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Sometimes, Katsuki and Izuku walk together outside, long, languid, light walks where Izuku runs through the grass outside Aldera, beams 100-watt smiles at Katsuki’s face. They talk about heroes and All Might and school and UA, and at the end of the day, they usually go their separate ways: Katsuki, to his house, and Izuku, to his apartment.
Katsuki thinks, absently, that this arrangement only started a few months ago.
Today, Katsuki invites Izuku over, who predictably accepts.
“Wow, Kacchan! Of course! I love seeing Kacchan’s room!”
As Katsuki opens his door, he yells “Hey, old hag! I’m here with Izuku!”
He hears an odd sound. Like a choked sob.
“Of course,” says Bakugou Mitsuki a moment later, descending down the stairs. She looks to the right of Izuku. Mom doesn’t make eye contact with Izuku often, which is odd, because Katsuki’s mother has never been one to shy away from things. “Izuku, dear, you make yourself at home, alright?” However, his mother always had a soft spot for Izuku. Whenever he comes over, Mom sets out a banquet of food. Izuku never eats it, though. Ungrateful bastard.
They lay on Katsuki’s bed, just as lazy and languid as before, but with All Mights looking down from above instead of clouds.
“Kacchan,” says Izuku. “Thank you for inviting me! I should leave now, though.” It’s only been an hour, but Katsuki doesn’t try to keep Izuku.
“Ok, nerd. I’ll walk you to the door.”
On the way back inside, he hears his mother sobbing.
“He still sees him, Masaru. He still sees him-“
Katsuki doesn’t know who Mom’s talking about, so he goes to bed.
“Izuku,” says Katsuki, on a breezy spring day. Birds chirp cheerfully in a sky filled with lazy, white clouds. “We’re still going to be heroes together, right?” They’re walking out of Aldera Middle School.
“Oh, Kacchan,” says Izuku, a despondent look on his face. “I can’t be a hero with you.”
Katsuki scowls. “Why? What’s stopping you?”
“Kacchan.” Izuku takes a deep breath. “Kacchan, I'm Quirkless.”
“So,” Katsuki demands, hands sparking. “So what? So what if you’re quirkless? you’re way smarter than all those shitty extras.”
Izuku laughs sweetly. A little brittle. He’s dressed in his shitty middle school gakuran, like always. Does he ever change out of it? “Of course, Kacchan. I’ll see you at the UA entrance exam. So we can be heroes. Together.” His voice trails off on the soft, spring breeze, twisting, curling around fuzzy flower buds and cotton-soft clouds.
“Ok, Izuku. You better fucking do it!”
It's 5 months until the UA entrance exam. Katsuki doesn’t see Izuku in that entire time frame, but he knows, he feels it, deep beneath the pulsing of his heart. Izuku will be at the UA entrance exam.
Katsuki strides through the UA gates, surrounded by shitty extras that gasp at the shiny, UA building and the stone-carved benches.
“We’re here! I’m so excited!” squeals a pink-haired girl.
Katsuki scowls. It’s a step into the victorious, dismal world of heroes, where the strongest survive and are loved and the weakest suffer and die. It’s nothing to be excited about. Izuku materializes near his shoulder.
“Kacchan!” he cheers. His verdant-vacant green eyes light cheerfully in Katsuki’s direction. He’s wearing the black gakuran. Doesn't he ever take it off?
“Izuku,” Katsuki grunts.
“Kacchan, I’m so scared. Kacchan, do you think we’ll do well? Of course, Kacchan will do well-“
“You’ll do fine, shitty nerd.”
Izuku bounces up and down in his seat while Present Mic is yelling, muttering at ten thousand miles per hour.
“Robots? HowdoyoudefeatarobotwithaquirkIguessKacchancouldusehisexplosionsandattackthejointsoftherobotsothathey-”
“Shut the fuck up, nerd.”
A tall boy in glasses, in the middle of asking some shitty questions to Present Mic, turns and chops his hands at Katsuki.
“And you, with the blonde hair! Please stop talking to yourself and disrupting Present Mic’s speech! It is highly disrespectful!”
Katsuki clenches his teeth. Who the fuck is this extra to tell him what to do. And he’s talking to Izuku, anyway.
He starts rising from his chair, only stopping when Izuku puts a tiny hand (and isn't it weird, how Izuku hasn’t grown in nearly a year) on Katsuki’s arm, and gives him a firm shake of the head. Katsuki sits back down.
“Kacchan!” Izuku whisper-yells when they are walking out of the stadium. “We’re in the same testing zone.”
Weird thinks Katsuki. Usually they put people who know each other in different places. He doesn’t voice it.
“Cool,” he says instead. “Stick with me and we’ll fucking murder the test, alright?”
“Yes!” Izuku cheers. “Plus Ultra!” and Katsuki grabs his hand and pulls him inside.
It's Izuku and Katsuki and a group of shitty extras in a buzz of adolescent excitement, bragging about Quirks and schools and strategies to beat up robots. Present Mic rolls up, stretches, and yells: “Well, what are you guys waiting for? The exam starts now!”
Katsuki immediately springs towards the entrance, dragging Izuku along.
“Ye-ahhhh! Examinee-42038 has the right idea!”
Katsuki pummels robots left and right, explosive hands sending them up in flames, sending a blistering heat that stings his eyes each time one explodes. Sometimes, he loses sight of Izuku, but Izuku always shows up again.
“Hey!” yells a shark teeth boy as debris from Katsuki’s blasts launches his way. “Watch where you’re shooting!”
“Sorry!” says Izuku, underneath where Kacchan is soaring through the sky, beaming apologetically at the boy. Shark-fucker doesn’t acknowledge him.
Katsuki blasts another robot right in the head. It flies forward and hits another one, imploding in a mushroom cloud. He flips and gets a one-pointer in the knees.
“Wow, Kacchan! What is that? 60 points!” Izuku leaps over concrete, oddly pristine. Katsuki assumes he has points because Izuku is Izuku and always has points.
“FOUR MINUTES REMAINING,” Present Mic screeches over the intercom.
Katsuki blasts another group of robots, using the momentum to flip over and blast another one with his opposite hand. He’s launching himself around Battle Area B when-
“WATCH OUT FOR THE ZERO POINTER!”
A huge, monstrous, lurking robot steps into the Arena, leaving a line of crushed buildings and screaming kids. Each step of the Zero Pointer sends tremors through the ground.
Katsuki tsks, and turns to look for more robots. The zero pointer isn’t something he fucks with when he hears Izuku:
“Kacchan! Kacchan, please! Kacchan, we have to help!” Katsuki follows Izuku’s gaze, across to the center of the Battle Area, where a brown-haired girl lies face down, crushed under rubble. The zero pointer is approaching.
“It’s a school exam,” says Katsuki, rolling his eyes. “She’ll be fine.”
“Kacchan, please .” Izuku’s eyes are leaking tears. His voice cracks. “Kacchan, you have to help her. Kacchan-”
Katsuki mentally tallies up his points. He’s at 70. It’ll be enough.
“Fuck, okay, Izuku,” and he launches himself in the opposite direction of the other kids, towards the monster that even Katsuki is a little afraid of. “You owe me for this.”
He flies up to the robot’s face. Its synthetic, red eyes focus on him, and Katsuki prepares a burst in his arm, building up tension, sweat, and kinetic energy. He winds his arm back and-
“DIE!!” He lets off a huge burst of nitroglycerin that destabilizes the robot. It teeters for a second, on its left foot.
Then it falls.
Katsuki gives himself a moment of satisfaction when he realizes.
Izuku. Is standing. Under the robot.
The stupid nerd is staring. Up, up, vacant glassy gaze unaware of the robot that is pitching itself directly towards him.
Katsuki ignores the relieved call of the brown-haired girl as he blasts downwards.
“IZUKU,” he screams. “IZUKU, MOVE!” Izuku stands. Frozen.
Katsuki sends more explosions from his hands, but he isn’t fast enough. The robot thuds to the ground, cracking and creaking and burying Izuku in a grave of metal and screws and glass.
“IZUKU” Katsuki screams again, on the ground. He claws through the metal, lifting up the robot’s collapsed parts. Dimly, he acknowledges Present Mic’s declaration that the test is over. He moves glass, ignoring the slices to his hands.
“Izuku? Izuku, please.” Katsuki’s hands are bleeding, spilling crimson, red blood to the ground. Where is Izuku? Why can’t Katsuki find him under the grave of metal? What-
“Honey,” says a gravelly voice. A wrinkly hand grabs Katsuki’s hand. It stings where there’s pressure. “Honey, all you alright?”
Katsuki tried to blink away the tears that blur his vision. “Miss,” he says, voice breaking. “Miss, please. Izuku’s under there. I need to, I can’t-“ he makes a move towards the downed robot.
“Who’s under there?” asks the woman.
“Izuku,” Katsuki almost wails. A homeless-looking man runs down to the field, wearing a grey scarf and a black jumpsuit.
“Recovery Girl, what’s wrong?” Katsuki absently notes that this is Recovery Girl, the legendary heroine with a powerful healing Quirk. Usually, he and Izuku would be losing their shit over meeting someone like a Recovery Girl, but Katsuki’s mind is hazy. Blank. The pain in his hands is dull, and he stares at the robot, hollowly.
“Eraserhead,” says Recovery Girl. “This young man says his friend is under there.”
Eraserhead grips his scarf, running towards the downed robot. “Name and Quirk?” he yells over his shoulder.
Katsuki chokes out a sob. "M-Midoriya Izuku. He’s Quirkless. He’s Quirkless, and you have to help him, and I don’t know why you didn't get here earlier, there’s someone under there and he’s dead and-“
Eraserhead stops in his tracks upon hearing the name. He and Recovery Girl exchange glances.
"Midoriya Izuku?" asks Eraserhead, scrolling rapidly through a device.
Why isn't he saving Izuku?
"Yes, Midoriya Izuku! Please, you have to help-"
“Bakugou-chan,” says Recovery Girl, softly, calmly. “There is no one under the robot.”
“YES, THERE IS,” screams Katsuki. “YES, there is and I killed him and-“
“Kid,” says Eraserhead, and shoves a tablet in his face. “Is this your friend?”
“Yes, yes it is,” breathes Katsuki. “That’s him. Midoriya Izuku.” The image looks like it could’ve been taken yesterday. Izuku’s smile, framed by freckles and round, doe eyes. In the black, middle-school gakuran.
“Kid,” says Eraserhead. His voice is softer. “Midoriya Izuku isn’t under there.”
Katsuki doesn’t understand.
“Yes, he is! I saw him! I saw him under the robot and I’m stupid and slow and I’m not fast enough and, fuck, I’ll find him and-“
The scarf stops him from heading back to the broken robot.
“Bakugou-chan,” says Recovery Girl. Gently. Oh, so gently. Her wrinkled fingers wrap around Katsuki’s wrist like he’s made of glass. “Please, come with us.”
Somewhere, deep in Katsuki’s mind, he knows. He lets himself be walked away, all the way up to a cozy, teachers office where they hand him a blanket to wrap around his shaking shoulders and press a cup of hot tea into his hands, like it can warm the chilling truth that Katsuki knows, even as he’s pushing it down. The hallways of UA pass in a daze under his feet, and he feels muffled, drowning under a cloud of nothing.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” he hears around the corner. “How does he not know? How can he not-“
Katsuki knows .
The voice cuts itself off as someone enters the room.
Eraserhead is accompanied by a man with a dog head.
“Bakugou-kun, I am Hound Dog, UA’s counselor.” His soft voice belies his fearsome appearance. “We would like to talk to you, just for a moment. We have spoken to your parents about this as well. Can you read this article for me, Bakugou-kun?”
Katsuki is passed a tablet, open to a new page.
It says:
QUIRKLESS TEENAGER COMMITS SUICIDE. THIRD QUIRKLESS SUICIDE IN A MONTH. ARE THE QUIRKLESS A DYING BREED?
Under it is the oh-so-familiar picture of Midoriya Izuku, bright smile, freckled cheeks, green eyes, dressed in his middle school gakuran. The date shows that it was posted 10 months ago, before the entrance exam. Katsuki stares at the title. The clinical QUIRKLESS TEEN . The lack of identification beyond Izuku’s picture. His hands shake.
If you want a Quirk so bad, take a swan dive off the roof and hope you get one in your next life!
Izuku’s dead, broken eyes. And then, his dead, broken body with blood pouring from his head, twisted limbs, and a blank, vacant stare at the sky. Red shoes on the school building roof. The sound of an ambulance and emergency personnel picking up Izuku’s broken, broken body as Katsuki sits and stares with blood-soaked shoes and crimson hands.
Katsuki puts his head in his hands and screams.
“I killed him!” he sobs. “I killed him! I killed him I killed him I-“ His hands are ripping into his hair, tearing and digging and pulling down to his cheeks, where he pulls down and knows that there are lines scratching their way down his face. Eraserhead pulls his hands away from his face as Katsuki screams, and screams, and sobs, because he remembers.
He killed Izuku.
Izuku... is gone.
“You didn’t kill him,” says Eraserhead, softly. “You didn’t kill him unless you stood beside him and pushed him off the roof that day.”
Katsuki draws in a loud, shuddering, gasping breath. Snot is dripping down his face. “You don’t understand,” he says. “You don’t understand. I told him to. That day. I said, Deku, take a swan dive off the roof. I told him every day that he was a waste of space and worthless and he would never be a hero and-“
Recovery Girl grips his hand. She, Hound Dog, and Eraserhead exchange looks. Katsuki hangs his head--he is a villain, a murderer, confessing his sins to a board of heroes who will now judge him.
“Bakugou-chan,” she says. “Bakugou-chan, we cannot do anything about that now. Please come with me. Your parents are here.”
Katsuki blinks. There is no retribution, then. Not yet, at least. Katsuki breathes in again, and nods. That is all he can do.
Izuku is gone. Dead. 6 feet under the dirt, and he’ll be 6 feet under for the rest of Katsuki’s life.
Katsuki is a murderer.
He sniffs, runs a hand under his nose, and stares at splotches of blood. His nose is bleeding. He drifts away as he sits in his parents' car, and stares at the soft, spring sky and billowy clouds, and the world is covered in a haze of grey dust.
Izuku is dead.
Katsuki is a murderer.
“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” his mom says from the front seat. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
Katsuki ignores her. Izuku... sweet, shining, smart Izuku is dead and not a hero and-
He can be a hero. Just for Izuku. He will atone his murder, the blood on his 14-year-old hands. And maybe, one day, Izuku will leave him alone and rest. Katsuki waves goodbye at the fleeting apparition of Izuku, who sits on a bus station out the window and waves back. Cheery. Unburdened. Vibrant. Dead.
Goodbye, Izuku. I’ll be a hero, for you. And one day, maybe you will forgive me.