Chapter Text
He’d been here before.
Not here exactly, but in this situation.
Hands trapped in metal claws.
Strapped to a chair.
Sitting in a darkly lit room, waking up groggily, realizing he’d been knocked out.
Yeah, it had been a hot minute, but he’d been here before.
There was no way he wouldn’t remember.
Sitting in the dark, it was all he could think about. All he could do was remember. Re-imagine that time.
A weight settled on him in the dark. A cloud that barked at him. Hit him with the most piercing lightning, the most excruciating pain. The thought that:
This time?
He might not make it out alive.
He’d gotten lucky last time. All Might had come for him. If it hadn’t been for him and the other heroes, Bakugou might never have made it out.
But this time?
All Might couldn’t save him.
And, this time?
He hadn’t been alone.
Somewhere, Kirishima was here. And Mina. And Sero. And Kaminari. They were trapped her, or there. Kidnapped, or stuck under the crumbling building they’d been taken from. Either kidnapped, like him, or left to die. Either way, it was the same:
Somewhere, his friends needed help.
They needed him.
And here he was, strapped to a chair, listening to the sound of a pipe dripping.
He needed to get out.
The fear was threading itself through his mind. Whittling away at his resolve, at his courage. Tiny, intrusive thoughts that weighed like dark clouds. That burdened his mind. Made it harder to think. Harder to want to move.
There had been so many of them last time.
So many.
What if he couldn’t get out? What if it was too late for his friends? Were they torturing them? Why had they been kidnapped in the first place? Why them?
He didn’t know.
He had no answers.
And it was eating him up inside. Crumbling his conviction.
No.
I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE, he screamed back at his fear, rallying his determination.
They needed him.
Yeah.
No matter what, he needed to get out of here. Regardless of how many there were, or how powerful they were, he needed to get out of here. Needed to help his friends.
When the metal door shuttered open, he thought he was ready. Felt, down to his core, that he was. That he’d face whatever the villains threw at him. Face it, and come out on top. He was Katsuki fucking Bakugou, and he could do anything. Could take down anyone.
But then, he heard the voices.
Heard the voice.
THE voice.
A hand crept in. A man’s hand, that was for sure. As it began pushing the door open, it stopped. Also halted by the voice.
The voice that he knew well.
“No, he’s mine,” it said. Commanded.
Such power, that voice.
It felt like a punch to the stomach. Like someone had just squeezed his lungs. Sat on his chest.
All of Bakugou’s resolve was shattered. Instantly leaving him, like a flame faced with the ocean. Like a flashlight pressed against a star.
He was out of his league.
Because there was no way.
Things had just gone from “bad” to “impossible” because there was no way.
He couldn’t hurt Ochako Uraraka.
Even if she did break his heart. Even if she had betrayed them.
Even if she was a villain.
There was no way he could fight her.
Not with his heart in pieces like this.
When the door closed, silence swallowed them whole. For the moment, they just stared. His red eyes locked onto her brown ones.
She looked…
Tired.
Unrested.
Weary.
Seeing her burned holes through him. The way she was staring at him intently. The way she seemed to be searching him, the same way he was searching her. The way she looked at him as if… as if…
As if she cared.
That hurt the most.
He remembered when he thought she did care. When he spoke to her after class, or when they had a group project together. Or when they ate lunch at the same table, and she was unafraid of his brash demeanor. His harsh language, or his rude actions. She never shied away from him. Never. Not at the lunch table, not during class, and not during fights either.
No matter what the situation, she stood tall. Looked him in the eyes. Wasn’t afraid of Bakugou’s beastly behaviors. In fact, there was a time when he thought she actually might… enjoy his company.
Or something.
Thinking about it—about those feelings he had to swallow every day, like bile in the back of his throat, or like a bitter tart that refused to go down—about how he liked her. About how his heart raced just looking at her. At just the thought of her, even. How he looked to her seat first—even now—every day as he entered the classroom, to see if she was there. Like she was the sun rising, or the full moon on a chilly night. Like she was something he desperately wanted to take in, behold. Something he needed to consume, and, appropriately, was consumed by. Thinking about how thoughtful she was, how she seemed to get whatever his gist was, even if she wasn’t spot-on. Thinking about her laugh, and her attitude, and how she helped the class stick together. About all the wonderful things that he liked. All the things that made her Ochako Uraraka—it all made his throat close up. Made his eyes heavy. Made him grit his teeth and want to growl. Want to roar. Wanted to blow something up, break it to pieces.
He…
He liked her.
Liked her a whole hell of a lot.
And she’d betrayed them.
Betrayed him.
Left him. Disappeared into the dark with that mummy man. Took the villains’ side over the heroes’. She’d left.
Even when he’d begged her to stay.
She left.
She wasn’t the same Ochako he knew. Not the same girl with the determined glint in her eyes. With fury inside her. The same girl he’d faced at school. The same kind girl, whose giggle made his heart jitter. Whose face set his mind at ease. Whose fight impressed him like no other. That girl wasn’t her anymore.
She was different.
…wasn’t she?
After all, she was a villain now. She had to have had a change of heart. There was no way she was the same girl he liked. No way she was as kind, or as considerate, or as compassionate.
Right?
Before he could speak—hurl pain-fueled insults at her, demand to know what the hell he was doing here, and where the hell his friends were—she cut him off. She spoke first.
“Are you okay Bakugou? Are you injured?”
…that.
That wasn’t what he expected.
It floored him. Turned all the dials—all the channels in his head—back to zero.
“I—what? Of-fucking-course I’m hurt. They fucking attacked us. Brought a building down on our heads. How could I not be?” he hurled out, not sounding nearly as fiery as he wanted to.
He sounded…
Hurt.
Weak.
Fucking damnit.
And she was giving him a sympathetic look. One with something else behind it.
Urgency.
“No, I know you’re injured. I dressed your wounds while you were knocked out.”
She…
She what?
Bakugou’s mind was having a hard time keeping up. Why the hell would she dress his wounds? Shouldn’t she know if they were serious or not if she was the one who took care of them?
Was she lying?
“The ones I saw were superficial,” she explained, doing that thing where she practically read his mind, and made his heart drop-kick his rib cage. “But I wanted to double-check. Can you breathe alright? You’re not hurting anywhere besides on the surface, are you?”
His jaw nearly dropped.
Was she… really that concerned for him?
Curtly, he replied with a snort, and then his trademark “tch” before answering properly.
“I’m fine.”
Another round of shock hit him, because she didn’t react how he expected her to.
She flinched.
Actually flinched.
As if he’d hit her.
“Right,” she said, and he could hear the undercurrent of guilt. Something like shame sticking to the back of her throat as she spoke.
He had to bite his tongue.
The sound of it… her shame, and her guilt and her… well, it couldn’t be anything but pain.
It hurt him.
For some reason, it felt like a fissure was opening up inside his chest. Like Thirteen had opened up a black hole inside his rib cage, inside his gut. Everything getting sucked into a dark, heavy place with a dark, heavy presence.
And, for some reason, he felt guilty too. As if… as if he’d been too harsh with her.
Which was ridiculous.
Because she was a FUCKING VILLAIN.
Get ahold of yourself Katsuki, he berated himself.
She had picked this path. Chosen it.
That made her a bad guy. Someone he had to beat.
Even if it did hurt him. Made his stomach curl up painfully. Made his heart squeeze uncomfortably, like it was an elephant trying to fit inside a sports car.
Even if it did break him beyond being broken.
He had to defeat her.
“Listen,” she said, snapping his mind back to the grueling pain of the present. Back to the horrendous reality he was in.
Her voice was calm, certain as she spoke. “Sero is hurt pretty badly, but Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari can all fight back. Once you get free, go down the hallway to the left. Take the third door on the right. You’ll find Kirishima in there. If he was paying attention earlier—and I suspect he was—he’ll know where to go from there.”
Again, Bakugou was having a hard time catching what was happening. As if he was running barefoot in a motorcycle race.
“What—what are you talking about? Are you just… assuming I’ll escape? Why the hell are you helping me?” Bakugou’s mind was so crammed with questions, it was hard to get them all out. Pick and choose which ones to throw at her.
“Shh! Keep your voice down,” Uraraka said, voice and face stern. “They don’t have audio recording in this room, but there IS video. And there’s someone patrolling outside. If they find out I did this on purpose…” she shuddered violently, shaking Bakugou’s core with a new wave of anger and frustration.
Why should she be so afraid of the people she’d chosen to be with?
Hell, why had she even chosen them in the first place if she was just going to be afraid of them?
It didn’t make any sense to Bakugou.
Then, she said something. Under her breath, as if it wasn’t meant for him.
But he’d heard it anyway.
“Who knows what they’ll do to my parents.”
And everything clicked.
It all made sense.
Of course.
Of FUCKING course.
That was it.
That was FUCKING IT.
Why hadn’t he thought of it? Of COURSE that was the answer.
“You… they’re blackmailing you?” he practically whispered, his voice incredulous.
She flinched again.
“That’s not important Bakugou—now isn’t the time—”
His voice reached out like a solar flare. All the fire and fury of a light that burned so brightly it fueled a whole planet.
He wasn’t just mad or furious.
He was livid.
“Of course it is,” he growled, his voice rolling like thunder. Menacing. Promising.
He’d kill them.
For real.
How dare they—HOW DARE THEY—threaten Ochako.
It seared his insides. Set his soul on fire like nothing else had. Instinct took over, and Bakugou nearly let off a gigantic blast.
Luckily, he didn’t.
He’d have blown his hands off if he’d tried.
Instead, he finished what he wanted to say.
…or, at least, he attempted to.
“All this time… for all these months… I’ve thought—we’ve thought—that you were a villain—that you’d betrayed us—”
“I did.”
The words cut into the conversation. Sliced into his train of thought.
She spoke with conviction. Chest puffed out, facing her own words. “I DID betray you guys. All of you. I betrayed you.”
She put so much feeling into it. So much emphasis. Meaning the words she said. Speaking them without fear.
But he shook his head.
“No. You didn’t,” he insisted. “You just did what you had to do to keep your family safe. Did what you had to, like any good hero would. You didn’t betray us.”
They locked eyes again. And he saw that he had been wrong. Woken up, heard her voice—been waiting all these months—under the wrong assumption.
She was still the same.
She was the same.
The cute, thoughtful girl who could kick his ass and hold the class together. Who could move mountains, if she wanted to. She was the same girl that wanted—so desperately—to do her best. To become better.
She was still the girl who wanted to be a hero.
She was still the girl he loved.
After a breath or two, she broke the eye contact. Broke the moment of revelation. Of acceptance.
“Now isn’t the time,” she insisted again. “When I let you go, you have to knock me out, or they’ll know. Got it?”
“No.”
It was her turn to be stunned.
“Bakugou…”
“I won’t hurt you Ochako.”
He didn’t mean for it to slip out, but it did.
The way he said it…
If she didn’t understand the night she’d left, she had to now. Had to. He’d said it with too much feeling. Way too much. Too much desperation, and too much resolve, and too much tenderness.
If she didn’t know before, she probably did now.
He liked her.
Damn, did he like her.
His aching heart, the heaviness in his chest, the way the blood in his veins soared…
He liked her a lot.
And there was no way he could hurt her.
Glaring, she walked forward. Stalked toward him, like a lion walks toward a downed gazelle. Walked toward him with ferocity, and fire, and everything he loved about her.
She stopped in front of him, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, stabbing into his veins. Beating overtime, to make up for all the months he refused to let it sing for her.
Leaning down, he bit back a growl. Held himself still.
Because, damn.
He really wanted to kiss her. Really wanted to show her—now, of all times—that he cared. That he thought about her. That he really, truly liked her. Thought she was above the rest. That she was worth more than what she’d fallen into.
This might be his only chance.
His last chance.
What if he never saw her again?
What if they hurt her?
What if they killed her after this?
The idea made him glower. He matched her look with one of his own.
No.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
“Knock me out Bakugou,” she said, her voice low, demanding. “When I let you go, you need to make sure I’m down for the count. You have to get out of here. You HAVE to.”
She was so close to him.
So, so close.
He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her. To hold her close. Hug her. Tell her he was going to fix this. Was going to make it right. He was going to save her, and her parents, and anyone else the League of Bastards might try to hold over her. He’d save them all. He’d save anyone and everyone, if it meant her freedom.
If it meant her happiness.
Her safety.
He’d do whatever he had to do.
…including knock her out.
Because she was right. If he didn’t, she’d be in more danger. A lot more danger.
Jaw clenched tight, he nodded once. A tight nod. Brief and curt, as if the motion itself was tough. Agonized him.
He nodded.
And that was enough.
Reaching around, she lingered near him. Her body heat pressing into his. Whispered into his ear.
“Down the hall to the left, third door on the right.”
She was so warm, and her breath tickled his ear. Sent shivers into his bones.
“Got it,” he whispered back.
Was it just him, or did she smell like… smoke?
Fire?
Before he could ask—could grasp for understanding—he felt the metal blocks around his hands loosen. In the next instant, he heard them hit the floor.
He was free.
It was now, or never.
Rushing forward, he did his best to make it painless. Easy for her.
He knocked her out.
Collapsing into his arms, she passed out. Peacefully went into the world of sleepers. He could only hope that it was as painless as she’d made it seem.
As he laid her down, he wished her good dreams. Good rest. A night of ease.
Because he’d be back.
Oh, he’d be back.
And when he returned?
Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing.
She was going to be free damnit.
Just because he was leaving her behind now didn’t mean he wasn’t coming back. That he was abandoning her. That he’d allow them to terrorize her, threaten her.
He was going to break her out damnit.
He was.
And then?
Then?
Then he was going to take her ass out on a fucking date.
And he was going to kiss her. Tell her how he felt.
Tell her before he lost another chance.
Before he really, truly lost this girl for forever.
He was going to free her, and then he was going to tell her.
Resolve making it slightly easier for him to leave her behind, he walked out of the room. Went down the hall, to the left, as she’d said. Went in through the third door. Busted himself, and all of his friends out of there. Only able to accomplish it because he knew:
She was still the same girl he loved.
And, if this—the “betrayal” and all the time with the villains—hadn’t changed that, he thought nothing could.
She’d always be the girl he loved. Always.
He’d be back for her.