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Bakugo had lost count of the days. It was easy at first. Just count how many sunsets filtered through the tiny crevice near the ceiling. But as time passed, he couldn’t be sure if he’d somehow missed a day or unconsciousness overtook him. All he knew was that he had been missing for too long and that he was going to die before anyone ever had the chance to find him.
Voices rang through Bakugo’s ears as he swam in and out of consciousness for what must have been the fourth time that day. He barely had the strength to lift his head, more content to let it rest against his heaving chest.
“Well, well, well, I think somebody is finally awake,” A voice teased. Bakugo cracked an eye open and saw a pair of shoes for only a moment before it disappeared from his sight. Shigaraki circled Bakugo as he continued his taunting. “It really is a shame that you are no use to us anymore. Having a kidnapped hero under our belt really does make great leverage.” Shigaraki laughed and grabbed a fistful of Bakugo’s hair, forcing his head up. It took every ounce of willpower not to make a sound; he wouldn’t give anybody the pleasure of hearing him scream.
With his head held up, Bakugo could get a better glance at the warehouse he was being kept in, as well as the people keeping him and Shigaraki company. Bakugo’s stomach twisted when his vision cleared, and he could finally see the person leaning against the far wall of the warehouse, Izuku.
Bakugo thought he was hallucinating when he first saw his childhood friend. The only light in the entire building was a small lamp near the door on the opposite side to where he was tied up. Izuku hung around in the shadows watching him before making his first move. Bakugo couldn’t say that he was surprised. Izuku always took notes on his surroundings before making the first move. Still, when Izuku walked towards Bakugo, he couldn’t believe that it was him, that was until the sharp sting of a slap registered in Bakugo’s mind.
“Whatcha looking at, pretty boy?” Shigaraki mused sarcastically. It was something Shigaraki called Izuku often, and Bakugo’s stomach churned every time he heard those words.
Izuku barely looked at the pair before pushing himself off the wall and casually walking over to them, flipping something over and over again between his fingers. Izuku was only a few steps away when Bakugo realized what he held.
“Don’t touch that!” Bakugo rasped. His voice was sore from disuse; he’d refused to say a single word since he was taken hostage.
“Would you look at that, you can talk!” Shigaraki joked, throwing Bakugo’s head down again as he stepped towards Izuku. “What’s got him so worked up?”
Bakugo tried to move towards them. There was no way in hell he wanted Shigaraki to see what Izuku was holding. Still, he’d barely made it an inch towards them before Izuku kicked Bakugo’s chair back—sending him crashing towards the ground.
“It’s nothing,” Izuku said, trying to turn away. But Shigaraki was faster, and before either of them realized it, he’d plucked the photograph out of Izuku’s hand and began laughing.
“Is this- wow, look at you, pretty boy! Didn’t realize we had taken a friend of yours. Why didn’t you say anything?”
They couldn’t have been older than seven in the picture. Auntie Inko thought a picnic would be a fun way to spend an otherwise forgetful summer day, so she packed up a basket and took Izuku and Bakugo out to her favorite spot. The trees were vast and plentiful, and the pair of boys spent the entire day fishing and playing the world’s best game of hide and seek. It was near sunset when Inko took the photo. Izuku was concentrated on getting the worm on his hook while Bakugo took the opportunity to pull Izuku down into the water with him. Izuku’s lecture soon turned into a fit of laughter as he could never find it in his heart to be mad at Bakugo for very long.
“He’s not my friend!” Izuku snapped, snatching the photo away and ripping it to shreds. Bakugo closed his eyes for a moment as reality came crashing back to him. When he opened his eyes again, the only thing he could do was watch the tiny pieces of their shared childhood slowly fluttered to the floor. “He’s nothing but a target and a useless one at that!”
Bakugo’s ragged breathing increased as he fought to sit upright again, but it made no difference. “Burn in hell!” Bakugo wheezed, glaring at Izuku.
“You should’ve pulled that picture out sooner,” Shigaraki sneered. “Maybe if you did, we could’ve gotten him talking a long time ago.” Shigaraki loomed over Bakugo with a smug expression on his face. It soon disappeared when a mixture of salvia and blood landed on his cheek. “Goddamn bastard!” Shigaraki roared, kicking Bakugo in the stomach. “Well, pretty boy, today’s your lucky day! I have things to take care of, so you get the honor of murdering your childhood best friend!”
Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but Shigaraki strode over to him and grabbed Izuku’s throat, shoving him to the wall. Izuku didn’t move an inch, and Shigaraki leaned down towards Izuku’s ear, but in the empty warehouse, voices tend to carry no matter how quietly someone spoke. “You mess this up, and there will be hell to pay, understand?” He straightened, and Izuku nodded curtly. Shigaraki gave a wicked grin as his fingers pressed into Izuku’s throat. He held it there for only a few seconds before letting go and walking towards the only door to the warehouse.
Bakugo flinched as he heard the door slam, and Bakugo screwed his eyes shut as if that would help with the pain. Then, as he regained control over his breathing, he slowly cracked one of his eyes open. Izuku was standing in the exact same spot, his eyes boring into the ground. Bakugo followed his gaze and noticed the torn photograph.
“I should’ve gotten rid of that thing years ago,” He spat.
Slowly Izuku crouched and began to pick up all the tiny pieces, ignoring Bakugo’s comments. He didn’t even glance at him until all of the shreds were tucked safely away into his pocket. “Why didn’t you?”
Bakugo blinked in confusion. It was the first thing Izuku had said to him since Bakugo had been thrown in here. And if Bakugo were being honest with himself, he had no idea why he kept it after all these years. Izuku had been presumed dead for nearly a decade after his disappearance. He still remembered searching for Izuku for months, but there was nothing. It was as if Izuku was never there in the first place.
“I wanted to remember the friend I lost,” Bakugo said after a while. It was the only thing he could say without outright lying.
Izuku’s eyes flashed towards him, and for a second, Bakugo saw the old Izuku. The fourteen-year-old kid who was thoughtful and innocent to a fault. A friend who was willing to do anything for the people he cared about, the real Izuku. But it was hidden just as quickly as it was shown, and Izuku shook his head as if to clear any confusion.
“Sometimes, when it’s an especially bad day, I’ll go visit you, your grave, I mean. I’ll sit there and tell you what’s been going on with Auntie Inko and all of our old friends from high school so that you don’t feel left out.” Bakugo wasn’t sure why he was telling Izuku any of this, maybe it was a way to prolong his soon-to-be short life, or maybe it was something entirely different. “Auntie Inko visits you every single year on your birthday, she still makes you a cake and puts candles on it, and she’ll sit there until every single candle burns out.”
Bakugo turned his head and saw that Izuku was looming over him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back but instead of feeling the sting of a blade or the exploding pain of a gun. Bakugo was being lifted upright back into a sitting position.
“You are going to listen to me, and you are not going to interrupt me as I am only going to say this once, understand?”
Bakugo didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway.
“I know you’re wearing padding underneath your clothes. I’m going to shoot you, it won’t be lethal, but it’ll hurt like hell once I take your body out of here. I want you to count to a thousand ten times, got it?”
Bakugo could only stare at Izuku, his brain still muddled from pain, exhaustion, and hunger. What was Izuku talking about? He was going to shoot him but not kill him. Why? Questions flew through his head; one barely ended before another started up in its place.
Izuku slapped Bakugo then held his face with both hands, forcing Bakugo’s gaze. “Are you listening to me? Do you understand the plan?”
“Count to a thousand ten times,” Bakugo repeated, his thoughts still a million miles away.
Izuku nodded as if this were good enough for him and started pacing in front of Bakugo, muttering under his breath. “The stomach had vital organs, so that’s a no go, but Shigaraki will know he’s not dead if I do an arm or a leg, but then again, is he even going to see the body I can do it before he gets back I mean there will be blood on the walls so that should be proof enough and-”
“Why are you doing this?” Bakugo asked suddenly.
Izuku stopped dead in his tracks, but no words left his mouth. Instead, he looked away as he tried to find the right words.
“I mean, you’re a villain. You literally work for the league of villains. So why do this? Why are you letting me live?”
“Because for ten years, my life has never been in my hands, and I did what I did to survive. Everything I wanted was taken away from me, and I can never get it back. I can never make up for the damage I’ve caused, but I want to do at least one good thing in my life.”
Tears started to well in Izuku’s eyes, but he hastily wiped them away. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, and all Bakugo could do was stare at him. “We’re wasting time. I don’t know when he’ll be back,” Izuku said suddenly, turning away and making his way to the other side of the room.
“Izuku I- don’t worry I’ll get you out of here and-”
Izuku whirled around and ran towards Bakugo, fear and panic flooding his face. He grabbed Bakugo’s shoulders and held them like a clamp, holding so tight that Izuku’s knuckles were turning white, and his arms shook slightly. “You can’t! Katsuki, I don’t care how strong you think you are. I don’t care if you bring an entire army. YOU CAN’T BEAT HIM!”
Izuku’s breathing was ragged, and this time he let the tears fall freely.
“But I can get you out of here, you’ll be free and-” Bakugo tried to argue, but his words fell on deaf ears as Izuku shook his head violently.
“Promise me that you won’t come back here!”
“But-”
“PROMISE ME, KATSUKI!” Izuku screamed, his voice cracking as he fell into full-on sobs.
“I promise,” Katsuki whispered, hating how the words tasted in his mouth.
Izuku rested his forehead on Bakugo’s, his sobs quieting, but his body was still trembling slightly. “Can you tell mom that I love her? And that I’m sorry for all the things I said that night?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
I’m sure both of them knew that Bakugo was lying. Bakugo wouldn’t say that he’s the most excellent person to have walked the Earth, but he does know that telling Inko that Izuku was alive would only cause her more pain once she realized that he was never coming back home, but it was enough for Izuku.
Izuku took one last breath to calm himself down, and he wiped away the few remaining tears as he walked back over to the other side of the warehouse, grabbing a small case and rummaging through it. “I’m not the best shot, but I promise I won’t hit any vital areas,” He said, walking back with a gun.
“Are you sure you’re calm enough to fire it?” Bakugo asked, noticing that Izuku was still trembling slightly.
“We don’t have time. I promise you’ll be fine.”
Izuku raised the gun, and Bakugo closed his eyes in anticipation and dread.
“Goodbye, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered seconds before pulling the trigger.