Chapter Text
In this life, Midoriya Izuku never meets his childhood hero. His lifelong dream remains unattained, deteriorates until all that remains is the core desire to help and to save. In this life, Midoriya Izuku and Kaminari Denki do not meet each other in the halls of a prestigious high school.
They find each other, anyway.
Day 0
Kaminari Denki is a 22 year-old male presenting with recurrent seizure disorder and altered mental status in the setting of a recent traumatic brain injury, sustained 3/22. Patient arrived from outside hospital unconscious following head-strike and overuse of electrification quirk.
Physical exam: Positive delirium screening. Patient is minimally oriented and aphasic, but able to follow simple vocal commands. Reflexes and gross motor coordination remain intact. Evaluation of memory and cognition not possible at this time.
Treatment plan: ongoing
Day 10
“Good morning, Kaminari-san.” The greeting is automatic at this point, even when there’s no chance it’ll be reciprocated. “My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I’m going to be your nurse for today. After I take your vital signs, I have your medications for this morning. Are you in any pain right now?”
As usual, Kaminari doesn’t answer. He stares into space, his gaze hovering somewhere between the eighth-story window (a lovely view, if only he had the mental capacity to notice it) and the small whiteboard on the wall (devotedly updated with today’s date and encouraging messages from friends and family, if only he had the mental capacity to read). As usual, both of his hands are fisted, thumbs pointed up.
Izuku goes through the regimented routine: apply the blood pressure cuff to the nearest arm, press the ‘start’ button on the monitor screen, take the patient’s temperature while the cuff inflates (axillary for Kaminari- he hasn’t relearned how to open and close his mouth on command, so under the arm will have to do). Izuku tracks the patient’s inhales and exhales, then completes his computerized documentation with the respiration rate. All vital signs within normal limits.
The physical exam findings are consistent with what he got from last night’s report. Izuku concludes by testing the strength in the patient’s lower extremities. He lifts the blankets off from Kaminari’s lap when his gloved hand brushes up against-
Ah. He’s wet. Hospital gown, the absorbent pad, plus the fitted sheet below that- all soaked through.
Izuku pops his head into the hallway. Satoko’s by the nurse’s station, wrapping up her documentation. “Could you hand me a gown and a set of linens, please?”
His coworker overdelivers- she’s generous enough to remake the bed while Izuku gets Kaminari cleaned up and changed in a nearby chair. New fitted sheet, new absorbent underpad, new blankets, with not a corner out of place.
Satoko tosses the soiled linens into the nearest laundry hamper. “Does he need a catheter placement?”
Izuku coaxes Kaminari back into bed, tucks him in, then turns the bed alarm back on. “He’s been continent for the past week, so long as you bring him to the bathroom and set him up. I think he just couldn’t hold it any longer, with change of shift and everything.”
Satoko shrugs, then heads off to medicate her next patient. Izuku follows suit- he hides Kaminari’s pills in a serving of applesauce, then ensures that his patient swallows every medicated spoonful. If the former pro hero can taste the duplicity, he doesn’t comment on it.
Izuku completes his morning documentation (a dose of dishonesty for himself, this time- there’s always more documentation), then shows Kaminari the room service menu. “What would you like for breakfast, Kaminari-san?” No answer. “Do you still like rice porridge with miso soup?” The vacant stare continues. “All right, I’ll put the order in for you.” Izuku positions the TV remote in Kaminari’s palm and points to the red call button in the center. “Press this if you need anything.”
Before Izuku’s left the room, the remote has already fallen out of Kaminari’s hand.
Day 4
Izuku meets Kaminari Denki on the fourth day of his inpatient stay and his first day in the neurology step-down unit.
It’s the first time he’s met Chargebolt in person, but definitely not the first time he’s seen the pro hero in general. He just got a brand deal with some kind of energy drink- the ads are all over the closest subway station to the hospital. Most of Izuku’s patients are stroke or brain cancer survivors with varying levels of dementia, so it’s jarring to see someone so young come into the unit. And a pro hero, no less.
The report from the ICU nurse is surprisingly charged with emotion. “It’s really fucking sad. Talented kid, just graduated from UA a few years ago- now he’s like this. He’s been medically stable for a couple of days now, but…”
“I’m guessing his life as a pro hero is over.”
The ICU nurse scoffs through the receiver. “More like his life, full stop. I hope his parents can afford to put him in a home. Somewhere nice.”
Izuku clenches his jaw against the crook of the corded telephone. “It’s still early. And the craniotomy didn’t have any complications, right? Given his age, his brain might have a better chance of recovering…”
A staticky sigh comes through the receiver. “Always the optimist, Midoriya. But trust me. Once you see him, you’ll know what I’m getting at.”
Day 7
Midoriya meets Kaminari’s parents for the first time; he has a few minutes to chat with them during the post-lunch lull. Given the previous day’s events, he tries to collect more information about Chargebolt’s medical history.
“Excluding this past week, when was the last time your son had a seizure? And is his current state what his postictal episodes usually look like?”
“He hasn’t had any seizures since middle school- none that we know of, at least. Maybe his friends would have a better idea, since he lived on-campus while he was at UA. His pediatrician had him on an anti-seizure medication, but Denki stopped taking it once he started high school. Said he didn’t need it.”
Chargebolt’s father answers most of Izuku’s questions, punctuated by slow, heavy sighs. Mrs. Kaminari sits by her child’s bedside, head bowed. Her tremulous sobbing is barely audible over the constant beeping of monitors in the hallway.
Izuku wonders if his mother had the same reaction, after his accident. It’s been almost ten years since then, but Izuku’s still too afraid to ask. No use in upsetting her, no point reopening that wound.
He can’t stay for too long- he has two patients to discharge, and there’s a new admission coming up from the emergency department. Izuku closes the door gently behind him, then braces himself for a mountain of paperwork.
Red Riot and Cellophane visit Kaminari later that evening, thereby tripling the number of pro heroes Izuku’s met face-to-face. He compartmentalizes his inner fanboy into a mental corner and puts on his best display of professionalism. That is to say, he keeps his hands in his pockets so no one can see they’re shaking.
Kaminari softly coos to himself while Izuku tries to get more information from his colleagues. “Would you say this current behavior is his baseline? Or have you ever seen him like this?”
Red Riot grimaces, one hand tightly gripping the safety rail of the hospital bed. “He’s normally… you know, a normal guy. He gets like this sometimes after overdoing it with his quirk, but he always snaps out of it after an hour or two.”
“How many of these quirk overuse episodes does Kaminari-san have, roughly speaking?”
“I dunno, maybe once or twice a month? But it was getting more frequent, leading up to the accident. Our agency got swamped with a huge case, so all of us were doing a lot of overtime.”
Izuku’s next question isn’t strictly medical, but it’s still worth asking. “Is Kaminari-san currently on sick leave? Or has he been taken off the roster, given his… likely prognosis?”
Cellophane chimes in, “Oh, he’s fine, our agency’s got really good workers’ comp. And our boss is super close with us and Chargebolt, so if he ever, uh, gets back to a hundred percent, he’s still got a spot on the team.”
Izuku hums briefly, combing his memory of Kaminari’s recent visitors. “Has your boss come to see him yet? I haven’t met him. Maybe he visited on one of my days off.”
“He’s been kind of having a rough time, since the accident. I think he feels like it’s his fault, since he’s the boss and all. But you’re right- he really oughta pay Denki a visit! We’ll try to rope him in on our next day off.”
Day 6
Kaminari is not having a good day. Neither is Izuku, if he’s being completely honest.
Change of shift was an hour ago, but he hasn’t even given Mikuru report on his patients. Adding just one more hour to a twelve-hour shift doesn’t sound like it would make much of a difference, but Izuku is absolutely wiped out.
Kaminari’s coming down from his third seizure of the day- a much-needed stroke of luck, given they’ve maxed out his daily limit of Lorazepam. The rapid response team has mostly cleared out of the small hospital room, which gives Izuku some room to breathe (in both the physical and figurative sense).
The attending physician combs through the timeline of vital signs on the computer. “Did he have any quirk discharge during the seizure?”
Izuku shakes his head. “The suppressants have been working well for him. He hasn’t released any electricity since he was transferred to the step-down unit.”
Miyamoto-sensei purses her lips. “Well, it’s not ideal for him to stay on such a high dose of quirk suppressants. But we definitely can’t taper them until the seizures are fully controlled.”
She sends a page to her team of residents, then briskly leaves the room. Now it’s just Izuku and Kaminari left in the aftermath. The former pro hero has his usual blank stare, but there’s something different to it tonight. If he had to give a label to the facial expression, Kaminari almost looks… afraid.
Izuku feels obligated to explain the situation to his patient, even if full sentences are beyond his comprehension. “You just had another seizure, Kaminari-san. But you’re all right now. The doctors are looking for a different medication to keep your seizures under control. Everyone’s trying their best for you.”
Izuku turns off as many lights in the room as possible, to mitigate any potential photophobia. With the residual glow from the hallway, he can see Kaminari’s pupils dilate. Otherwise, there’s no reaction. Just before Izuku slips out of the room, he says, “I have to go home now, but I’ll see you again soon. Take care, Kaminari-san.”