Archive of Our Own

The problem is, Kacchan doesn’t want to see him.

He doesn’t want to see anyone, as it turns out. He denies every visitor, no matter who they are. The class plans another trip (which Izuku agrees to join) and gets swiftly rebuffed by the lady at the desk. The only people who can’t be denied visitation are Kacchan’s parents, and they give updates to Inko, who passes them along to Izuku. The fact that he isn’t completely in the dark about what’s happening with Kacchan is the only reason he thinks he hasn’t lost his mind with worry. He suspects it’s also why some of his classmates haven’t broken down the hospital’s doors.

Days pass. The first week comes and goes. Recovery Girl visits the hospital twice—Izuku sees her returning from his dorm window both times. Kacchan’s room is cleaned by UA staff, to the confusion of everyone sans himself and Todoroki.

The second week passes with hardly anything noteworthy, save for the class’ ever-present anxiety and concern for Kacchan. Izuku’s mother continues to relay all she can to him, though with each day she has less and less information to give.

According to the Bakugous, Kacchan is recovering. Physically, he’s completely healed of all wounds inflicted on him by the villain, thanks to Recovery Girl. He started demanding his schoolwork the day after waking up, apparently citing a refusal to fall behind. Izuku asks Aizawa about delivering it himself, but he assures him that it’s being taken care of. Apparently, the only reason Kacchan remains in the hospital is because of his immune system. Inko suspects that he’s not going to accept staying a third week, despite the doctors’ recommendations. Izuku agrees.

This suspicion is confirmed at the end of the second week, when Izuku goes home for the weekend.

“He’s getting discharged?” he asks with wide eyes, when Inko breaks the news over dinner.

She nods. “Mitsuki told me today. She and Masaru wanted to keep him home, but he fought them on it.” She frowns. “He’ll be back at UA on Monday with the rest of your class.”

Something in her expression doesn’t look right. Izuku says, carefully, “Well, UA’s already...cleaned his room and everything. He’ll be safe there. Besided, you know how serious Kacchan is about his studies.”

She wrings her hands. “I know...”

Izuku’s known her tells for a while. Neither of them are excellent at lying or withholding information—the Midoriyas are an open, honest people. “Mom, what is it?”

She sighs. Her bottom lip quivers, and now Izuku’s really concerned. A tiny sprout of hysteria begins to bloom in his chest.

“Mom?”

She holds up a hand, and uses her best authoritative voice. “I’m sorry, Izuku, this is...hard to talk about. Please give me a moment.”

He obeys, trying to swallow his own anxiety. What is it? Did something happen? Is Kacchan okay? Is she okay?

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you,” Inko began, “because it isn’t for me to share. But Mitsuki asked me to, because she’s worried about Katsuki and wants someone to be there for him when she can’t.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Mom, you know the entire class would do anything for him. So would Aizawa-sensei.”

“This is different. It’s not something you can tell your friends, Izuku,” she says sharply. “Aizawa-sensei knows, but that’s it.”

She takes a deep breath. He hears it rattle in her chest like a snare drum.

“Mitsuki and Masaru think the villain did more to Katsuki than he’s saying. They think the villain sexually assaulted him.”

Everything in Izuku’s vision sharpens, and a cold rush flows through him. It takes several seconds for him to find his voice, and when he does it comes out strangled. “What?”

“It’s just a suspicion,” Inko says quickly. “I don’t have all the details. All I know is there are behavioral signs, and he’s refusing to speak to the hospital’s trauma counselors about it. Mitsuki tried to bring it up too, but he shut her down.”

“What about—” Izuku swallows down his nausea. “What about physical...evidence?”

“None that the doctors noticed initially, but there were so many wounds and bruises it’s hard to tell. He won’t submit to an examination either. Mitsuki and Masaru could insist, but they don’t want to force it on him.”

Izuku thinks back to that night in the warehouse. The image of Katsuki helpless in that villain’s grip will haunt him for the rest of his life. He can recall it with perfect clarity.

Kacchan’s clothes were torn, but his pants had definitely been intact. Izuku would have remembered if he’d needed to preserve some of his modesty. Of course, that doesn’t mean something didn’t happen before he got there…

“I know you two are...close,” Inko says, now with new hesitation. “Before this happened.”

He frowns. “I’m not going to do anything, Mom. That’s not what Kacchan needs, whether he was...whether that happened or not.”

“I know!” she says quickly, her eyes widening. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant. I know you’re nothing but tactful and considerate. What I’m saying is he might try to push you away again. He’s already been refusing visits from your class. I can’t guess how he’ll act on Monday. Mitsuki and I just want you to know not to take it personally, and to be there for him.” She smiles wanly. “Even if he makes it difficult.”

He’s definitely going to make it difficult, Izuku thinks sadly, with no venom.

Monday morning, nervous energy buzzes throughout the classroom as the students file in. As usual they arrived at UA slightly earlier than normal, in order to have time to drop off their things at the dorms and collect any needed items. So it isn’t a surprise that Kacchan, who needs no such trip, beats them to class.

He does not look up as Hagakure takes her seat in front of him. Even though she’s completely invisible, Izuku can tell she wants to say something to him. Who doesn’t?

But his eyes remain glued to his desk, and the behavior is so subdued, so un-Kacchan, that no one knows what to do. Izuku catches Kaminari and Kirishima exchanging looks. Even Mina, who would normally have no issue taking charge of their friend group, seems apprehensive.

He’s not made of glass, Izuku thinks, a little irritated.

But he forces a smile on his face and says, “Kacchan! You’re back!”

He looks up, and the smile almost slips off his face.

There’s a dullness in his eyes that hasn’t been there before. Normally there’s a spark, something fierce and untameable, but now it’s...it’s like a roaring fire has been almost completely smothered out.

Todoroki, bless him, is quick to follow Izuku’s example.

“It’s good to see you, Bakugou,” he says as he moves for his usual seat. “We’ve missed you.”

Kacchan just nods. His silence is unnerving.

Most of the class has remained frozen in the doorway, so they jump when a gruff voice says behind them, “What’s going on? Get to your seats.”

They scatter like frightened rabbits, hurrying to their desks as Aizawa shuffles into the classroom. He shuts the door behind him, and takes his usual spot at the front of the room.

“First, let’s get the obvious out of the way. Welcome back, Bakugou,” he says, inclining his head in his student’s direction. “I trust you’ve kept up with the class, considering all the work you demanded? It should have been more than sufficient.”

His words should be cruel, considering what Kacchan’s been through, but Izuku knows his teacher. Kacchan has never wanted special treatment or to be coddled, and making some kind of exception for his studies would only draw attention to what happened.

Not for the first time, he’s glad Aizawa is their homeroom teacher.

“Yes, sensei,” Kacchan replies. He doesn’t sound as lifeless as he looks, but it’s a far cry from his usual energy.

“Good. Now...”

Morning classes pass without incident, but it’s impossible for Izuku to be able to speak to Kacchan in private. He hasn’t forgotten his talk with Todoroki, or that he has to clear the air between them. But Kacchan throws himself into his schoolwork with familiar focus, and gets surrounded by Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero for most of the morning. They still don’t seem to know how to act around him, but they’ve gotten over their initial hesitance. Izuku isn’t mad at them for it. If anything, he’s hopeful Kacchan’s friends will breathe a little more life in him.

When lunch comes around, Izuku escorts his friends to their usual table, but doesn’t sit down.

“I’m going to eat my lunch with Kacchan,” he says. All eyes turn on him. “Is that okay?”

Ochaco smiles. “Of course, Deku. You know, you could invite him to join us, if you want.”

He shakes his head. “No, I think...I think just me is enough for now. But thanks.”

He finds Kacchan quickly—he and his own friends have their usual spot too. Kaminari is in the middle of stealing bites from Sero’s tray when Izuku approaches, and everyone looks up.

“Hey, Midoriya, what’s up?” Kirishima asks with a smile. It’s a little thin.

“Hi, everyone. Um...can I borrow Kacchan?”

“Yeah!” Mina jumps up first. “There’s an empty table over there! Guys, let’s go.”

The boys dutifully collect their food and follow her, quickly leaving Izuku alone with Kacchan. He sits across from him.

Kacchan just watches him. He hasn’t seemed to touch his food.

“How are you?” The question tumbles from his lips before he can stop it.

“I’m fine,” Kacchan replies dully.

Of course it’s a lie, and they both know it.

“I owe you an apology,” Izuku says.

That gets his attention. Kacchan’s eyes widen slightly, and his eyebrows raise. “You what?”

“An apology,” Izuku repeats. “I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t come visit you. I wish I had. I was so busy blaming myself for...everything. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“You—” Kacchan’s brain seems to be misfiring. He looks as if smoke could start pouring from his ears any second. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

That sounds the most like the old him that Izuku can’t help but grin. “Don’t worry, Todoroki-kun set me straight.”

“None of it’s your fault, dumbass,” Kacchan murmurs. He pushes his food around a little, but doesn’t take a bite. “I’m the one who—”

He breaks off, but Izuku knows what he’s talking about.

“It’s okay. I know it wasn’t you,” he says. “On the phone. I knew right away you didn’t mean it.”

He grunts, unimpressed. “How could you?”

“You said my name,” Izuku replies with a shrug. “When you did, I just knew. Something wasn’t right.”

Kacchan ducks his head, focusing on moving his food, but Izuku thinks he sees a tiny smile anyway. “You watch too many movies.”

Silence falls between them for a moment, until Kacchan breaks it.

“I—”

He cuts himself off, then tries again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you or anyone else visit.”

Apologies are difficult for Kacchan. They always have been. He’s matured immensely since his first year at UA, but the kind of pride you have to swallow to say sorry isn’t easy to stomach for a lot of people, let alone someone as proud as him.

It still makes Izuku swell with happiness whenever he manages it.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling. “You were going through a lot. You still are.”

He grunts. It sounds displeased.

“You should know,” Izuku adds, remembering something. “I, uh, I know about your...” He gestures vaguely to his own chest, roughly where he knows the spleen to be. “So I can help you with that.”

He expects another grunt, or perhaps a rare, flustered Kacchan. Instead, his expression darkens intensely.

“How the hell do you know about that?”

Izuku blinks. “Uh...Todoroki-kun and I brought you in, right? We were there when the doctor explained your injuries. It’s okay, we didn’t tell anyone.”

Kacchan’s expression slowly changes as he processes this information. The darkness recedes, and is replaced by a kind of dawning horror. His eyes widen, his back straightens, his mouth drops open a little—

Then he gets up and all but runs to the cafeteria’s exit.

“Kacchan!” Izuku, unprepared for that reaction, is slow to follow. “Wait!”

He rushes past a row of tables, briefly spotting his friends as he does. The door slams open under his hands and he sprints down the hall. Kacchan’s easy to find—he may have been healed by Recovery Girl, but he's still two weeks out of shape and his stamina has yet to recover. Izuku catches up to him quickly, and grabs his wrist.

“Kacc—”

He jerks back with a cry as if Izuku has branded him, and spins around to face him. Belatedly, Izuku realizes his mistake.

“Kacchan, I’m sorry—”

Before he can finish a pair of hands fist themselves in the front of his uniform, and Izuku’s being dragged into the nearest empty classroom. The door slams shut behind them as Kacchan releases Izuku and shoves themselves apart, creating distance between them.

“You’re not supposed to know,” he hisses, red eyes narrowed to slits. “No one is supposed to know!”

Izuku falters and then frowns, because really?

“It’s not that bad, Kacchan!”

Again, that was the wrong thing to say. Tiny explosions pop around Kacchan’s fists. “Says you! You can still be a hero! I—”

He breaks off, and claps a hand over his mouth. Izuku wants to hug him, but he doesn’t dare try. He just watches as Kacchan breaks down. It’s silent, and entirely internal, save for the wetness of his eyes.

Was this what the past two weeks had been like for him? Agonizing over a dream he thought was lost? Had he talked to anyone about this?

“Kacchan, listen to me,” Izuku pleads. He recalls what Todoroki had told him, when he had his own crisis over Kacchan’s new condition. “You can still be a hero. You already are one. It doesn’t matter if you get sick more easily. There are literally dozens, maybe hundreds of disabled heroes out there.”

Kacchan removes his hand and spits, “I’m not fucking disabled!”

“Yes, you are!” Izuku shouts, because he is not going to watch Kacchan stress himself out so unnecessarily. “Legally, you are! You might not be blind or deaf, but it still counts! And you know what? So is Aizawa-sensei! So is Ectoplasm-sensei! So is Miruko, and Best Jeanist, and All Might!”

Kacchan freezes. Sensing a chance, Izuku hurries onward.

“He lost a lung and his stomach! You think he isn’t considered disabled? He still coughs up blood just by speaking! And he never stopped being number one, not even after he gave One For All to me!”

“He lost it eventually,” Kacchan whispers. “He retired.”

Izuku knows he will say that. He’s already thought of a counter for it. “Because he had a transferable quirk! Because he had to condition his body in order to house One For All, and he couldn’t keep that up after his injuries! But your quirk doesn’t work that way! Explosion isn’t transferable! Your quirk is designed for your body, because you were born with it! Do you honestly think you’re going to lose your power just because you lost your spleen? Did Best Jeanist lose his quirk after losing a lung? Did Aizawa-sensei lose Erasure after cutting off his leg? No!”

Kacchan’s mouth moves soundlessly. He’s trying to think of a response, but coming up empty.

Izuku sighs, and exhales slowly to calm himself. “Kacchan, the only difference between now and a few weeks ago is that now you need to get some shots every year. Don’t overthink it. Yes, if something gets infected or if you get sick you might have a tougher time than most, but when have you ever let something beat you? You...you...”

Seized by a sudden impulse, Izuku crosses the distance between them and, mirroring Kacchan’s earlier action, grabs him by the front of his uniform.

Then he kisses him.

Kacchan goes stock-still, rigid as a board. After a moment, though, he slowly returns the kiss. Izuku breaks it and steps back to take a look at him.

“You’re unstoppable.”

The classroom falls unbelievably silent. Slowly, as if in a daze, Kacchan touches his own lips.

Then Izuku realizes what he just did, and panics. He pulls at his hair and looks down at the floor.

Oh my god I kissed Kacchan I kissed Kacchan that wasn’t the plan why did I do that he doesn’t need that especially after what Mom thinks happened to him I’m a terrible person—

“OI! DEKU!”

A hand grabs his chin and forces it up, just in time for Kacchan’s mouth to meet his.

It’s different when he initiates it. He’s more in control, more demanding. Izuku’s not sure if he likes it or if he wants to take back the reins himself. Perhaps both.

This time, when they break apart, Kacchan maintains a grip on his arms, keeping them from separating too far.

“Don’t do something like that and then check out on me, ya nerd,” he chastises. He still looks a little rattled, but there’s more of a spark in him than there was this morning.

Izuku’s still trying to catch up. “I—Kacchan?”

“We were going toward this route before...before all that shit went down,” he replies. “I think we both knew that.”

He pauses. His gaze leaves the classroom, going somewhere else, before he returns his focus to Izuku.

“I’m...not okay. I’m fucked up.”

“We both are.”

He chuckles, low and deep. “Fine, but right now I think I’m beating you.”

“Kacchan does always want to be the best.”

He flicks Izuku’s forehead.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, ya big baby.” A moment later, he adds, “Seriously, though. I...I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”

Izuku puts a hand on his cheek. It’s warm to the touch. Kacchan always runs hot, but he thinks the faint pink highlighting his cheekbones might also have something to do with it. “I’ve known for a long time now, Kacchan.”

Things are different, but better.

When first returning to UA, he feels nothing. He's numb to the world, almost entirely checked out. His friends notice, the entire damn class does, but instead of addressing it all Katsuki can think about is how much he’ll miss being a hero.

Then Deku sets him straight, and he feels a little better.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. There’s no hero training on Mondays, so they head back to Alliance Heights. However, Katsuki pulls Deku back and lets the rest of the class go on ahead before they reach the building.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks.

They haven’t really talked about what they are. He thinks he knows, but Katsuki’s not so much of an asshole to just assume.

“No one’s going to care,” Deku replies, a bit of confusion on his face. “They probably took bets on us.”

Katsuki almost wants to say they should be lowkey, and let things play out naturally. It truly doesn’t matter to him if or when people find out they’re a thing.

But at the same time...he almost died. Not just that, he almost died thinking Deku hated him. He doesn’t want to ever experience that again. He wants everyone to know what he thinks of the nerd.

“Might as well get it over with,” he says. Deku grins and laces their fingers together.

When they walk through the front doors, the rest of the class is still in the common room, and it takes about three seconds before Mina screeches, “Are Midoriya and Bakugou holding hands?”

Eighteen sets of eyes turn toward them, and Katsuki feels a little of his old fire return, “None of your business, Raccoon Eyes!”

“Holy shit!” Kaminari high fives Sero. “We’re rich!”

Next to him, Deku sighs. “Knew it.”

Mina dashes upstairs to her room, and returns a few moments later with a large bowl full of yen coins and banknotes, and a notepad. Then she steps up onto the table in the middle of the room, and waves her arms like a bubblegum-pink traffic conductor.

“Okay, gather round! It’s time to settle your bets!”

“Are you fucking serious?” Katsuki sputters.

“Midoriya!” Mina points at him. “Who kissed who first?”

He fidgets, looking adorably flustered for someone who had, in fact, taken the initiative first. “Um...I did.”

Several cheers and groans fill the common room.

“For Midoriya doing the deed, we have Aoyama, Todoroki, Shinsou, Sero, Satou, and Hagakure!”

“Dude,” Kirishima groans, giving Katsuki a look as the winners step forward to claim their rewards. “Really? What happened?”

“Fuck off, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima just laughs.

“Bakugou!” Mina points at him now. “Was there tongue?”

“I’ll kill you, don’t test me!”

“Eijirou, as our next best Bakugou-whisperer, can you interpret for us?”

He gives Katsuki his biggest shit-eating grin before saying, “I think that’s a no.”

“Dekusquad?” Mina prompts.

“Nah. Not Deku’s style,” Uraraka says. Asui, Todoroki, and Shinsou nod in agreement.

“Midoriya would never initiate such a thing on a first kiss!” Iida adds.

Deku gasps. “You too, Iida-kun?”

“Let’s see...” Mina squints at the notepad in her hands, then calls out, “For Midoriya not using tongue, we have Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Hagakure, Tsu, Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida, Shinsou, and Tokoyami!”

“I’m actually surprised there aren’t more who bet on that,” Deku says, squeezing Katsuki’s hand.

“You never know, sometimes it’s the skittish ones who are most deviant,” Mina chortles. “Apparently not this time, though.”

Yep, he wants to burn this entire place to the ground.

“Next question! Midoriya, did it happen during a fight?”

“Uh...” Deku glances at him, but Katsuki is concentrating on not exploding everyone’s faces. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Okay!” Mina looks at her notepad again, then frowns. “Well, that’s boring. Everyone won that one.”

There’s a collective grumbling as everyone steps forward to retake their bid from that particular bet.

“I can’t believe you guys spent this much money on us,” Deku says.

“Some of these bets are old,” Uraraka confesses with a smirk. “We’ve been waiting years for this to happen.”

Wow. Katsuki needs better friends.

Mina shakes the bowl, rattling its contents to get everyone’s attention. “Alright! Next one!”

The stupid betting pool takes another 20 minutes to settle, and by then Katsuki is extremely tired of everyone’s bullshit. When the class begins to disperse, some of them with significantly heavier pockets, plenty of them offer their congratulations, so Katsuki decides he’s only going to make their dinner a little inedibly spicy.

He puts up with the rest of the class longer than he feels like, and does indeed cook for them. With the initial ice broken, everyone falls into old familiar rhythms around him. It's almost as if nothing happened. But he flinches when Satou brushes past him a little too closely in the kitchen, and his skin crawls when hearing Mina's high-pitched laughter. Even Kirishima's sharp teeth send his heart into a brief frenzy.

He's wound so tightly that when the clock strikes eight he’s sufficiently tired, despite it being a little early.

“I’m going to bed,” he tells Deku, who is sitting on the couch watching a movie with his friends.

“Wait!” He bolts out of his seat and rushes around the furniture toward him. Then he kisses Katsuki’s cheek. “Goodnight!”

Someone makes a hacking sound from across the room, as if they were vomiting. He thinks it’s Kaminari. Katsuki flips him off.

“Night, nerd.”

He drags himself upstairs and throws himself onto his bed with a loud groan. As he sinks into the mattress, Katsuki realizes that this was the first time since Lysimar that he really, truly, felt a little like himself.

He’s drowning.

Katsuki is covered in a thick, viscous substance that pulls him deeper and deeper into the ground. It’s hot and sticky, like tar. It smells like rotten meat.

“What power!” The sludge villain cackles in his ear. Katsuki roars and attempts to break free, but the slime trapping him simply pulls him back down, enveloping him. It pours down his throat, covers his eyes...

Then he’s weightless, floating, and feels nothing until a voice speaks. It’s not the sludge villain.

“I like you begging. I think I’d like it more if you begged for something else.”

He feels teeth clamp down on his shoulder, and Katsuki screams. The pain courses through him like venom, stinging and burning and ripping, and he’s not sure when he arrived back in the warehouse, but there’s no escape this time.

“Kacchan?”

The teeth and the pain recede, as if banished by a powerful force. He opens his eyes.

Deku stands before him, in his hero costume. Its hood is pulled up. Katsuki has never liked that mask. He prefers to see the nerd’s face.

“Why didn’t you fight harder, Kacchan?” Deku asks. Something drips from his respirator, spilling down the front of his costume. It’s dark and slick, like blood.

Then Lysimar bursts from Deku’s chest with a snarl, and Katsuki flinches back, but he can’t move, can’t run away. Lysimar’s jaw unhinges as he lunges forward, intent on swallowing Katsuki whole—

A loud bang makes Katsuki’s eyes fly open, and he lurches out of bed, hurling an explosion at the intruder who’d just busted down his door. The detonation throws up a cloud of smoke, but his unwelcome guest yelps in alarm rather than pain, and that makes Katsuki hesitate. He knows that sound.

“Shitty Hair?”

Kirishima waves a hand through the smoke, dispersing it. His hair is down, and he’s wearing a Fatgum T-shirt and Crimson Riot boxers, indicating he’d also been fast asleep. His hardened form vanishes. For once, he isn’t smiling—instead there’s only naked concern on his face.

“Bad dream?” he asks.

“How did you...”

“You were setting off explosions in your sleep. I heard it on the other side of our shared wall.”

Katsuki glances around, taking in the scene. His room looks like a tornado hit it, and there are scorch marks along the walls and ceiling.

“Want to talk about it?” Kirishima asks.

Katsuki opens his mouth to reply no, he does not, he just wants to go back to sleep.

But instead, the words that come out of his mouth are, “I don’t know.”

Kirishima shrugs, evidently taking that as an affirmative, because he sits on the floor right there and looks up expectantly at him. There’s not a trace of judgment on his face.

He’s too fucking good for this world, Katsuki thinks.

He sits down on the edge of his mattress, running his fingers through his hair.

The nightmares started pretty soon after he’d woken up in the hospital. The staff had been aware of it, which was one of the reasons they sent their stupid counselors to talk to him, but Katsuki just shrugged them all off. They’d get better once he was out of this place, he reasoned with himself.

Clearly, that isn’t the case.

He has no idea what to say. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking about all this. At times it feels like a fever dream, that the past few weeks never really happened, and other times he feels like he’s still back in that warehouse. It’s maddening.

He scoffs when he glances at the clock next to his bed and realizes that it’s not even midnight. It’s been, what, less than 24 hours back at UA, and he’s already a wreck?

Well, he had warned Deku he was fucked up.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Kirishima ventures carefully, breaking the silence. “You know that, right?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yes. I know.”

He does. He’s not afraid that Lysimar will come after him. Tartarus is much more secure than it had been three years ago, and even if he did get out, Katsuki’s pretty sure Lysimar would think twice about coming after him.

Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t still taste the biomatter, or feel those claws rip into him. Or—

“He broke my fingers,” he murmurs. “On the one hand. Put a hole through the other. I couldn’t use my quirk. Then he made me crawl.”

It’s easy to admit these things, because they’re trivial. It isn’t the first time a villain’s gotten the upper hand on him, and it’s not the first time he’s still walked away, either.

But Kirishima looks vaguely ill at this admission, and Katsuki wonders how much was really disclosed about his injuries. Nothing at all, it seems.

“He broke my bones because he wanted to use the marrow as a...marinade,” Katsuki continues. “He was going to eat me, Eijirou.”

Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up and not something he’s dealt with before.

“He talked, too. Like, a lot. An annoying amount. I hear it in my sleep.”

Kirishima’s voice is barely a whisper. “About what?”

“Lots of stuff. He wanted me to—” This is the harder part to think about. Katsuki swallows, and admits, “He wanted me to beg him to stop.”

“Did you?”

His hackles raise instantly at the question, and he muster a glare at Kirishima, ready to tell him to fuck off. But there is, again, no judgment to be found on his friend’s face. He’s simply curious, his expression controlled and open.

He knows Katsuki. He knows the answer already, because there’s no other reason to react defensively.

Katsuki bites his lip, looks down, and replies, “Yeah. I did.”

Silence falls between the two boys. He’s not looking at Kirishima, but he can feel his red eyes on him.

“I would have, too,” Kirishima finally says. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s pathetic.”

Kirishima shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. What else could you have done?”

“Fought harder.”

“You just said he destroyed your hands.”

“I could have done something,” Katsuki hisses. “Anything would have been better than giving him what he wanted! I could have stayed silent, that way at least if he killed me I’d still have my pride!”

There’s a good five-second pause before Kirishima stutters out, “Y-you don’t mean that.”

No, he doesn’t. Not really. But it makes him feel better to say it.

Lysimar may not have done what his parents and the doctors think, but he still took something from Katsuki. He took his autonomy. His control. He violated and altered his body, permanently, and there’s nothing Katsuki can do to get that back. He’s cursed with these nightmares and now he has to explain them when all he wants is to forget about them.

He wants to feel in control again.

“I’m going to tell you something,” he says. “You can’t tell anyone. Because it’s mine to share. Okay?”

He’s not sure where this urge came from. Maybe he’ll feel better if he decides who knows about his condition. He had no say in his parents, or Deku, or Aizawa, or Todoroki knowing. But he has power over this.

Kirishima nods.

Katsuki pulls the collar of his shirt down, revealing the large teeth marks scarred into his skin. As a consequence of needing to wait for Recovery Girl to treat him, she hadn’t been able to make evidence of the wounds go away entirely. The marks would remain. “He bit me. Before Deku got there.”

Kirishima’s eyes widen, looking like dinner plates.

“I, uh, don’t want to go into specifics,” he admits, pulling his shirt back into normal position. “But because of what happened, I’m...I can get sick a lot more easily now. Infections are more serious.”

“Immunodeficiency,” Kirishima supplies, and Katsuki gives a short nod. “I’m sorry, man. That sucks.”

“Yeah.” He gives his friend a sharp look. “Don’t start treating me like I’m made of glass now. That’s not why I told you. I just...”

He flounders for a moment for the right words.

“I don’t want him to win.”

Kirishima nods once more. “Sure.”

When silence falls between them, it lasts much longer this time. Katsuki feels awkward. He fidgets a little in his spot, unsure what to do next. He’s not good at this stuff. He said what he needed to, and now…

“Katsuki?” Kirishima stands up, and moves toward him to also sit on the bed. Katsuki successfully suppresses a flinch at the sudden movement. “Can I give you a hug?”

He blinks, then scowls. He’s not a fucking child, he doesn’t need to be coddled like one—

But his irritation dies instantly as he looks at Kirishima, really looks at him.

His eyes are a little bright with unshed tears. He’s an easy crier like Deku, always has been. There’s a small, tentative smile on his face, but it’s completely genuine. He’s not sad, so then why...

Slowly, belatedly, Katsuki realizes that Kirishima likely has been having bad dreams of his own these past few weeks.

“Yeah, sure.”

Strong arms immediately pull him into a tight embrace, eliciting a squawk of surprise from Katsuki. He slowly wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders, and pats his back hesitantly.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Kirishima mumbles into his shirt. “And I’m glad you talked to me about this.”

He gives good hugs. The thought enters his brain before he can stop it. Feels nice.

It feels safe.

He indulges in the sensation, deciding he’s earned it, and mutters, “Me too, Shitty Hair. Me too.”

After a tumultuous Monday, the rest of his first week back is a rather intense period of adjustment. He still has bad dreams, but they’re easier to deal with now. Kirishima is ready and willing to keep Katsuki company when he wants, and he even recruits the rest of the idiot squad to help. Katsuki is sure that Mina, Sero, and Kaminari all want to know the details, but they don’t ask, which surprises and gratifies him. Starting the next night, there’s at least one person carrying a bunch of blankets to his room and building a nest to sleep on. They all have convenient excuses—the heat isn’t working in Sero’s room, Mina just watched a scary movie and doesn’t want to be alone, Kouda’s animals are keeping Kaminari up, etc. Friday night, he gets a pleasant surprise in the form of Deku on his bed, swaddled in an All Might comforter with a determined expression on his face, as if daring Katsuki to try to kick him out.

He stops his half-hearted arguing after that night.

When he, inevitably, wakes up or is woken from a nightmare of teeth and slime, his friends don’t ask questions. Sometimes he talks to them. Sometimes he doesn’t. Either way, they’re there, and their presence means more than Katsuki thinks he can put into words.

He goes to Recovery Girl at the end of the week for one final checkup, where she confirms that the vaccines and booster shots have taken effect and will help pick up the slack of his stunted immune system. He breathes a little easier after that.

The next week is more of the same, but the nightmares aren’t as bad. The rest of the class is on board with the program now—he’s visited a different night by Jirou, Tokoyami, Asui, Aoyama, and Yaoyorozu. The third week, it’s Shouji, Kouda, Ojiro, Hagakure, and Satou. The fourth week, his guests are Iida, Uraraka, Shinsou, and Todoroki.

The results are mixed. Some of them are absolutely terrible at dealing with him—Hagakure just bursts into tears when he wakes up in a cold sweat, but she still stays with him. Others are surprisingly prepared—when he jolts upright, scratching at the scar on his chest, Shinsou simply walks over and grabs his hand, then begins showing him cat videos on his phone.

He has moments other than when he’s sleeping. He’s more paranoid if someone is behind him, and the class learned pretty early on not to touch him unless he could see it coming. Kaminari attempted a harmless scare prank by jumping onto Katsuki’s back, and was almost blown out the window for it.

But overall, despite the bumps in the road, it works. The classes quickly converges around him, protectively, and a month passes by quicker than he expects.

Predictably, that’s when he’s thrown a particularly nasty curveball.

It’s the weekend, and he and Deku are in his bedroom. Mitsuki’s downstairs cooking, and Masaru is watching the news in the living room. They’re completely undisturbed.

And, well, they’re enjoying it.

Deku has been nothing but considerate for the past month. He was hesitant at first, seeming anxious about how eager Katsuki was to jump into a relationship with him, but Katsuki had almost died, damn it. He wants to enjoy what they've both been waiting too long for.

The doorbell echoes throughout the house, but Katsuki barely registers in it because he’s a little preoccupied attacking a spot on Deku’s neck and enjoying the response he gets from it. It isn’t until his mother shouts, “KATSUKI!” a few minutes later that he groans and rolls off his boyfriend, turning to glare at the closed door.

“WHAT?”

“GET DOWN HERE! YOU HAVE A VISITOR!”

“Someone better be dying,” he grumbles.

“Don’t say that, Kacchan,” Deku chastises gently, ruffling his hair as he sits up. “I wonder if it’s Kirishima.”

“I swear, if it is, I will explode him into the sun.”

Katsuki shoves open his bedroom door and stalks down the stairs. He turns right at the bottom step, heading into the kitchen, then freezes.

Aizawa stares at him from the table, holding a small cup of tea in his hands. What. Adjacent to the table, Mitsuki is stirring a pot on the stove. Her back is to them, but he knows she’s listening.

“The fuck?”

“Bakugou,” his teacher replies, taking a sip. When Deku bounds down after him, he adds, with a raised eyebrow, “Midoriya.”

“S-Sensei! What are you doing here?”

“I came to speak with Bakugou. Would you prefer if we went somewhere more private to talk?” Aizawa asks.

Katsuki shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just say whatever you came here to say.”

Aizawa nods and sets his cup down. “UA received a message from the Hero Public Safety Commission. They’ve been trying, without success, to learn from Lucas Hollow who all his victims were and where they’ve been buried around the world.”

Katsuki goes cold. Beside him, Deku stiffens. Mitsuki stops stirring the pot.

“He finally agreed to talk,” Aizawa continues. “But he wants to speak to you first, Bakugou. The HPSC asked me to see if you would honor his request.”

“No!” Mitsuki spins around, brandishing her spoon threateningly. Aizawa doesn’t blink. “Katsuki is going nowhere near that monster.”

“I agree,” Masaru says from behind. Katsuki hasn’t even noticed his approach. There’s a cold fury in his voice that he’s not used to hearing.

Aizawa inclines his head, frowning apologetically. “I’m of similar mind. I have no desire to place any of my students in a room with him. But UA can’t refuse an order from the HPSC.” His eyes slide back to Katsuki. “However, we were only told to ask. You have every right to say no, Bakugou. If you do, I’ll personally tell the commission to go to hell.”

“Of course he says no!” Mitsuki yells. “Tell him, brat!”

Katsuki doesn’t speak. His mouth is dry.

“People don’t cook well. They’re better raw. Trust me—I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m an expert.”

“A long time? There are only four bodies.”

“Four that you know of.”

Lysimar himself had confirmed there were more victims. There was always the chance it could just have been a scare tactic, to rattle him, but…

If it wasn’t…

“What—what’s the proof?” he asks. “How do we know he’s telling the truth?”

His mother’s eyes grow wide. “Katsuki!”

Aizawa grimaces. “Unsolved disappearances in other countries were examined and compared to the pattern he displayed here in Japan. So far, one body in the United States has been found, and two in Russia. But they’re both so badly deteriorated that it’s impossible to link him to the crime unless he confesses.”

“Isn’t he already locked up?” Masaru asks.

“He is,” Aizawa confirms, nodding. “For the rest of his life, too. Tartarus isn’t a prison you serve a brief sentence at. This is less about convicting him and more about...”

“Closure,” Katsuki murmurs.

Aizawa nods again.

He’s lucky to have survived his encounter with Lysimar. Katsuki knows that. As far as anyone can tell, he’s the only person to get away from the psychopath. But the way he acted, what he said, it all points to him having been killing for a long, long time.

How many people had just vanished because of him? How many families were waiting for someone who would never come home?

“How would it happen?” he asks.

“Kacchan.” Deku’s voice is tight. “Can I speak to you in the other room?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns and walks past Masaru, into the living room. Katsuki glances at his parents, then Aizawa, and follows him.

Deku sits on the couch, staring at some movie playing on the TV. He’s not really watching it. When Katsuki sits next to him, green eyes lock onto him instantly.

“You don’t want me to,” he says.

Deku sighs. “I don’t know.” “I’m not crazy about it either, trust me.”

“But you’re thinking about it,” he says. “Why?”

That is the million-yen question. Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek, pondering.

“I want to forget about him,” he says. “But being in the same room as him...I don’t know.”

“I need to ask you something, then.”

Well, that’s not ominous. Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“What did Lysimar really do to you?”

His stomach lurches.

“You know what he did,” Katsuki says, looking away.

“I know what your parents and my mom think happened,” Deku counters. Grim determination is set in his face. “I know that you stopped trying to deny it. But I don’t believe it. I haven’t for a while now.”

It was still a source of contention in the Bakugou household. Mitsuki and Masaru still held the belief that Lysimar had assaulted him. Inko, too. It hadn’t been brought up in a while—the last time was when Katsuki and Deku broke the news of their relationship. Mitsuki had been concerned that Katsuki was using Deku as an outlet to avoid what had happened. What she thought had happened.

That had been an ugly fight. He spent that weekend at UA.

“What does it matter?” Katsuki grumbles, feeling childish.

“A lot!” Deku shouts, making him blink in surprise. “It matters a lot, Kacchan! I wanted to let you tell me in your own time, but...if you’re never going to, then I’m gonna push. You can’t keep it bottled up.”

Anger flickers to life in him. “Who said it’s any of your business?”

“You are my business!” Deku retorts. “I care about you, and I want to understand why you’re fine with everyone thinking that he raped you!”

“Because he might as well have!”

Silence looms over them. The entire house goes quiet. Katsuki is absolutely sure his parents and Aizawa can hear, even if they aren’t actively eavesdropping.

Deku looks stricken by the admission, but then he furrows his brow. “What...does that mean?”

Katsuki grits his teeth.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, or think about it. Unlike everything else that Lysimar inflicted on him, even the immunodeficiency, being force-fed the biomatter was what had broken him, and made him give up.

“He’s made of...sludge, right?” Deku flinches, which is odd, but Katsuki continues. “He controls it. He took that shit and forced it in my mouth. It went all the way down into my stomach. He played with my insides like they were toys, and it hurt so much, but he just laughed. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, I just wanted—”

“—to die,” Deku finished. “I know.”

He’s got tears in his eyes, and Katsuki can’t figure out why. They almost look relieved.

“Kacchan, I know. Remember the...the sludge villain?”

“Lysimar used that bastard against me,” Katsuki says, without thinking. “I panicked, and he saw, so that’s why he...”

“I never told you how All Might and I met, did I? So much happened that day.” Deku’s close to rambling now, Katsuki can tell. He has that faraway look in his eyes. But then, surprisingly, his gaze refocuses on his boyfriend. “He saved me from the sludge villain. It got to me before it got you. And it did exactly what you just described to me.”

The image of Deku, bound and helpless and gagging on that vile villain’s substance, makes Katsuki see red. “He—”

“It’s horrible,” Deku says, taking his hand. “It’s...it’s not like sexual assault, but it’s close, isn’t it? There’s no other way to describe it other than violating. I had nightmares for months afterward.”

Katsuki had too, but the sludge villain hadn’t been nearly so invasive with him. It paraded his body around like a puppet, but it hadn’t been inside him.

“How did they stop?” he asks. His eyes burn, but he refuses to acknowledge it. “I still...I still taste it, Deku.”

He gives him a smile, that soft look that Katsuki used to hate, because he thought it was so condescending. How had he ever gotten it so wrong?

“I talked about it. With All Might. With Hound Dog, too. But really, I don’t think I got over it until USJ. That Nomu...it wasn’t the same as the sludge villain, not at all, but it was the first time I’d been able to channel what I’d been feeling and direct it somewhere. And we won that day. So even though it wasn’t with the villain I wanted to confront, taking action helped. It helped me not feel so helpless.”

Understanding dawns.

“You think I should use him,” he surmises. “Lysimar. Use him to get the names.”

“A victory against him might help,” Deku confirms with a grimace. “You’ll probably never get the chance again. And it would give closure to a lot of other people he’s hurt.”

It’s...not a terrible idea when phrased that way.

“Okay. Let’s see what Aizawa says.”

He gets up. Deku copies him, but before they leave the room, Katsuki kisses him deeply, and murmurs against his mouth, “Thanks.”

When they return to the kitchen, Aizawa hasn’t moved. Masaru and Mitsuki have joined him at the table. Judging by their pale, pinched expressions, they heard enough of the conversation.

“Katsuki—”

He speaks over his mother, and repeats his earlier question to Aizawa. “How would it happen?”

“Tartarus has quirk-suppressing chambers with a two-way mirror installed. In the event of a malfunction, the prisoner is still shackled with quirk-suppressing cuffs. There is also an isolated ventilation system which can flood the chamber with sedatives in the event a prisoner gets loose or too rowdy,” Aizawa replies. He hesitates, then adds, “The same system can also vent the room to create a lethal vacuum, if necessary.”

That sounds simple enough. “When would I do it?”

“As soon as possible. Tartarus staff can have the chamber ready by tomorrow.”

“Can I bring someone with me?”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “You can. I’m sure there would be no objections from the HPSC if it gets them what they want.”

Katsuki nods. “I’ll do it.”

His teacher’s expression doesn’t change, but Katsuki thinks he sees something like respect in it. “Very well. I’ll be in touch. See you later, Bakugou, Midoriya.” He stands up, then bows at Masaru and Mitsuki. “Thank you for having me.”

Masaru gets up to walk him out, leaving them alone with Mitsuki. In the corner of his eye, Katsuki sees Deku fidget.

“Brat,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He knows. He waves off her apology. “It’s fine, hag.”

If he were younger, he’d likely get angry at her just to be angry. But he can’t blame her for assuming the worst, especially when he wouldn’t tell the truth.

He turns to Deku, and offers a hand. “Come with me.”

He doesn’t say it like a question, but it is. Deku nods, squeezing his fingers.

Neither of them get much sleep that night.

Tartarus is, true to its reputation, a fortress.

Katsuki knows that All For One had led an assault that broke down the prison’s walls, back in their first year, but that isn’t evident when it comes into view from their car. It’s a large, boxy, and colored a depressing gunmetal grey. The place looks exactly like its namesake—a pit of despair, where the monsters are thrown to be forgotten.

Inside, its walls are a sterile white that reminds Katsuki of a hospital, but the cell doors look more like the entrances to bank vaults. However, the room Aizawa escorts Katsuki and Deku to is a simple door. Inside it looks like a standard interrogation room from a police precinct—and there is indeed a two-way mirror on one wall.

Aizawa shuts the door behind them.

“I have to stay with you, but I won’t interfere unless necessary or you ask me to,” he advises. He points to the mirror, where there are a series of buttons on the wall beside it. “Green is the intercom. Red turns off the two-way mirror, but I’d advise you to keep it on. When you’re ready, press the blue one.”

Katsuki nods, approaching the glass. On his left, Deku leans against his shoulder, an encouraging presence.

Katsuki takes a deep breath. Then another.

He presses the button.

Bright white lights flare into existence, momentarily blinding him. He steps back on instinct, shielding his eyes until they adjust.

The room is completely devoid of any kind of furniture or personalization. In the center is a hand truck, and strapped to it is Lysimar.

Katsuki suspected during their first encounter that there was a person beneath all the black slime that covered him, and he’s a little smug to see he's correct. Lysimar isn’t much to look at in his human form. He’s pale and thin, with greasy black hair and equally dark eyes. His mouth is large, not quite as large as Ectoplasm’s, but close. He’s dressed in a white prison jumpsuit, and there are chains binding his legs, arms, and torso to the hand truck. Quirk-suppressing cuffs are attached to each of his wrists, as promised.

When the lights turn on, he looks around the room in confusion for a moment, before he slowly smiles. “Oh, my. Do I dare to believe it?”

Katsuki suppresses a shudder. His voice is the same as in his nightmares. High, cold, and scratchy. A horrible combination.

“Kacchan, is that you?” Lysimar asks.

Deku actually growls, something Katsuki never thought he would hear in his life.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d show!” Lysimar exclaims gleefully, wriggling in his bonds like a demented caterpillar. “How’ve you been? They don’t tell me anything here. I’ve missed you, Katsuki. I really have. I only got a taste of you, but it’s all I’ve been able to think about!”

He approaches the panel on the wall, and presses the intercom. It turns green.

“I’m off the menu, you freak,” he says, more steadily than he expected to sound.

Lysimar smiles wider, his beady eyes narrowed to slits. “No such thing, Katsuki. No such thing.”

Katsuki swallows. He presses the button again. “You wanted to see me. I’m here. Talk.”

“But I can’t see you!” Lysimar cries, and it almost sounds like a whine. “I can hear you, but how do I know that’s really you? I miss those beautiful eyes of yours, Katsuki!”

His heart is drumming away in his chest. Katsuki glances at the red button on the panel.

“Bakugou,” Aizawa says with a warning in his tone, at the same time Deku asks, “Kacchan?”

He hits the red button. The dark glass of the two-way mirror turns clear, and Lysimar’s gaze immediately snaps to Katsuki. He glares right back.

“Oh my stars,” he breathes. “It really is you.”

Katsuki presses the intercom button and keeps it held down. “Yeah. I’m here. Now what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you, Kacchan!” Lysimar giggles. “I want to peel the skin from your flesh and suck the marrow from your bones. I want to hold your beating heart in my hands and drink the nectar of life from it!”

Deku makes a noise that sounds like he’s going to be ill. Lysimar looks at him.

“Could it be? The boyfriend?” he trills. “Oh, I’m so glad you patched things up! I suppose you have me to thank for you guys finally getting your act together, right? I don’t have all the details, but it sounds like you two were lovesick over each other for a while!”

Before Deku can respond (or lunge at the glass, more likely), Katsuki quickly says, “It’s been over a month. You could have asked for me earlier. Why now?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been thinking lately that I may actually be stuck here for a while,” Lysimar replies, his smile fading. “And that makes me sad! I thought we had something special, you know. So I offered up some names, just for the chance to see you again. What do you say we make a regular thing of it? You visit me every week, and I’ll give the police another body’s location! We can make a game out of it.” He licks his lips, and leers through the glass. “It may take a while. There’s well over a hundred bodies. I don’t want you to forget about me, after all.”

Hell no. He can endure a visit to Lysimar once, to get the names of the victims and give their families some peace. But he is not going to extort himself just so this psycho can get his rocks off.

“That wasn’t the deal,” Aizawa interrupts. He moves to stand behind Katsuki and Deku, and places a hand on each of their shoulders protectively. “You agreed to give all of the names in exchange for one visit.”

“I’m changing the deal!” Lysimar cackles loudly.

What are they supposed to do now? Lysimar has all the cards in this scenario. He has the information they want and the means to prolong giving it out. Once again, he’s in charge.

Something inside him twists at that thought. Then, like striking a match, it erupts into sudden rage.

Fuck. This.

He’s sick to death of Lysimar. Sick of him plaguing his thoughts and dreams, sick of feeling sorry for himself, sick of letting him ruin what he’s trying to have with Deku. Sick of letting him control Katsuki, when he’s stuck in a cell for the rest of his life and going to rot.

He’s an egotist, a complete tool who thinks he’s the best, and refuses to accept that he’s lost. Katsuki knows what that’s like. He is intimately familiar with that kind of person.

So he knows how to beat it.

“Actually,” he says over Lysimar’s laughter, “I think we’re done here.”

That gets his attention. He quiets down, and frowns at Katsuki. “Come again?”

“Bakugou?” Aizawa asks, with a perturbed expression.

Katsuki turns around to face them, making sure to keep his hand on the intercom so Lysimar can hear. “Come on, Sensei, you don’t really believe this guy, do you? You really think he has a list of bodies long enough that he can stretch into as many weeks or months he wants? He dropped four before getting caught in Musutafu. Four bodies that were very quickly found. He’s not slick enough to have more than maybe a dozen victims, if that. Including the ones found in the States and Russia, that’s what, seven bodies? We’ll find the rest on our own time.”

“What?” Lysimar hisses.

Aizawa stares at him for several seconds. His expression doesn’t change in the slightest, but Katsuki sees a flash of recognition in his eyes. “You’re right, Bakugou.”

“Y-yeah!” Deku agrees, catching on, and Katsuki really hopes the nerd’s poker face is good enough for this. “It’s not like he’s too difficult to fight, either. He went down pretty easily in that warehouse. Him getting the drop on a dozen people is a stretch as it is.”

“I know what you’re doing!” Lysimar screamed. “It’s not going to work!”

Katsuki faces him again, and sends Lysimar a cruel smile of his own.

“Yeah? Well, I spent a whole evening with you, dickwad, so I think I know what I’m talking about when I say you’re full of shit. If you really had that kind of body count, you’d be tougher to take down. Hell, you only got me because you attacked from behind, like a coward.”

Lysimar hisses wordlessly. He’s no longer smiling, and his eyes are narrowed once more, but this time with rage. Katsuki is thrilled to see it.

“It really doesn’t matter how many people you killed,” he continues. “You’re stuck here forever. They don’t just let serial killers back out onto the streets, especially the bad ones. I don’t need to believe you. No one does. So I’m out of here. I’m going to go home, make katsudon for my boyfriend, and forget you ever existed. All you are is a tiny, shitty footnote in my life, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

He releases the intercom button, and gestures for the door. Aizawa strides over and pulls it open, and leaves the room.

“You will never get this chance again!” Lysimar screams, thrashing in his restraints. “Think about all the people who will be forgotten! They will never get justice! Ever!”

Deku, ignoring him entirely, saunters out. He lingers in the doorway, however, out of Lysimar’s sight, and watches Katsuki cautiously.

He turns away from the glass.

“I am a part of you, Katsuki!” he hears from the other side, and it just sounds so pathetic. “Katsuki? Kacchan! Do you hear me? You will never escape me!”

He crosses over to the door, and steps through, ready to pull it shut behind him—

“WAIT! PLEASE!”

Deku grins. Bingo.

Katsuki quickly smothers his triumphant expression. He turns on his heel and walks back into the room, approaches the glass, and hits the green button.

“I’m listening.”

“You don’t think I killed all those people?” Lysimar pants. “You’re wrong!”

There’s a wild, hysterical look in his eyes, like he’s desperate to be believed. For Katsuki to believe him, because the one thing a proud person can’t stand above all else is to be forgotten.

“I’ll tell you about all of them. Every. Single. One!” he spits. “I’ll give you all the gruesome details. I will fill your head with the horrors of what I’ve done, and torment you every night with them!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki sees Aizawa return to stand in the doorway next to Deku, and pull out a tape recorder.

Katsuki sighs, and leans against the wall, finger on the button. “Alright. I’m listening.”

In the end, Lysimar gives him one hundred and twenty-four names.

He delivers on the gruesome details, as promised. But honestly, there are only so many ways to describe eating a person before it becomes boring. But Katsuki is careful to not let his dull mood show, just in case Lysimar decided to renege.

“Do you think those were all the victims?” Deku asks on the car ride home.

“Doesn’t matter,” he declares. “It’s a hundred and twenty-four people who can get some peace. That’s enough.”

“Bakugou, that was impressive,” Aizawa grunts from the driver’s seat. He’s normally subtle about his fondness for his students, whenever he chooses to express it. But when Katsuki glances at him in the rearview mirror, he’s shocked to find his teacher smiling. “Good job.”

“Kacchan’s amazing,” Deku whispers, intertwining their fingers.

Katsuki huffs, his lips twitching. He glances out the backseat window as their car rounds a corner, bringing Tartarus into view. It’s rapidly getting smaller.

He scoots over in his seat and drapes Deku’s arm over his own shoulder, then locks their hands back together. Then he settles back against Deku, who practically vibrates out of his seat in excitement. The arm around him tightens, pulling him a little closer.

“Wake me when we get back,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Of course, Kacchan.” A pause. He feels Deku’s heart is thumping away in his chest. “Are you really going to make katsudon?”

He snorts. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take long for him to drift off after that. He’s not sure what he dreams about. It may have been nothing at all. But when he wakes, he knows it will be the first good sleep he’s had in a while.

Yeah. He’ll be fine.