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“Has he received medical attention yet?”
Aizawa can’t take his eyes off his student.
“Not yet.” The officer beside him coughs into his sleeve. “Your other students brought him here apparently without getting him looked at first.”
That’s not their responsibility, Aizawa thinks, but doesn’t say. His fingers dig into the fabric of his pants.
“He appears to be physically unharmed, however.”
Aizawa exhales, running himself through the breathing exercises he uses exclusively in stressful situations.
This shouldn’t be one of those situations.
His student is safe.
The stress should be over.
He should be relieved.
So why isn’t he?
Aizawa tries to keep his observations impersonal, tries to look at it through the lens of a hero and not through those of a teacher.
But Bakugo is covered from head to toe in dust and grime and hunched over in a way that has alarm bells ringing in Aizawa’s head.
Because Bakugou is loud. Confident.
He is not this boy with his head down, arms wrapped around himself, strangely subdued and silent.
Everything about this is wrong.
“We’re all shackled, one way or another. By heroes. By society.”
The picture is slapped down in front of him. Himself. Shackled to the podium. The fucking Sports Festival.
The corners of a yellow-toothed grin wink at him from behind a shriveled hand.
“You’re just like us.”
Katsuki jerks awake, sucking in air.
“Ooh, Boom Boy! We’re going to have so much fun together! I just know it!”
Reflexively, his arm swings out, lashing out at shadows his sleep-fogged mind has mistaken for enemies and popping off a small explosion.
Shoulders heaving, he shoves himself upright, eyes wide as they scan the room.
Nothing.
No one.
There’s no sign of that crazy, blood-sucking little bitch.
Doesn’t matter.
He can still hear her sing-song voice in his head.
It’s ridiculous.
He shouldn’t still be fighting her off in his own damn headspace.
He can still hear her laughing shrilly in his ears. He claps his hands over them, nails digging into the soft flesh behind his ears.
He remembers her fingers, dragging through his hair, pain in his scalp spiking when she yanks his head back, forcing eye contact.
“Get out,” he hisses, teeth clenched. “Get the fuck out of my head.”
She giggles in the back of his mind but her presence recedes for the time being.
It’s replaced by the image of All Might after that final battle, bleeding and emaciated, wearing a costume that’s become far too big.
Katsuki stumbles out of bed. Bile rises his throat. He makes it two steps before he collapses to his hands and knees on the floor, dry heaving.
This is stupid.
He’s unclear on just how long he was on his knees before he’s staggering back to his feet. He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, muscles trembling.
This is… not good.
Tonight is his first night at the UA dorms.
If he can’t get his shit together, how is he supposed to make it in class?
Katsuki isn’t stupid. He’s had nightmares before. He knows the routine by now. He won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.
Not unless he wants the psycho bitch visiting him in his dreams again.
He shoves open his door, making his way to the dorm bathrooms.
It’s not a far walk, only a couple yards down the hall.
He turns the faucet on and splashes water on his face. He leaves the water running, shoulders heaving, hands bracing himself on either side of the sink.
Shit.
Even his mother has come back to haunt him for tonight it seems.
I knew you were a good fit for our boy.
The words sound nice enough on the surface, but Katsuki is privy to the irony there.
A good fit.
Just like the chains UA had fitted him with.
He lifts his hands but, of course, there are no scars on his wrists for anyone to see.
None on his face either.
Had that even happened?
He’d like to pretend it didn’t.
You were a fucking embarrasment, you know that? Practically the whole country saw you like that! Do you have any idea how that reflects on us?
She’s like a broken record in his head.
For once, could she just shut the hell up?
Figures that it would be too much to ask for.
The door opens a crack behind him and Katsuki lifts his head, bleary red eyes catching sight of a short, purple figure edging its way in.
Mineta freezes when he notices who else is occupying the bathrooms.
Shit.
Katsuki flexes his fingers, clutching at the sink until his knuckles turn white.
Not him.
The last literal person next to the fucking copycat from the next class to see him like this.
“Oh, hey, I didn’t realize anyone was in here…”
Katsuki won’t turn around, shoulders hunched.
“Get out! ”
“But I gotta pee!” His voice tapers off in a loud whine that grates on Katsuki’s ears.
“There’s another bathroom!” Now Katsuki lets himself set off a small explosion. It’s not loud enough to bring anyone running, but it gets the message across far better than anything else would. “Now get the fuck out!”
Mineta does so, nearly bashing his head against the door in his haste to get out.
Katsuki sneers.
Good riddance.
The sniveling, little coward.
It’s disgusting.
He’s riding high on anger, but it’s not long before even that protective shield is gone, leaving him trembling in its wake.
He slides down to the floor, letting his head fall gently back against the tiled wall with a quiet thud .
He’s… exhausted.
He knows he can’t afford this lack of sleep. He needs to be in peak condition to not only maintain his grades and study habits, but to continue performing as well as he has been in training.
But sleep right now means chains and remembering and a mother who will never not see it as his fault.
He can handle one night without sleep.
Katsuki jerks awake at some point, the final strains of All Might’s fight against All For One still playing behind his eyes.
He presses himself back against the wall, heart in his throat, eyes scanning for any threat.
Shit. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep.
With jerky movements, he stretches his legs out and feels behind him, trying to get his bearings.
His palm brushes against cool tiles.
The bathroom.
He’s in one of the boys’ bathrooms.
His eyes fly wide open as a sudden thought occurs to him.
He has no idea how long he’s dozed off for. Has someone stumbled in here and seen him like this?
There are no windows to the bathroom and he doesn’t have a watch on him.
It could only be an hour since he first retreated here or the sun could already be up.
Damn it.
Katsuki regains his feet.
If the latter is the case, then he’ll have to hurry up and get out of here before any of his classmates start pouring in.
And if that’s not the case- well, that’s even more reason to leave the bathroom then.
The last thing he wants is someone walking in on him like… like that.
Whatever that was.
He pushes the bathroom door open and nearly collides with Four-Eyes who is on his way in.
Katsuki stiffens, posture going rigid.
In terms of preferability, Four-Eyes ranks only marginally higher than the Grape and Deku on Katsuki’s list.
“Bakugo! Good to see you…!” He raises a hand in greeting, which Katsuki brushes off.
There are times when he wonders why Four-Eyes even bothers.
Class rep responsibility likely.
Katsuki snorts to himself.
Bullshit.
“I don’t want to hear it, Four-Eyes,” he growls.
To his credit, Four-Eyes doesn’t make another attempt- good- and Katsuki moves on.
His parents had taken him hiking in the mountains for the first time when he was two years old.
About halfway through the trip, his legs had given out and he’d dropped in the middle of the path.
“Mommy, I’m too tired.”
“It’s okay.” His father squatted beside him.
“No, Masaru.” His mother stopped him. She loomed over him, hands on her hips. “Get up and walk, Katsuki.”
“My legs hurt, Mommy.” Tears welled in his eyes and he sniffed, wiping them away. “I’m tired.”
“Mitsuki…” his father began, placatingly. “Maybe we should…”
His mother was unmoved.
“Get up, Katsuki,” she said again. “I’m not raising a weakling.”
When it became apparent he wasn’t getting up, she turned around and began walking away. “Come on, Masaru.”
For an instant, Katsuki thought his father might stay with him. But then slowly, reluctantly, he climbed to his feet and followed her after.
(In the end, he always did as she told him. Always.)
Eventually, he realized they weren’t turning back.
Eventually, he picked himself up and followed them.
Eventually, he learned to stop asking for help.
“It’s for the best, Katsuki,” his father had told him with a helpless shrug after the fact. “She’s just trying to help you.”
That night, his mother still tucked him in, but this time, she leaned in to whisper, “I knew you could do it, Katsuki.”
When she straightened, she had that proud look on her face and it made Katsuki feel something warm inside.
Maybe his father was right.
He can take it.
He is stronger than this.
He’s stronger than the fucking League of Villains thought he was.
His mother didn’t raise a weakling.
So why doesn’t he believe it?
Why is he still waking up at night thinking about Toga and her knives? Why is he still waking up thrashing against chains that aren’t real?
It happens at the end of class.
Really, should he even be surprised at this point?
Katsuki forgets what started it in the beginning, but does that even matter in the end?
He just knows what ended it.
Kaminari comes up behind him, grabbing him by his shoulders.
“Hey, Kacchan, what’s up…?”
And Katsuki loses it.
His brain whites out to static.
He’s not in class anymore.
He’s in the woods and there’s a villain at his back, hand wrapped around his throat, dragging back to the stifling darkness.
He launches out of his seat with a guttural cry. The clatter of his chair hitting the ground barely registers in his mind. His fingers curl around his palms and he pivots, already feeling the pressure building just beneath the surface of his palm.
They won’t take him again.
And they will.
If he doesn’t fight them, he will and then he’ll be chained up again and who knows what they’ll do this time?
They certainly won’t be risking untying him again anytime soon.
So what will they do? Just kill him this time?
A vice wraps around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, before he can do much else.
He kicks, thrashing hard against whoever’s holding him down, and his heel hits something hard and unyielding.
Katsuki howls, rage and terror coalescing inside of him into one toxic mass.
A myriad of voices reaches his ears, some more frightened than others.
“Kacchan…!”
“I swear, I didn’t think…!”
“Don’t touch…! Don’t fucking touch me! Let me go!”
And his quirk… his quirk won’t work.
“Bakugo, man, you gotta calm down!” This voice is right by his ear, coming from the one restraining him, and he jerks. “It’s just me, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
“I’ll kill you!” Katsuki rages. His pulse is screaming , blood rushing through his head. He can’t think straight. “I swear, I’ll fucking kill you!”
He’ll tear their heads off with his own hands before he lets them take him back there.
“ Katsuki!”
Wait.
Kirishima?
The racing thoughts in Katsuki’s head start to slow.
“Bakugo.”
But it’s a different voice, a firmer, steadier one, that finally cuts through the panic that’s fogging his brain.
Shit.
Aizawa-sensei.
The man is standing in front of them, eyes unblinking and hair standing on end.
That explains his inability to use his quirk.
“Bakugo,” Aizawa’s voice is calm and steady, and that helps more than anything else, “if I give you your quirk back, are you going to blow something up?”
Katsuki’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “No.”
Aizawa merely nods, blinking once, and his hair falls back down to his shoulders.
Kirishima lets him go and takes a step away. “You good, man?” His hand is on Katsuki’s shoulder now and, for once, Katsuki doesn’t shrug him off.
“Fine,” he says shortly, and is ready to leave it at that. He’s fine, end of story.
But Kirishima frowns and his stance shifts.
“Really? Because that didn’t look fine to me.”
“I said I was fine!” Katsuki snaps.
His classmates are gone. Likely, Aizawa sent them all packing while he was in the middle of a meltdown.
They still saw him, but at least this is a better alternative to coming to and finding them all gaping at him like a school of dead fish.
Except for Deku and Kirishima, they’ve all left him alone.
“Hey, man,” Kirishima pulls him back from the depths of his thoughts. “Meet you outside, okay?” He lightly bumps his fist against Katsuki’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie.
Katsuki doesn’t know how to tell him, so he just goes along with it.
“Sure.” Hands tucked in his pockets, glaring daggers at the ground, Katsuki knows he’s more subdued than usual.
Kirishima knows this too because he falters and Katsuki just glares harder , because he’s fine.
He leaves.
Deku chooses to linger a moment longer, fingering his backpack straps in agitation, face twisted up with worry.
It makes Katsuki grind his teeth.
He doesn’t need the nerd’s concern.
“Will Kacchan…?”
“He’ll be fine,” Aizawa speaks firmly, cutting him off. “Leave me to handle this.”
Deku blanches, but nods and scurries off.
Not before casting one more look over his shoulder at Katsuki.
It infuriates him.
Who does the nerd think he is, to be so worried for him?
...and after everything Katsuki has done. He keeps coming back.
It’s getting a little harder to breathe.
Katsuki feels his nails cutting into his palms and realizes he’s been clenching his fists a little too hard.
He doesn’t stop.
Maybe he’ll even draw blood.
Something about that brings a vicious satisfaction to mind and he only digs them in harder.
“Bakugo!” Aizawa’s sharp tone snaps him out of it.
He unclenches his fists.
In an uncharacteristic bout of vulnerability, Katsuki suddenly feels unsure.
This is, he suspects, the moment all his hopes and dreams come crashing down. The moment Aizawa-sensei tells him to pack his bags and go home.
He knows what his mother would tell him and when has he ever known her to be wrong?
He’s practically been outrunning fate at this point.
Regardless of what the man himself might have told him, Katsuki still knows he’s the one responsible for All Might’s downfall.
That’s not something the hero community can simply overlook.
Bakugo stares at his lap.
It gives Aizawa flashbacks back to seeing his student in the observation room. He’s too silent. Too still.
The league may have left no physical scars to speak of, but they’ve left scars all the same.
It’s written all over his body language.
It makes something in his heart ache to see him like that.
He’s so young. All of them are.
And yet his students have already been the target of a villain attack twice.
“I’m not losing it,” Bakugo bites out before Aizawa has the chance to say anything.
“I never said you were,” Aizawa responds, keeping his tone level.
“Bullshit. I know you were thinking it.”
Though the language has him grimacing, Aizawa folds his hands on the desk. He knows better than to get into a back and forth with his student over it at this time.
If he hopes to get anywhere during this discourse, then keeping his own composure is very, very important.
“No one will think any less of you for getting help.”
“It’s nothing I can’t manage.” Bakugo crosses his arms, eyes fixed on his teacher.
There’s an unmistakable challenge present there that Aizawa understands all too well. He’s been there before.
He knows how deep the need to prove to oneself
Because it might be Aizawa that Bakugo is staring down right now, but Aizawa isn’t the one he’s trying to impress here.
It’s himself.
He’s been kidnapped, held hostage for three day.
“I don’t need help.”
I know that’s how you want it to be, kid, but that’s not the case.
“How long have you been having nightmares?” Aizawa asks, watching carefully as Bakugo’s posture immediately goes rigid and the look in his eyes instantly shutters to something more guarded.
.“Mineta approached me before class this morning,” Aizawa says. He holds up a hand before Bakugo can interject. “You’re not in trouble. Although,” he amends, “lashing out at classmates is not an acceptable reaction. Are we clear?”
Bakugo’s lips twisted in a sneer, but he mumbled out a, “Yes,” well enough.
Aizawa sighs and resists the urge to reach for his eyedrops.
“Regardless of what you may think, you are not invincible.” He’s not blind to the way Bakugo’s eyes flash. He’s treading in very dangerous waters right now. “I know how hard it is to ask for help, kid,” he says, softer this time. “But it’s a position everyone finds themselves in eventually. Even All Might has to seek help sometimes.”
That catches Bakugo’s attention.
Perhaps it could be considered a low blow, bringing All Might into this.
But Aizawa has watched as Bakugo has rebuffed every attempt to help him. It’s a harmful mindset Aizawa would like to see curbed sooner rather than later.
“The same thing happened to All Might?” he asks, low and guarded and in a tone so unlike Bakugo.
“Not quite the same thing,” Aizawa says. He offers him a sad smile. “You’ll have to ask him for more details than that though.”
It’s not his place to share a colleague’s personal story, so he leaves it at that.
He’ll have to speak with Toshinori later about reaching out to Bakugo himself.
Aizawa knows his fellow pro hero has been putting time aside to work with Midoriya directly, even if he’s not privy to all the details. He’s certain Toshinori would be willing to do the same for Bakugo.
More than willing even.
“The point is that even pro-heroes find themselves needing support. It isn’t shameful to let other people help you. Nor is it a sign of an underlying weakness.”
Aizawa pauses, watching Bakugo closely. His student remains quiet. He takes the continued silence as a good sign and resumes speaking.
“To the contrary, unchecked trauma can be detrimental to a hero's career.”
That certainly has Bakugo’s attention.
Stubborn or not, Aizawa knows his student won’t jeopardize his future as a pro hero.
“You had a panic attack in class today.” There’s no beating around the bush here.
Bakugo grimaces, but he doesn’t deny it.
“Imagine if that had happened as a pro hero. In the middle of a fight.” He doesn’t need to go any further than that.
Bakugo is capable of filling in the blanks himself.
Aizawa steeples his fingers. “I’m not telling you what to do, but there are several options available to you.”
Therapy would be preferable in the long run, but Aizawa knows that a referral to one of UA’s own available therapists would be met with rejection.
Particularly after the sports festival.
He’ll be the first to acknowledge he and his fellow teachers will have to work for it if they hope to have Bakugo’s complete trust.
But there are resources devoted to pro-heroes outside of UA that he can direct his student towards.
“Bakugo,” he presses on. “I have a list of resources available to those in heroics work for you to look over. Or if you aren’t comfortable with that yet, you can always reach out. To me or All Might.”
There’s a long moment of silence that follows this.
Please, kid. Please take us up on that offer. Let us help you.
“I’ll think about it,” Bakugo says.
It’s the first step.
And, really, as of right now, that’s all that Aizawa can ask for.