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Bakugo Katsuki is not weak. He doesn’t get sick. If he gets hurt, he finishes the fight, recovers, and moves on to the next one. So it’s needless to say that when he woke up one Tuesday morning with a stomach ache and a subtle lightheadedness just like the previous night, he completely ignored it. He forced about half of his breakfast down in spite of his body not even hinting at hunger, got ready, and headed to class.
“Mornin’ Bakugo!” Kirishima said brightly as he took his seat a little ways away.
Bakugo, in return, gave his regular grunt to let Kirishima know that he did indeed acknowledge his presence.
“Yo, you okay? You look mega pale,” Kirishima whispered as loudly as he could muster.
“‘M fine,” Bakugo stated and slumped even further into his chair, his focus turning toward the front of the classroom as Aizawa made his appearance.
Kirishima’s worry didn’t falter for a second as he followed Bakugo’s gaze to Aizawa.
Aizawa began droning on about whatever new topic had come up in math. Bakugo has always prided himself on his high marks, these stemming from his unwavering ability to do whatever it takes to be a great hero. Today, however, his mind is far less sharp than its usual knife-like clarity. Now, a better comparison would probably be to chocolate that’s been left out in the summer sun.
On top of this, his stomach seems to be in the mood for tying itself in painful knots when there’s zero reason to even be tempted to do that. Damn masochist. And so he sits in a class that he doesn’t process a word of, and he barely feels a second of relief when lunchtime hits until he remembers that lunchtime kind of includes eating.
Either way, he heads to lunch without a single thought dedicated to planning because his stomach wasn’t even pleased about the breakfast he offered it several hours ago. He arrives in the lunchroom, and grimaces slightly at the mere smell of food. Bakugo takes the route easiest for this moment and this moment alone and takes a seat at the lunch table without getting anything.
“Yo Bakugo, why didn’t you get anything? You’re always going on about sticking to that stupid little meal plan, so what’s up?” Mina wonders as she and Sero circle to the seats across from him.
“Just not hungry today.”
“Whatever you say dude.”
The idiots were clearly aware that something was off about him but were also aware of the fact that it will only cause pain for all involved if they were to prod. Who knows, Bakugo may be even more irritable when he’s not doing well.
The group talked but with considerably less energy than their regular level because of Bakugo being all but down for the count. They tried to use what little observational skills they had, but it was no match for someone who’d been learning how to hide vulnerability for a concerning number of years.
Lunch ended, and the class reassembled for their afternoon training. By this point, he wasn’t quite sure if how noticeable it was that his stomach was cramping an awful lot, and he was even less certain of how the hell he was going to survive training without just dying on the spot. Well, maybe not dying, but he wasn’t quite sure yet.
He joined the class on the training grounds with an intense uncertainty. He hated being uncertain. Actually, he hated all of this, but that’s beside the point.
“Today we’re just working on some quirkless conditioning.”
And with those few words, Bakugo knew that his fate was sealed. He was completely and utterly fucked. He managed almost exactly one lap of running before he stumbled off to the side, desperately urging the stinging to stop rising in his throat and the blistering heat to stop spreading across his skin. Not only this, he felt something akin to being stabbed in the exact position of his core that he thinks would cause the most pain. With one trembling arm holding him on his knee and the other grasping at the spot on his side where the pain was worst, there was a final moment of panic and nausea, and the slurry burst out of him, chunky and burning.
He could hear but not really think about the many sets of footprints that jumped further away from him as they heard the splash of vomit hit the ground. Most were even more shocked to see that it was Bakugo of all people that found a lap around the training grounds to be just a little bit too much exertion. He also didn’t quite notice when Kirishima, Deku, and Aizawa came to help because of the second wave that jetted onto the ground.
It hadn’t been all that long since Bakugo had last vomited, but at least then it was because he got socked in the stomach. With this, the nausea had its claws in, and any time they seemed to loosen, the rancid stench of it offered another foothold. It also wasn’t a great experience that this was probably the closest he’d ever come to projectile vomiting. The feeling of it was not pleasant to put it simply.
Aizawa asked everyone to go do push ups on the other side of the area while Bakugo spent the next ten minutes or so puking his guts up until there couldn’t possibly be anything left and then a dry heave or two after that.
Kirishima and Deku were insistent on staying, and Bakugo was so near passing out or just curling in on himself that he didn’t care all that much about people seeing him having his ass kicked by whatever this is. The two boys settled Bakugo to the ground a safe distance away from the sizable puddle of vomit. Bakugo laid down on the ground, finding it the most comfortable thing he’s experiencing right now with the vomit coating his mouth, blinding pain, and the ungodly fever.
“One of you go get his water bottle,” Aizawa muttered and Deku quickly volunteered, “Okay, where in your stomach does it hurt most?”
Bakugo raised a lead-like arm and circled a hand around the right side of his stomach.
Aizawa did his best not to panic as he whispered, “Shit,” and called Recovery Girl on his walkie-talkie.
Deku came back with a water bottle that Bakugo was not thrilled to see. After Aizawa’s insistence, the boy took a small sip to appease him then returned to his laying on the floor, mostly delirious by this point.
“Is he going to be okay?” Deku asked, joining Kirishima who sat beside Bakugo.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine, but an appendectomy’s going to put him out of commission for a good bit.”
“I knew something was weird about him today. I asked him if he was okay this morning, but of course, he said he was all good.”
“Then there’s no reason you should need to fight him on it.”
Recovery girl arrived, whisking Bakugo away to her office. He woke up the next morning, groggy and confused on how his classmates managed to persuade Aizawa of all people to let them go see him.