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When Izuku walked into class that day, Kacchan was gone. There was no spiky blond hair, no ruby-red eyes, no shoulders and head high.
Someone might think Izuku would be relieved, but he only felt on edge. Kacchan had never missed a school day, ever. Aiming to keep his attendance as perfect as his quirk, as his life, as his grades, never wanting a black mark because he needed to be number one, perfection, in everything he did.
He could see the same question in every one of his classmates, thinking in unison: Where is Bakugou? Nervous glances and side-eyes towards his desk being exchanged across the room, a wave of murmuring accompanied by the shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders. Most got over it, but he could see that some still had anxiety lingering in their eyes.
Izuku was right behind Kacchan, so he could see his absence whenever he looked towards the teacher. But he still kept expecting to see crimson eyes filled with hate, or bright explosions. Expecting to hear the loudness that Kacchan carried with him as surely as he did the fact he would be the number one hero, always crackling explosions or asserting his place at the top. Expecting to smell the familiar scent of burnt caramel, and having to breathe in, he’s just using his quirk, it’s fine, he’s not-
What happened, for Kacchan to be absent? Simple sickness was unlikely, and he kept a sleeping schedule as rigorous as anything else he did. Izuku couldn't help but imagine him being attacked by some horrible force where his explosions were no use, or some serious injury that meant he had to stay home, or he was kidnapped for his quirk, or-
Thoughts circled his head, and he couldn't help imagine him being injured or worse. Trying not to think of Kacchan disfigured, broken beyond repair, looking at him with the dull eyes of the dead or those who have seen the worst the world has to offer, a spark of life finally draining out to leave Kacchan quiet for the first time.
He felt something hit him in the back of his head. "Shut up, Deku! No one cares about what you have to say!” The taunt felt bland, lacking any kind of anger or hate, and he looked back to see the boy looking for approval from his classmates, fiddling with his tie.
The classroom’s silence ringed in his head, a death toll. Everything felt deafeningly wrong, a slight undercurrent of tension in every face, every set of eyes, every word spoken, even by the teacher, constantly pausing to expect an interruption.
Izuku kept having to repeat don’t think of it don’t think of it don’t think of it , wrenching attention from intrusive images of Kacchan in whatever state his brain forced on him, nausea welling up in his throat, clenching fists to distract from it all, repeating and repeating and repeating and no no no no, he’s fine, he’ll be fine, it’s fine thought like a prayer.
Kacchan’s group cornered him after school, Izuku not able to avoid them like usual when his mind was completely filled with sharp, stabbing noise. He was almost glad, though, because every reluctant kick snapped his mind from those thoughts to survival strategies, pain a welcomed distraction.
It didn’t take long for them to tire and leave, though, without Kacchan there to make sure he was appropriately hurt, and so he walked home. He rotated his route as usual, but no one even tried to chase him.
Izuku finally got home, but his mom was waiting for him.
"Izuku, have you seen Katsuki recently?"
Izuku mutely shook his head. He knew where this was going, he was right, Kacchan was gone, he was missing-
"He's gone missing."
All of that excess anxiety throughout the day finally snapped, and he wasn’t able to hold back his tears. Kacchan was missing? No, it couldn’t be, Kacchan always won, he would’ve used his quirk, it has to be a lie-
“Izuku, it’s fine, I’m sure the heroes will find Kacchan in no time!” His mom shot him a wide smile, glass-fragile and cracking, that didn’t reach her eyes, twisting her fingers in a way that surely ached. He was told not to worry about it, because Auntie and his mom would take care of everything.
Izuku stayed up all night, nerves alight with fear. The knowledge he couldn’t do anything was a stake in the heart, Kacchan was missing, and he couldn’t do anything about it, not at all because he was just a useless -
No sleep was had. Days passed and Kacchan never showed, the silence aching more and more and tension closer and closer to snapping with something . All he could do was get better at dealing with sleep deprivation.
He desperately hoped to see Kacchan’s face, crimson eyes set in an eternally scowling face, hoped to hear anything from him, even if it was a threatening crackle of explosions, hoped to smell Kacchan’s burnt-caramel scent and embrace insults dripping with disdain as if they were a worn cloak to shrug back on.
But Kacchan would never show, and Izuku’s world cracked in two. Kacchan’s pedestal of being invincible was bashed in, golden shards digging into his skin as he tried to fathom how, why, how could that happen?
He never forgot about Kacchan, the former symbol of victory and sheer potential, perfection, now a symbol of how nothing was sacred to uncaring fate. And he never forgot about how he was useless whenever it most counted. Izuku would always carry the thought of Kacchan with him, a scar to remember, to trace the edges of whenever he thought that maybe, just maybe, fate wouldn’t have it out for him this time. Or that maybe, just maybe, he could actually achieve something.
The world would never be the same without Kacchan. Izuku had thought he had known how cruel and sharp the world was, saw in in the faces of everyone he passed, but what remainder of justice he trusted in was spat on, because Kacchan would never come to school again after that fateful day, even if he was going to be the number one hero, or had a perfect quirk. He was missing.