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Everything hurt, the weight of gravity too much for his body. He didn't like living anymore, he didn't know if he still wanted to be a hero anymore. He didn't really deserve to, did he?
He probably would've tried a little harder in his training before all of this but he couldn't remember himself anymore. It scared him a little, was he different now? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that everything hurt. Everything was falling apart and he was losing himself. To what, he didn't know. Whatever he was supposed to be battling for before now was insignificant. At least, it should be. He couldn't remember it. It couldn't be very important if he forgot it.
Perhaps it was the pain, the injuries he felt but kept forgetting to address. He kept forgetting things. Everything but those moments that plagued him. He couldn't seem to remember anything but those moments, his mind was slowly deteriorating into nothing but the pain of those moments.
He could remember being in this thick substance where his quirk didn't work. What even was his quirk? What exactly were quirks? They must be important, everyone kept talking about them. Whatever his was, he couldn't use it. The substance stopping it, holding him captive and slowly suffocating him.
He couldn't remember how he got out, but that memory or rather, that feeling, must be why he had this extreme spike of dread every time he wore too tight clothes.
There was always this hovering sense of him forgetting. It scared him, he couldn't tell what he was forgetting. Was it everything? Sometimes he couldn't remember his name. That really scared him. Why couldn't he remember these things?
So he took up writing things down, he'd forget things and he could read them. Fo example, 'My name was Katsuki Bakugou'. He'd written that down. His birthday he couldn't remember. So he'd spent hours staring at the empty line on the page simply stating 'Birthday:' as if he'd actually remember.
Why was he here? What was he trying to do, exactly? Oh that's right, he'd written that down. So he got up and shakily moved towards the desk. (That's what it was called right? He couldn't remember sometimes.) 'I want to be a hero'. A hero? Why would he want to be a hero...? Oh that's right, he'd wanted to be number one.
He stayed in the room. This place was only safe at night. So he waited until the sun was down and the building was completely silent. He'd crack hid door open and check.
That was what he was doing now. He peered through the door and stumbled through the door. His balance wasn't very good. Why? He couldn't remember. Maybe it was from the pain in his upper thighs and stomach.
Tonight he'd brought the pages for ramen. He'd forgotten to bring the book last time and had to go all the way back.
The kitchen was always easy to find, he'd written detailed maps to get there on his arms and maintained them through showers and daily movement. He turned on the light as the note said he could if everyone was gone. No one was awake on this floor. Probably.
Right then. 'Step one: find the small pan. It'll be in the cabinet three spaces from the fridge and on the bottom. Be quiet! Fill with water to reach the line.'
Simple enough. He, Katsuki was it? Katsuki crouched down, one hand bracing himself on the floor and the other opening the cabinet door. His sight swept through the pans inside and he reached for the small one, as instructed.
Tonight, he could remember where the ramen was kept and how to turn on the stove, so he skipped past those steps.
'Step five: cook for six minutes. Stir when bubbles too high. Set a timer on phone. Vibrate only' He searched for his phone and sighed. He forgot it. Well that's pretty shitty. So he watched the clock. Keeping track of the minutes on his fingers. He'd forget otherwise. When it hit five minutes, he read the next step.
He finished and sat at the... table? Yeah that's what it was. How could he forget that? So simple. It was dark, the kitchen lighting the room just enough for him to see. It was so pretty in the dark.
Sometimes, he'd just watch himself blink in the mirror and repeat phrases to himself. Usually it was his his name, age, and family. This was a school, he read that as he ate.
Wasn't he supposed to go to classes, then? How do classes work; where were they; what were they for? He wanted to know. There was nothing in his notebook about it. He never remembered it. Just like he never remembered what the rest of the doors in the halls were for. He never checked, his notebook simply marked those doors on the map with an 'x' so he knew not to go in. They looked like his room, so that's what they must be. But who was in them? Did he know them?
He was washing his dish in the sink when he heard a sound. Turning the tap off, he froze. What was that? He heard it again, and again, and again, and again. What was it? What was it?
A breath-like sound came from the doorway and he spun. A person stood there. Green hair. He must know that person, but he couldn't... Who was that? Why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't he ever remember?
"Kacchan?"
"Kacchan?" He repeated back, eyebrows furrowing as he flipped through his notebook to search the page about himself for that name. 'Nickname from Deku: Kacchan'. It was the second on the short list of nicknames he'd received. "You're Deku, then?"
The boy in front of him stiffened. Why? "Ye– Yeah that's me. Did you forget?"
"Lots of things" He admitted. "But I got it here" He held up his notebook.
He studied the boy. They, Deku, seemed uncomfortable if his body language was any indicator. Why did he know that? Why did he know what body language was? Why couldn't he remember if he remembered things or not.
"I can't... Hey, do you know my birthday?" His words seemed to heavily weigh on the boy. He couldn't tell why.
"Yes– Yes I do. April twentieth. What can you... Nevermind. I'll call Aizawa, he can help" The boy whispered out, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He's our teacher"
He quickly wrote down his birthday using the pen he kept hooked on the notebook. Searching through the pages, he found that the name was already listed. 'Aizawa: Black hair, hobo-looking. Tired, secretly cares. Teacher / hero'. He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it, pulling at the strands. Why did he have to write everything down? Everyone else could remember. What was wrong with him?
Something brown and cream caught his eye and he turned. A butterfly was gliding around the kitchen. He reached out to let it land on his hand. It didn't, simply dancing around his fingers. He moved to retract his hand when it landed on his ring finger.
Smiling widely, he slowly turned to show the boy. "Isn't it pretty?"
He'd seen the butterfly many times, it always appeared wherever he was. Bathroom while he brushed his teeth, his bedroom while he attempted to sleep, the halls when he held the wall for support. It was always there with him.
"There's nothing there, Kacchan" The boy told him. He shook his head, blinking as he stared at his hand. The butterfly was gone. Had it flown back off? He turned, searching for it. He couldn't find it.
"Bakugou, Midoriya" He jumped, as did the boy. A man stood there behind the boy. Which was him? Bakugou or Midoriya? He flipped back to the page about himself. He was Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou.
They were talking. He didn't pay enough attention to actively listen. Who was that boy again? He was Katsuki Bakugou, so who was that boy? He flipped through the pages of his notebook, desperately searching for the list of names he wrote as he remembered.
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Important People :
• Kirishima : Red hair, sharp teeth, bright smile. Energetic, kind. Best friend.
• Raccoon Eyes: Everything pink, horns, dark eyes. Energetic idiot, kind. Close friend.
• Pikachu: Blonde, lightning bolt in black. Energetic idiot, friendly. Close friend.
• Tapeface : Black hair, toothy smile. Energetic yet chill idiot, caring. Close friend.
• Icy-Hot: Candy cane hair, cool scar. Theorist, sarcastic. Rival.
• Aizawa : Black hair, hobo-looking. Tired, secretly cares. Teacher / Hero.
• Deku : Dark green hair, freckles. Kind, stalker type. Childhood friend / Rival.
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The boy was Deku, the man was Aizawa. There was another list on the next few pages of less important people, or as the title page suggested: 'Extras'. He liked to think that he had retained the same personality, but there was no way to tell. He couldn't remember what he was like.
Ah, the butterfly was back. He simply watched it, eyes following it's every movement as it glided around the room. He wondered where it had been. The brown winged insect landed on the ceiling, directly above the doorway to the dining area as if to say 'go ahead'. He wanted to, he wanted to follow it, to play and watch. He held onto the counter as he pushed himself to the table. With his notebook in one hand and the other lifted to hold the butterfly, he sat there.
"Bakugou, can you tell me where you are?" The scruffy man, Aizawa probably, asked, sitting opposite to him. The boy, Deku, sat next to him so that they were both across from him. He frowned. Was he allowed to check his notebook? Probably not. So he shook his head.
"Dining room?" The man frowned and he quickly searched through his notebook. "Yuuei. I'm at Yuuei, right?"
"Yes, you're in the Yuuei dorms for Class one A. When did this memory issue start?"
He shrugged. "Dunno" How was he supposed to know that? If it was a 'memory issue' then why would he remember?
"Mr. Aizawa, I think it was when he stopped coming to class. Kirishima said that before he started locking his door all the time, Kacchan always looked confused. Actually, maybe longer, he was off in training a lot, as if he didn't remember his past combat training. Why didn't he come to us? Recovery Girl could've checked if it was a quirk. Is it... Is it too late now?"
"I'm not sure. Bakugou, what exactly do you remember right now. Don't use your notebook, just tell me anything you know"
What the hell did he know? Without his notebook, did he even remember anything? How was he supposed to say he didn't remember anything? He looked at his hands, studying them. Were those scars always there?
"Dunno. My name is... Uh... I have red eyes? You're someone important. He's... I'm in a dining room, my room is upstairs probably. I live here. It's night. I just ate. I should know you. Something about a hero... Was I supposed to be one? I'm... What the fuck is my name?" He realized that his memory really was shit. The man had just used his name, right? Why couldn't he remember it? It hadn't even been a minute.
The man frowned. "I'll call Nezu. He should be awake still" The man stood and moved out of the room to call whoever it was. While the guy was out, he opened his notebook and searched through. The boy in front of him was Deku.
"Oi" He started, catching the bo– Deku's attention. "What's wrong with me?"
The boy only stared at him, emotions running across his face at alarming speeds. As if the boy was going through the stages of grief all in one moment. He then smiled.
"It's okay, Kacchan. You'll be back to normal soon"
"Normal?" He whispered. He turned and watched the butterfly as it flew around. This was normal. He would be fine like this if he added more to his notebook.
He was okay.
Probably.