Chapter Text
Katsuki’s life as a professional hero had its ups and downs. Some days were exactly like what he had dreamt of back when he had been a snot-nosed kid. Which was: kicking villain ass, saving attractive damsels or dudes in distress, and looking badass while he did it. There were also some pleasant side effects of aforementioned good days, like the ever sought-after ego boost and basking in the glow of his own accomplishments.
Today was not one of those days.
The morning had been ordinary and it had started off fine, until gradually every little thing went to shit. It made Katsuki wonder what he had done to piss off the universe. That, or some bored god had decided to play with the events of Katsuki’s life as a form of entertainment.
Because, not only were the police taking forever to come pick up the villain tied up at his feet, but his fucking shoulder was killing him. On top of it, it was starting to rain with big fat icy rain drops landing on his face and sliding down the back of his neck. It wasn’t the pleasant, refreshing sort of rain. No, it was winter rain, the kind that froze you to the bone and made your nuts shrivel up.
Fucking hell.
“Hey man, you okay?” Eijirou asked, his eyebrows drawing tightly together. He was looking too closely at Katsuki and it made his stomach twist with unease. Eijirou was way too perceptive of him. It was as if he could see the invisible dark cloud that hovered over Katsuki’s very soul.
“I’m fine.” Katsuki’s voice was more gravely than usual, gone bitter from physical pain.
“I don’t think you are.” Eijirou turned away from him, bending down to check the bindings on the villain’s wrists. He grabbed onto the cuffs with one hand and gave them a shake, confirming that they were locked in place.
The slim cuffs, connected by a chain of thick steel links, were designed to block a person’s quirk, and did so by injecting small amounts of a quirk inhibiting drug into the wearer’s bloodstream. The villain had a powerful quirk, but without use of it he was just a skinny greasy kid. Who also kind of smelled bad.
“Fuck you Red Riot, and your sissy boots too!” The villain growled like a caged animal and bared his yellow teeth at Eijirou. It looked like he hadn't flossed for the past ten years, probably hadn't brushed his teeth either.
Katsuki recoiled, hearing the disgusting guttural throat noises of a person hocking up phlegm. That wasn’t a very good sign, especially for his partner who was in close proximity. The villain leaned back (sort of like a baseball pitcher winding up for a throw) and spat. It was clear he had aimed to spit on Eijirou’s face, but the spittle trajectory fell short, and it landed on the top of Eijirou’s “sissy” boot instead.
“Aw, that’s just nasty.” Eijirou moved further away and out of range in case the villain tried to fire another saliva attack. Other than that, he didn’t seem too affected by the display.
Like Katsuki, he had been working as a pro hero for the last 7ish years. Very little surprised or rattled them anymore, least of all a villain who was rendered powerless. It made them stupid, and what did stupid people do when they could no longer fight? They spit and fired insults. Bad insults, at that.
“Yeah, back away you little bitch.” The moron continued, spouting off more insults since his spit couldn’t reach either of them. He shifted his weight, making motions like he was thinking about standing up.
“Shut up and sit down or I’ll make you,” Katsuki growled. What little patience he possessed was now worn thin.
“I’d like to see you try, pussy.”
And that was the last proverbial nail in the fucker’s coffin.
Katsuki lunged at the man, seizing the back of his neck with such force that the bastard let out a startled cry. He pushed his head down until his face grinded into the pavement. “Scratch that last statement, I’m not just going to silence you, I’m gonna make sure you never talk again,” He hissed into his ear.
But Eijirou, the freaking pacifist, wasn’t having it. Eijirou’s hand squeezed down tightly on Katsuki’s right forearm and yanked him back, pulling hard on muscles that were already screaming in agony. Searing hot pain radiated out from his shoulder, and Katsuki hollered, slapping at Eijirou’s hold with his good hand. “Fuck! Fucking let go!”
As soon as he was released, Katsuki turned away, cradling his arm against his chest and trying to breathe through the pain. It wasn’t easy. He felt like throwing up. And what was worse, Katsuki probably looked like a sniveling baby.
"You got injured? Shit. I'm so sorry." Eijirou said mournfully.
"I'm fine. Just deal with the villain." Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear the sirens of approaching police cars. Finally. He turned away and decided to try to walk it off. "Give me a minute."
Dimly, he was aware of the police arriving and carting the villain away. He heard a car door shut, and Eijriou speaking to the cops. He let him handle the specifics, while Katsuki tried not to lose his lunch in front of passersby on a busy city sidewalk. Someone asked for his autograph, but seeing as Katsuki ignored her completely, she got the hint and left him.
By the time he was able to open his eyes without a surge of nausea, he saw that Eijirou was walking back towards him. The pain had faded to a duller ache, embedded deep in his shoulder joint. Katsuki just needed some ice and rest, that’s all. He would be fine tomorrow, he was sure of it.
“I knew it!” Eijirou said. ”It’s your shoulder again, isn’t it? I saw you favoring your left side during the fight!” His voice was gradually becoming louder until he was almost yelling, and the rain was coming down harder, drenching them both.
“So what? You decided to grab it just to be sure? Feels great now, thanks.” Katsuki started walking at a fast pace, heading in the direction of the agency office. He kept his right arm down tight against the side of his body. As long as he kept it still it didn’t hurt too much.
Eijirou kept up with his pace, marching beside him. His big ass boots, made of black leather and thick soled (not sissy at all, actually) trudged through the puddles, splashing and soaking the bottom half of Katsuki’s pants. “Maybe I wouldn’t have made the mistake if you had told me you were hurt. I think you should see the doctor.”
“I’m fine. ” Katsuki repeated, his jaw clenching.
---
It turns out that Eijirou was right, the bastard. Katsuki was not fine.
Katsuki had visited the agency physician that evening, who took one look at a scan of Katsuki’s shoulder and referred him to a specialist.
Now, in the specialist’s clinic a few days later, Katsuki learned that his shoulder was fucked. The technical term of his injury was a torn rotator cuff. And because he had torn the tendons in his shoulder repeatedly as a child, and thus had them repaired repeatedly by healing quirks, the area was now too scarred and damaged for the doctors to consider using a healing quirk again.
“So, what are you going to do? How do you fix this so I can get back to work?” Katsuki asked. He had only been on injured leave for one week and he was already losing his damned mind with boredom. He had already organized all the protein powder and energy bars, which was all he kept in the kitchen cabinets of his apartment. What else was there to do?
The doctor pushed his glasses up higher on his long nose. “Well, Mr. Bakugou, in order to regain full motion of your arm, I recommend surgery. We might be able to fit you in next week. And then the standard recovery time is 6 months-”
“No. Absolutely not.” Katsuki stood up so fast, the doctor stepped back, startled. “The hero rankings are coming up. I can’t go on long term leave, not when I’m so close to topping the charts.”
“Well. That only leaves one other option. Physical therapy and lots of rest. I’ll inject your shoulder with cortisone and that will ease some of the tension, but you need to allow your body to heal. In four weeks we can reassess."
"4 weeks." It was not a question, just Katsuki verbally expressing how annoyed he was with this entire situation.
"Yes. 4 weeks Mr. Bakugou. You need to take care of yourself. It's obvious to me that you have ignored pain in your shoulder for quite some time to sustain an injury of this type. If you take this seriously it's possible to recover without surgery."
"I could fight villains with one arm in a sling. Most are too weak to handle me at full strength anyway."
The doctor chuckled. "Very funny, but I'd advise against it." His tone was no nonsense and he didn't sound very amused despite his words. "I'm sending your records back to your agency doctor. Ultimately, your fate is in their hands, but if it were me in your shoes, I'd go to that fancy rehab center for heroes up north. I've heard nothing but good reviews of that place."
Katsuki grunted. Rehab. He had to go to rehab like some geriatric patient. He supposed it was a long time coming. His explosion quirk had its share of annoying side effects like soreness in his arms, his fucked up shoulder, and a ringing in his ears that never quite went away. Maybe he shouldn't have ignored it all for so long. But, it hadn't seemed important at the time, not when he had been busy chasing his dream of becoming number one hero. And now that his dream was well within reach, his body was failing him. Fucking figured.
---
Katsuki gripped the steering wheel of the car tightly, driving one handed because his right arm was kept immobile in a sling. Snow was falling from the sky, so heavy that visibility was bad and getting worse. The road was quickly becoming covered, and it was hard to make out the painted white lines anymore.
How was Katsuki in this situation? Well, his boss had decided to send him up North to the middle of fucking nowhere. Because, besides being as cold as shit, this rural area had the best hero rehab center in the country...or whatever.
The agency had booked a seat for him on the first flight out of the city, and once he had landed at the airport Katsuki had insisted on renting a car and driving himself. It hadn’t been snowing at the airport, but it was now and Katsuki was out of practice. He didn’t own a car in the city because he hadn’t needed one, not with the efficient train system.
In hindsight, he’d been stupid. Going up into higher elevations meant snow, and with the way the car was almost in the vertical, its tiny engine struggling to make it up the steep slope of the snow packed, invisible road--he was sure he was somehow driving up fucking Mount Everest itself.
Miraculously, his little sedan made it up the incline and was now on a stretch of road that was mostly flat. He loosened his grip, breathed a sigh of relief and pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
And that’s precisely when the tires lost traction. The bottom of Katsuki’s stomach fell out, a jolt of straight up fear gripping him from the inside out. And yeah, maybe his asshole clenched tight too. He stomped on the break, which didn’t stop ANYTHING. All it did was send the car into a fishtail. Katsuki let go of the steering wheel, took his foot off the break and prayed to the gods above and below that he somehow made it out of this alive.
Because it would be embarrassing for him, an accomplished pro hero, to die out here of all possible scenarios.
It was over as fast as it began. The car stopped, and so did his melodrama. He was absolutely fucking fine, despite the feeling that he wasn’t quite on level ground anymore.
Katsuki jabbed his finger on the button on the door, putting down the window. Sticking his head all the way out, he sighed. His breath puffed out in little white clouds, the cold already seeping inside the warmth of the heated car and chilling him.
He peered out at the white, snow covered road, and then forward towards the front of the car. The little Toyota had completely skidded off the road and was now headlights first into a snowbank. He’d narrowly missed hitting a tree, so maybe some god had listened to his desperate plea for help.
Or, maybe not. He put the car in reverse and hit the gas. The tires spun, but the car went absolutely nowhere. The treads couldn’t get traction on all of that nasty cold white stuff.
Katsuki picked up his cell phone from the center console and tried to google tow trucks, but there was no data to be had out here on the side of a mountain. Cursing, he shoved it in the pocket of his jeans.
That only left option three, hoofing it to town. Katsuki pushed open the car door, stretched one foot out and groaned when his shoe disappeared into the snow, the cursed white stuff coming up over his hi top sneakers.
“I fucking hate snow!” He shouted to no one as he trudged his way back up to the road, snow crunching beneath his feet.
For a moment, Katsuki considered using his quirk. However, as he eyed his arm in the sling, he reminded himself that using his quirk was a terrible idea right now...and the entire point of him being here was to heal his shoulder, not screw it up further.
The relative silence was interrupted when the sound of an engine, loud and similar to a motorbike, approached. Katsuki swung his head around in the direction of the grating noise, to see a dark shape appear through the swirling snow. As it came closer he was able to make out what it was, a snowmobile with a single helmeted rider.
He stepped backward as the snowmobile approached and then slowed to a stop in front of him. The rider killed the engine and then took off his helmet, a riot of dark green curly hair springing out.
“Hey, do you have snow chains?” the newcomer asked. His eyes were stunning emerald depths, like the rich green of fresh mowed grass. That indescribable lush color reminded Katsuki of warmer days and summertime in the city park. It was a strong contrast to the pristine white wintry scene that surrounded them both. Just who the hell was this man?
“What?” Katsuki asked dumbly, having barely comprehended his words. He was too busy staring at this anomaly of a human being.
“Snow chains?” The man got off the snowmobile and walked over to him. He looked at Katsuki and then at the car, and then at Katsuki again. He was probably making the correct assumption that Katsuki had not a fucking clue what he was talking about. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“No. This is a rental.” Katsuki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his impatience growing. He stared down at the man who was more than a few inches shorter, smaller than Katsuki, but nonetheless appearing sturdy. “Do you have a phone number for a tow truck? I can’t get any data up here.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course.” The man smiled, bright and friendly. “I’ll call Gonshiro, great guy. He will take care of you.” He unzipped the pocket of his parka and dug out a cellphone. He bit the fabric finger of his glove to pull it off, and let it hang there between his lips.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, watching as the man swiped on the touch screen, looking up the contact on his phone. “You know a tow truck driver?”
The man with summertime eyes grabbed the glove from his lips and tucked it under his armpit. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. If you’ll excuse me-” He stepped away, putting the phone to his ear.
It was a short conversation, and the man turned back to him with a mournful expression as he pocketed his phone again. "Gonshiro is on the other side of town. It's going to be a half hour at least until he gets here. Can I give you a ride to the lodge? It's only a few miles up the road."
Katsuki eyed the snowmobile. Sure, riding one of those would probably be fun, but cozying up to a stranger on the back of it? Riding bitch wasn't something he was willing to lower himself to. "No thanks. I'll walk."
"Are you sure? It's really cold out here...and your shoes-” The man looked down at Katsuki’s feet.
“What about my shoes?”
“Are you always this defensive? Your shoes are fine, but they’re not made for walking miles in the snow.”
“Tch. I’ve got boots in the car. I ain’t stupid.” Katsuki turned away and trudged back to the car. He took the keys out of the ignition and left them on the front seat. Then, he popped the trunk where his duffle bag was. He slipped the sling off of his shoulder and pulled on his winter parka. Then, taking a seat on the bumper, he swapped out his Nike’s for a pair of military style boots, black and with laces that went halfway up his shins.
“Satisfied?” he asked, glaring back at the man, who was still there, still watching.
“I’m rarely satisfied, but I guess those will do. Last chance to join me.” The man with the wild, unruly green hair said. He was grinning at Katsuki now, the cocky little shit. He even waved his arm towards the snowmobile like he was a game show host.
Katsuki scoffed. “I’d rather get frostbite.” He shoved his Nike’s in the duffle, zipped it up and slung it over his good shoulder. After slamming the trunk of the car closed, he started walking in the direction of the lodge. Gritting his teeth, he paused and glanced back at the green haired man who was straddling the snowmobile. “Oiy, what’s your name, anyway?”
“Izuku Midoriya. I’d say that it’s nice to meet you, but that wouldn’t be accurate. You are probably the grumpiest person I’ve ever met.”
Sighing, Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Asshole. You’re supposed to ask me what my name is.”
Izuku was smiling widely, those green eyes of his becoming brighter with mischief. “Oh, I don’t need to. I know who you are Mr. Ground Zero.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pulled his helmet on and started the engine on the snowmobile, cutting off any chances of their conversation continuing.
Katsuki cursed aloud. He thought about making a very rude hand gesture at the little shithead, but resisted the urge. He watched Izuku speed away on the snowmobile, thinking he’d probably never see the small town hick again, anyway.