he left. “We have to agree to disagree.”
Izuku really couldn’t help but think that karma was out to get him, because as soon as he decided to go to Aizawa about the mission, Katsuki was there, also meeting with Aizawa.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa greeted just before he could slip back out of the room. Izuku could see the tensing of Katsuki’s shoulders underneath the baggy hoodie he wore (which Izuku recognized as the one he, himself, would steal whenever he—okay, now is really not the time), and Izuku could feel his own hackles start to rise.
“A-Aizawa-sensei,” he stuttered out, attempting to keep some composure. Katsuki had kept true to his word and paid for Izuku’s door to be fixed, but it couldn't fully erase the frustration at having to replace it in the first place. If only Katsuki had just gone away when Izuku had closed the door the first time, they could be having this as their first meeting in years: polite, calm, a mediator nearby—instead of the chaos that had reigned.
Aizawa shifted some papers around on his desk, wisely not commenting on the tension in the air. “What can I do for you? You’re supposed to be heading back to Death Valley, soon, correct?”
“Actually,” Izuku started, smiling sheepishly at Aizawa when the older man gave him an exasperated look, “I was coming to discuss that exact thing with you.”
Katsuki had stayed quiet until that point, head snapping around to look at Izuku with incredulous eyes. Izuku’s smile turned tight, knowing exactly what Katsuki was thinking, especially after their recent blowout. He wasn’t looking forward to actually dealing with it, but the mission was more important than his own hangups.
“I’m glad to hear tha—”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Katsuki snarled out. He rose from his chair, moving to crowd Izuku against the wall behind him; it was a tactic he used when he wanted to intimidate someone, but Izuku wasn’t having it. He held his ground, planting his feet firmly and giving Katsuki a little smirk when the man realized his ploy wasn’t working.
Katsuki didn’t let it deter him though. “Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like we’re all here to run on your time and decisions?”
The high Izuku had gotten from making Katsuki irritated faded, leaving behind fury once more in its place. This was absolutely the wrong place to be doing this, but there was something so satisfying in arguing with Katsuki. The blond got so riled up, so aggravated at the words coming out of Izuku’s mouth, and Izuku felt vindicated in giving back even an ounce of the hurt that Katsuki would—and still does—give him.
So, Izuku smirked wider, “I’m the one who’s going to make sure your sorry ass doesn’t get injured again going up against Chisaki.”
“Listen, you little shit—”
“No, you listen—”
“I am too old to listen to you two act like children,” Aizawa cut in sharply, slamming his hands on his desk. “So, shut up, sit down, and make me believe that you two can work together before I kick both of you out of here. Just because you are one of our top duos doesn’t mean I can’t find another pair to replace you easily.”
Izuku’s jaw snapped shut, and he took a deep breath before sliding into one of the seats in front of Aizawa, Katsuki following as he grumbled under his breath. Izuku was hyper aware of how close they were, arms almost brushing as he settled in, but he had to be professional. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to let go of his anger. This wasn’t about him; this was about the innocent people who could get hurt if Chisaki wasn’t taken down, and the little girl that was being hurt.
After that, the meeting was long, with Aizawa outlining the dire situation as thoroughly as he could. There was reason to believe that Chisaki’s most recent attacks weren’t something that he had just started doing, especially with his daughter’s ability to transform into a full weapon at such a young age. Her mother had disappeared under suspicious circumstances, the weapon not showing up to her designated meeting place after an undercover mission. A few weeks later, Chisaki Kai and Eri had gone underground, and soon after, missing persons reports started popping up around places that Chisaki frequented. However, no one could find him for questioning.
Izuku looked at one of the crime scene photos from the files Aizawa was having them go over. It was of the woman who had run Eri’s daycare, a person who had seen Chisaki everyday. Something about it was bothering him, and he lifted the picture, trying to figure out what seemed off. It was a standard crime scene, nothing particularly special about it, until Izuku realized the photo had been taken from the opening of the alley she had been killed in.
“Where’s the body?” He asked, more to himself than anything.
Katsuki, who had been reading the police report, looked at him in suspicion. “Speak up, nerd. What did you say?”
Izuku gritted his teeth at the tone Katsuki was using, handing over the photo so the other could look at it. “The report mentioned that the medical examiner took the pictures immediately after arriving. If that’s the case, where is the body?”
Aizawa peered over Katsuki’s shoulder, also looking at the picture. “That is strange,” he agreed. “They wouldn’t have taken more pictures after the fact.” He reached for another case file, opening it up to where the pictures were attached. Leafing through them, he stopped on one and held it out. “Kobayashi Hana. She was the gardener for Chisaki’s home, assumed to have been killed in her own home, based on the crime scene.”
“There’s no body left there either,” Katsuki said, taking the photo.
“He took them,” Izuku said decisively, not seeing any other possibility. “But why? What did he do with them? Once the souls were released, the bodies would be useless to him.”
“Unless they weren’t for him.” Katsuki frowned, still looking at the photo. The look in his eyes was haunting as he brushed a thumb along the edge of it. “There is this old wives’ tale that my mother would tell me,” he said quietly, before flickering his gaze up to Izuku. “Would tell us,” he corrected, and Izuku started trying to remember the stories Mitsuki would tell them before bed.
He could only remember the one that was their favorite, about the duo of Maka Albarn and Soul Evans defeating Asura. Izuku had been so fascinated by it, especially Maka, as they shared the same type of grigori soul. He could recall being happy as a child that he had that soul. It was reassuring to know that if anything happened to Katsuki, Izuku could help heal him. As they got older, and learned how to resonate, he was even more grateful because his soul was small enough to nestle right into the depths of Katsuki’s own soul, engulfing him in it’s warmth.
“It isn’t something that many meisters are aware of,” Katsuki continued, like Izuku hadn’t been sent spiraling into his thoughts of the past. Although by the look the blond gave him, Izuku was sure he could tell. “Weapons use their own stamina to transform, taking away from their own bodies in order to feed the ability. That’s why I have to eat so much, and souls are an important part of our diets. But there is this legend that if ‘the apple and it’s seeds’ are eaten, a weapon can transform, even on their deathbed.”
“Wait,” Izuku blurted out, suddenly realizing something that had made no sense at the time, “is that why you ate nothing but apples for a week when were were in elementary school?”
Katsuki gave him a dirty look but flushed faintly, embarrassed. “Yes,” he ground out, and Izuku couldn’t help but feel a bubble of amusement despite himself. “I had taken my mom literally, but she told me that it was a metaphor for something else. Something that no person in their right mind would do.”
There was a click in Izuku’s mind, the story Katsuki was talking about forming from his memory, and a connection was made. A connection that, unless you knew Bakugou Mitsuki, you wouldn’t have been able to get. Mitsuki was not a person to sugar-coat things, not even with children. Izuku felt sick as he voiced what he was sure Mitsuki had meant. “It’s cannibalism, isn’t it?” His voice was reedy, panic beginning to swell in his chest. He hoped he wasn’t right, but he knew that his hope wouldn’t come true. “The souls are the seeds and the apple—”
Aizawa looked at him sharply, but Katsuki was the one to respond. “You were told the stories, too.”
Izuku shook his head, not wanting to believe it. To think that—that a father—Izuku dived for the trash can and heaved, emptying what little he had that morning. Eri, he thought mournfully. She wouldn’t have understood, would have just eaten what her father had given her. It would have been easy for Chisaki to hide what the meal was, especially from a child; and many young weapon children were taught about kishin souls and feeding off them, so he could have taught her it was normal for a child to eat them to grow stronger. The pain she must have gone through when transforming, though. Izuku couldn’t imagine it—didn’t want to imagine her going through it.
A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, with its twin going to his hair and pulling it back and off his nape to prevent it from getting in the way. Izuku looked to the side to see Katsuki kneeling next to him and trying not to look worried. It was a weak moment for Izuku, but he couldn’t help but feel gratitude well up in him. If nothing else, Katsuki was still a good man, caring despite their mutual heartache.
“Are you okay?” Katsuki asked. His hand moved from Izuku’s shoulder to the middle of his back, rubbing in soothing circles, and Izuku relaxed back into it instinctively.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, wincing at the grind of his voice in his throat.
“Do you want some water?” Katsuki was already leaning towards where his bag was lying to grab his water bottle, and Izuku smiled a little. Katsuki was as abrasive as they came, a true asshole; but when it came to those he cared about being hurt, he couldn’t help but soften and do what he could to take care of them. It was still one of the things Izuku loved about him.
Izuku stiffened, smile dropping quickly off his face, and Katsuki spun around, looking concerned. Izuku could feel himself shutting down, forcibly rejecting his previous thought as he mechanically took the water bottle Katsuki offered. Wetting his throat, he handed it back and gave a tight smile to the blond. “Thank you,” he said, polite but distant.
Katsuki’s face shifted, going from casually open to shuttered, responding to Izuku’s change. He dropped the hand that was still holding green curls, shoulders stiff as he rose, and Izuku could feel the mourning build in his heart for the care from a few moments ago. He quickly nipped it in the bud, refusing to let it blossom. It was nostalgia—a reflex—not an actual current want.
Aizawa watched Izuku as he retook his seat, and Izuku kept his face carefully blank. It was an ability he had gained from teaching at the DWMA, one that kept him professional through that first year when all he wanted to do was break down and cry. It became a habit that he would fall back on when he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking. He was confident it was enough to keep even his parents off his back.
“Do you want to continue, Midoriya?” Aizawa asked.
Katsuki gazed at him with his normal, bored expression, but Izuku could still see the worry that was hidden behind those eyes. And the thoughtfulness, which could spell trouble for Izuku if he didn’t control himself and his stupid emotions.
So Izuku breathed in, locked away whatever he was feeling, and nodded. This was no time for his stupid emotions to rebel and try to make him believe that he still cared for Katsuki—that he still loved him.
He didn’t. He didn’t.
Izuku looked away from that gaze, trying to focus on anything but his traitorous heart.
He had never been very good at lying to himself anyway.