Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing Deku, but we’re not done.”

Katsuki waved the journal in his hand, reminding his target that he couldn’t leave just yet. He could see it sinking underneath Izuku’s skin, putting a tiny little dent in that perpetually happy face.

Katsuki’s groupies laughed.

“A-alright guys, knock it off.”

Izuku had a nervous smile plastered across his mouth, which just made Katsuki want to punch him even more.

God, how he hated that stupid fucking face.

Ever since they were kids, that face had been there, shining and laughing, trailing him wherever he went. No matter how many times Katsuki beat him down, berated him, called him useless for being born without a quirk, he was there, smiling up at him with that dumb admiration in his green eyes. Always there with a, “You’re so cool Kacchan!” Or a, “You’re going to be an amazing hero Kacchan!” Or an, “Even without a quirk, I’m going to become a hero and stand next to you at the top!”

Izuku was powerless. He was weak, and he wouldn’t survive as a hero. He couldn’t defend himself against villains. He was useless and deserved the title of Deku. Katsuki was strong. He was always told that he would make a great hero because he had a powerful quirk. Izuku, however, was part of the 20% of the population born without any quirk whatsoever. His dreams got crushed as a kid, learning that he would never be the number one hero like All Might, he could never follow in the footsteps of his idol and that killed him.

That made Katsuki mad.

Izuku always tried to help him when he was down, always condescended him with that stupid dorky smile on his face, and he never knew when to quit. Even if being a hero was impossible, he still planned to go to U.A., the top hero school in the country, and had filled thirteen journals with descriptions and details of all the heroes registered, their quirks, strengths and weaknesses, and style of combat in battle. Maybe he just wanted to see that resilient smile crumble beneath his boot.

He sneered and clasped the journal between both of his hands, ignited the sweat on his palms, and blew up the paper under his fingers. Izuku made to grab it, so he tossed it over his shoulder and out the window.

And crumble it did.

Katsuki watched with a smirk on his face as those freckled cheeks fell, accepting the defeat at the hands of his childhood friend. There he left him, hunched and small, curled in on himself. Broad shoulders smacked into weak ones and the spiky-haired blond led his friends in name only past the husk of a boy.

Izuku stood in front of the window, gazing in defeat as his journal got nibbled on by the koi in the pond below.

Katsuki stopped before exiting the classroom, his two friends hovering behind him.

“Oh, and if you’re really set on being a hero, there might just be a way.”

Izuku’s tentative hopefulness was almost too good. Without turning, he looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with the quivering frame.

“Take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life.”

_________________________

Katsuki was asleep when he got the phone call.

It was nearly midnight, which you would think would be considered early in Katsuki’s head, but he took his education seriously. He was in the top of his class and was one of the brightest kids around, regardless of his delinquent behaviour and sagging pants. Part of getting into not only the top hero school in Japan, but also a school that was one of the top academic facilities in general, was having a decent sleep schedule.

He groaned and fumbled for his phone that was charging on his bedside table, and let out a huff as he felt his fingers brush the cool glass. He rubbed at his eyes as he tried to read the display name.

Incoming Call: Aunty Inko

This wasn’t… Ideal. Deku wasn’t the type to rat him out, and he didn’t have any bruises or marks. Well, maybe a singed shoulder, but Ms Midoriya hadn’t ever called him before, especially this late at night.

He debated whether or not to pick up for a few seconds, but he figured that if he didn’t then she would go to his mom. Aunty Inko was quite the force when she was angry, but he would rather deal with her than his mother in a heartbeat.

“Aun-”

“Have you seen Izuku?”

Ice settled in his stomach.

“...Not since school ended. Isn’t that nerd home?”

There was a tiny sob on the other line.

“No, he hasn’t called me and I don’t know where he could be, he wouldn’t run off like this-”

Now, Katsuki didn’t do comforting. He didn’t do distress. He didn’t do crises.

He didn’t get involved, he just let it roll off his back and trusted that it would work out. After all, he was Katsuki Bakugo, the future number one hero, nothing went wrong in his world.

But she was right. He didn’t run off. He barely did anything without letting his mother know first, he wasn’t the type to rebel or stay out past 6 pm, and he certainly wasn’t the type to run away. He and his mother had a great relationship, and she wasn’t scared to give Katsuki hell if her little boy ever came home with injuries. Inko Midoriya wasn’t a fan of Katsuki, not in the slightest, but she didn’t exactly know who else to turn to. Izuku barely spoke to anyone, he was an outcast in his class and Katsuki was the only person besides herself that she could think of that Izuku would say something to. With his dad having left when he was four, he was ruled out as well.

The gears in Katsuki’s head ground into action, the harsh boot of panic making his body hum.

So Izuku was missing, no big deal.

In fact, it’s so not a big deal that Katsuki immediately runs to his parents' room and pounds on the door, screaming at them to go over to the Midoriya’s place immediately, because hi, a quirkless fourteen-year-old boy was missing. He had no powers to defend himself, not even a mental quirk like enhanced I.Q. or strategizing. He wasn’t even physically strong, he was a nerd who watched hero videos obsessively in his spare time and barely went outside.

It took ten minutes before they arrived at the Midoriya’s doorstep, a relatively small, modern apartment that still felt cozy. Part of the reason for Katsuki and Izuku being friends as kids was because their mothers were friends, and another part was due to them living so close to each other. Inko was a mess, her eyes swollen and puffy from crying and her plump, pale hands trembling as she held onto the hem of her pencil skirt with a death grip. Her hair was falling out of it’s half up ponytail, wisps of the straight green strands resting gently against her red cheeks. Katsuki’s mother, Mitsuki, rushed forward and trapped her in an embrace. They made an odd pair of friends, with Inko’s quiet and loving demeanour and Mitsuki’s brash and explosive personality, but it wasn’t all that strange as Katsuki’s father, Masaru, was quite the same as Inko. Anyone who wondered where Katsuki got it from immediately had their questions answered the moment they met his mother. Personality wasn’t all they shared, Katsuki also inherited her spikey ash-blond hair, and piercing red eyes.

Inko let herself fall apart in Mitsuki’s arms, harsh sobs wracked her body as Mitsuki soothed her, running her slim fingers through her friend’s hair. After a few minutes, Inko pushed herself off of Mitsuki’s chest, able to collect herself and properly invite them in.

They all sat in the living room, tension hanging thick in the air. The silence was prevalent, no one wanted to speak but they couldn’t just sit there.

“Have you called the police?” Masaru was the first to gather himself.

“I did, but they said that they aren't able to do anything until 24 hours have passed.” She paused, her breath stuttering as she tried to keep her tears at bay. “They-They said that he might just be a runaway.”

Her head fell into her hands, shoulders trembling with little sobs.

Mitsuki clenched and unclenched her fists, anger bubbling out from her comforting air.

“Do they know he’s quirkless?”

“They said that wasn’t relevant.”

Katsuki was uncharacteristically silent. He sat there, staring at the floor with his pyjama pants bunched in his hands. He felt powerless, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Inko used her quirk to float the tissue box towards her.

“I tried telling them that he wouldn’t run away, that he would never do something like that, but they said that that’s what all the parents say.”

Katsuki’s mind ran miles, nearly tripping over itself in its haste to reach some sort of conclusion.

You told him to kill himself. You’ve bullied him since you were four. It’s probably your fault he’s missing. He’s not that weak that he would let that get to him. He’s been beaten down to the ground and still been smiling. He’s fine. But if he’s not in danger, where would he be? Kidnapped? He’s naive enough to follow some stranger. His stupid fucking hero complex would make him fall for any stupid ploy someone set up to lure do-gooders. If someone cried for help from an alleyway, he wouldn’t hesitate to sprint down there. That dumbass nerd probably got himself caught in a trap.

Katsuki was speaking before he knew what his body was doing.

“Why don’t we go out and look?”

Katsuki’s skin itched with the eyes on him. The shock on Inko’s face sunk like a dagger into his heart. Sure, he was an asshole, he wouldn’t try to deny that, but of course he’s going to care when someone goes missing. He was trying to be a hero for god’s sake. It shouldn’t be so surprising that he would offer help in some way.

His father spoke slowly.

“...That isn’t a horrible idea.” He turned to Inko, resting a comforting hand on her knee. “Is there anywhere you can think of that he would go?”

Katsuki tried not to snap at his father. The nerd wasn’t gone of his own free will.

Inko shook her head, her teeth sunken into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“He doesn’t really go anywhere, maybe wherever a villain attacked but he wouldn’t stay out this long without calling me.”

Her voice got deathly quiet.

“You don’t think he got hurt, do you?”

Katsuki could practically see her thoughts, because his head went in the same direction.

Izuku’s body, mangled somewhere in the city, barely clinging to consciousness as he feebly cries out for help. Dying alone, getting caught too close to an attack. Being a casualty. Getting flung somewhere the pros wouldn’t think to look, hitting the ground with a wet thump and unable to pick himself up, being left there to suffer.

Katsuki stood up so fast that he nearly knocked over the chair he was sitting in.

“I can check his route to school.”

Logically speaking, that was the path most likely to give him hints. Izuku, the idiot, took a lot of shortcuts down side streets with no lamps, so Katsuki would be able to use his explosions for light. Using your quirk without a licence, no matter the reason, qualified you as a villain. Terrible system, but Katsuki was willing to risk it.

Masaru and Inko would check the area surrounding their complex and the nearby parks, while Mitsuki would take the places where there had been villain attacks. They said their goodbyes and made sure that they would immediately contact the others if they found Izuku.

So there Katsuki was, stuck between a jog and a walk as he traced what he knew were Izuku’s steps. He held a palm out, small sparks bursting out and lighting his way. He was almost thankful for his nerves, he wouldn’t have nearly this much nitroglycerin to work with if he weren’t sweating up a storm. He took the route as quickly as he could while being sure to peer down all the surrounding alleyways and inspect the road in front of him, looking for the barest hint of a sign that something was off. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs struggling to function as he pushed down the restlessness and panic. He needed to clear his head and think straight, he wouldn’t be useful to anyone if he missed something important. He got closer and closer to the school, the static and voices in his head getting louder as his hope started to die out.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to that fucker, he was the only one allowed to hurt him.

Katsuki locked up that thought to dissect it later, it was a little messed up for even him. He just needed to find the nerd.

There were a few times he thought he saw blood and he felt his stomach try to leave his body through his feet, but each time he approached carefully and saw that they were just tire marks. He tried not to think that they were there because someone needed a speedy getaway, or were trying to make off with a certain victim.

All too soon he saw the silhouette of their middle school. His jaw clenched in frustration. He hadn’t found anything, and he was so sure that this was the most likely path.

He nearly turned around, but something stopped him from leaving just yet.

He just wanted to be sure.

He started making rounds around the perimeter of the school, looking for anything out of place or suspicious. When that was fruitless, he hopped the fence. Katsuki certainly wasn’t weak, he was even muscular, especially when considering that he was a ninth grader.

He landed and dropped into a crouch, the shadows and figures flickering in the unsteady light of his little explosions. There wasn’t much to speak of, just the cherry blossom trees that weren’t in bloom, bushes that didn't hide any bodies, and pathways that didn’t have a speck of blood. Everything was so painfully mundane that it almost felt like the universe was mocking him. It was flaunting how pointless this entire thing was, but he wasn’t done yet. He turned his face up towards the roof, scanning to see if there was anything up there he could hold onto and help him break into the building when he saw a bump that he was sure wasn’t there usually.

He didn’t even think, he just let the sweat collect in his palms and blasted himself through the air. He tumbled a bit, he hadn’t practiced that move a whole lot yet, but it did what he needed it too. He could hardly find it in himself to care if anyone heard the deafening blast, he had something he needed to do and damn if anything was going to stop him.

Good news, it wasn’t a body.

He crept closer.

There were two little mounds and something white on the cement of the roof.

His blood turned to ice.

His breath caught in his throat.

This was just some sick joke, right? He hadn’t meant it. This wasn’t real. He’s hallucinating, that’s it.

There were two red sneakers with the toes resting against the lip of the roof, and a piece of paper stuck underneath the heels.

This isn’t real.

He slowly walked over, like any sudden movements would disturb the order of things and it would make the hovering sense of sickness and disgust stab straight through him.

He slid the paper out from under the shoes and lit his hand so he could read it.

It wouldn’t be what he thought it was, it couldn’t.

Dear Mom Kacchan Whoever,

Sorry you had to find this.

Guess I was always a burden on people, even after I died. Sorry for unloading this on you.

Please just tell my mom I love her, and that it wasn’t her fault. She’s probably better off without me anyway. I’m just a disappointment.

Also, please tell Kacchan that he was right.

Please tell him I prayed for a quirk.

Izuku Midoriya

Deku

_________________________

Katsuki barely touched the ground before he was off again. His explosions ripped through the yells and sounds of combat that surrounded him, his classmates engaged with each other and trading vicious blows, but all his focus was directed toward the red-haired boy that stood motionless in the centre of the field. Strategies and battle tactics ran through his head at lightning speed, working out how to get around his opponent’s quirk and how to cause damage to his hardened skin. Brute force could work, sure, but he would eventually get to the point where his hands would be stinging and he would be dehydrated with no more sweat to ignite. Strategy was really his only option.

He blasted through the air, aiming for his opponent's weak points and trying to catch him by surprise. They traded blows for a while, Katsuki aiming his explosions towards the dusty ground to stir up some cover. He landed and padded in a circle around his friend while he made sure to keep quiet, as to not give his location away, and watched Kirishima’s head whip around. He could see all of his skin turn jagged, going into its hardened state that was nearly impervious to most physical attacks.

This was good.

As long as Kirishima was on high alert he would use his quirk on his whole body, which exhausted him pretty quick. Kirishima was the person in school that Katsuki found easiest to tolerate. He was strong and resilient. It wouldn’t happen again, not with him. He was someone who Katsuki found almost comforting.

Katsuki aimed his attacks towards the ground, kicking up the dust off the field and providing him cover. He could see his classmate whipping around frantically, scanning the dust and looking for any abnormal movements that might give away Katsuki’s movements, but he wouldn’t find any. He’d been doing this for two years now, there’s no way he would make a stupid mistake like that. He kept going like that for a few minutes, alternating between setting off random explosions and aiming towards his friend, just to make sure that Kirishima wouldn’t relax. He was playing the long game, waiting for his defences to get weaker so that taking him down would be easier.

It didn’t take too long, soon enough Kirishima’s reactions started to get slower as tensing his body grew more difficult, and Katsuki could see his stone-like skin lose some of its hardness. As Katsuki got ready to strike, a flash from his right distracted Kirishima.

Perfect.

He rushed Kirishima from his flank and aimed a massive explosion into his side. Katsuki saw his opponent's eyes widen in shock, and a split second later his classmate was blasted across the field. Katsuki tried not to laugh, he couldn’t break his bad boy reputation. No one bought it because everyone made fun of him anyway, but it made him feel in control. So he smirked instead.

Kirishima let out a groan and made no move to get up, his skin wasn’t burned but it was starting to turn a nasty shade of purple.

“Dude, being paired with you sucks.”

Katsuki scoffed and sauntered over, looking down at his friend lying in the dirt.

“You’re the only one of these losers who can handle me going all out, suck it up”

Kirishima hid his grin against the ground.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think that that was a compliment.”

“You wish.”

"You're horrible."

"I'm efficient."

A buzz rang throughout the crowd, calling off the battles and cutting through the din. The group of U.A. second years all turned to face where the sound came from, Kirishima getting up and brushing off the dirt that covered his chest. Aizawa’s monotone voice cut through the crowd, the bags under his eyes deep enough to be trenches.

“Alright, get changed out of your hero costumes and get back to class.”

The class responded with a “Yes sir” in unison as they dragged their exhausted and battered bodies to the locker rooms. They shucked off their costumes and dropped them down the chute to the hero support classes, who would repair their costumes and make any alterations that were necessary.

Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari all tackled Katsuki, nearly knocking him to ground once they were all changed and showered.

Kaminari slung his arm around Katsuki’s shoulder.

“So, King Explosion Murder-”

“Finish that sentence, Pikachu, and I’ll show you why I put murder in my name.”

Kaminari put up his hands in a calming gesture. Sero took his place.

“C’mon dude, you killed it out there!”

Sero, the Tolkien laid-back-cool-guy and argument diffuser whenever Kirishima wasn’t there to wrangle Katsuki back in line, offered a wide grin towards the spikey haired 16-year-old. Kirishima laughed and nudged Katsuki in the ribs.

“Yeah, if by it you mean me, I genuinely thought I was gonna die when he rushed me.”

They walked back to class like that, the other three boys dodging Katsuki’s half-assed attacks. He found the other two less bearable than Kirishima, but they weren’t as annoying as the people he hung around in middle school. These guys were capable at the least, otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to get into class A in the hero program. Katsuki still wouldn’t call them friends.

He didn’t like to get close to people.

Now, if you’ve ever wondered, “Wow, if your childhood friend commits suicide because you told them to, are you able to have a decent relationship with someone?” Then look no further than Katsuki Bakugo.

Because the answer was no.

Katsuki had never been exactly vulnerable, choosing to default to violence whenever someone got too close, but now he was a mess. In fact, if you looked hard enough, you could actually see the emotional thorns sticking out of him, threatening to stab anyone who dared to get too close. Kirishima was the person he hated the least out of the people who decided that Katsuki was a person they liked, specifically because he knew not to tread to close. He knew the topics that were off limits and didn’t push anything. Those areas being: the past, suicide, heights, school roofs, red shoes, and geeking out over pro heroes. Even All Might himself was a sore topic, and he was one of their teachers.

No one knew about what happened, and Katsuki intended for it to stay that way. Either they would give him pity for it, or they would never speak to him again. While Katsuki may act like the latter was a good thing, he didn’t know if he would be able to handle that.

He’d tried to speak to Inko after, tried to tell her he didn’t mean it, that he wished that Izuku were still alive, but she was barely there. Izuku was all she had left, he was her pride and joy, and then he was gone. She didn’t leave her home anymore. Mitsuki and Katsuki would go over and help her with whatever she needed, cooking for her and doing little chores, but she just seemed so broken.

Katsuki, being the person he was, pretended like it didn’t get to him. His parents tried talking to him, sent him off to therapy to talk about it, his teachers tried reaching out, but he met each and every attempt to help with bared teeth and harsh words. He kept insisting and insisting that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t even like Deku anyway. The truth was that he was scared. He was scared to lose control, scared to admit to himself that Izuku was gone, scared to let himself feel anything. He was scared to feel weak. He was scared to think about how he treated Izuku, one of the only people who ever really clicked with him, like he was dirt beneath his feet. Scared to think about how he was the reason that such a bright, happy, strong person had taken their own life. Scared to think that maybe Izuku wasn’t as strong as he thought. Scared to think that maybe, while Izuku laughed off all of Katsuki’s cruel words and actions, he went home and cried. Scared to think that Izuku was cracking slowly, fracturing under the pressure that Katsuki was putting on him, and he couldn’t see the damage he was doing. Scared to think that seeing Izuku sad was something he derived pleasure from.

Scared to think at all.

So Katsuki preferred to be numb. It was easier that way, life seemed more manageable at times. Sure, if he tripped up in the slightest way then everything he was suppressing would hit him in full force and render him incapable of menial tasks, but he was fine as long as no one saw. He didn’t even think that his parents knew. He was managing.

They made it back to their desks, prepped for more hours of lectures and notes. Katsuki shuffled through his books, looking for his book on math when he spotted a piece of paper sticking out of his textbook. Katsuki usually prided himself on his memory and organizational skills, but he didn’t recognize this. He didn’t usually keep notes inside his textbook, he had a file folder for that. He pulled it out, expecting to just throw it away.

It was a blurry Polaroid of Katsuki in his hero costume, crouched and ready to charge.

Katsuki felt sick.

He turned over the photo, hands trembling.

“You look so cool, Kacchan!”

His heart raced in his throat. There was always something that bothered him about that night, something that never really added up, something that the police found suspicious.

They never found a body.

Chapter Text

Katsuki yanked at his hair.

Just what the fuck was he supposed to do? What the fuck kind of situation was he in? How in the hell did this happen? Last he checked, Izuku had jumped off the roof of their school except duh, he didn't, because Katsuki would've seen the body before he even thought about going to the roof and the police would have found a body by now at least. Oh, yeah, not to mention the polaroid of him in his hero costume signed with the nickname that literally only Izuku called him.

Because that's a normal thing to happen. Sometimes, your assumed-dead childhood friend comes back and takes disturbing photos of you to taunt you. Happens to everyone.

He stomped around his dorm room, the polaroid thrown onto his bed and burning a hole through his mind. Katsuki Bakugo, for the second time in his life, was completely and utterly fucked. Dumbfounded. Floored.

He had no idea what to do.

It was like finding that damn note all over again, telling him that Izuku jumped on his command. Except he didn't.

Katsuki was coping with his situation. Okay, maybe he wasn't, but he was used to it. He learned to ignore the ever-present ache in his chest, and that was enough for him. That was really all he could ask for.

Now there's the issue of telling people. He can't just keep this to himself, Inko deserves to know that her son might be out there, alive and as well as he could be while doing creepy shit like taking pictures of people without their knowledge and writing weird notes on the back, then breaking into a school with such high-tech security that the entire property goes into panic mode if someone without I.D. trespasses, and somehow navigating the massive building that was swarming with not only pro heroes but pro heroes in training, knowing exactly where Katsuki's class was, where he sat, and all the while not getting caught.

The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous he felt. There was no way that that shitty nerd would be able to do all that, sure he was smart maybe, but sneaking around U.A. was a bit extreme. It was probably some sick joke that someone was playing on him.

The only issue was, if that were true, it would have to be someone with an I.D. or the ability to gain access to one. Not only that but someone with the knowledge of Katsuki's past, as well as the nickname that Izuku gave him.

Everything was confusing and Katsuki couldn't even confide in anyone. If he told his classmates, they would find out about how horribly he had treated Izuku. It would hardly come as a surprise, but learning that Katsuki had driven another person to suicide was still something that Katsuki had trouble accepting himself, and he was nowhere near ready to say it out loud, nevermind to other people.

He'd been working on being nicer. He didn't want to make another person feel like that, ever.

Even if he still was kind of rude.

That wasn't to say that he was friendly in any capacity. On the contrary, he had made himself even more unapproachable, if that were possible. There were no targeted insults, that would be too similar to what he did to Izuku. Instead, he would snap at people if they tread too close, glare at people if they attempted to hold any sort of conversation, and altogether just be a complete dick without really hurting anyone. It never really seemed to work though, considering that those happy-go-lucky idiots kept rushing him whenever they had a moment free. It didn't matter how angry he acted, how hard he shoved them away, they just kept coming right back and sticking to him, and it hurt.

It hurt so damn badly.

It made Katsuki wonder if Izuku would have done what he did if he had friends like that. Made him wonder why no one did that for him.

Oh yeah.

Because Katsuki made that impossible. He turned everyone against him. Made Izuku a laughing stock. Not only did he bully Izuku himself, but also anyone who tried to get close to him. Ridiculed everyone he could, and effectively isolated him.

Which was exactly why Katsuki couldn't allow himself to have friends. He wasn't deserving of it. He deserved to live life alone, work himself to the bone as a hero in hopes that he could make up for what he'd done. Put a little bit of good back into the world when he'd tried so hard to fill it with hate.

In that vein, Inko probably didn't need to know. Katsuki didn't want to cause any unnecessary hurt by giving her false hope.

So he just won't say anything.

He'll keep this against his chest, and suffer through it.

The polaroid sat on his desk, burning a hole through his head. He would have to find someplace to hide it. No one could come into his room, sure, but having out in the open made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn't describe. He felt like just by it simply being visible it would automatically alert people to its presence, even if there wasn't a feasible way for that to happen.

Underneath his pillow would be too obvious, not to mention a little weird. Same with his sock drawer. Now that he really thought about it, there weren't a whole lot of places to hide it, what with his room being so clean and all. Keeping it on himself offered too many opportunities of it falling and being left somewhere, or someone else snatching it. Why they would, he didn't know, but he ruled that out as well.

There was a box he kept under his bed, full of things from his parents and little things that don't quite fit anywhere. It was messy enough that a photo wouldn't seem out of place, in the event that anyone rooted around his room and lived to talk about it.

It would be safe there.