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When Midoriya Izuku is fourteen years old, he goes missing.
There’s nothing to tell the world that he’s even gone other than a pair of red shoes on Aldera Middle School’s roof, along with his yellow backpack spilled open as if it dropped in some sort of struggle. The notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future: No. 13 , lies open, pages fluttering with the wind, as Katsuki Bakugo stands in the doorway of the stairwell.
He’s just… gone .
It’s honestly a little eerie. Katsuki certainly thinks that Deku is weak, but he doesn’t want the nerd to actually get hurt, or worse. His mind flashes briefly to his last words to Deku. If you wanna be a hero so badly, jump off the roof and pray for a quirk in the next life.
He hadn’t really meant that. Well, maybe he had at the time, but seeing all of Deku’s things on the roof without Deku certainly has him panicking at the thought that the nerd took him seriously. A quick scan around the building reveals no horribly mangled Deku’s - somehow that brings him great relief.
But if Deku isn’t splattered on the sidewalk, where the fuck is he? Why would he leave without his shoes?
Katsuki doesn’t know what to do. What is he supposed to do anyway? They’re not fucking friends. If the nerd had taken his words to heart it would have been Katsuki’s fucking fault. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t stumbled upon Deku’s things at all.
He thinks, who would know where Deku might be? If the nerd is at home and just forgot all his stuff somehow, Katsuki is going to kill him. He calls Auntie. Oddly, the number is not saved in his phone. He can’t remember deleting it - hell, he even has Deku’s number, after receiving it for a class project. Auntie’s number was one of the few he has memorized, along with his own house's landline and his mothers cell. It's a consequence of their upbringing, but certainly now he’s not complaining.
On the third ring, Auntie is saying, “Hello? Who is this?” That isn’t out of place; Katsuki has not called in a very long time, it isn’t like he expects her to remember him. It’s likely she lost his number once he started treating her son like shit. So he huffs out his name, and he asks her if she’s seen Deku.
“...Deku?” She asks. And that part is a little weird. Surely she remembers her own son's childhood nickname, especially since Katsuki can recall how much she had always hated it. Even when Deku would smile and say it was fine, Since it’s what Kacchan calls me! She had been vocal in her displeasure.
“Midoriya Izuku? Your son?” He barks, annoyed. Her not remembering the nickname has only heightened his unease at this entire situation, and he’s letting that out the only way he knows how.
But of course, it only gets worse.
“Midoriya Izuku? I don’t know anyone by that name,” She’s saying, and it’s like buckets of ice being poured on his head. Something is wrong. “I’m sorry - what was your name, Bakugo? I think you must have the wrong number!” Then the telltale clicking of the line indicates she hung up. For a few moments, Katsuki keeps the phone pressed to his ear as he controls his breathing, as if moving will make it all real.
Inko doesn’t remember him, and way, way worse, she doesn’t remember Deku. If Katsuki knew anything about Midoriya Inko, it was how much she loved and doted on her son. There was no way in hell Inko would forget he existed without the help of a damn quirk.
He should go to the cops. He’s afraid to disturb the crime scene, but he knows the wind might knock even more of Deku’s things away, so he begins to gather them all up. He grabs the shoes, and heads towards the bag, where the nerds' things are laid out. He picks up what must be Deku’s ID card for school and frowns, because the card is all… blurry. He knows that it’s Deku’s, because it’s with all of Deku’s things, but if it weren’t he’d have no idea what he was looking at. The photo, which Katsuki can clearly remember, is blurred beyond recognition. The text on the card, where Deku’s name should be, appears to be smudged, somehow, to illegibility.
He reaches out for the notebook, and when he looks at where he knows the hastily scrawled text is on the inner cover. He sees: If lost, please return to… Katsuki frowns again. Bakugo had just thrown this notebook in the river, so maybe it was the water, but the place where Midoriya’s name should be is just one big black smudge, much like the ID card.
Thinking, Katsuki swipes to a new page and writes in his own choppy handwriting, Midoriya Izuku. It looks normal. He bites his lip. It’s after school hours, but if a teacher spots him they won't yell at him; they never do. He runs back to their classroom, Deku’s things in hand. He spots the nerds desk; pristine, not a mark on it. Unusual, because everyone in class seemed to enjoy trashing Deku’s desk. Deku would always have to come early to clean it, and Katsuki made fun of him over it a few times.
His eyes flick to the class seating chart. No mention of any Midoriya Izuku.
This is all very, very, strange.
He walks to the nearest police precinct. When he walks in, he grumbles about his “Missing classmate, Midoriya Izuku,” and how Auntie didn’t remember him. They acknowledge this could be due to a quirk, so they go about searching the database for him.
There isn’t a single record or trace of anyone named Midoriya Izuku, no doctor records, no school records, nothing. Katsuki knows that can’t be true. He can’t show them the ID, or the notebook, though, because all they’ll see is a messed up student ID card and some kids notebook on Quirks, and it doesn’t prove that Midoriya ever even existed.
The officer in front of him - a kind man, but Katsuki has always had little patience for kindness - hums softly. “Perhaps you yourself were hit with a quirk and given false memories? We have no record of this boy and it seems only you remember him.”
He wants to scream, or yell at this man for calling him a liar, but he can’t. He’s sitting there frozen in shock, because Deku could be hurt, dead, or worse, and Bakugo Fucking Katsuki is the only person that even remembers him.
It feels like hot dread; what does he do? How does he fix this? Can he find Deku?
The worst part of it all, he decides, is that he knows there isn’t a single damn thing he can do.
Somehow, life goes on. His parents notice him acting strangely. He loves them, but he doesn’t want to be called crazy anymore, so he doesn’t try to explain. He’s not the same person he was before.
Losing Deku is odd. His classmates are still the same, hanging off his every word and praising him all the time, but the seat behind him is empty. Nobody questions it. Katsuki finds himself staring too often at the window, hoping to see the reflection of Deku beaming at him again, even when it used to piss him off. He finds himself hoping to hear that shitty mumbling, that stutter. Looks for bright green eyes everywhere he goes, and somehow, he misses Deku.
It’s fucking bullshit.
He’s hollowed out and nothing feels real anymore. How can it, when through everything, the good, the bad, the horrifically ugly, Deku had always been there. Now he isn’t. Now, nobody reacts to the sound of his name other than to say, “Who?”
He’d tried casually bringing it up. To his mother, who’d made katsudon one night - “This was always Deku’s favorite,” he says, and his mother, who’d practically done her part raising Deku, who heard him rage about that shitty Deku more than anyone, doesn’t know who he’s talking about.
He wants to be angry, because anger is familiar and helps him work through things, but he can’t even do that. He’s left with somber acceptance that he has all the facts, all the evidence, all the memories, and he can’t do a single thing.
Wherever Deku is, Katsuki hopes he isn’t hurt. Otherwise, when he sees the nerd again, he’ll fucking kill him.
A month passes, and despite Deku’s shoes in his closet, Katsuki is beginning to wonder if it really was him who got hit with a quirk. Maybe he was cursed into memories of a boy who did not exist. It was hard to keep convincing himself that no, Deku went missing when everyone around him doesn’t even remember who he is.
It’s getting harder and harder not to feel like he’s going crazy, like maybe Deku was some dream he never even deserved in the first place. Everyone around him is going on like normal. Katsuki can’t get Auntie’s voice out of his head, Midoriya Izuku? I don’t know anyone by that name, like Auntie and his mother haven’t been friends for decades. Not that his mother even remembered that.
He has to keep himself sane.
What kind of fake memory would inspire so many different emotions in him, anyway? Despite everything, Deku was always the one thing that felt real , even if he was an annoying piece of shit. He and Deku had been orbiting planets, like the push and pull of the moon and the ocean. They certainly hadn’t been friends. Katsuki, in Deku’s absence, can admit to himself that he’s the reason for it. He’d thought Deku had been looking down on him, but all Deku ever wanted was to be his friend.
Deku had only ever smiled up at him and called him amazing.
If they were fake memories, why did it hurt so fucking bad?
Either way it doesn’t fucking matter. If it really was fake, then Katsuki had to live with this hurt for the rest of his fucking life and nobody would ever know about it. And if it wasn’t, then something really bad was probably happening to Deku right now. It’s easier to go along with the idea that it was fake after all, because then he doesn’t have to imagine Deku screaming.
There’s a shady guy at the school gates, with wild purple hair who looks like he desperately needs sleep. He looks a little out of place. He’s wearing another school’s uniform, and has a look of tense anxiety on his face, even though such a look doesn’t suit him.
Normally, Katsuki would pay such an extra no mind other than to check he’s not bothering anybody. Katsuki doesn’t care for his classmates, and he cares even less for randoms from other schools.
What the kid says catches his attention in no time, however, as he stops someone to ask, “Have you seen Midoriya Izuku?” At the words, Katsuki’s head flies up, and he looks at the boy. He marches over to him angrily, and the boy looks relieved at even being acknowledged.
“Oi, how the hell do you know Deku?” Katsuki is asking, hands popping as he thinks a mile a minute. Who is this? How does he know Deku? How does he remember?
“Ah. You must be Kacchan.” The boy says, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm and disapproval.
It’s real. Deku is real. How else would he know that name? Get a fucking grip, idiot.
He grimaces at the nickname. “Use that nickname again and you’re dead. I’m Bakugo Katsuki.” He says. He doesn’t want to hear that shit. At least not from whoever the hell this is. He wants to hear it from a boy with stars in his eyes and freckles on cheeks, he wants to hear that “Kacchan!” from human fucking sunshine, but he won’t ever be weak enough to say that shit out loud.
The boy nods, but he rolls his eyes. “Right. Er - I’m Shinsou Hitoshi. Me and Midoriya were… kind of friends, we met at the arcade. We kept going every Thursday afternoon, but then a few weeks ago he stopped showing up. The first couple times I thought maybe he was just busy, but he hasn’t answered any of my texts. Do you know where he is?” Shinsou says. He looks worried.
Katsuki only fucking cares that someone remembers Deku. “No. Fucking everyone, including his fucking mother, seems to have forgotten the damn nerd ever even existed.”
“Sorry, what ?” Shinsou is asking.
He shows a pale Shinsou the ID card. “Any documentation of him has been erased or looks blurry like this. The police said maybe I was hit with a false memory quirk.” He swallows his pride. “To be honest I was beginning to think - hell, it doesn’t fucking matter, because now I know it’s all real.”
Somehow, knowing doesn’t make him feel better. He’d thought maybe it would help, knowing the truth. It doesn’t.
“So what do we do?” Shinsou asks. He has this determined look about him - so much like Deku - a set to his jaw and a furrow to his brow. He looks upset. Deku must have been important to him.
“I don’t think there’s fucking anything we can do . ” He replies, trying not to feel like it’s the worst thing in the goddamn world. His tone gives away his hopelessness, and he tries not to get angry about being so fucking vulnerable in front of a stranger.
Deku is gone. Wherever he is, he better not be hurt. Otherwise, Katsuki will kill him.
This is all my fucking fault.
Midoriya Izuku wakes up, hazy with what must be some kind of drug. His memories are spotty. He knows that this is not the first time he’s woken up in this room, but he cannot recall the events that took place in between, and he’s still not sure where he is or who has him. When he thinks too hard about it, his head begins to ache. What is his name, again?
Memories feel like sand falling through his fingers; he can hold his hands out and touch them, but eventually it all just falls away like it was never there in the first place. He certainly knows the memories are there, but they all float away any time he tries to hold onto them. They sit in his head in lockboxes, but he doesn’t have any of the keys.
When a woman, pink hair tight in a ponytail and smiling teeth pointed and sharp, barks at him to Come with me, it’s time to train, his body moves of its own accord. He’s actively trying not to move. Maybe the woman has a brainwashing quirk like his friend Hitoshi? It certainly feels similar, with the hazy memories. Wait, who’s Hitoshi? He tries to think but he can’t remember.
Regardless, it seems all he can do is follow orders, and he’d be panicking if he could even hold onto the thought of panic. Instead, all feeling seems to float away, and he’s left thinking about his next step forward. His next mission -
What?
The pink haired lady leads him to a training room. He stands in the ring in the room, across from him a young man with a quirk that makes him appear like a wolf. The woman says, “Fight.” And Izuku can’t help but move.
It’s not long before his body uses a strength he has never possessed, a speed he has never even dreamed of, a reaction time he’s sure he was never capable of. He feels it in his bones and knows this is a quirk, or a combination of them, and that doesn’t make sense but the confusion and worry blows from his mind like a tumbleweed after a few moments.
Where was he? Fighting . Right.
With his quirks, he topples the wolf man easily, getting in hit after hit - Stop, stop, somebody stop me - and he’s sure the wolf man is going to be killed at this rate.
Fight to kill. A flash of memory, the pink haired woman reading from a clipboard over and over like a mantra. Fight to kill. No mercy. Targets are to be eliminated. Fight to kill. No mercy. Targets are to be eliminated.
Right. He’s fighting to kill. Targets are to be eliminated.
He’s about to land a fatal blow, when the pink lady interrupts. “Enough.” She smiles, her sharp teeth glistening in the light. She speaks into a cell phone next, voice even as she says, “He’s ready.”
As the time wears on, Midoriya Izuku becomes something of a legend. Not by that name, of course, because the Midoriya Izuku known to the world has been erased. No, Midoriya Izuku becomes the Angel of Death.
Many Heroes claim to have spotted him, and in police reports his appearance is consistent; those who survive encounters with him (though the number is strikingly few) claim him to be short - likely a child - with green hair, blank green eyes, and freckles. He wears all black, protective gear, and a mask that covers the bottom of his face. Perhaps this appearance, so innocent on it’s own, is what inspired the name. Perhaps it’s the way the Angel, with eyes seemingly empty of emotion, cries over his victims bodies.
Many heroes do not believe the tales until they see the Angel in action, his small body fighting heroes to the death for an unknown reason, never saying a word or reacting to any taunts. He’s silent, deadly, and a child. There’s no record of any missing children matching his description.
Midoriya Izuku is a ghost. Angel of Death is a ghost story.
Angel kills, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. He kills heroes, and he cries over their bodies, though he isn’t sure why. He feels nothing, on the surface. He is apathetic, his face never straying from that blank look other than when another hero falls at his feet. Underneath, there is something. When he tries to find it, it’s gone, like sand. Still, he cries.
Sometimes Angel remembers things. He isn’t sure how he knows, but he remembers that his favorite food is Katsudon, and sometimes he has flashes of an angry blonde person, or a soft green woman, but that’s it. However, it’s not the Angel’s purpose to remember things. His job is to serve the League. Fight to kill. No mercy. Targets are to be eliminated. Usually, such memories fade before he even has time to grasp them, floating away.
Usually.
Today, Shigaraki is in front of him. High threat level. Quirk: Decay. Do not engage. Protect at all costs. The man snickers at him. “ Angel , there you are. Kill this man.” He’s saying, pointing down toward a bound man, with red eyes and spiky black hair. He’s young, maybe in his twenties.
Angel turns on the man, ready to do as ordered, but one look at the man's eyes reminds him - We’re gonna be heroes together, Deku! And Take a swan dive off the roof . The memories are confusing him in their contradiction - the red eyes, friend or foe? Target or not? He’s shaking, mumbling “No, no, no, Kacchan, ” because he can’t kill this man with eyes he remembers.
Before he knows what's happening, Shigaraki is snarling, grabbing his arm and it’s decaying, wasting away into nothing, and he’s out like a light. He sees flashes of that familiar, dreaded chair - “ Targets must be eliminated, say it back to me, Angel” - and pain, pain, pain.
When he next wakes, he has no memory of the event, a shiny metal arm he does not recognize, and feels even emptier than he did before. Angel does not remember much after that.
A year.
That’s how long Midoriya Izuku has been missing, erased from the world. Katsuki tries not to let it weigh on him. There’s nothing he can do. Nobody remembers. So why doesn’t that make me feel better?
Katsuki had kept in contact with Shinsou, if only to keep himself sane with the reminder that there was someone else who remembered Deku. They ended up hanging out a few times. Their personalities clashed a bit, but he could see why Deku liked the guy, and it was good that Deku had someone who understood him. Shinsou told him stories of their arcade adventures and Katsuki shared childhood embarrassments. It felt like the least he could do. Shinsou himself didn’t really have many friends either, so if Katsuki could be that for him he would.
If Deku was really gone, they should honor his memory. They were the only ones who could.
Katsuki had been accepted to UA, and Shinsou had too, despite being in the general course. He’s on track to becoming a hero, becoming number one, and he should feel ecstatic. Maybe once he’s a hero, he’ll be able to go out and find Deku, and make the world remember him.
But it’s been a year. Katsuki knows that means Deku is probably dead.
Somehow the thought just makes him angrier.
He scowls at the notebook on his bookshelf, torn and battered but still one of his most precious possessions. He repeats his familiar mantra. Wherever the hell you are, Deku, he inhales a deep breath through his nose, you better not be hurt. Or I’m going to fucking kill you.
The bus ride to USJ is hectic because his idiot classmates never shut the hell up. He does his best not to let it bother him, but he flies off the handle pretty quickly when Frog Face says something about his shitty personality.
He fucking knows.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so shitty, Deku wouldn’t have fucking even gone up to that roof, and he’d be here, on this fucking bus. So what if he were quirkless. Deku is the most heroic damn person Katsuki has ever known. That’s why he was always so pissed off.
He’s not really in the mood for hero training today, but he has to give it his all, since he’s going to become number one, so he can stop whatever happened to Deku happening to anyone else. He’ll give 110%, even if he feels like laying in bed all day instead.
At the very least, his classmates back off when they sense that he’s not in the mood, and he’s grateful for it. Unlike his middle school classmates, they all seem like good people. Deku would like them, he thinks, and scowls some more.
Kacchan, stop, says the Deku in his head. You’ll get wrinkles.
All hell breaks loose.
Villains are everywhere, and Katsuki rushes in to get the warp guy when suddenly he and all his classmates are all across the map. He’s with Shitty Hair, he notes, so better off than by himself. They guy has a good quirk that works really well with his own. Besides, Shitty hair is nice, and Katsuki pointedly avoids thinking of how similar to Deku he is.
They knock out villain after villain, and it’s so exceedingly easy, until -
A soft landing behind him forces Katsuki to turn, and in the shadows he can’t see this villain's face. The figure doesn’t move, so Katsuki calls out, “Oi, fight me, bastard.” He’s nervous. Something feels off, and he isn’t sure what, until the villain rushes him.
Punches are thrown, and this guy has a metal arm and some kind of super strength, so those punches fucking hurt , and they’re hit for hit until Katsuki finally pins him, gets him down with a hand over his throat and a threat of explosions.
He sees the green hair first. His eyes widen. Green eyes. Eyes he knows, but they’re practically lifeless, empty of emotion. Katsuki rips off the guy's mask, he has to know, and sure enough, freckles everywhere it’s - “ Deku ?” He breathes out, careful.
And there’s nothing to describe the feeling of dread when Deku’s eyebrows furrow in a flash of genuine confusion as he says, “Who the hell is Deku?”
“Bakugo -” Shitty hair calls out to him, and it’s enough of a distraction for Deku to get the slip on him, and the green haired boy runs off back into the fight. “Who was that?” He finishes, confused at the sight of a villain running off rather than fighting them.
“A ghost,” Katsuki says, and Kirishima looks at him funny. “My best friend,” he tries instead, and it still doesn’t feel right. So he swallows his pride and settles on the best version of the truth: “Someone I failed to protect.”
Katsuki and Shitty Hair get to Aizawa, and they’re doing their best to keep the low level villains away while Eraserhead goes to take on the leader of the league, this Shigaraki guy. Shigaraki laughs, “You thought you were fighting me? No, no. Angel,” Eraserheads eyes widen at the moniker, “Kill him.”
Out of nowhere, Midoriya Izuku drops from a portal to fight Eraserhead, that same lifeless stare in his eyes as he faces off the pro hero. Katsuki’s heart fills with dread as he sees Deku beating the snot out of their teacher. Deku is fucking crying.
And it should make him unhappy, to finally find Deku after all this time only to see him as a villain, viciously fighting, and crying, but Katsuki’s heart fucking soars, because the tears can only mean one thing.
He’s still fucking in there.
So Katsuki shoves through and pushes Aizawa out of reach, and stares Deku in the eye. Deku doesn’t attack, something like annoyance in his eyes.
“Your name is Midoriya Izuku. Your favorite food is Katsudon, and you cry at pretty much everything. You love All Might, and I used to be your best friend. I wasn’t a very good friend the last time we met, but fuck off if you think I’m letting you forget me, you fucking bastard.” He says. He can tell that he’s yelling, but he’s sort of fucking desparate.
Something like recognition passes across Deku’s face. So he keeps going.
“I used to call you Deku. It means useless, but I don’t think you’re useless anymore. You grew up without a quirk. You made friends with that brainwashing guy Shinsou at the arcade, and you always had your head in a notebook writing about quirks or heroes.”
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if this doesn’t work. He didn’t make a fucking plan.
For a second, it looks like it won’t, as Deku rears back a punch with his metal fucking arm, but then his hand loosens as he drops it, a sob leaving him. His face, which had been empty, scrunches up in confusion and pain.
“Ka-Kacchan?” Deku is saying, looking up at him in awe. “I… remember… Kacchan” he says, and it looks like Deku is having some sort of internal war with himself, he’s gripping his head like it hurts to remember. “Everything else… all fuzzy…hurts…” And then Deku is suddenly swaying on his feet.
He remembers me.
“It’s all… sand, Kacchan,” He says, before falling forward. Before Katsuki can run to catch him, Deku is dropping through one of the villains fucking portals, and he’s gone .
Katsuki lets his rage fly, as he tackles villains, stalling until All Might gets there and the villains all fuck off to who knows where.
Fucking Deku.
The day following USJ, classes are canceled. He’s pointedly avoiding his phone. Kirishima has sent him over 20 messages asking about yesterday, all asking about Deku, and Katsuki doesn’t know what to tell him, what to say, so he says nothing at all. He knows he has to tell Shinsou, too, but how do you say, “Yeah, I found him, but they took him away again. Also, guess what, he doesn’t even remember who the fuck he is either.”
He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He’ll do it later, when he’s not feeling so raw. That’s what he tells himself, at least.
The first thing he does is go to the training gym at UA and beat up a punching bag until it breaks open. His knuckles are bloody, and he doesn’t wrap them. You deserve this. He goes to the library, hands shaking as he looks up the villain registry. He could just ask Shinsou - the boy stays as up to date as possible, because he wants to be a hero so fucking bad - but that would mean admitting all of this shit, and he isn’t fucking ready yet.
He searches for anything mentioning green hair, freckles, and a metal arm. When he finds a description that matches, he tries not to vomit on the spot, seeing Apathetic and ruthless killer, described as a child with strength or speed quirk. Cries over his victims. Unconfirmed villain. He very carefully doesn’t cry as he looks at the kill count, and doesn't think of the way Deku’s face cleared with recognition as he said I remember Kacchan…. Everything else… fuzzy .
He very briefly considers the idea that Deku chose this, and dismisses it just as fast. Deku was practically born a hero, and Katsuki can’t imagine that Deku would ever willingly kill someone. Besides, he remembers that confused, “Who the hell is Deku?” and knows that whatever the fuck is going on, Deku’s probably a victim too.
Katsuki takes a few deep breaths, and he revises his mantra.
Wherever the fuck you are, Deku, they better not be hurting you. He stands, the library chair screeches with the force of his standing. Or I’ll fucking kill them.
He storms out of the library like a man on a mission. He doesn’t stop to talk when his classmates call his name, walking all the way to Recovery Girl’s office. He looks for his homeroom teacher, and sits by his bedside as the man turns to raise his one visible eyebrow.
“Bakugo.” He says in greeting, like it’s normal for him to be here.
Katsuki grits his teeth. He trusts Aizawa, more than he trusts most adults. Of course, the man is a hero, but more than all of that Aizawa just listens, and looks. He’s very observant, and he knows exactly which buttons to push and which to leave alone, to make you better. Katsuki is grateful for it, because more than once in the short time they’ve known each other Aizawa has forced him to work through his own bullshit superiority complex.
He trusts Aizawa. But anyone he’s ever told this sob story to - besides Shinsou - has called him crazy or didn’t believe him. It’s a leap of faith, to tell him all of this, but Katsuki has to, because nobody else fucking remembers Deku. If he doesn’t speak up now, Deku might get killed. He takes the leap. “What do you know about the Angel of Death?” He forces out, and looks up at Aizawa.
The man hums, considering. “He’s a ghost story. A legend, a villain with no voice who cries when he kills.” Katsuki nearly deflates before Aizawa corrects, “At least, that’s what I thought before today.” He looks at Katsuki again, and very carefully asks, “What do you know about him?”
It’s as much a genuine question as it is an out; Aizawa is letting him decide whether to tell him about this, and that trust honestly just makes it easier for Katsuki to spit it out.
“He’s my childhood friend.”
There must be some sort of haunted look on his face, because Aizawa doesn’t even blink. Instead, he nods, picks up the phone to call his detective friend Tsukauchi, and says, “Okay. Start at the beginning.”
They believe him.
Katsuki invites Kirishima and Shinsou over to his house that Saturday, telling each that he’d explain about Deku and that someone else was coming. He’s not exactly looking forward to spilling his guts a second time, but Shinsou deserves the full story and he knows he’s been worrying Kirishima too much for him to just let it go.
Kirishima comes early, and sits and listens patiently as Katsuki tells him a story about a boy without power who wanted to be a hero and a boy with power who wasn’t very heroic. He tells him about shoes on the roof and Midoriya Izuku? I don’t know anyone by that name. He tells him about Angel of Death, 28 unconfirmed kills, and I… remember… Kacchan . He tells him about being the only one who remembered the boy who thought Katsuki hated him.
Kirishima doesn’t interrupt once. He listens to the end, even as Katsuki tells him how it’s all his fucking fault. When he does speak, it's with a practiced even tone. “Bakugo, this isn’t your fault. Somebody took him, and that’s shit,” he’s saying, “But now, all we can do is do our best to get him out of there, okay?” We.
Katsuki takes a deep breath. “Right. Thanks, Shitty Hair.”
Kirishima squawks at the nickname even as Katsuki snickers.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a banging on his door, and Katsuki opens it to find a panicked Shinsou. The purple haired boy runs at him and for a second he’s afraid he’s going to get punched - you fucking let them take him - but he’s shocked to find himself being squeezed into a hug.
Shinsou doesn’t hug people. But Katsuki supposes he’s also seen Shinsou cry, and that wasn’t something Shinsou really did either. So Katsuki pats his back. “He’s alive, at least,” he says, because that’s the only real comfort he can give, and Shinsou nods as he steps back, clearing his throat.
He looks toward Kirishima, who had heard about him from Bakugo just half an hour ago. “You’re Kirishima, right? I’m Shinsou Hitoshi.” He says. Smirks. “Thanks for keeping this one annoyed, that’s just how I like him.” He easily dodges the hand that comes up to smack him, as Kirishima looks between the two of them and laughs.
“Yeah! I’m Kirishima Eijirou.” He says brightly, before he sombers, “Um, Bakugo told me about everything with… Deku.”
Shinsou snorts with laughter, even as he feels the mood drop. “His real name is Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.” Then he looks at Katsuki. “What happened?”
“He… he’s not all there, or something. At the USJ he was there and we fought but he didn’t… “ Katsuki groans with frustration. “He didn’t recognize me. He looked so cold, unfeeling, like there wasn’t even a person in there,” He hears a sharp inhale, but he has to keep going or he won’t be able to finish. “I ripped off his mask, because I thought his hair, his eyes, he just looked like Deku, and when I could see, it really was him.” He picks at a thread on the couch. “So I called out to him, and when he looked me in the eye, he said ‘Who the hell is Deku?’”
Shinsou seems pale. Bakugo had asked once why Shinsou seemed so affected by Deku’s disappearance when they hadn’t even been friends that long. Shinsou had told him, not in so many words, that Deku had been the first person to ever say he had the quirk of a hero. Had been the first person not to be scared of him, and had pestered Shinsou into becoming reluctant friends despite Shinsou’s hesitance. Deku had been there for him. He was important to Shinsou, even if they hadn’t known each other very long.
And really, what kind of hypocrite would he be if he didn’t accept that answer? Him and Deku had been bitter enemies, if you could even call it that, since Katsuki was a bully and Deku was the victim who wanted to be his friend.
He digresses. “When I saw him fighting Aizawa, he looked - he was crying. And all I could think was thank fuck, he’s still in there. So I marched up to him and reminded him of all this shit from when we were kids, and it worked. He stopped fighting, dropped his hand, and said I remember you, Kacchan.” He doesn’t look at Shinsou anymore. “And then the fucking portal villain took him somewhere else. I told Aizawa everything.”
Shinsou nods, swallowing. “We’ll get him back, Bakugo.” He says resolutely.
Kirishima puts a hand on his shoulder, “Yeah! We’ll save him, bro.”
Katsuki closes his eyes. “I fucking hope so.”
Midoriya Izuku - Angel - Deku wakes up in a familiar room, but everything is spinning and he can’t quite get a grip. He feels like he’s remembering two different sets of memories, and everything is hazy and strange. He sits up. Where is he? He remembers it here. This is his room. Angels room. Not Midoriya Izuku’s room. Not Deku’s room.
He frowns. Who’s Midoriya Izuku? The memory tries to float away, like sand, but suddenly it’s not sand but a diamond. That’s… him. That’s his name. But it feels strange and foreign. Why can’t he remember?
Suddenly he’s struck by the memory of pale blonde hair and red eyes, a glare on a face he remembers, a desperate voice saying “I call you Deku. It means useless, but I don’t think you’re useless anymore.”
His brain is all foggy.
The Pink lady comes in. She orders him around, and it feels like he’s having an out of body experience. Izuku is conscious; aware that all of this is happening, aware that he’s powerless to take control. No matter what, his face remains impassive, even when he tries to scream.
When she sends him out on a mission, he cries, cries harder than he ever has, as he kills another hero. 29. He cries, and he remembers the heroes he’s killed, some of them begging for their lives.
He cries, because no matter how much he tells his body to move, stop, stop - it doesn’t listen, and another hero dies. His body takes him back to the League of Villains headquarters, and when they set up to wipe his memories again, he’s almost grateful .
Sorry I can’t be stronger, Kacchan.
Annoyingly, life goes on for Bakugo Katsuki. Angel of Death is in the wind; they know he’s under the control of the League, and from Katsuki’s recounting and their best guesses, as well as his encounters, they figure he really is being controlled.
The Police don’t notify Midoriya Inko, because it would be distressing for her and would paint a target on her back. They’re not sure if she’d even believe them. And as Bakugo knows very well, there’s no proof besides circumstantial evidence. There’s not even any photos of Deku.
So life just… goes. He tries to stay present in it, but he’s spending so much time thinking, I wonder what Deku’s doing, wondering if right now he’s okay. He’s spending all his time wondering how he even got that way - a quirk, maybe? Or maybe they’re actually going in and fucking with his brain, or something. He shivers. It’s hard to care about school, his friends' problems, when all he wants is to go out and find Deku.
At the sports festival, Todoroki pulls him out of it. Threatens him, tells him a sob story and says, I won’t win with his power, and it makes Katsuki so fucking mad. He’s aware that the problems Todoroki has are not trivial; having a shitstain like Endeavor for a dad can’t be fucking easy. He’s not mad that Todoroki is upset about it. He’s mad that Todoroki won’t give it his fucking all, won’t use his own fucking power because he’s bitter over his past. Fuck you, because Deku would kill you for that. So he says what he thinks Deku would say; “It’s your fucking power, isn’t it halfie? Not his.”
Todoroki bursts into flames, and Bakugo Katsuki still fucking wins, because if he’s going to preach he better follow the fuckin prayer. He gives it his all, so that next time, next time he has Deku within arms reach, he won’t fucking let go.
Angel wakes up in a familiar room. There are memories fighting to be heard at the edge of his mind, a scream sounding in his own head but it all floats away like sand through his fingers. He’s ordered up and to get outfitted, so he does. He’s ordered to sit, so he does.
He does as is ordered; that is his job.
A man, tall, with many knives gives him an up and down stare. “This is him? Angel of Death?” The voice sounds disappointed. Angel observes but does not speak. That is not his job.
Shigraki hums assent, “This is him. He’ll kill anyone.” Shigaraki laughs as the man with knives waves a hand in front of Angel’s eyes, squinting at the lack of reaction. “He won’t talk to you. We didn’t program him that way,” he explains.
Something in the man’s eyes hardens. “Program?”
Shigaraki laughs as he explains Angel’s “special circumstances” - a boy acting as nothing more than the fist of the League, a human weapon. “He’s the Angel of Death,” Shigaraki says, “He doesn’t need free will.”
The man in front of him closes his eyes, in what Angel assumes must be prayer. He looks at Angel with pity, and Angel feels nothing. The man shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll be working with you after all, Villain.”
Katsuki does not see Deku again for long enough that it starts to feel hopeless again. He counts the numbers on the villain registry, watching as Angel of Death kill count hits 29, 30, 31 , and he closes his eyes with grief because he can’t imagine how hard it was for those heroes, for their families. He thinks of Deku, controlled, and he wonders if he can see it all, feel it all, or if he’ll only have to deal with it when he remembers. Either way, he hurts, because Deku would never do this, and if he ever has control again Katsuki knows he’s going to hate himself.
Shinsou has been transferred to the hero course, finally, so at least he has his two friends to keep him company while he tries not to think about it.
The training camp offers distractions. He trains, and trains, until Shinsou and Kirishima have to pull him away from it. He trains until he’s better than everyone in the class by leagues and leagues, and he doesn’t tell any of them why. He can see the looks Aizawa and All Might give him, but he ignores them.
He has to be better, so he can save Deku.
His training comes in handy when he has to fight his way out of the forest, but only Shinsou sees as he’s dragged back through a portal, and he feels awful, because this has gotta be one of Shinsou’s worst fucking nightmares. He tells him not to come, because he will find a way out of this if he has to fucking die first.
When Katsuki wakes up, he’s tied to a chair in front of a bar. At the bar is the portal demon, Shigaraki, and - Deku.
He ignores the other two for the moment. Deku sits on a bar stool, eyes blank and rim-rod straight. Okay. So right now he probably doesn’t remember shit. He’s wearing his black villain ensemble, baggy black clothes. His metal arm is on display, and he’s got a bruise on his cheekbone. He stops looking so that the villains don’t notice his distraction.
“What the fuck is going on, dipshits?” He barks out loud.
He doesn’t look over at Deku again while the villains rant at him about how flawed heroism is as a concept, how they noticed him at the festival, and how he’d make such a great villain. He’s fuming, he’s angry, and he should have looked at Deku, because when Deku says something everyone in the room freezes.
“Kacchan… could never be a villain.” Deku says with determined eyes. Katsuki meets his gaze and he feels hope flood his veins. “Kacchan will never.” He says.
Shigaraki snarls, and he raises both hands to grip around Deku’s neck, and Katsuki is screaming, because Deku is not fucking allowed to die , not after everything, and -
Nothing happens. Because through the door bursts Aizawa and All Might, and Katsuki counts his lucky fucking stars.
“Come closer, heroes! You can’t stop me forever, Eraser!” Shigaraki is laughing, manic, as he chokes Deku, who’s gasping for air. “He’s going to die, for you, Bakugo.” The man takes one hand off Deku's neck and tenderly drags it down Deku’s face. “Of course he’d recognize his precious Kacchan, he never shuts up about you.”
The heroes aren’t doing anything. So Katsuki screams, explodes out of the chair, and he pounces. Fuck this guy. Fuck him for taking the one thing in his life that felt real, and fuck him for hurting Deku. Fuck this fucking shitty villain for hurting someone so good.
He screams, and Shigaraki screams too, and Katsuki doesn’t remember much after that before he blacks out, other than Deku screaming that shitty fucking nickname. He thinks, even as he writhes in pain, that he smiled.
Katsuki shoots up in a hospital bed. There’s a “Wah!” Next to him, and Katsuki swivels to see him. Deku. Fuck. This better not be a fucking dream. His green eyes catalog Katsuki’s injuries to make sure that he’s still fine before he speaks.
Deku - Izuku - smiles. “I’m real, Kacchan.” The smile wobbles and falls. Shit, he said that out loud.
“Deku,” he says, and it’s heavy, years of grief lacing the name. “I thought - Thank fuck you didn’t die, or something,” He says, because he’s an emotionally stunted fucking five year old.
Izuku bites his lip. Katsuki can see he’s been doing it often; he’s got teeth mark scabs on his bottom lip. When he really looks, he can see the bags under Deku’s eyes, the wild disarray of his hair. He can see how his hands shake, how pale he is under the hospital light. “Yeah, for a second there I thought you were gonna die, Kacchan.” He has a stubborn look about him, even for all the stress. “Don’t do that again, asshole.”
Katsuki laughs. Honest to god laughs, because he’s so fucking glad. “Deku, I’m so fucking sorry.” He says, and he’s smiling because Deku is okay, but he really means this apology, too. “I’m so glad you’re here, you fucking idiot.” He says.
Deku smiles back at him. The smile doesn’t stay long. “Kacchan, it’s not your fault. They told me what happened - I mean, I don’t…” He screws up his face. “I remember bits and pieces, but most of that happens in my nightmares, um.” He blows a huff out and tries again. “They told me you did everything you could.” Deku reaches out and grabs his hand. “I don’t - I’m trying to deal with it, so please be patient with me.”
Katsuki squeezes his hand. “Anything, Deku.” He says.
Aizawa comes in at some point, to talk to them about options. Izuku says he’s willing to face judgment for his crimes, that he’ll plead guilty on all counts. Aizawa softens faster than melting butter and Katsuki thinks oh no, he’s dangerous, because he’s never seen Aizawa fold that fast. “No, Midoriya,” He says softly. “You’re not being charged with anything.”
Katsuki sighs with relief but Deku is angry.
“What? I -” He’s crying, now. Katsuki is glad to see it because it’s so like Deku, and he was afraid to face how Deku might be different now. Still, seeing him in distress hurts too. He misses Deku’s smile. “I killed people, heroes -”
Aizawa cuts him off. “You were under some pretty serious mind control quirks, Midoriya. You’re also a minor. You’re a victim here, too. The commission is mandating a pretty extensive therapy plan for you but other than that you should feel lucky that you can start over.” He says, then sighs. “I get it, Problem Child. It’s some pretty fucked up stuff. But punishing yourself won’t make you feel better.” He pats Midoriya’s head, who is looking at the floor with a frown.
“If you even try to step out of my fucking sight nerd, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.” Katsuki says, without heat.
Izuku flushes a pretty red, and Katsuki can’t help but think about how cute it is. “I - you go to UA, Kacchan, you’re certainly going to be busy -”
“That won’t be an issue, Midoriya.” Aizawa says. “The other thing the commission required is for us to keep an eye on you. So Nedzu gave you a spot at UA based on seeing some of your old coursework. We’re introducing a dorm system this year to keep the students safer, so you’ll be able to stay there.” Midoriya is shell shocked, so he pauses before saying, “And you don’t have to say yes, but… Bakugo made it pretty clear you wanted to be a hero, at least before. I have a spot open in my class, if you want it.”
Midoriya Izuku starts sobbing, and Katsuki snorts as Aizawa panics internally. Through the sobs, Deku nods, “Yes, yes, oh my god, Kacchan, we’re going to be heroes together.” Katsuki feels that familiar tug at his heart strings.
“Yeah, nerd.”
Izuku is aware of the fact that someone told his mother he was in the hospital. He’s aware of the fact that she didn’t remember him, so he tried not to let it hurt too badly when she gave up custody to UA. It’s not her fault she doesn’t remember, and honestly he thinks it might hurt both of them worse to try and force it. He misses his mother, but the mother he knew doesn’t exist anymore. She came and saw him once, and when no memories sparked, they said their goodbyes.
Katsuki is furious about it. He rants long and loud about how Inko should just fucking remember already, but they both know there’s nothing to be done. So Kacchan holds his hand, and he cries about it, but he’ll get over it, someday. Aizawa acts as his new guardian, and it’s enough to know that people care.
Izuku stays with Katsuki in the hospital, sitting in the chair at his bedside until Katsuki is discharged. When Kirishima and Shinsou visit, Shinsou hugs Izuku like he’d hugged Katsuki that one day. “Midoriya,” He says, “Glad you didn’t fucking die.” He’s soft in a way Katsuki had rarely seen him. Except with himself, he supposes, now that he really thinks about it. His eye bags, perpetual as ever, seem a little lighter, today.
Izuku laughs, bright and loud. “Kacchan said the same thing, Toshi.” Toshi? Katsuki thinks. He frowns, no fair that Shinsou got a nickname too. Izuku turns to his other friend, who looks oddly nervous. “Kirishima-kun, right? Can I call you Kiri? Thank you for taking care of Kacchan!” He’s beaming, that big smile that Katsuki had missed so fucking much, as he bows to Kirishima.
“Whoa! Man! I didn’t do that much! You’re Midoriya, right? I’ll call you Midobro!” Now Kirishima is beaming too, and both Shinsou and him grimace as they fake covering their eyes.
“Too bright,” Katsuki says.
“Blinding.” Shinsou agrees.
Izuku snorts. Katsuki talks with Kirishima as he lets Shinsou and Deku catch up, and he finds he’s finally, finally, present . Not drifting, thinking about Deku. No, because Deku is here, and Deku is holding his hand.
“Wah! Kacchan, are you okay, what’s wrong!?” Izuku is fussing, gripping both his cheeks in his hands, and Katsuki realizes, as he stares up into worried green eyes.
Oh, he’s crying.
He hadn’t let himself, before, so he lets out a great sob and just says, “Fucking nothing, Deku, because you’re right here.”
He feels a thumb wipe away a tear as Deku’s soft voice says, “Yeah, Kacchan, I’m here.”
The day comes when they have to move into the dorms. Izuku is nervous. Katsuki can tell, because he’s all fidgety. Their class had been warned they had a new arrival, one with a lot of fucking trauma, so don’t fuck with him (Katsuki’s words), but he’s still nervous to meet them all. He’s glad he had some time - he spent a month after the hospital with Aizawa, texting Katsuki and Shinsou at least three times a day. Aizawa caught him up with real world events he’d missed, tutored him with coursework he hadn’t taken, and helped him with hero training. Though, he’d basically been training , just without his fucking consent, so the hero training went a lot smoother than the rest of the work.
He’d told Katsuki that sometimes he couldn’t sleep because he was scared he’d forget everything overnight. “I’m scared I’ll become a monster, again.” He had said, and Katsuki tries not to think about it too much or he’ll go find Shigaraki and fucking kill him for real this time. Katsuki answers the phone every time Deku calls in the middle of the night, because fuck Izuku’s fucking shitty nightmares. Other than the stress, the nightmares, and the ever present guilt, Izuku was usually okay. Therapy helped where Katsuki couldn’t, and it felt like enough.
But today they break Izuku’s careful routine of learning with Aizawa in a stuffy apartment filled with cats. Today they move into the dorms, and Izuku has to meet everyone, or at least some of them. He’s shaky, all nerves, and self conscious, scratching at the scars on his hands and trying to make himself seem small.
“Deku, you’re gonna be fine. They’ll love you.” He says.
“What if…” Izuku swallows. “What if they know what I did?” He asks.
Here, Katsuki could lie, placate him, just to make Izuku feel better, but he wont. Deku is strong, and he can take it.
“They already know what happened, nerd.” He says softly, as Deku’s eyes widen in horror. “Aizawa had to tell them since the commission thinks it might be a safety issue.” He scowls at this. He’s happy the commission is giving Deku a second chance but they’re acting like Deku would just flip a switch and kill somebody. Also, privacy is a thing, and this being out has the potential to impede Deku’s mental health. Too late now, he supposes. “They didn’t seem like they blamed you for it.”
Deku nods, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath in. “I guess, that’s better, anyway.” He says.
“What do you mean, nerd?”
Deku smiles. “If they do like me, at least I won’t wonder if they still would if they knew the truth.” Katsuki understands that, he guesses. He spends his own fair share of time wondering if his friends would still like him if they knew how much of an asshole he was in middle school. Izuku huffs out a breath, “And if they don’t, well. I’ll still have you.”
Katsuki smiles. “Yeah. I’m here, Deku.”
They get spotted first by half and half, who Katsuki thinks may just be a saint as he passes by them with barely more than a nod and a brief introduction. Then it’s Tokoyami and Shoji, who are just as brief. Man, some of his classmates are nice . Deku seems to like them, even does a little mumbling about their quirks when they walk away, which makes Katsuki smile.
Then of course, Mina spots them, and all bets are off. He does his best to warn Deku with a hissed, “Mina, incoming,” Before she’s barreling over and jabbering at Deku, who’s wide eyed and nodding along. He answers her questions, and Katsuki loses interest until he hears his name.
“How do you know Bakugo? I heard about what happened, so he must have known you before, right?” She’s asking.
“Yeah, um we -” He looks over at Katsuki who is staring at Deku’s red fucking shoes. He’d given them back. After he’d cried over Deku in the hospital, he brought him to his house and given him back his fucking shoes. They still fucking fit. “We’re childhood friends,” Deku settles on.
“Aww! That’s so cute! Do you have any pictures of baby Bakugo?”
Deku starts to say, “My mom -” and then he cuts himself off. “Um. Sorry, no. He was really cute though,” He giggles. Katsuki does not blush, because that would be weird.
He’s grateful. His classmates are nice. They’re giving Deku a chance. They don’t say anything too intrusive - even Mina resists - and they are kind to Izuku. He’ll give them a pass, just this once. Kirishima stumbles towards Mina as he always does, and greets them with a wave before dragging Mina away again.
“You’re classmates are nice,” Izuku says, echoing Katsuki’s thoughts.
“Our.” He says.
“R-right. Our classmates.” Deku says. He laughs. “This all just feels so… unreal, I guess.”
Katsuki snorts. “Welcome to the fucking club, Deku.”
“You mentioned it before, but I can’t imagine what it must have felt like,” Izuku says, and grabs his hand with his own flesh-and-blood one, even though they’re in the middle of the dorm hallway. Deku was always touchy, and he’s way more touchy now after a year of being an unwilling fucking killing machine. Katsuki will indulge him. “If… if it had been you, I don’t know what I would have done. As it was I was freaking out when I snapped out of it and noticed you were even there with Shigaraki. Sorry I couldn’t be stronger, Kacchan.”
It’s all bullshit. He stops in the middle of their way, dragging Deku to a halt and looking him in the eye. This is important. “You were strong, Deku. You were in there that whole time, and when Shigaraki said I could be a good villain it made you so mad that you remembered. You’re here, and you’re real, and our classmates are fuckin’ real too. Get used to it.”
Deku is smiling at him, wide enough that his one dimple is showing and all his freckles mush up together, and Katsuki can’t think anything except that Deku is beautiful.
Their other classmates come and go, and all of them love Deku, just like Katsuki thought. Deku prattles at him about how cool their quirks are, what he thinks hero training will be like, and more and more until they both fall asleep in Katsuki’s newly decorated room.
Deku is here; that’s enough.
Later, he’ll carefully pull out the notebook that he’d packed separately. He’ll carefully dust off Izuku’s Hero Analysis for the Future: No. 13 , and softly set it on his bookshelf. He’d packed it separately because he hadn’t wanted Izuku to see it, too scared he might ask for it back. It had served as a comfort too many times for him to be willing to part with it. Maybe later, he will think to himself.
In classes, Deku is diligent, always taking notes even with shaky hands. Katsuki idly wonders if maybe he has nerve damage. Deku pouts as he tells him no when he asks. “No, Kacchan, I’m just nervous.” He seems reluctant to admit it, but Izuku doesn’t want to lie and say he’s got nerve damage.
He works hard, and in hero training he’s brutal. At first, Deku was reluctant to participate. Katsuki knows it’s because he’s afraid to hurt people. He never says as much out loud, but the look in his eyes tells Katsuki the truth. His reluctance seems to put his classmates at ease, which pisses Katsuki off but he guesses he doesn’t blame them. It pisses off Aizawa, too, and he makes Izuku run a hell course every time he opts out of any verus training. Eventually it wears Izuku down, and he agrees to participate in training with the rest.
In battle, Deku is ruthless. Katsuki is glad Deku had never seriously aimed to kill him when he was Angel, because facing a determined Deku now gives him quite a challenge. His classmates are done for, because if Katsuki is leagues ahead of them then Deku is double that. Still, even Katsuki feels better after their training sessions, when Deku apologizes profusely to anyone he’d hurt. Same old Deku.
Deku has to pick a hero name. He stares at his blank card, and he uncaps his marker. He writes it down, and he shows the class.
Angel.
Katsuki is furious. It’s the first time he’s gotten mad at Deku, at least for real, since Deku had been back. He doesn’t want it to fester, he doesn't want to hurt Deku, but he’s angry. “What the hell, nerd? The fuck are you thinking?” He hisses at Deku as he goes to sit back down. He knows others around them are curious too, and disapproving.
Deku doesn’t back down. He smiles. “They gave me a name, Kacchan. They gave me a quirk, and they gave me a chance to be a hero, too.” He says. Katsuki wants to protest, because no, they didn’t, Deku could have done all of that himself. Deku knows what he’s thinking. “Maybe I could have done it on my own. But I don’t - I won’t be an Angel of Death anymore. But I still…” He takes a deep breath in. “I still don’t want to forget about it. I want to make sure what happened to me mattered. I want to prove that I can use the powers I’ve been given, the training I’ve received, and be someone’s guardian angel. ”
Katsuki only nods, accepting Deku’s choice. It’s valid enough reasoning. He very carefully doesn’t tell Deku, you’re already mine.
When they take their provisional license exam, Deku tells him that he doesn’t want to work together. I need to do this on my own, for myself. He’d said. He’d been worrying about passing, and thinking that maybe he was only doing so well in hero training because of Katsuki’s help. It wasn’t true, and everyone knew it, but Katsuki couldn’t find a way to convince him.
Turns out Deku was fine without him. He couldn’t say the same for himself.
He gets pissed, and realizes he must have been getting too comfortable, because he takes it out on Deku. Screams at him until his voice is raw, and Katsuki can see the hurt in Izuku’s eyes. You never fucking change, he thinks to himself, pissed as he storms away. No matter what you do, you’ll only ever hurt him.
Todoroki didn’t pass either, and at least that makes him feel better. Pathetic.
For two days, Deku doesn’t speak to him. Katsuki doesn’t make an effort to reach out. If Deku knows what’s good for him he’ll never talk to Katsuki again. Deku’s never been very good at taking care of himself, though, so it doesn’t surprise him when the nerd forces him to stay at their desks when class is up. The afternoon sun floods the room, and makes Deku look ethereal, even though his expression is tight and angry. Katsuki still thinks he looks beautiful, and he wonders how many times a boy can break his heart by accident.
“Kacchan,” Deku says, “I know you didn’t mean it, so why won’t you talk to me?”
Katsuki stares. He could lie. Tell Deku he hates him, push him away so that Deku won’t ever have to listen to Katsuki berate him again. He could push him away, so that Deku could have real friends, friends who didn’t let you down, again and again - he could.
He won’t.
“You deserve better than me.” Is what he says instead. He’s only ever been this vulnerable with Deku. It’s always fucking Deku. “I hurt you again.” He closes his eyes. Deku doesn’t say anything, so he lets out, “I’m so fucking sorry, Deku. You didn’t deserve it when we were kids, and you don’t deserve this bullshit now.”
He feels a hand on his face, and opens his eyes to Izuku, a fond smile on his face, anger dissipating. “Kacchan, it’s okay.” He says. “I forgave you for all of that a long time ago.” He says softer. “I was mad at the exam - but Kirishima explained to me why it matters so much to you that you failed.”
Katsuki raises a brow as he lets out a sigh of relief. “Yeah? And what did Shitty Hair have to say?” He’s genuinely wondering.
“He told me,” Izuku says, and he’s leaning really close into Katsuki’s space, both hands on his face now. “That you always wanted to be the best hero, so that you could save me. ” Izuku’s eyes are really big, and Katsuki doesn’t know when, but they somehow got all their stars back. He doesn’t have time to think about it, though, because Izuku closes them, and the distance between them.
He tastes like oranges, and he kisses soft, like he’s worried he’s not allowed to have this. Katsuki doesn’t like that, so he kisses him back, deeper, like Izuku’s lips are fire and he’s fucking freezing. Katsuki finds he doesn’t care anymore what Deku fucking deserves. If it’s better than him, that’s too fucking bad , because Deku has him whether he likes it or not. He’ll do his best to be someone Deku deserves, he thinks, as he pulls Izuku closer.
Izuku hums happily against his lips before pulling away. Then, like he’s reading Katsuki’s mind again, “I don’t care what I deserve Kacchan.” He says, stars in his eyes and freckles forming galaxies, and Katsuki can only think that he’s beautiful. “I want you.”
Katsuki melts. If he’s going to go soft, it’s going to be for Deku every goddamn time, and no matter what Katsuki is going to make this nerd so fucking happy. So kisses Izuku again, and he breathes against Izuku’s lips, “Yeah, Deku. I’m here.”
Weeks later, after enduring endless teasing from all sides and a particularly embarrassing shovel talk from Aizawa himself, Izuku finds himself settling into his relationship with Katsuki quite nicely. Katsuki had apologized for his middle school actions, but Izuku had never been concerned much about that anyways. Like he said, he’d forgiven him a long time ago.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. It still makes him jump, which he found frustrating for a while. That is, until Kacchan tells him he did that even before, idiot, with a fond smile. He’d felt better, then.
The gaps in his memory are odd, sometimes. He remembers people - His mother, Shinsou, and Kacchan - the best. What he forgets the most is how he used to be - old behaviors, like his muttering, did I do that before? Or mannerisms. Things he used to say, things he used to think. It frustrates him, because he doesn’t remember who he was. He wants to be the person that Kacchan and Shinsou lost, he wants to give them that closure. When he’d told Katsuki as much, the blonde had pushed him off the bed and called him an idiot. We don’t give a fuck if you changed, nerd. Katsuki had said. If it helps, you’re the same fucking nerd I always knew. And even if you weren’t, we’d still love you.
He shakes his head at the thought and checks the notification on his phone.
<< Kacchan
You have the key to my room, nerd. I’m finishing up with the idiots and I’ll meet you there.
>> Kacchan
Thanks, Kacchan! See you soon! ^_^
He fights with the key - Kacchan has broken his door knob so many times that the key gets stuck often. When he finally gets the door open, he goes to flop on the bed, but something catches his eye. There, on the desk, cloaked in afternoon light, is a notebook.
It itches at his memory, but he can’t quite place it. He spends what feels like a full minute next to the door, holding his breath, before he walks over and looks. Hero Analysis for the Future: No. 13 the front cover reads. The notebook is yellow, and it’s quite beat up. It looks as though it’s gotten wet and then dried out again, and the binding is a little scorched.
He picks it up, and suddenly it’s there, in his head. That whole day, he’d gotten picked on, Kacchan had said those ugly words, and he’d walked up to the roof. He’d - oh god, he’d considered it. Took off his shoes like maybe he wouldn’t need them, where he was going, and then the pink lady had shown up, and warped him off before he could think.
He inhales a deep breath, counting like his therapist taught him. In and out. He sets the notebook carefully back on the desk. He gathers his thoughts - identify your feelings before you spiral. He’s - glad. Glad, because even if he knows he wouldn’t really have gone through with it, what happened to him - it meant something. It’s awful, and ugly, and it gives him horrible nightmares, but Izuku wouldn’t change it.
All of it - the bad, the worse, and the ugly - it brought him here. Hero Analysis for the Future, indeed. He’s going to be a hero, he has people who love him, and Kacchan is standing next to him. He wishes he could go back, and tell himself, just hold on, it’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’re going to be so fucking happy.
He smiles, and he stares at the notebook, and thinks, Kacchan kept it. Because it’s been two years, and Kacchan had held onto this, onto him, all this time. He wanted to be the best hero, so that he could save you, Kirishima’s voice rings in his head.
When Katsuki opens the door, Izuku is grinning. The boy turns, and envelops him in a hug. “Kacchan,” He says, soft and fond. “You’re the best.”
Katsuki snorts. “I know, nerd. Why this time?” When Izuku points to the desk, Katsuki flushes. “Ah - shit I usually hide that -” He snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever, nerd! I don’t care what you say, it’s mine, and I’m not giving it back.” He’s got a stubborn set to his jaw like he’s daring Izuku to fight him over it.
It all just makes Izuku smile even wider. “I'm glad you kept it, Kacchan.” He says, peppering kisses on the blonds jaw. “Thank you for saving me.” He says.
Katsuki puffs up, all prideful, and Izuku rolls his eyes. “Tch. Not like you needed saving, Deku.”
Izuku sighs, softly fond. “Still.”
They hold each other, into the early hours of the morning, and Izuku feels better than he can remember feeling in a long time. It’s not perfect. He’s not sure if he’ll ever feel totally okay again, and he and Katsuki still have a lot to work out. He misses his mother, and he still has nightmares, and Katsuki’s sometimes overbearing in his overprotection.
Katsuki smoothes a hand over his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thanks for coming back to me, idiot.”
It’s not perfect, and it might never be. But he feels whole again, like the emptiness inside him is gone, and he can let himself start to believe that someday, he’ll be okay. Katsuki is here, and so is he. He’s loved, and he’s in control again. It’s enough. He smiles and leans into Kacchan, taking a deep breath.
It’s more than enough.