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Everyone says he’s unbreakable.
Hell, he was the first to call himself that.
But he’s not. Far from it.
He’d gotten stronger since his school days, but so had the repercussions.
You can’t take a building to the back and walk away unscathed.
He waved it off, laughed and smiled like always, went back in for survivors.
He saved 28 people that day.
He was forever in pain after that day.
Quirk healing only goes so far. The doctors fixed what they could, but he’d live with the pain for the rest of his life.
He was okay with it, really, until the day he buckled in a fight.
It was a simple thing; he tensed wrong and turned; a nothing move for most people. It crimped the sciatic nerve and his leg gave out.
He broke.
And someone died.
He didn’t return to hero work after that.
How could he? A broken wall is worthless.
He put on a brave face. Told folks he was taking medical leave. That he’d be back soon.
He was fine.
He had to be fine.
What good was he if he wasn’t okay?
Katsuki called his bluff. Stormed into his apartment one day when he wouldn’t answer calls.
Found him passed out in the shower, water long since gone cold.
He’d pushed himself again, demanded too much of his body, and it had rebelled.
He’d nearly paralyzed himself that time.
Katsuki moved in after that. Told him someone needed to care about his self-destructive ass.
Things soured.
Eijirou was useless. Couldn’t even be trusted to take care of himself.
Some hero he was.
He pulled away. Being numb was easier.
Months passed and Katsuki’d had enough.
He screamed and ranted, tore at the kitchen cupboards, sank to the floor in a crying heap.
Anything, anything to make his friend feel again.
Then there were arms around Katsuki’s heaving shoulders, soft circles on his back, quiet words in his hair. “I’m sorry Kats, I’m sorry.”
“You can’t leave me Ei.”
“I’m broken. You should find someone better. It’s okay. You deserve someone stronger than me.”
“Idiot!” Crackling palms and powerless punches into the laminate floor. “You’re such an idiot, Ei. You’re the strongest fucker I know.” Smoking hands, clinging, desperate. “I’d be DEAD without you!”
Two men, broken, on the kitchen floor.
They started healing.
It was slow. False starts and backward slides into dark days.
They kept moving.
Giving up would hurt more than failing.
Eijirou never returned to hero work. Not in the same way, at least.
He went back to school. He trained in counseling.
He learned to say and be all the things he had needed so desperately in the past.
He was on the couch one night, sprawled out, fingers in Katsuki’s hair, heating pad on his back.
He got a phone call. One of his patients.
They’d almost killed themselves. Had the pills out and everything.
They couldn’t do it. Eijirou's words were in their head, gentle and understanding; so, so understanding.
They’d checked themselves into the hospital. Wanted him to know how thankful they were. Wished him a good night.
Katsuki held him while he cried.
He used to call himself unbreakable.
He was naive. Everyone breaks.
And that’s okay. It’s part of being human.
A broken hero is still a hero.