Chapter Text
He didn’t know how long it had been. His palms hurt, blisters forming, skin ripping. He could barely breathe, the slime stretching far down his throat and filling his lungs.
It was inside of him .
He felt nauseous, and he gagged against the unfamiliar texture. Through bleary eyes, he looked around.
Heroes.
All around him.
Watching , as if it was television, but unmoving. He looked at the destruction around him.
Did I do that?
He fought back until his hands were numb and his body was exhausted.
Though he couldn’t breathe, he fought back, because he would not allow himself to be weak .
Holy shit . I can’t breathe.
The slime covered his nose and mouth and when he tried to inhale, more slime slithered down his throat, but no air.
Though he was on the verge of death, his vision was hazy, and the only thing he heard was his explosions, a realization hit him like a brick. He pitied the heroes who surrounded him.
While he should hate them, as they left a fourteen-year-old boy to die, forced him to leave his role as a child behind, forced him to be strong, assumed he could be strong enough, while he should be crying and screaming and thrashing, he couldn’t bring himself to.
Instead, he pitied them.
He pitied them for the fact that they were so weak and simple-minded that they couldn’t even get their shrunken brains to work enough to save a child in need. He knew that they could help him, if he could speak, he would tell them what to do, but they didn't seem to want to.
While later, he would shrug them off and ignore them, this incident left a scar on him, unseen by others, because that was the day he began to resent Heroes. He promised himself that whatever happened to him, he would never, ever leave someone in need to die if he hadn't at least tried.
Black spots had begun to form at the corner of his vision, but then, a scream sounded through the thick crowd, and that nerd began running towards him.
“ KACCHAN” repeatedly fell from his mouth, tears streaming past forests of freckles and to his sopping wet shirt.
It made Katsuki angry that the
quirkless
kid thought he was strong enough to help him.
No, that's not right.
It made him angry that the kid thought Katsuki was weak enough to need his help.
But then, as soon as someone else was in danger, All Might finally appeared.
Right as Deku showed up, not ten minutes earlier when Katsuki’s breathing became struggled.
Not twenty minutes earlier when the villain had begun saying disgusting things to Katsuki.
Not half an hour ago when his friends abandoned him and the crowds began to show up.
Even his idol assumed he was strong enough, and while any other day he would have relished in the independence it gave him, things change when you know you are going to die.
It all happened too fast after that. The slime was ripped from his throat, leaving a harsh stinging behind. For the next few weeks, talking, swallowing and even the occasional deep breath would hurt.
The heroes came to congratulate him as if he were an adult, not a child who almost just died.
Nobody asked him if he was okay, or if he needed medical attention because just like his peers, teachers, and parents, they expected him to be mature and strong.
He knew he was, but again, it was all different in a moment like that.
From then on, heroes were not heroes to him. They were not symbols. They were reminders that the expectations set for him were high, Mount-Everest-high, and that some people like Deku could make mistakes, but Katsuki couldn’t, because any flaw was the difference between life and death.