Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It affected him more than he expected, the death of All Might. Katsuki knew the moment he watched the end of the battle that he was a witness to a martyr. He knew because he glanced away from the screen for just a moment to look at Izuku shaking where he stood, smile gone, fire in his eyes.

Of fucking course it took the death of his mentor to finally make the nerd break character.

Katsuki shuddered and turned his attention to the screen once more. It had been a very long time since he’d seen Izuku like that, and somehow the view of All Might’s emaciated form lying prone and ripped apart on the pavement Katsuki had stood mere minutes ago was almost preferable.

-

Katsuki was no idiot, he knew what this was. Guilt, while not a familiar feeling, was a sticky sort of unmistakable pain in his gut. And because Katsuki was no idiot he also knew that it was a pointless feeling. He didn’t deserve to feel guilty, it wasn’t his fault that All Might was gone. Even if it had been his rescue that sparked their battle it was clear that it was a long time coming. Telling himself this didn’t help, but neither did their shitty homeroom teacher’s confrontation.

“It’s not your fault,” said Shouta. “It does no one any good to blame yourself. If an explanation is what you need then blame the monster that struck the final blow.”

“I fucking know that,” growled Katsuki, and he did.

It didn’t help. It didn’t help the guilt, and it didn’t help the nightmares.

The dorms didn’t help either. Katsuki was used to his home, the move only served to agitate him more. He was uncomfortable with communal living. Too many people all the time, too much noise, too much regulation, and it was always warmer than he liked at night.

So if he blamed his sweat on the heat rather than dreams as he startled awake each night, no one was there to call him out on it but himself. And if he snuck outside because the cold night air was just enough of a shock to get him thinking again, well, rules were to be honored during times when the world wasn’t falling apart, certainly not now.

If he’d been thinking clearly he would have been more surprised to see Izuku sitting outside, but as it was his head was still stuffed with the dregs of nightmare and the cold hadn’t quite taken effect yet.

“The hell are you doing out here?” Katsuki decided to speak first although he knew Izuku must have noticed him the moment he stepped foot outside.

Izuku looked him up and down slowly and purposefully from his spot in the grass. “Hypocrite,” he said softly in his small, almost frail voice.

His voice pissed Katsuki off. It was too high-pitched, like his balls hadn’t dropped or some shit, but the girls in their class thought it was adorable or something. They didn’t get just how paradoxical it was for someone like Izuku to have such a gentle, weak voice. They hadn’t heard what Katsuki had heard come from that kind mouth.

No, thought Katsuki as he glanced down at the journal held between Izuku’s knees, not what he said, but what he wrote.

Katsuki joined the boy in the grass, wincing as the dew began to soak through his thin night clothes. It was too late to do much more than accept it though, so Katsuki did, sighing as he shifted to a more comfortable position. He tried to glance casually at Izuku’s notebook, but Izuku closed it before he saw much.

“That fucker that killed him, huh?” asked Katsuki, going off of what little he’d seen.

“All for One,” clarified Izuku although he didn’t elaborate.

“You’ll make him pay, right?” Katsuki spoke as casually as if he was discussing options for breakfast.

“I don’t know how,” said Izuku, avoiding his eyes.

Which was—well it was utter bullshit as far as Katsuki was concerned and he said as much. “Like hell, you don’t.”

Katsuki hated to admit it, even to himself, but he knew Izuku well enough to be fully aware that the fucker could take down every single member of their class—himself included—if he really tried to.

Something about his time living as a quirkless kid had made Izuku shifty. The nerd fought dirty, but he also fought smart. When he wasn’t being a fucking idiot that rushed into battle without a second thought, he watched his opponent and analyzed them until every weakness was made known to him. Katsuki would know. He’d seen Izuku’s notes on him, every little weakness laid out bare to him with dozens of ways to take advantage of each one, notes that could surely kill him a hundred times over—and those had been from his earlier journals.

So why was Izuku pretending that he was useless?

Sure, Katsuki called him Deku, but they both knew there wasn’t a moment in their lives where it had ever been true. It had been what Katsuki hated most about him, that even without a quirk Izuku was still powerful; it had made Katsuki feel weak because deep down he knew that if he had been the quirkless one he wouldn’t be as strong as Izuku.

He knew it was a fucked up line of reasoning, and he didn’t think that way anymore, but that was neither here nor there because the point was Izuku hadn’t ever been useless, and that wasn’t something that had changed.

If anything, thought Katsuki as his mind drifted to thoughts of green lightning and ghostly voices, he’d achieved a level of strength Katsuki couldn’t even fully understand.

“You’re not like—” Katsuki realized halfway through his question that he wasn’t sure how to word what he wanted to ask. “—You’re not like broken now that he’s dead, right?” It sounded judgmental, even to himself, as if he hadn’t just woken from a dream of a twisted corpse and ash in the air himself.

Izuku looked at him, eyes squinting in confusion. “I mean I’m not exactly having the time of my life.”

Katsuki sighed. “That’s not—fuck—that’s not what I meant,” he said. “I just figured you’d react differently, want revenge or some sh—”

“Revenge is not a heroic option,” said Izuku, face hardened.

“Shit. Right.” Katsuki could kick himself. “Four-eyes.”

Izuku tilted his head. “How do you know about that?”

“I’m not an idiot, even if the rest of the class is,” spat Katsuki. “It was pretty obvious that four-eyes would go after Stain and broken ribs and frostbite ain’t Endeavor’s calling card.”

Izuku nodded. “You recognized Todoroki's quirk.”

“I recognized you first. After that it was easy.”

Izuku smiled. “You know me too well, Kacchan.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “It’s a fucking curse.” A curse if only because he had to live knowing he was the only one aware that Izuku’s attitude was a goddamn sham. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a good reason for it, Izuku had learned quickly that silent weirdos that only muttered to themselves and wrote furiously in notebooks were good candidates for harassment, the shy but loveable ray of sunshine he’d become in high school much less so.

Katsuki had only managed to distract him for a moment though because Izuku was back to sitting there with an air of despair surrounding him.

Katsuki sighed. “Look, I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I know it’s hardest for you; you were closer to him than any of the rest of us—”

“It’s not that,” interrupted Izuku. “I just don’t know… what now?” he asked. “Do I become the next Symbol of Peace? Take over his mantle? Fight villains like he did to give a little more hope to the general population?”

And that wasn’t what Katsuki had been expecting. The death of All Might still fresh in their minds and his successor only asking: what next? But Katsuki understood, at least a little. This was Izuku’s mourning. He didn’t wallow in self-pity, didn’t avoid thinking about it like Katsuki had been, he only looked forward. “Now you stop holding back,” said Katsuki. “You’re not All Might, and you know it. So quit acting so fucking optimistic and do things your way. We’re both aware that you’re no Symbol of Peace. You’ve seen far too much of the worst this world has to offer for that. Why won’t you acknowledge who you really are?”

“Ignorance helped,” said Izuku looking down at his lap, “for a bit. So did emulating him.”

“Yeah? Well now it won’t,” countered Katsuki. “So stop fucking smiling.”

Izuku raised his head and looked into his eyes. He was not smiling but there was a conviction in his eyes regardless. This. This was the Izuku Katsuki had known. “Okay,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

There was something off about Izuku.

Of course there was, thought Shouta, his hero dead, the world in a state of panic, and him, standing before the class, reminding them of their algebra like nothing had even happened. Of course there was something off, there was something off about all of them.

It was different with Izuku though. The boy, so quick to laugh and smile, had remained blank for the last several days, his expression like it had been carved in stone. It wasn't like him, the way he was acting.

It wasn’t like him the way he was fighting.

Everyone had thrown themself into heroics with a bit more passion following All Might’s death, it was only natural. Shouta welcomed the effort; he of all people knew how necessary new heroes would become. Already the villains were coming out of the woodwork, enticed by the knowledge that the Symbol of Peace was no more.

Endeavor—as much as he wished he was—was no All Might. The truth was they were overwhelmed, and it was only a matter of time before the Hero Commission began to resort to the children. As it was the schedules of the third years were bursting with group patrols, work studies and internships extended to near-unhealthy lengths.

So Shouta emphasized their heroic exercises a little more and his students—responding to the volatile environment they now lived in—put in more effort accordingly.

And Izuku…was a mystery.

Shouta knew his students, something he prided himself on, and he knew Izuku. He knew how the boy always fought with a smile on his face, barreling through each fight like a battering ram, relying on his quirk despite the injuries he sustained himself. It was so familiar the way he fought, so like All Might that Shouta had guessed the Symbol of Peace had taken a special interest in the boy even before he’d known the full story of their relationship. Izuku had always behaved like a young version of All Might. But now, he didn’t.

Now he faced each opponent with a cold blank stare, moved minimally as he conserved his energy, and used his quirk sparingly—almost like it was a secret to be kept or a trump card to only be played at the last moment.

Shouta wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. The truth was this new style suited Izuku—in an odd sort of way—and his performance was better than ever. He was winning quicker and with less damage to himself. Still, Shouta felt the need to ask him about it, if only to make sure that Izuku was alright, to confront him not as a distant teacher, but as someone who knew him and was concerned for him.

He didn’t expect to be confronted first, and certainly not by Katsuki.

“He’s fine,” said Katsuki. He sounded confident but Shouta was warry.

“Are you sure? He’s not acting like himself.”

Katsuki’s face darkened. “And what proof do you have that he’s not?”

Well, that was an odd way to phrase it. “Because I know him,” said Shouta slowly. Because Shouta hadn’t seen his smile in weeks. Because Izuku had always been so easy to read, and now he wasn’t. Because the Izuku he was seeing was not the one he’d first met.

“And I’ve known him longer,” said Katsuki. “And I’m telling you, he’s fine.”

Shouta crossed his arms. “If you know him so well then what made him change?”

Katsuki copied his movement and folded his arms as well but he looked slightly uncomfortable as if he was about to say something he shouldn’t. “Because it took losing All Might for him to realize he didn’t have to be All Might.”

That…almost made sense. “So you’re saying,” started Shouta, a little more willing to listen, “that the way he’s been acting…”

“Isn’t an act,” finished Katsuki. “Just Deku, as he was before he decided the best way to be a hero would be to adopt the mannerisms of the best hero there ever was.”

Shouta didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he’d grown rather attached to the Izuku he’d begun to know. There had been something endearing about the way Izuku had projected his emotions, it was never a question with him. Shouta had liked how honest Izuku had felt, how comforting his smile was, how fearless—and stupid, but they often went hand in hand—he was. But on the other hand, this new Izuku wasn’t bad. And he wasn’t really the stranger Shouta was making him out to be either. Shouta still recognized him in small ways. The way he fought reminded him of the way he’d write essays, so sharp and graceful, like once he’d started using his brain rather than his brawn he’d realized the best way to win every single battle he fought. He was strong, but in a way Shouta had never really considered. And the passion was still there, the unwavering drive that had made Izuku so easy to root for hadn’t faltered in the slightest.

“I don’t think it’s easy for him,” continued Katsuki. “I think at some level he feels like he’s rejecting All Might in letting go. But I also think he’s not a big enough dumbass to not realize that he’s stronger this way. He’s finally stopped holding himself back just to play make-believe that he’s All Might’s second coming, and he’s better for it.”

That Shouta could believe. Maybe not if he hadn’t seen it for himself, but Izuku was getting stronger, growing in a way Shouta knew he couldn’t possibly be responsible for. "He is, isn't he," murmured Shouta in agreement.

Katsuki nodded sharply. "Look, I'm still gonna be the number one hero, don't get me wrong, but now that Deku's back to his old self it's going to be a little more difficult."

"Why'd he ever change?"

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. "Kids can be fucking cruel," he muttered, and Shouta had the impression that to some extent he was talking about himself. "I think he just wanted UA to be new. He wanted to be liked, and he wanted to be like All Might."

"He was."

"Yeah, well altering yourself into something you're not gets real exhausting. I should know, assholes always wanting me to be 'nicer' like it's fucking easy to just change."

"He had us all fooled."

"Not me. I knew him before and that fake fucking optimism pissed me off. But now he's back. Cynical, analytical, like he finally remembered that he has a brain and it's a bit better than most."

Shouta would have to think about this.

“Whatever. Details don’t matter. I just needed you to know he’s not like under the influence of a quirk or anything. And he’s not messed up about All Might’s death either.” Katsuki looked to the side. “He’s handling it better than most of us,” he muttered.

“...I told you it’s not your fault.”

“And I told you I fucking know that.” Katsuki rolled his eyes and made to leave the classroom. “Just leave the nerd alone, okay?” he said over his shoulder.

Shouta didn’t respond because despite Katsuki’s explanation he had no intention to just let this go. He was a teacher goddamnit, you best believe he intended to get to the bottom of this.

Which was easier said than done.

Izuku was far more slippery than Shouta had anticipated—always running out of the class the moment it ended, avoiding his gaze, and using the environment to evade him when it was convenient. It was more than a little annoying.

Shouta still hadn’t found a chance to talk to him by the time he introduced a new activity nearly two weeks after his initial talk with Katsuki.

The activity wasn’t too complicated, two students would be picked at random to fight—typical rules and Recovery Girl at standby—and the winner would be forced to go up against the next classmate. So on and so forth until the entire class had fought at least once.

It was a test of endurance for the stronger students, an attempt to see how many of their weaker but still powerful classmates they could take on one after another before they were simply too tired to continue.

Shouta explained the rules and his students seemed eager to begin. He made a show of grabbing two slips of paper and reading off the names. “Midoriya and Kirishima,” he called. The drawing was supposed to be random, and Shouta swore to himself that all other rounds would be, but there was something in him that just had to know.

So what if it was rigged, he was their teacher for crying out loud, and it wasn’t like making sure Izuku would be in the first round would have any adverse effects. Except that for the first time in weeks Izuku was staring at him—like he knew—and Shouta’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Alright, you two in the ring. If you go out of bounds you lose. If you forfeit you lose. If you’re knocked unconscious you lose. Standard rules. Recovery Girl is nearby so don’t take it easy. Remember, the goal of this is stamina, win as many battles as you possibly can before you run out of energy.”

Izuku and Ejiro stepped both walked slowly to either side and faced each other, just waiting for Shouta to give the signal.

Seeing they were prepared he gave a sharp nod. “Begin.”

Ejiro had also been picked purposefully. Shouta had no doubts Izuku could win against him, but the nature of his quirk was that Izuku would have to expend far more energy than he would with most anyone else. He would be a tough first opponent, ensuring that Izuku would already be slipping as he went into his second battle.

Or so Shouta thought.

In actuality, the battle was over nearly as soon as it began. Before Ejiro had even had a chance to activate his quirk Izuku had appeared almost as lighting, racing past the other boy so fast Shouta wasn’t even positive that he’d touched Ejiro. But as Izuku came to rest behind his opponent, back towards Shouta, Ejiro fell to his knees like a string-cut puppet, eyes wide as if they were trying—too late—to see what had happened.

As Ejiro doubled over, clutching his stomach and retching loudly into the near silence of the crowd, Izuku’s head turned, looking over his shoulder into Shouta’s eyes.

“Next,” he demanded with a vacant expression.

Shouta fumbled for a moment, fully caught off guard. Izuku’s fight had been so unexpected, rather than waiting till an opening was available, patiently watching for the perfect opportunity as he often had as of late, Izuku had struck with a dangerous intensity and utterly destroyed Ejiro. Shouta coughed to hide his hesitation. “Sato, Uraraka, help Kirishima to Recovery Girl. Ojiro, you’re up.”

The boy nodded, a wary expression on his face that matched that of many of his classmates as he took his position.

Moments later Izuku was again the only one standing in the ring as he looked to Shouta once more.

“Next,” he said.

And Shouta complied.

-

It took five students for Izuku to even start to slow down, seven before he was wiping the sweat from his brow, and eight before his movements became stilted and his breathing labored.

Shouta needed to stop this. Despite Izuku looking worse for wear his classmates were leaving the ring bloodied and broken, and Izuku still looked to Shouta after every one only demanding the next opponent be brought in.

So for the second time, Shouta broke his own rules. “Bakugou,” he called as he looked at a paper reading Sero. If anyone could bring Izuku down in this state of exhaustion it would be Katsuki.

As Katsuki readied himself Izuku watched Shouta and the teacher was struck again with the impression that Izuku knew what he was doing.

That became even more apparent throughout their battle as Shouta realized Katsuki might not necessarily win. The two were brutal in their approach and Shouta watched as they exchanged hits back and forth setting a dangerous pace as lightning and explosions met in the middle.

After nearly five minutes of the vicious back and forth both were knocked to the ground in a powerful shockwave of colliding quirks.

“I’m not fucking done,” sneered Katsuki as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. His body was battered and bruised—his pride moreso—as he faced Izuku once more.

“Yes, you are,” countered Shouta as he activated his quirk. The sparks dancing on Katsuki’s fingertips quieted as they were erased. “Bakugou, get out of the ring. You’re done.”

Katsuki growled, but before he could protest Izuku spoke.

He was still standing, even through a clearly fractured arm and burns dotting the side of his face. “Next,” he said.

“No,” commanded Shouta. “You too. This fight is over, you both lose. Get out of the ring and go to Recovery Girl; Iida and Yaoyorozu you two will continue the exercise.”

The remaining students all fought the rest of the exercise as had been intended, and Shouta noted that following Izuku the longest streak any of them had was three battles before forfeiting, something that only furthered Shouta’s awe.

As they wrapped up and Shouta released the students to have a moment to recuperate Shouta found Izuku sitting cross-legged in a corner of the gym nursing a water bottle in his lap.

He’d cleaned up pretty well, although there was still a smudge of ash across his cheek and an all too exhausted quality in the slump of his shoulders.

“Midoriya,” started Shouta as he approached. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

“I know,” said Izuku. “I’ve been trying to avoid you.”

Shouta nodded, then, feeling slightly uncomfortable standing over Izuku, sunk slowly to the ground too. “Why?” he asked.

Izuku looked down at his water. “I’m just tired of explaining myself, I’ve already gone through this with half of the class.”

Shouta noticed that he referred to them as the class and not as his friends. He wondered if that was actually relevant or if he was just reading into it. “How’d they take it?”

Izuku shrugged. “They don’t really understand it. Kacchan was easy because he’s known me for so long, but to everyone else, it just looks like I’ve…degraded.” Izuku met Shouta’s eyes for the first time in the conversation and Shouta shivered. “Maybe you’ll be able to understand it a little better?”

For once the hope that Shouta had come to associate with Izuku crept back into his voice. So even though Shouta had his reservations he found he couldn’t bring himself to crush that hope. “Maybe,” he said. “I think I need a bit more of an explanation though.”

Izuku nodded. “How much did Kacchan tell you?”

As if that conversation hadn’t been cryptic in itself. “He said that you started to act like All Might a little before UA in preparation to become a hero like him, but that your optimistic attitude was new, nothing like the way you’d acted when you were younger,” said Shouta. “That you had some sort of epiphany that made you decide to fall back on your old self.”

Izuku tilted his head. “He’s mostly right.”

“How’s he wrong?”

“I think that Kacchan’s under the impression that there are two versions of me: the Izuku from when we were younger and the Izuku that tried to emulate All Might. And he thinks that all I’ve done is switch back and forth between the two.”

“Identity is far more complicated than that,” muttered Shouta. He was a teacher and had been for a while. He understood more than most the complexity that surrounded the growth and solidification of one's personality.

Izuku’s lips twitched like he was about to smile but fell quickly as he’d caught himself. “I’m glad you get it, at least. All that’s happened is that I just became a little more myself,” said Izuku.

“And this exercise? What was that?”

Izuku’s face hardened a little more. “You cheated. I simply responded accordingly.”

“Which is to say…?” prodded Shouta, not denying the accusation.

“I fought just like I would have had that scenario happened in a real battle.”

“It was contrary to how you’ve been fighting.”

Izuku shrugged. “I know my classmates. I don’t need to spend as much time analyzing them for weaknesses, I already know them all.”

Shouta had the impression that Izuku wasn’t referring to knowing all his classmates, but rather to knowing all their weaknesses. And judging from what he’d seen, it was an accurate statement.

“Aizawa?” asked Izuku.

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m a better hero like this?”

Shouta considered his words carefully. “I think you have the potential to be.”

Izuku nodded. “Kacchan was right: this world doesn’t need a Symbol of Peace anymore, everyone’s far too terrified for that, if I claimed to be a symbol of peace they’d only feel like I was trying to pacify them and ignore their very justifiable fears.” He paused and looked at Shouta as if asking for confirmation.

“I suppose I agree,” said Shouta.

Izuku continued. “So now I know that the kind of hero I’ve been putting so much effort into becoming is useless. Not what’s needed anymore. So here I am.” Izuku gestured half-heartedly to himself. “Turns out the world actually needs the kind of hero I was avoiding becoming. For once this version of me is wanted, and all it took was the end of the world.”

Shouta hesitated for a second. “Are you happy?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he insisted immediately.

“Then I think I am,” said Izuku. “My hero is dead, his killer still on the loose, but for once I feel like I have control over the situation, at least a bit.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to become the hero I was always meant to be.”

Shouta smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Chapter Text

He was all anyone would talk about.

Stupid Deku and his stupid smile.

It pissed Katsuki off how they didn’t shut up about it—idiots the lot of them for ever thinking someone could actually be as cheerful as Izuku pretended to be. But everyone was shocked regardless, and after they inevitably asked Izuku for an explanation they always came to Katsuki after, like they needed a second fucking opinion as proof or some shit.

“He’s not acting like himself.”

Katsuki swore he’d shoot the next person he heard say that. They hadn’t been classmates for even a full year and yet everyone was convinced that they knew him better than Katsuki. And they’d always question him, surely Izuku, the ray of sunshine, was simply trying to come to terms with the death of All Might. Otherwise, there was no way he’d act so…creepy.

“Yeah,” Katsuki would say. “Easy to see why he changed for a bit when people would always call him shit like that.”

That tended to shut them up pretty quickly. Didn’t stop Katsuki from hearing all their whispers amongst themselves though, even as most of the class seemed to tentatively accept this “new” Izuku.

“I just hope he’s happy.”

Did she forget the part where his mentor was fucking murdered? Course he wasn’t happy, but at least this way he had a chance of getting revenge against the murderer.

Shit, not revenge, the fucker had some sort of aversion to thinking that way, but despite what he said Katsuki knew that any sort of vengeance he did seek would arise, at least partially, out of a need for retribution.

“He seems stronger now. He beat half the class and still met Bakugou punch for punch.”

Katsuki had just barely restrained himself from giving the alien bitch a piece of his mind when he’d heard that. Part of him was almost more irritated with the fact that the extras hadn’t realized how strong Izuku was to begin with. Now he was just a bit more…feral.

Fuck. Katsuki would let go of his pride to admit—just to himself—that it made him a little uncomfortable.

Oh he knew he was still better than the nerd, he’d never had any problems with his fucking identity. He was who he was unapologetically. Surely that made him superior, at least in that aspect, but it didn’t change that he’d gotten a bit used to an Izuku that was easy to read, whose morals were drawn in the sand more like canyons than lines, who wasn’t so unrestrained.

But fuck all that. If Katsuki was the only one of their classmates that could at least hide his discomfort around Izuku then he’d take that as just one more triumph to his name.

And if Izuku, always so intimately aware of other people’s emotions, took that as a sign to spend more of his time with Katsuki than anyone else, so what?

Katsuki wasn’t scared of him.

At least not much.

-

“I’ll have to start with Shigaraki,” said Izuku.

Katsuki looked up from his homework. “What are you talking about?” The two of them had been working in silence for over an hour in Katsuki’s dorm but for some reason, Izuku had decided bringing up that sadist was a valid reason to break it.

“If I want to get to All for One. I’ll have to start with Shigaraki.”

Kastuki sighed and turned over the book he’d been reading, keeping it tented to mark his spot but indicating he knew Izuku meant for a conversation. He looked at Izuku, trying his best to understand the nerd, and maybe some of his analysis bullshit had rubbed off on Katsuki because he almost did. “You’ve known that for a while though, haven’t you?”

Izuku nodded slowly.

“So why the hell are you only bringing it up now?”

Izuku hesitated. “I feel like I’ve given you enough time now to— to recover.”

“What?”

Izuku continued, a little more sure of himself. “I need you to tell me about him, from when he kidnapped you. I’ve only interacted with him once and even with my research I don’t know nearly enough to do anything.”

Katsuki’s heart rate involuntarily spiked at the mention of his kidnapping.

He wasn’t traumatized or some shit, he was better than that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make him a little uncomfortable to think about it—about being restrained and forced around and watching as they left All Might and then watching still as he died—

Izuku must have seen something in his expression because he quickly backed up. “That is, if you want to. I haven’t exhausted all avenues of research, I can still do some more—”

“Shut up,” sneered Katsuki. “I’m fucking fine. I can tell you about the bastard if you think it’ll help.”

Izuku cautiously reached for the notebook by his side and flipped it open. “Then if you don’t mind…”

Katsuki sighed. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but I’ll try to tell you everything I remember.” He fidgeted with his hands. “He was sitting there at the bar when they tied me up, started going on about how I’m a villain or some shit.”

No issue there. Katsuki was no villain and he knew it. Sure, he was crass and judgmental and a narcissistic asshole, but he was still a hero, through and through. He’d come to terms with himself early on, some crusty bitch wasn’t going to change that with a single “come to the dark side” speech.

“Little cringy really, like he was trying really hard to play some big bad guy without realizing he’s just a kid in dress-up.”

Izuku nodded, writing furiously. “And his appearance?”

Katsuki shrugged. “I mean you’ve seen him. Absolute mess, could benefit from some dry shampoo and a good skincare routine. He had all those fucking hands on him—creepy bastard. And he was wearing all black ‘cept for bright-ass red shoes—”

Izuku paused in his notes. “Red shoes?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t have noticed them but they reminded me of the ones you wear all the time. Obnoxious fashion if you ask me, the both of you.”

Izuku dropped his notebook and looked at Katsuki with an expression that he couldn’t quite place. Twisted in pain and horror and a glint of something sharp—something akin to pride, out of place as it was—and there was the far-off look in his eyes of nostalgia, memory of something bitter.

“...what?” asked Katsuki.

“I don’t wear those shoes because I want to,” muttered Izuku. He slowly bent down to retrieve the lost notebook.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Izuku shook his head. “It just clicked, that’s all.”

“What clicked?!” Katsuki almost growled. Damnit, he could be so obnoxious, his little mind games, his stupid tendency to think things were so obvious, like just anyone could figure shit out like him.

It wasn’t even arrogance, he truly didn’t understand that most people didn’t have minds that did fucking gymnastics to connect dots that no one else even realized were relevant.

Izuku flipped through his notes instead of answering Katsuki, his eyes only a few degrees from outright vibrating with how fast they moved across the page. “Your name…” he whispered under his breath.

“Is fucking Katsuki Bakugou. What the hell are you on?!”

“What?” Izuku looked up. “No, not you, him. I know I wrote it down, I had it, took a while of digging but I found it…”

“Huh? It’s Shigaraki, ain’t it?”

“Not that one, the real one. It’s familiar too, if I remember correctly, but I hadn’t thought that was relevant.”

“Bitch I swear to god if you don’t explain yourself like a normal fucking person I’ll blow your face off. This bullshit’s pissing me off.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow as he continued skimming the pages. “Must be. You’re swearing more than typical.”

“What, you got a fucking algorithm to figure out often I cuss?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, his mind clearly only partially in the conversation. “Ah! There it is!”

“His name?”

Izuku nodded. “And knowing what I do now changes it.”

“You still haven’t told me what you know now.”

Izuku looked up at him, his lips twisted into the nearest thing to a smile he’d had since they’d had their conversation several weeks ago. It was wrong though, a near hysterical quality to the way his teeth seemed a little too visible.

“That Shigaraki was not random, he was chosen.”

As if bullshit like that made any more sense.

Chapter Text

“I’m an idiot,” hissed Izuku to himself.

Katsuki stared at the phone screen, a listing for red shoes on a site he didn’t recognize, and tilted his head up to look back at Izuku. “I still don’t understand.”

Izuku drew away the phone and clicked it off as he stood up and started pacing in the small room. It made Katsuki think his mind was going so fast that it was all his body could do to move as well in hopes of keeping up.

“See that’s the problem with All for One. It’s all so new, having to factor in someone with his power. The ability to give and take quirks—I mean it didn’t even occur to me that he might use both parts.” Izuku threw his hands into the air. “Of course he’d take quirks, he’s a goddamn villain, but to give them? And permanently?”

Katsuki, frustrated at Izuku’s insanity as he was, still managed to keep his cool and actually consider what Izuku was saying. “Okay,” he said. “So you mean that All for One gave Shigaraki his quirk?”

“Well it’s obvious once you really think about it, isn’t it?” responded Izuku. “Those shoes are made for the quirkless, and they only come in that stupid shade of red.” he laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I know.”

Katsuki nearly forgot sometimes that Izuku had lived so much of his life quirkless. It took moments like this to remind him of it, of the situation that had created Izuku and of the fact that Katsuki had played his own part in it. It was the kind of thing that made him want to avoid Izuku’s gaze, but Katsuki was no pussy so he kept their eyes locked as he asked, “And what's his name—I mean his real name?”

“Tenko Shimura,” said Izuku, “and it’s not a coincidence.” He ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Gosh, I’m an idiot. How could it have been?”

Katsuki sighed. It was like swimming through molasses getting anywhere with this freak. “I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

“No,” muttered Izuku, “I guess you wouldn’t. I only know about her because of Gran. Even All Might doesn’t—didn’t mention her.”

Katsuki growled in irritation and slammed his hands on the table as he pushed himself out of his seat. He felt the wood crackle a bit under his anger but paid no mind as he grabbed Izuku by the shoulders and shook him.

“Sit. Down.” he demanded. “And talk like a normal fucking person, okay?”

Izuku’s expression didn’t change and Katsuki almost missed the way his eyes used to widen when he’d pull this shit. He used to feel like he had some semblance of authority—now Izuku made him feel like nothing more than a little kid throwing a tantrum.

But Izuku sat down, obeying him regardless. “Nana Shimura,” he said. “She was All Might’s mentor. Killed by All for One just like him and all the others before them. And, if I’m not mistaken, she must have been Shigaraki’s grandmother.”

Katsuki lowered himself slowly back into his seat. “That was all you had to say, dumbass,” he grumbled. “So All for One picked Shigaraki, a quirkless kid, to be his like fucking successor, right? Gave him a badass quirk, let him go all emo, all for what? To mess with All Might?”

Izuku shook his head. “All Might didn’t recognize him. At the USJ, remember? Neither of them showed any signs of knowing the other.”

“So you’re wrong,” said Katsuki simply. “Just following a false trail out of desperation.”

Izuku shook his head softly. “No, I’m right. I’m sure of it.”

Which was exactly what Katsuki had been expecting. And he knew Izuku well enough to know that meant one thing: “Then you’re still hiding something from me.”

For the first time, Izuku looked nervous. Uncertainly, he said, “You don’t need to know the rest. It doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Let hell it doesn’t. I was there, Deku. I want—” he had to stop himself from saying revenge. “—justice just as much as you do.”

Izuku just shook his head. “This doesn’t pertain to you,” he repeated.

Katsuki clenched his hands into fists. He couldn’t keep doing this shit. Here he was doing his fucking best to be civil, to keep from storming out of the room and letting Izuku figure everything out on his own, despite knowing that both of them would prefer that, and he was doing all for Izuku, the idiot. Because as much as Izuku liked to do things on his own, be a lone wolf and all that, Katsuki knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t healthy the way they were both going about this whole grief thing, and maybe that was something they’d always had in common, both far too keen to push others out when life got tough.

“When’s the last time you’ve talked to Round Face?” he asked with a much more even tone than he felt.

Izuku glanced at him, lips pressed.

“How about Four-eyes? How many days?” he asked. “And I mean a real conversation, about this shit, not just passing small talk.”

Izuku looked down.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” said Katsuki. “You’re right, you are an idiot, just not for the reasons you think.”

“Spare me the compassion,” muttered Izuku. “We both know it’s not genuine.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Melodramatic much?” Shit, you could almost cut the self-pity with a knife. “I don’t hate you that much. ‘Sides, you’re his fucking successor. I ain’t gonna let the rest of the fucking world get screwed over cuz of some childhood feud.”

“What do you want?”

“This is about One for All, isn’t it? You ain’t got All Might to talk about this shit with anymore, but I already know about it. You’re not putting yourself or me in danger by telling me what’s going on.” Katsuki tried his best to seem genuine. It wasn’t a familiar attitude, but he thought he managed well enough. “I want you to talk to me. And don’t give me any of that roundabout muttering. I know you do that on purpose.”

Izuku sighed. “Shigaraki wasn’t chosen for All Might to recognize, but for One for All to. All for One knows a lot more about it than I thought he did.”

Katsuki just looked at Izuku silently for a moment. “Don’t make me prompt you,” he said, finally. “I've only got so much patience.”

“One for All is…” Izuku hesitated, but it seemed more like he was searching for the right words rather than trying to weasel out of this, so Katsuki let him. “It’s kinda—well almost sentient. I mean, I’m still new to it, and it keeps adapting, but it’s more than All Might let on.” Izuku bit at his nail in between words. “I don’t know if he knew, I don’t think so but… it’s— it’s—” Izuku straightened, his face controting into a nearly panicked expression. “Kachaan, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you think All Might would still want me as his successor, even now? Like if he knew me like this instead of his lookalike, do you think he’d still choose me?”

Katsuki didn’t understand how they’d gotten there, but for once it didn’t feel like Izuku was avoiding the conversation. “Of course he would,” said Katsuki immediately.

Izuku shook his head. “I’m not asking you because I want reassurance, I’m asking you because I know that you at least are able to put feelings aside and be honest with me. So I’m asking you: Do you think All Might would be proud of me?”

This time Katsuki took a moment to consider the question. “You’re still a hero, ain’t you? You’re using his quirk to take down villains and make the world a better place, what more could he ask for? Sure, you’re not exactly what you pretended to be, but you still are in the ways that matter.” Katsuki shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t think he’d give a damn.”

Izuku took a shaky breath and avoided Katsuki’s eyes. “That’s good,” he said, “because I think he’s still here.”

Chapter Text

A shaky breath, icy numbness in the ends of his limbs. Katsuki blinked, trying to comprehend what Izuku had just said. “What?” he finally said. “What are you talking about? I saw him die—I was there—”

Izuku shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. He’s dead, but he’s not gone.” Almost absentmindedly he raised his hand to the base of his neck. “He’s still here, in One for All.”

“How?” hissed Katsuki.

Izuku shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t really understand it yet. But it started during the sports festival, I began to realize that there was more to One for All than just a simple strength quirk. But once he died it got so much worse—”

“Worse?”

Izuku looked uncomfortable. “It’s not easy to control,” he said. “And I’d finally figured it out, at least partially, but when he died…”

Katsuki tried to put aside his confusion and focus on what Izuku was attempting to tell him. Attempting, maybe, but it was clearly not very easy for him to share more than the bare minimum, just enough information for Katsuki to fill in the gaps. Izuku and his awful evasion, Katsuki could just about strangle the bitch, but his curiousity ran high, so fuck it. He'd bite.

“All Might still had One for All too, so you two were sharing it up until his death, right?”

Izuku nodded, looking grateful that Katsuki had understood dispite him having done his fucking best to make it impossible. “But now I have all of it. Even at his weakest, All Might was the strongest hero. And all of that power came rushing back the moment he died and now I have all of it. And—” Izuku let out a little laugh. It felt so out of place in the conversation, but who was Katsuki to pretend he still understood Izuku? “It’s so much, Kacchan.”

Of course he could imagine. One for All, what little he knew of it, always had seemed like a volatile quirk. He knew a thing or two about volatile quirks, but even Katsuki’s had never broken him like One for All had Izuku. That was a dangerous game to be playing, and if it had only gotten stronger then Katsuki could start to understand the anxiety in Izuku’s eyes. Still, that didn’t explain what he’d meant. “But All Might’s still there?” he asked.

“I think so?” said Izuku. “It’s all so new, but it’s like, I have these dreams, right? Every night. Except they aren’t dreams, they’re memories. But not my memories,” he hurriedly clarified, “the memories of those before me.”

“All Might’s memories?”

Izuku nodded. “Some of them. And they’re all very mundane—a restaurant he visited in America, a girl from middle school, a trip to the beach with some friends—nothing meaningful, you know?”

Katsuki thought Izuku wasn’t giving those memories enough credit, mundane to him, perhaps, but those were the kinds of moments that stuck with a person, gentle memories. Even Katsuki had his own, treasured little pieces of him that you wouldn’t drag out of him with anything less than a gun to his head, important, uneventful, and irreplaceable all the same.

“I think there’s other memories too, deeper, but I don’t think they want me to see them. I get the impression they’re trying to spare me from the more painful ones.”

“‘They?’”

“It’s not just All Might, it’s all those before me. They’re all still here.”

“Their memories are passed down with One for All, huh?”

Izuku shook his head. “No, it’s more than that, I mean I mostly only have access to their memories for now, but there’s more to it than that.” He paused like he was searching for a way to explain himself. “Like when we talked about Shigaraki, she was angry and I could feel it. And it felt like my own anger but it took knowing it wasn’t to realize it was hers.”

“Who’s?” asked Katsuki, although he thought he knew the answer already.

“Nana’s,” said Izuku, just as he’d expected. “Like I said, they’re all still here.”

Katsuki was silent for a moment. Unlike him, sure, but he didn’t know how else to react. What to say, how to respond, this wasn’t a situation he could be familiar with. And still there was that nagging feeling that had been there from the very beginning saying, if All Might was still there then Katsuki might be able to apologize. He knew it hadn’t been his fault, but he also knew that in a way it was. And there was still that grimy residue of guilt in his stomach, but maybe that’s what he needed to make it right, to just know that All Might was aware that he was sorry.

Oh he was a fucking mess alright, but he was a self aware one at least.

“If I could just control this power a little more,” said Izuku, an edge of frustration to his voice, “I think I could actually talk to them, maybe learn enough about All for One to be able to take him down.”

Katsuki was silent. There were unsaid words there, they both knew the other's real reasons for wanting Izuku to be able to contact the past holders.

“It might be nothing,” said Izuku, “I’m not an idiot, I know that I’m bound to be affected mentally by All Might’s death, there’s a chance it’s simply manifested like this, like some last hope my mind just made up to help me cope—”

“You know that’s a lie.”

Izuku paused. “I hope so,” he said. “But you know I can’t be certain…”

Katsuki sighed. So they were playing this game then. Not that it was new, ever since he was little Izuku hated to commit. He’d always had a little more fear of the power of words than the rest of them, understanding in a way no child should that promises were easily broken, certainty as fragile as crayons in his unpracticed hands.

So when Izuku spoke it was always in a noncommittal fashion, and Katsuki had gotten so used to the manner that it had felt ridiculous, near comical, to hear how he’d talked earlier that year, about heroes, dreams, and the future with such confidence that it made Katsuki want to laugh or maybe scream. It felt wrong to hear of hope from a boy who’d never had any.

Katsuki blamed it on Izuku’s father, the bastard. “I’ll be back” is the kind of lie that shapes a person, and Izuku had picked it up, just the first scar of many for his collection and it forced him to never make promises, too terrified he wouldn’t be able to keep them.

Not that Katsuki had any such reservation, when he said something he meant it, so he said, “I’ll help,” and he knew he would because while it was Izuku’s nature to be an avoidant asshole, it was Katsuki’s to face things head on.

“What?”

“You said you need to control your quirk, right? I’ll help you.”

He was selfish too, but that wasn’t new. So if he had ulterior motives for saying it, who cared? He was still doing the right thing one way or another, right?

Izuku gave a soft shaky smile that almost—almost but not quite—felt genuine. “Thank you,” he said. “That— that means a lot.”

And Katsuki knew he meant it, because while Izuku didn’t often speak with the blunt certainty Katsuki did, he also never said things he didn’t mean. The two of them were alike in that way, a similar stripe in the conflicting tapestries that made up who they were.

Chapter Text

It had finally happened.

Shouta had prepared for this, he knew the way the world was going, he heard whispers others might have ignored, and he knew.

There simply weren't enough heroes.

Seems All Might had been holding up society more than they'd realized, less a pillar of heroics and more the foundation it was built on. And with his death it had crumbled, all the other heroes rushing to pick up the pieces. And it wasn't enough.

And the hero agency, bastards they were, knew what the solution was. They knew they had access to hundreds of bright new heroes, unsullied by the profession, undamaged and naive…for now.

But they were children. First years, for crying out loud. No, Shouta knew the truth, they were a sacrifice.

"The third years?" he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

Nedzu shook his head. "Pushed to their limits as it is."

"Second years?"

"Sent out three weeks ago."

Shouta cursed under his breath. "And it's still not enough?"

Nedzu looked down at his neglected tea, but he respected Shouta enough to continue ignoring it. "You've been out there," he said, and he was right. Shouta had been working doubles in hopes to delay this moment just a little longer and at this point he could count his hours of sleep on one hand. "You know what it's like."

And that was exactly why he so desperately wanted to keep his students out of it.

"The villains think now that All Might's gone they can get away with anything." He leaned forward slightly. "And they're right."

Shouta sighed and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't just accept this, damn it. He was a teacher and a hero and this felt like any other madness by the hand of a villain. "Give me this then," he said. "Send them out partnered with a pro; it's too dangerous for them to go on their own."

Nedzu shook his head sadly and Shouta knew he shouldn't be as angry as he was. This was not the principal's fault; he had no more power in this situation than Shouta himself. "You know I can't do that. Even pro partners that have been together for decades have had to split up to cover more ground. We simply can't afford it."

Shouta bit back a growl of frustration.

Nedzu could clearly see his hopelessness and softened his expression. "The best I can do is allow you to send them out partnered with each other."

"What good will that do?" he demanded, he couldn't help himself. Children, he kept thinking. They were only children.

When he'd become a teacher he'd vowed to keep his students safe, to ensure that none of them would ever have to experience what he had.

Poor Oboro, his classmate, his friend, gone all too young, and it seemed a repeat was inevitable because they were just children, children that would jump at the opportunity to fight like the adults, still thinking it was just a game until the moment they, just like Shouta had, would realize it's not.

"They don't know anything yet," said Shouta. "They won't be able to keep themselves safe in the fray of battle because there's still so much I haven't taught them."

Nedzu looked pained and Shouta didn't doubt it was genuine. Nedzu, diabolical rat he was, loved the students too. "Then I suggest you teach them soon." He stood, indicating the conversation was coming to a close. "I'll buy you as much time as I'm able, but I can't guarantee you more than a week."

"There's no other option?" pleaded Shouta one last time.

Nedzu shook his head. "Don't forget Aizawa, you are trying to save the lives of those you know by damning the lives of those you don't."

All Might, you bastard, thought Shouta. Look at what you've done, abandoned your children to the wolves and I, left to bind them to the altar and forbidden from even feeling guilt because my sacrifice is given for the sake of the world.

The death of a hero, what a selfish act.

-

The children were smarter than he’d thought. When he made the announcement only a few jumped at the chance, most only exchanged nervous glances. They knew what it meant that the hero commission was calling on them and they were scared.

Good, thought Shouta. They should be.

“This is not a game,” said Shouta. “I cannot emphasize that enough. Desperate times call for desperate measures and against my better judgment the hero commission has decided this is the only option. Patrols will be every night with each of you working every other night. A more cohesive schedule will be posted tomorrow. Note that while you are only working every other night for now that is very likely to increase. Take care of yourself, eat well, don’t overexert yourself and get plenty of sleep,” he said like a hypocrite. And then, dreading the next part but knowing how important it was, he continued. “You will be split into pairs of my choosing. That’s all I can do for you,” he said, echoing Nedzu’s words. “Your partner will be all you have out there so you’d do well to treat them kindly. Protect them.” He paused and moved his gaze throughout the classroom. “Look around you. Know that there is a good chance that in a few weeks some of your classmates will no longer be with us.” He kept the statement open, allowing the students to come to their own conclusions. Was he referring to how some of them might quit? Or how some of them might die?

The wiser among the students would be able to see the dark familiarity in his eyes and realize he meant the latter.

“Don’t let yourself be the reason why.”

-

For the second time in the last few months Katsuki waited in the classroom as the rest of his classmates filed out. Shouta was fairly certain this time for the same reason as the last.

He crossed his arms and looked at Katsuki. “I can’t pair you and Midoriya together," he said before Katsuki could say a word.

“You have to,” said Katsuki.

Shouta told himself he wouldn’t budge on this. “You are two of the strongest students I have. I have to pair you both with a weaker classmate to help keep them safe.” Shouta wondered if appealing to Katsuki’s ego would work; it would have at the beginning of the year but it seemed Izuku wasn’t the only one to have had a drastic change in personality.

Katsuki shook his head. “Look, I get that you just wanna protect us or some shit, but this class is fucking strong. They can handle themselves.”

“Then so can Midoriya.”

Ah, there was the familiar annoyance on Katsuki’s face. How apt he was at making Shouta feel like an idiot, with his lips curled in disappointment like he’d expected his teacher of all people to understand.

“You don’t know him like I do,” he spat. “You have no idea what he’s planning.”

Was that pride in his voice? Could it be that Katsuki enjoyed being Izuku’s confidant? It would certainly explain some of their behavior from the past few weeks. So tied at the hip were the two of them, in ever constant motion as they drove the other to greater heights with a desperate intensity.

“Do you?” asked Shouta, and Katsuki’s pride melted slightly as he turned his head away.

“He tells me some things,” he said, “but he still keeps secrets from me.”

“So why do you think you need to be paired with him?”

“Because if anyone can keep him from making stupid fucking decisions—rushing into fights he can’t win, going after villains he ain’t got a chance against, shit like that—I can.”

“You’re quite confident in that?”

Katsuki glared at him like he was trying to use his quirks through his eyes. “Don’t patronize me. I ain’t a little kid; I know what I’m fucking talking about.”

Shouta bristled slightly at that. Here he was losing sleep over these children and he had the audacity to question him. “You have no idea,” said Shouta, just barely keeping his cool. He blamed it on his exhaustion, on his anxiety, anything but anger. Teachers shouldn’t be angry, but he found he was. “You talk of villains and fights like you have any idea—”

“I was there!” growled Katsuki. “I was there when they started fighting and I left, even though I knew—I was so fucking sure—that All Might never would. But I left anyway because I knew there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do, that I would be just a burden, just another person for All Might to worry about if I stayed.”

Shouta wasn’t certain but he thought he could see hot tears forming in the corner of Katsuki’s eyes.

“And you’re the one who told me not to blame myself, but you said it in a way that makes me think you never once thought I wouldn’t, because you know.”

Oboro, thought Shouta, as he had far too often that past week.

Katsuki leaned forward, palms digging into the surface of the desk as he careened into Shouta’s space. “I’m not going let that fucking happen again.”

“Why do you so strongly feel the need to protect Midoriya? What about the rest of your classmates?” asked Shouta. He thought he might know the answer, at least a little bit. He’d seen the way the two of them acted, even before All Might’s death, always orbiting each other with an odd sort of violent familiarity, and lately there was a new layer to their relationship.

Katsuki slowly sunk back into his seat, arms crossed. “You know who he is. All Might’s fucking successor, if anyone can change the tide it’s him.”

“That’s a reason, but it’s not the full truth.”

Katsuki turned away. “So I have another reason, who gives a fuck? Just– just let me be there for him.” Katsuki looked up and, like the word was being physically dragged from his teeth, said, “please.”

Ah. Shouta felt a small pang in his chest. Perhaps he’d been in the wrong for assuming his students wouldn’t be struggling with the hero commission’s verdict as much as he had been. It affected them most, after all. No one wanted their classmates to be taken from them, their friends, their—

Now that brought up a question. “If you don’t mind me asking,” started Shouta. “What exactly is Midoriya to you? You seemed to be rivals at first but now…”

Katsuki seemed annoyed at the question and Shouta watched his face deepen color in frustration. "Fuck if I know," he muttered. "Does it really fucking matter? I just— I mean you’re right, I have my own motive for it, but I truly only want to keep him safe.”

Shouta nodded. “Okay,” he said, against his better judgment, “I’ll put you two together.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t been expecting the verdict either.

“But Katsuki?” said Shouta. “Try to get him to take care of himself. He’s over-exerting himself.”

Katsuki grinned, baring his teeth. “You might as well ask me to stop a train,” he said. “He ain’t gonna stop for nothing till All for One is behind bars, and I’m not gonna ask him too.”

Shouta sighed. Oh these children would be the death of him.

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk much their first few patrols. Izuku hadn’t been surprised that he was paired with Katsuki. He didn’t say anything but Katsuki knew that Izuku must have been aware that he’d talked to Shouta.

Katsuki received no thanks, not that he’d expected any, but at the same time, he wished Izuku would at least acknowledge him or something. Instead, he found himself only following Izuku wherever his whims took him and received silence in lieu of a response when he asked where they were going. It was fucking frustrating.

Of course Katsuki wasn’t needy or anything, he was a loner by choice; it would take more than a cold shoulder to freeze him out. But Katsuki was smart enough to realize that a quiet Izuku was a scheming one, and hell if he was going to let the bastard get away with excluding him more.

So, pushing away his pride, Katsuki reached for another fact he knew about Izuku, that just like him, Izuku didn’t much mind direct conversation. Unlike Katsuki, he preferred it for the aspect of honesty and intimacy rather than just enjoying skipping fucking small talk and not worrying about others' “feelings” and such, but in the end, it was yet another commonality between the two. “Hey,” started Katsuki, “why aren’t you running your damn mouth like usual?”

Izuku looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m concentrating,” he said simply.

Katsuki glanced around. They weren’t even in the goddamn city anymore. Izuku had led the two to the bloody outskirts where the buildings started to have space between them and trees stuck up like light posts, dotting the hills. “On fucking what?” he demanded. As if there was even petty crime this far from the buzz of the city, thought Katsuki as he raised an eyebrow at a dilapidated house they passed.

“One for All.”

Katsuki then turned his attention to Izuku, running his gaze up his body as he took in toned muscles and heavy-lidded eyes. There wasn’t a single indication that Izuku had his quirk active. Katsuki looked up at Izuku with a disbelieving expression.

Izuku sighed and stopped walking, standing directly in front of Katsuki. He softly held out the palm of his hand towards Katsuki’s face in a “stop” gesture. “I can have my quirk activated internally—” he said and Katsuki did notice a gentle pulsing light underneath the skin of his palm. “—or,” continued Izuku as he quickly flexed his hand, fingers curling slightly as energy began to run between them. “Externally.”

Then, as if that explained everything, he lowered his hand and continued walking.

Katsuki, caught off guard by the display of power and Izuku’s indifferent attitude, froze for a moment before jogging to catch up with Izuku.

“Since fucking when?” he demanded.

Izuku shrugged. “I’ve been practicing with the quirk a lot more.”

“Without me?”

Katsuki slammed his mouth shut, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. Sure, they’d been spending more time with each other, sparing every chance they got in hopes Izuku would gain a better understanding of his quirk, but Katsuki had to remind himself that they were not close. They were doing all this out of convenience, a mutually beneficial relationship, nothing more.

And yet the longer this went on the more Katsuki found himself thinking about Izuku, about his quirk, their past, and this tentative relationship they’d begun to build upon their ever so shaky foundation.

He found that there was a part of him that so desperately wanted to be Izuku’s confidant, his friend, his—

Well. The point was Katsuki liked knowing Izuku and feeling like he was, to some extent, the only one.

So this feeling, the idea that Izuku in truth might not be telling him much at all, hurt.

Izuku looked at him and his gaze softened like it took nothing more than a glance for him to be able to see through all of Katsuki’s barriers into him and all his concern and fear. Like he pitied him.

Katsuki fucking hated it.

“Only a bit,” said Izuku in a conciliatory tone. “I’ve been meditating to try and connect with One for All. I didn’t think you’d want to help with that.”

Katsuki bristled. The idea that Izuku knew his inner thoughts well enough to perfectly combat them made him feel like he was doused in mud and it was an overwhelmingly disgusting sensation.

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” he lied, angrily shoving his hands into his pockets.

Izuku, mercifully, looked away. “We should go back now,” he said.

Katsuki snapped from his brooding to look at Izuku with confusion. “What? Why? Our patrol isn’t over yet.”

Izuku shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not here anyways.”

Katsuki glared at Izuku. Somehow he could both understand Katsuki so completely as to know all of his inner emotions and yet he continued to be intentionally vague, aware of just how much it pissed him off. “Deku I swear to God—”

“Shigaraki,” he said immediately.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe Izuku hadn’t meant to bother him; that his distance was just instinctual, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t gonna do anything until you got One for All under control?”

“I’m almost there,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll be long now. My dreams are getting more detailed and more… violent. I think they’re running out of good memories to show me. That or I’ve just brute forced my way through the pleasant ones.”

Katsuki could hardly see how bad dreams could be considered progress, but Izuku seemed pleased with it and Katsuki could ignore the shadows beneath his eyes for that sake. To an extent at least. “They’re manageable though, right?” he asked, feigning nonchalant.

Izuku saw right through it. “I’m fine. I promise. It’s a good thing; I learn so much from their memories, and that’s why I feel confident enough to search for Shigaraki. I think I know enough about his past and why All for One chose him that I can confront him now.”

“And you were going to tell me you’re actively seeking out a mass murderer when exactly?”

Izuku looked abashed. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to…this.”

Katsuki wondered what he meant by that. Was “this” their tentative friendship? Was it the situation as a whole? Or was it simply that Izuku wasn’t used to confiding in people in general?

“Just—” Katsuki didn’t know how to word what he wanted to say without sounding too clingy. “I dunno. Just tell me shit, okay?”

“Okay,” said Izuku quietly and then, as if wanting to run from the conversation, “We really should head back now.”

So they did, and it was back to that goddamn silence as Katsuki was stuck with nothing but his thoughts to fill his mind. He watched as the soft glow returned to Izuku, a very subtle sign that he only noticed after a moment of staring that indicated that One for All was still active. He thought about what it meant that Izuku was growing so much stronger. It was a thought that would have frustrated him only months ago but now…

Now he was almost excited.

Chapter Text

Izuku fought like a needle threading its way through folds of fabric, methodically forcing the environment to bow to his will as he dominated the battlefield. With each movement Katsuki felt himself driven exactly where Izuku wanted him, a step back, a roll to the side, a blow that fell just centimeters short from landing but opened Katsuki’s defense just enough for Izuku’s counter to find its mark.

He grunted and slid back.

In the past he might have been annoyed to find himself losing so badly; now though he found he was only irritated by one fact: “You’re pulling punches,” he growled.

Izuku’s fervor didn’t leave much space for thinking, much less for speaking, but Katsuki managed regardless, taunting Izuku in between heavy breaths. “You can’t possibly—” A pause as he twisted away. “—be this weak.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed and his lips quirked. “I seem to be managing alright.”

And as if to prove it Izuku made sure Katsuki couldn’t catch his breath for long enough to get a word out edgewise for the next several minutes.

They’d chosen a practice ring for this match and in doing so had robbed Katsuki of his only chance. After all, it had become increasingly obvious as of late that Izuku was not someone you could just beat. In the end, running away was really the only viable option. So with the rope marking the perimeter digging into his back as he was cornered, Katsuki laughed. “Yeah, cuz beating a sixteen-year-old with a god complex is real fucking impressive.”

Izuku rolled his eyes, what a dumb thing to do during a battle, but it clearly didn’t matter as he still avoided Katsuki’s desperate fist. Izuku pivoted a few degrees, Katsuki slid across the mat, a crackle of fire, a hiss of electric heat between them and they were back.

As their little dance sped up, Katsuki kept time with an expert's precision. Dodge, twist, duck, hit. Push forward…forward… forward—BACK. Muscles like a spring as he took to the air, a flip with his back to the ground as Izuku followed, not thrown off for a second. Then back to the floor one foot out behind him for balance as the other caught him, absorbing the shock with a gentleness Katsuki was sure didn’t exist for him in any other aspect of his life. Every single goddamn movement was perfect, his body responding without a thought, every cell in unison as the adrenaline flowed.

But Izuku kept up the entire time, and it took no more than thirty seconds before Izuku had him pinned, one hand around Katsuki’s wrists, the palms pressed against Katsuki’s own chest—and hell if Katsuki had any idea how he’d managed that—Izuku’s other hand in a fist posed to strike Katsuki’s face. “Ah but you see,” said Izuku in a soft, breathless voice that made Katsuki shiver, “I don’t need a drawn-out battle like this. I just need a moment of distraction and a single hit.”

To prove his point the moment the last word fell from his lips Izuku’s fist shot forward with all the power of generations behind it.

It stopped with plenty of space left, but the pressure that hit Katsuki was more than enough for him to get the message. Izuku could have destroyed him with a single movement, and hell if that wasn’t terrifying and a little exhilarating.

“Fuck you,” spat Katsuki as he broke away from Izuku’s grasp. “I wasn’t distracted, prick.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Katsuki swung his legs over the rope keeping them contained and grabbed his water bottle from the side. He took the moment to avoid looking at Izuku’s smug face all red from their practice with his blasted freckles standing out in stark contrast and backlit by the soft glow underneath his skin.

“How much longer we gotta do this shit?”

Izuku ducked under the rope and slowly walked to join Katsuki. “Not much longer,” he said. “After each time I feel more and more in tune with One for All; it won’t take long now.” He sighed and lowered himself to the ground sitting cross-legged and resting his hands comfortably in his lap as he closed his eyes.

Katsuki ignored him, turning his attention back to his water bottle. They were done. Izuku would ride out the lingering waves of One for All by himself and they’d meet up that evening for patrol where they’d plan their next session.

It’d been like this for close to a month now. Izuku kept saying he was close, and that was all fine and fucking dandy, but it still felt like they weren’t making any progress and Katsuki was getting restless. He thought for a moment before making up his mind; they couldn’t keep going on like this. He turned. “Hey, Dek—”

He stumbled over his words as he caught sight of Izuku, no longer in the meditative position he’d been in only seconds prior.

Instead, Izuku’s hands were splayed on either side of him, struggling to keep him in a seated position. The veins beneath his skin were pulsing with a familiar electric glow. And his eyes were shining with green brilliance, like his irises had devoured the black and white in a struggle for dominance.

Shit.

Katsuki rushed to him and as he carefully rested a hand on Izuku’s knee he noticed Izuku was gasping, so much so he wouldn’t hesitate to call it hyperventilating.

“Shit,” he said out loud. “Shit, Izuku, are you okay?”

Which was a dumb fucking question. Izuku’s forehead glistened with sweat, looking like someone had cracked open a glow stick across his temples more than anything, and his head was tossed back, face contorted in what Katsuki could only describe as—damn it—as agony.

“I– I–” Izuku gritted his teeth. “Fuck,” he cursed, the word sounding wrong in all sorts of ways in his voice. “I pushed it too much.”

“One for All,” whispered Katsuki, like it was a prayer. Maybe it was. Even through Izuku’s shaky breath and too-tense limbs, there was an eager excitement alight on his face, one Katsuki was sure was mirrored in his own. This was it, the moment they’d been waiting for.

“Are you going to be alright?” asked Katsuki hesitantly.

Izuku nodded sharply. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a lot.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to reign back control over One for All. It appeared ineffective. “Kacchan? Can you watch over me?”

The hell did he mean by that? “Wha—”

“I don’t think I’m going to stay conscious,” clarified Izuku.

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Do I need to get you to Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just– stay with me, please.”

Hesitantly, Katsuki said, “Okay.”

“First though, you might,” started Izuku in a stilted pattern like his concentration was dissipating as they spoke, “ uh, you might want to take a step back.”

Almost regretfully, Katsuki obliged, removing his hand from Izuku’s knee and slowly backing away.

The moment Katsuki was out of reach, power began to ripple across Izuku’s body in a way Katsuki couldn’t possibly describe. Izuku’s lids fluttered and, in a sudden movement, the tension left him completely and he slid to the floor, unconscious.

It was at that moment that panic overwhelmed Katsuki’s excitement as he realized—rather belatedly—he had no idea what to expect. Was Izuku’s reaction normal? How the hell could they possibly know? It wasn’t like this had ever been attempted before. Sure, Izuku himself had predicted this, but he didn’t know what the fuck was really going on either.

Katsuki found the spot where Izuku’s neck ended and his jaw began, letting out a breath of relief as he felt the heavy pulse beneath his fingertips. Of course such a thing was only the bare minimum of wellness, but Katsuki decided to take it. He shifted to a more comfortable position at Izuku’s side, contemplating if it would be best to take Izuku to Recovery Girl despite what Izuku had said. He decided against it, not because he knew Izuku wouldn’t want him to—dumb Deku and his complex against asking for help—but rather because even through his stupor, there was a distinct expression of peace on Izuku’s face.

Or maybe Katsuki was a more sentimental bastard than he’d thought and was simply imagining it.

Regardless, Katsuki refused to leave Izuku’s side, irrationally convinced the moment he did Izuku would….

Truth be told he wasn’t entirely certain what he thought might happen, only that he couldn’t risk it for anything. So he kept careful vigil for several minutes until finally, Izuku stirred once more.

“Izuku?”

His eyes squinted in the light as if he’d woken for the first time in a decade as he slowly brought himself back to a seated position, moving slightly so he could lean against the wall for support. He began to tear up and Katsuki wasn’t sure if his eyes were still trying to adjust or if it was for another reason.

“I did it,” he whispered. “I found All Might and we talked—just All Might, I don’t have access to the others. But he said it’ll get easier now that I’ve done it once.”

“What did he say?” Katsuki was near frantic with anticipation. He had to know. Had Izuku told All Might? What did he say in response? Would Katsuki finally have his forgiveness?

“He said he doesn’t blame either of us for his death. It would have come regardless; he’s just grateful that his hand was forced at a point where he still had enough strength to do some real damage to All for One. That you did nothing wrong in leaving him.” Izuku looked more overjoyed than Katsuki had seen him in a while. “And he said he’s proud of both of us. Me for being more true to myself and being better for it, and you for helping me, even when it wasn’t necessarily beneficial to you.”

He doesn’t blame either of us.

Katsuki’s first reaction was relief, then confusion as he noticed the particular wording. Oh Izuku, he thought, you stupid guilt-ridden boy. Of course you blamed yourself too, even when you had so very little to do with the situation. And of course you said nothing, even knowing how I was exactly the same.

Katsuki wanted to be annoyed that Izuku had known more about Katsuki than Katsuki had known about him but it occurred to him that there probably would never be a moment where that wasn’t the case.

If Katsuki wanted to even things out he’d just have to put in more effort into matching Izuku’s analysis. So he considered what he knew about Izuku for a moment and then spoke. “So we going after Shigaraki tonight?” he said casually, trying to not let slip that the revelation was only seconds old.

Izuku’s eyes widened. “That’s the plan,”

Inwardly Katsuki felt a pleasant shock of pride upon finding he had been right. “Well,” he grumbled, “I hope the plan is a bit more in-depth than that if you expect me to go along with you.”

Izuku’s lips twitched slyly. “I guess you’ll just have to come and see.”

Chapter Text

“What the hell are you even waiting for?”

Katsuki meant the words in several ways. Finally, nearly a week after Izuku had unlocked One for All, they were actually going after Shigaraki as they’d planned, but for most of that morning they’d just been waiting, watching the church Izuku swore Shigaraki was inhabiting.

Izuku looked out over the half-crumbled concrete wall they were crouched behind. “For him to be alone.”

Katsuki gazed at the old church. It hadn’t stirred for the hour they’d been watching it. “Looks empty to me,” he grumbled. In truth, he was more annoyed at how his legs were starting to enter a stage of pins and needles for what had to be the fifth time. He shifted again to a different position noting that Izuku hadn’t seemed to have moved even slightly the whole time. Fucking jackass. “How will you even know—”

“Now,” whispered Izuku as he ducked lower.

Katsuki risked a look out to see two figures leaving the church, walking in the opposite direction from them.

“Now it’ll be just Shigaraki in there.”

“How do you know?”

Izuku looked over at him. His face was blank but Katsuki could still manage to detect the slightest concern at the corners of his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “More than I probably should.”

“Then follow my lead.”

Izuku swung his legs over the wall and carefully made his way to the entrance.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” demanded Katsuki.

“You know I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were, I said don’t do anything stupid.”

“Too late,” he muttered.

“What?”

Izuku ignored him.

“Fuck you, Deku. What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Be quiet.”

Katsuki pursed his lips in annoyance but he shut up as the two of them entered the cathedral. At first, it appeared empty and he was seconds away from turning to Izuku—he’s not here, dipshit—when something stirred behind him and firm cold fingers clasped the back of his neck and Katsuki’s words died with a choke because he recognized that grasp.

An active participant in the worst of his dreams with an anxiety-inducing residue left behind in the morning, Katsuki recognized Shigaraki’s hold like he’d recognize a spider across his face.

Katsuki felt his face twist in terror but the fact it was even able to proved that Shigaraki hadn’t used his quirk…yet. And if he paid attention, yes, a finger was missing from his neck. Just a finger between him and death.

Izuku’s eyes were wide, his mouth half open in fear as he registered Shigaraki’s presence, the villain having hid behind the large wooden doors as they’d entered.

Katsuki didn’t know if he should feel relief or terror at the fact that Izuku had clearly not counted on Shigaraki’s ambush. On one hand, he was glad that Izuku hadn’t simply brought him as some sick kind of bait, but if even Izuku hadn’t prepared for this then the chances of them getting out of this unharmed became increasingly unlikely.

“Right on time,” hissed Shigaraki, his voice piercing through the air right next to Katsuki.

Things began to make much more sense. How Izuku had known Shigaraki would be alone, why he said he’d done something stupid, this meeting had been arranged beforehand and Izuku hadn’t said a word about it to Katsuki.

It explained far too much. How Izuku had prolonged this, telling him the night after he’d unlocked One for All that he “needed a little more time” refusing to elaborate on why. Katsuki had just thought he wanted to get more familiar with the quirk, but clearly, he’d been wrong.

Deku, you prick, he thought but didn’t say. The look on Izuku’s face was loud enough, his regrets and fear calling out to Katsuki from several paces away.

“Shigaraki,” he said hesitantly. “Let him go.” He raised his arms in surrender and his face went blank, back to that self-assured confidence with so much conviction that Katsuki began to wonder if the worry had ever really even existed. “I just want to talk, and I promise you want to hear what I have to say.”

“I’m not much of a fan of talking,” drawled Shigaraki. His fingers twitched and Katsuki’s stomach twisted.

“Even if I tell you I know what happened to your family?” Izuku looked borderline casual, as if it wasn’t Katsuki’s life on the line like it wasn’t a fucking hostage situation he was discussing but merely the weather.

Katsuki was going to die. He was going to die and Izuku there watching, goddamn it Deku, you better know what you're doing—

Shigaraki squeezed tighter. "I already know."

Izuku tilted his head. "Not quite," he said calmly. How did he do that? How did he manage to look like he was the one in control when his hands were in the air and Shigaraki's were around Katsuki's neck?

It must have worked, because although Shigaraki didn't move he ordered, "Tell me."

"Let him go," countered Izuku.

Shigaraki hesitated a moment too long and Izuku continued.

"If you let him go I'll tell you everything," he said, then, to really push it, "Tenko."

There was a moment—a deathly anxious moment—before Shigaraki's fingers unwound and Katsuki threw himself forward, away from terror.

"How do you know that name?"

Katsuki could hardly pay attention. His knee hit one of the pews as he pulled himself steady behind Izuku, feeling like a pathetic flighty bird having just avoided a net. Izuku said something. Shigaraki might have responded. Katsuki just stood shaky, chasing after a breath he couldn't quite find.

Fuck this. Fuck this bullshit, Katsuki was done. And damn it, he’d known it would be like this. He wasn’t some stupid fanboy who’d gone into heroics without really knowing the gritty parts of it. He’d prepared for this, had known that it was an eventuality, but now in the moment Katsuki found his body ready to surrender because when fighting was taken out of the equation flight really was all that was left.

Not that he didn’t want to fight, he’d always known that he came to blows a little too easily, and this was no exception. He wanted to feel sparks on his palms, give that motherfucker what was coming to him, destroy him for setting his hand on Katsuki—shit he could still feel the icy fingers across his neck.

But Katsuki was no fool, and he’d gotten better at restraining himself as the year went by. So he wouldn’t fight. He would simply watch as Izuku talked to the bastard and pray it was enough. For some reason, he had no doubt it would be. Even after that moment of uncertainty, Katsuki found he still trusted that Izuku would get them both out of there one way or another. And as Izuku continued, Katsuki’s faith only grew.

Izuku told Shigaraki—in fewer words than when he’d told Katsuki—what he’d discovered. That Shigaraki had not always had the quirk he now did.

“We’re similar in that,” he said, drawing close enough to Shigaraki to send a shiver through Katsuki. “Both successors in a generational feud, quirkless boys who’ve been given far too much power and ordered to kill each other.”

There was something on Shigaraki’s face that Katsuki had never seen on him, a humanizing characteristic that looked so unfamiliar. It was then he knew: Izuku would win this—this stupid little battle fought with nothing more than his words. Of course the fucker anticipated this, laying out the battleground and choosing his favorite weapon. Intelect, thought Katsuki, and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. Poor Shigaraki would be sitting unarmed if wit was the ammunition of choice.

“My family,” whispered Shigaraki, haunted.

Izuku tilted his head, unshed tears forming in the corner of his eyes like he pitied the monster. He probably did, realized Katsuki. Izuku always was a freak when it came to that, some sort of amalgamation of logic and sympathy in an unnatural contradiction.

“Was never your fault,” responded Izuku. “You were simply responding to the unfamiliar stimuli of a foreign quirk you were never meant to have.”

Katsuki could tell Izuku was close by the way Shigaraki’s eyes began to burn with anger once more, this time no longer directed at them.

“This is his fault,” hissed Shigaraki, looking at the ground.

He didn’t even have to specify who; Izuku already knew. “It is,” he said. “Help me take him down.”

Shigaraki looked up. “You’ll get revenge for me?”

Izuku hesitated—again with that damn aversion to admitting it was revenge he needed, not simply justice—but eventually he said, “yes.”

Shigaraki hesitated, but this was a different hesitation, one of realization. “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

And Izuku smiled, looking feral with tears still dripping down his face.

Chapter Text

He turned himself in.

Fuck. Izuku had gotten Shigaraki to turn himself in.

Oh there were stipulations, of course. Izuku would testify on his behalf, telling them what he’d discovered, and in return, Shigaraki would tell Izuku all he knew about All for One, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was Izuku had done what shouldn’t have been possible. He’d taken down a villain with nothing but his words. Hell, Katsuki didn’t think One for All had been activated for even a second while they were in that church. And now, as they reached the edge of UA, everything hit Katsuki again. The rush, the fear, the relief, every emotion striking like a wave as the reptilian part of his brain finally registered that it was over.

And…Katsuki didn't cry. He didn't. At least not often. But adrenaline was still twisted around his veins, squeezing like vines as it vehemently clawed at his lungs and throat. So it pulled a few tears from him, but he turned so Izuku wouldn't see.

“Kacchan?”

Izuku stopped walking once he noticed Katsuki had, turning to look back even as Katuski hid his face.

"I can't believe you," said Katsuki. Everything hitting at once. Katsuki knew where this was all coming from. He felt betrayed. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed the safety Izuku offered, how much he'd relied on it, a truth like gravity, as indisputable as the sun, that Izuku could be strong in ways he couldn't be and fuck if that didn't sting to admit.

And now, to confront that he'd been wrong. Izuku had allowed him into that situation—hadn't even predicted it—and it forced Katsuki to address why it hurt so much.

“God, Deku,” he said. “I didn’t even need to be there. Why– how could you let that happen?” Katsuki was sure Izuku would know exactly what he was talking about, but if somehow he didn’t Katsuki knew the way his hand was instinctively drawn to grasp at the back of his neck would be indicator enough.

Katsuki heard Izuku’s footsteps as he drew closer, his voice wispy like morning fog as he spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded desperate. "I– I messed up."

Katsuki didn't like hearing Izuku like that. It didn't make him feel any better to note the frustration in Izuku's tone. Made him feel worse, in fact, to realize that the frustration wasn't directed at Katsuki, but Izuku himself.

"I thought I was prepared but I–" Katsuki turned just enough to see Izuku in the corner of his vision, hands shaking in fists at his side, hot tears running down his face.

The sight only made Katsuki more angry for some reason. “How?!” He turned completely, not even caring if Izuku saw him tearing up. “You really used that fucking genius intellect of yours to consider everything, but you never once thought Shigaraki might use me? That’s bullshit. You’re not that goddamn stupid, so how about you explain to me why the hell you thought putting my fucking life on the line was worth your little experiment?”

There were other words in the spaces of Katsuki’s frustration. Words that he doubted Izuku heard because Katsuki hardly registered them himself. Words like, do I really mean that little to you? Words like, you told me to trust you and I did. Words like, I was scared.

“No no no—” Izuku put up his hands in a consultory motion, as if he could calm Katsuki. He’d be a fool to think so, he of all people knew how deep Katsuki’s bloody temper could run. “That’s not– I’d never—”

Katsuki grabbed the collar of Izuku’s shirt, recognizing on some level that it was nothing more than a desperate attempt to feel some sort of control after a situation where he’d felt so helpless. “You really think you can explain yourself?”

Izuku didn’t look angry—god, why did he never get angry—but kept his watery eyes trained on Katsuki’s. “You don't understand, I did account for it,” he said. “That Shigaraki might go for you.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “And you still had me come?”

“Kacchan, listen. I had a plan, I had contingencies for every eventuality, I knew I could keep you safe.”

Katsuki slowly let go of Izuku’s shirt. “I didn’t feel fucking safe back there,” he admitted, letting a bit of vulnerability leak into his tone.

“I know, and that’s why I’m sorry. Because even with all my planing I forgot– I didn’t– I mean, I didn’t factor for—”

“Spit it out.”

Izuku looked away, eyes pinched shut. “I didn’t realize how much it would affect me to see you like that. In danger.”

His words sent a painful heat to Katsuki’s chest.

“I had so many plans for what to do if that happened, but the second I saw you in his grip I– I panicked. I forgot everything. I was just so scared.”

“Deku—”

“And I messed up, I know I did. It worked but that was all just random last-minute improvisation. I was desperate, Kacchan, because I thought I had it all figured out but I—” Izuku ran the back of his hand across his face. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely.

Katsuki sighed. “Whatever,” he said. It wasn’t the right thing to say, and he knew it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t like how it made him feel to know his jeopardy had thrown off Izuku. It made him feel helpless, it made him feel needed, it made him feel like a liability, and the contradiction made his chest burn uncomfortably. “You uh, you did well. For not having a plan.” And that wasn’t right either, but fuck it, at least he was trying.

When Izuku looked at him it was like Katsuki was naked, that was just how omniscient his gaze was. “Thank you,” he said.

There was a moment then, neither of them moving, both refusing to acknowledge the strange energy between them before Katsuki cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You– you cried for him,” he said, because it had been bothering him the entire time. “Why did you do that?”

Izuku reached up to his cheeks and ran his fingers over them like he was trying to see if his tears had begun to erode a path across them. “When I wanted to be like All Might,” he started, and how the hell could that be relevant? “I decided I would try to make civilians feel comforted when I arrived. But that’s not really me.” He blinked away the tears and that—that felt right. Even before, when they were younger, Izuku had always been crying. He had been so much emotion, so much logic, always just so much. So this made sense. “I think I get it now though,” he continued. “I think that maybe I’m not meant to smile for the victims, but to cry for the villains.” He looked away. “God knows they have no one else to do it.”

Katsuki considered this.

“Do me a favor, Kacchan?”

“What?”

“Aizawa and Nedzu will probably be waiting for us. I’m sure they’ve already heard about Shigaraki turning himself in and will have figured we had something to do with it. Can you explain everything to them? I– I need a moment.”

Katsuki didn’t know how much use his explanation would be. He’d acted as simply an observer in their conversation. He felt he didn’t quite understand what had happened enough to recount it himself, but he’d try—for Izuku.

“Sure,” he said.

Izuku looked relieved. “Thank you,” he said. “Find me after.”

Chapter Text

“There you are.”

Izuku was sitting on the floor of his room, meditating as if he hadn’t caught one of the greatest villains of their generation just by talking to him. But of course he always had been one for humility. Unlike Katsuki who found he far too often basked in the praise of others like he fucking needed to hear them talking about him, a bloody lapdog—god, he felt pathetic.

Of course he did. He could still all too clearly picture Izuku’s broken face, utterly shattered at the thought that he’d put Katsuki in danger. That kind thing made him feel real shitty about himself.

Izuku seemed to be doing fine, not a trace of the evening still evident on his face and Katsuki was unwilling to bring it up and break his tranquility.

“Everyone out there is talking about you, y’know.” Not that you’d care, he thought. Humble little bitch.

Izuku opened his eyes and shifted to a more lax position. “Because of Shigaraki?”

“What fucking else?”

“It’s not the end. All for One is still out there and I’m sure I’ve only annoyed him.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be a problem,” he said, voice soaked in sarcasm. Maybe at one point he’d believe it, but after seeing Izuku’s—apparently improvised—takedown of Shigaraki, Katsuki found he doubted that All for One could pose much of a threat. “I assume you ain’t planning on talking to him too?”

Izuku shook his head. “There might have been a point where that would have worked, when he was younger, not as involved, but now he’s much too far gone. I think I’m going to have to do something else—something awful.”

Katsuki wanted to ask what he meant by that but Izuku continued before he could.

“I’ve been talking to the vestiges though. It’s so much easier than the first time. And I managed to convince them to show me all of their battles with All for One. I’ve been watching them on repeat, just trying to analyze enough that I’ll have a chance. It really is incredible all I’ve been learning—there is so much I never knew about All for One, and that always was the problem. How can I fight someone I don’t even know?” Izuku stood and began to pace the room as he continued. Katsuki was half convinced he’d wear a hole in the carpet from his constant back-and-forth. “I think that’s what makes me special. I understand that the way to truly best an enemy, and to be confident that you’ll be able to, is to know the enemy. You have to really understand them, hate them, sure, but love them too. You have to know what makes them tick, what drives them past stagnation. And I’m good at that, Kacchan. I always have been. Knowing a person is easy—some people more than others.”

“Was I easy?” asked Katsuki. He was curious if Izuku’s complete understanding of him was simply just how it was for him with everyone. For some reason Katsuki desperately hoped it hadn’t been. The thought made him uneasy.

I want you to have had to work for it, he thought. I want you to have struggled to get me.

Izuku laughed. “No, you were harder than most. Of course you’ve changed a lot since we first knew each other.”

“So have you, Deku,” said Katsuki as he acknowledged for the first time that the Izuku standing before him, pacing having wavered, was not the Izuku from the beginning of the year, nor was he the Izuku from when they were younger. And he was right, Katsuki wasn’t either.

It was normal, he supposed, for people to change as their personalities developed, but for some reason it never occurred to Katsuki that it might apply to him.

“For the better, I hope,” said Izuku.

“You really think a younger you could have taken down Shigaraki like that?” asked Katsuki, avoiding answering directly.

Izuku smiled. “The worst isn’t over yet.”

“Are you nervous?”

“I’d be foolish not to be.”

“You are a fool, dipshit.” Katsuki’s thoughts were drawn to the way Izuku had allowed himself to fall into such a state of vulnerability with Shigaraki, so confident in his complete control of the situation even after all his plans had gone to shit. “Answer the fucking question.”

“Of course I’m nervous. I hadn’t planned to move this quickly, but now that I’m here I can see it’s for the best.”

Hesitantly, Katsuki spoke. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re strong, Izuku.”

Izuku tilted his head. “That’s the first time you said it on purpose.”

And because Katsuki wasn’t stupid he didn’t ask what Izuku meant by that and only felt his face heat up as he realized Izuku had noticed. He looked away as he muttered, “Deku just rolls off the tongue better.”

Izuku grinned slyly. “Unless I’m in danger, then Izuku’s easier, huh?”

“You weren’t in danger when you activated One for All,” insisted Katsuki, because surely that was what Izuku was referring to. Sure, Katsuki hadn’t noticed his slip at first, but that night he sat in hot embarrassment realizing that not once but twice he’d referred to Izuku by name.

For anyone else it wouldn’t have meant much, but for Katsuki it meant having to confront that at some point his mind had switched from Deku to Izuku, and it almost felt more intimate than any other thoughts he might have had about him.

“No, but you were worried all the same.”

Katsuki laughed sharply. “Waste of energy that is. You always seem to have everything figured out.”

Izuku shrugged. “Not everything. And you know it.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Y’know I’m getting real sick of you acting like you know me better than I know myself.” It was fucking annoying having Izuku act so assured with him when he was still partially closed off to Katsuki. Even if knowing him had been “harder than most”, it wasn’t enough of a consolation for him to be comfortable with the idea.

Izuku took a step closer, invading his space so easily, like it was his own to occupy. “But I do,” he said.

“Bullshit,” breathed out Katsuki quietly but he didn’t really believe it. Izuku always had been perceptive, catching his every move before Katsuki himself even knew his true intention.

“Oh?” Izuku looked up at him through his lashes, that soft dissecting gaze digging into Katsuki’s soul. “I don’t think so. See, I know a lot about you. I know how unapologetically independent you are, but I know that you’re loyal too—although you’d never admit it.” Izuku licked his lips and Katsuki’s eyes were drawn to watch. “I know that you listen to old rock n’ roll when you’re alone, and that you mix wasabi with your soy sauce, and that you’re scared that you’re unlovable and always will be, and that your favorite color is green but you never wear it because it’s hideous with your complexion.”

“It doesn’t match yours either,” grumbled Katsuki even as he felt his palms begin to sweat.

“I don’t really care,” said Izuku. “And you don’t either. Because I know something else. You’re obsessed with me.”

Katsuki laughed nervously, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had settled over him. “You lose,” he said. “I already knew all of that.”

Fuck. Why was he so close? Was that part of One for All? The ability to imperceptibly inch closer mid conversation, slithering like a goddamn snake because how else could he have gotten just a hands width away without any visible movement at all? And Katsuki would know, he’d been watching the whole time, unable to turn from Izuku’s stare. He was so close. And Izuku, bastard he was, didn’t give him a moment to forget as he moved his hand to brush one of his curls behind his ear, his arm playing with Katsuki’s space like he was teasing him, trying to see just how much he could get away with before Katsuki would back away.

If it was a game he wanted it was a game he’d get. Chicken, and Katsuki was too proud to be the first to retreat.

“Give me another chance?” he beseeched in that whiny little voice of his, the bitch.

You fox, thought Katsuki, what are you trying to do? Although truthfully he had some idea, but nothing could drag that out, his own private hope would remain private if he had any say in it. “Fine,” he said if only because it sent a thrill through his body to think that maybe— just maybe—

“I know you want this.”

Izuku rocked softly back on the heels of his feet finally giving Katsuki just enough room to breathe—chicken, he thought—but then he surged forward once more, gracefully—as if he could move any other way—and pressed his lips to Katsuki’s own.

Katsuki gasped into the kiss as he felt Izuku’s fist grab at the front of his shirt, pulling him ever closer. If Izuku fought like a needle threading its way through folds of fabric then he kissed like the ocean in a storm, a violent force of nature that refused to be denied—as if Katsuki ever would.

Rather, Katsuki felt his body respond to every source of contact between them and reach out desperately for more. An arm around Izuku’s waist, a hand in his hair, and the feeling of Izuku’s fingers brushing lightly against his jaw—it was overwhelming in every sense of the word and fuck Katsuki had been waiting ages for this. He thought there must have been something to it, the delay of something they’d both wanted with a fervent vigor, that made it all the more powerful in the moment.

Izuku sighed against his lips, melting even more into him as soft sparks rippled up his neck and across Katsuki’s fingertips still intertwined in Izuku’s hair.

Katsuki slowly pulled away with a gentle exhale. “Idiot,” he whispered as his head spun with shivers and thoughts of skin on skin. “I knew that too.”

Izuku pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Then I suppose you win this one.”

And maybe it should have meant more. Maybe that moment was one Kastuki should have lingered in. But in some ways it felt as inevitably as the rising sun, as if the morning glow could have been detected in the moments before. Because god, this had been years in the making. Because it had always been the two of them, through childhood teases and quirks and monsters and villains and death and life and—

Izuku’s hand lingered, intertwining their fingers like he’d never let go—

Katsuki knew—believed in a way he’d never even trusted himself—that Izuku would win this battle.

And he’d be damned if he wasn’t there at Izuku’s side the entire time.

“Talk to me, Izuku,” he said.

And Izuku did.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t easy for Izuku, Katsuki knew it wasn’t. It meant so much more to him, to say his plans, to put those words into the world in a way they never were when only in his head and on his paper. It made it real, and Katsuki could see his discomfort.

It was in the way he tensed up as he spoke, saying, “And then you. You’ll be there too, and he won’t expect it because he’s always been so independent—”

Just like you, thought Katsuki, but he corrected himself. Not anymore. Didn’t his presence there prove that?

“So the idea that I might…rely on someone else won’t occur to him.”

Katsuki realized this plan was not a new one. Izuku must have made it even before Shigaraki, trusting even then that Katsuki could be instrumental in his little game.

“I’ll be the first, you know.”

Katsuki didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“All of the other successors,” he said. “They all fought him on their own. They all had people that would have gladly fought alongside them, but they all fought alone.”

“It’ll be good,” he said, “to not do it by yourself.”

“It almost got you killed last time,” said Izuku, guilt slipping back.

“You were in control.”

“Not the entire time. I slipped.”

“And I know it won’t happen again.”

“You’re too trusting.”

Fuck, Katsuki knew that. He was so intimately aware of what Izuku did to him, broke him down to his barest instincts, and damn it, he didn’t even care. “Only for you,” he said, and it was the truth.

Izuku’s lips twitched slightly, but there was an awkward hesitancy in his brows like he almost wanted to back out.

“Hey,” said Katsuki, “we’ll be okay.” It felt like a lie. In a way it was, it was a promise he couldn’t possibly guarantee, but he hid his concern for Izuku’s sake.

Izuku gave a sharp nod. “Maybe,” he said.

-

Katsuki didn’t ask how Izuku knew where All for One would be. It didn’t seem relevant. Izuku said he would be there, and Katsuki believed him.

“Stay,” said Izuku. “I’ll get him to think it’s just me before we bring the battle outside.”

“You’re sure you can get him out?”

Izuku’s lips twitched in a hesitant smile. “Every time before me the battle has ended outside; I think it’s pretty inevitable.”

And it must have been, because it was only a few anxious minutes after Izuku entered the building alone that he exited, flying through the wall a few paces from Katsuki and skidding across the pavement. Katsuki choked on his breath watching how Izuku slowly brought himself back to his feet, battered, sure, but with a cold ferocity in his eyes.

All for One strode calmly through the rubble, the broken beams and glass framing his body like a halo as he laughed.

Katsuki ducked to the side, trying to stay out of his line of sight. Although if Izuku was to be believed it wouldn’t matter, All for One had probably registered him the moment he stepped into the street.

“So much like your dear old mentor,” he said. “I do wonder if you’ll break as elegantly as he did.”

“You bastard,” spat Izuku.

All for One activated a quirk as he walked towards Izuku. He seemed to dominate the ground, the pavement yielding to steps as it fractured and twisted. In that moment Katsuki knew—more than just an explanation Izuku had given—that All for One and One for All were brother quirks; because while Izuku glowed with the green of life, All for One had a wine-dark undertone of power that complemented it perfectly.

Katsuki was struck with the certainty that he was out of his depth. He was a child at the feet of giants.

“I know you’ve been studying me,” said All for One, towering over Izuku—Izuku, who’d never seemed small in Katsuki’s mind, but had to throw his head back to meet All for One’s eyes. “You’re not the first, and I don’t doubt you’ve done better than those before you, but it won’t be enough. Shall I give you a hint?”

Izuku looked fucking pissed, his hands in fists at his side as he held his ground. The electric energy between them was so strong that even with his distance Katsuki could bite it.

“In Yagi’s final moments, as he knelt before me, that, I must confess, is my weakness. The feeling of having one of you under my power, those moments of fragility: I’m addicted to it.” All for One grinned. “And I’ll do anything to feel it again.”

“You’re the reason I’ll never see him smile again,” growled Izuku. “You’re the reason I stood there watching as the light left his eyes, as his smile faded away, and I swear, I’ll destroy you for it.”

All for One laugh, head thrown back in overwhelming humor. “I am a god,” he said, “and you are a little boy with a power you don’t even understand and enough hesitancy to not even come alone.” All for One turned and Katsuki’s heart stuttered. The man had no eyes to look at him with but Katsuki could feel the stare all the same, digging beneath his skin. “Do join us, child. I’ve never been one to shy from a challenge, although I doubt this will be one.”

The moment All for One turned his attention, Katsuki saw Izuku ready himself. All for One hadn’t been fully distracted though, catching Izuku’s fist the moment he struck. Izuku cried out as All for One gripped his hand, his muscles straining as he held on tight, but Izuku ripped it away after just a second. All for One looked surprised. “Oh you’ve been practicing,” he purred. “What a good little boy.”

Though All for One spoke with leisure, Izuku clearly had none to give as he continued to rain hits upon All for One.

But Katsuki wasn’t going to just sit idle as Izuku fought this battle, he wasn't going to play bait either, not if he had a say. He was Katsuki fucking Bakugou, a goddamn force of nature, and he would prove it by beating up this motherfucker if it took everything in him.

His palms burned with the heat of his anger and terror as he readied himself, leaping into the fray as well as he could.

Izuku fell into sync easily, the two of them complementing each other as they fought with all the familiarity of lovers. All for One wasn’t overwhelmed, countering them easily, although frustration clouded his face.

It was blow after blow, air thick with power. It was lungs afire, aching body. It was a slash on his side he just barely didn’t dodge, and the hot explosion he returned in response.

And dammit, they were losing.

All for One laughed as his arm bulged, muscles pulsing like they were alive and growing, roots of a tree, and Izuku, deemed the true threat, caught it to his shoulder.

With Izuku tumbling across the rough, broken pavement, Katsuki was intimately aware he was all that stood against All for One. There was something apocalyptic about the feeling, a finite wonder that made him stutter– barely.

He had no time to look at Izuku. No time to wonder if he was okay, or if he’d be able to continue. Fuck it, Katsuki didn’t have time to breathe.

Katsuki could only follow the plan that had been set forth for him. Be a distraction, just give Izuku an opening. Just do his best.

It was a goddamn pathetic assignment. He did it all the same. What else was there? Narcissistic he may be, Katsuki was no fool. He stood no chance without Izuku.

"It's just you now, boy," said All for One. "Surely this isn't worth what you believe it to be."

“Fuck you,” he spat. And like a hero—because at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered—Katsuki threw himself back at it.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the way the frayed end of his top was digging into his gash with every movement, and how his arms were crying—a sharp voice in the back of his mind—and Izuku—

No. No time. Izuku was strong. He’d be fine.

A hit to Katsuki’s chest, he wheezed as he fell backward, two steps, five. This wasn’t fighting, this was surviving and Katsuki had so little of it left and damnit, All for One was so much more than he’d ever thought.

This wasn’t possible. No amount of prayers or hope could ever make up for the unfathomable gap in power. All for One was only playing with him. It was like Shigaraki’s fingers around his neck again except more certain because this time Izuku wasn’t there to stop it, his stupid bitchy voice quiet from where ever he’d eventually fallen—was he okay—and All for One smiled like the only thing he was picturing is Katsuki dead on the ground in front of him.

“You put up quite the fight, little one,” said All for One.

He said little one like it was nothing, a bug, a bit of dust, Katsuki meant nothing more to him.

His lungs were full of needles rubbing together with every breath. He tried to raise his arm once more but it was so heavy, All for One so far, goddamnit he was a hero! He had to move. He had to move.

“Nothing lasts forever,” said All for One, “and all lives—all but mine—must come to their end at—”

In the corner of Katsuki’s eye, he saw movement. Izuku rose hesitantly to his feet—safe, thank God he’s safe—and he only barely registered his expression, something ugly on a face so sweet, a venomous mix of rage and malice, before Izuku was moving with the speed of light—only the light seemed slower, left behind in the place he once was in a harsh after-image.

He only registered the burst of radiance as Izuku reached All for One, heaven’s glow cradling him in all his righteous fury as he struck, a divine punisher sending justice from above as All for One’s lips parted like now, at the foot of death, he’d confess, but he was given no chance because All for One– and Izuku– and Katsuki– and Izuku– and– and–

And…

Katsuki remembered something Izuku had said in one of their practices. “I don’t need a drawn out battle like this. I just need a moment of distraction and a single hit.” Had it been a coincidence? Had he been planning this ever since then? Had he brought it into being just by saying it? He always had treated his words like they had that weight, that power, and perhaps they did.

Oh Izuku, you’re indecipherable and it’s frightening and I love it and it terrifies me and I’m only thinking of this to avoid thinking about the sight in front of me because to do so—to register what I see, really allow the connection from sight and mind to form—is too much. And I thought I was prepared but god, Izuku you’re a god.

Katsuki blinked. “You– you–” The connection was thin, the comprehension less, but he tried—like coming up for air from foggy sleep—to bring back awareness.

Izuku breathed deeply, a wildfire burning in his eyes as he clutched his right hand with his left close to his chest, green lightning still running across his knuckles as blood slowly dripped down his wrists.

Katsuki glanced down for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his gaze back up to Izuku. He felt a full body shiver as his brain processed what he’d seen. The body was…

He swallowed hard.

It had been pulverized, no other way to say it. Flesh more liquid than not, bones indistinguishable from sand, and complete and utter stillness if not for the slow creeping of an ever-growing pool of blood.

And because something about it felt so unreal, Katsuki asked, “is he dead?” despite knowing nothing could have survived that.

Izuku, looking down, nodded slowly. His stance was wide, back hunched as he appeared less like the predator and more like the prey, just the snap of a branch away from bolting, but the lights dancing across his body said otherwise as they radiated power like a fucking star on the brink of supernova.

“I–” Fuck. Katsuki had never been struck so speechless. That focus, that pure energy, that brutality of utter domination. His throat was tight as if he was choking on just the remnants of Izuku’s quirk still lingering in the air.

Izuku finally raised his gaze, body still on edge as the power slowly dissipated. He looked into Katsuki’s eyes with his own fearful, watering gaze as his lips wavered upwards into a wobbly weak smile.

There was no reason for his smile to impart more terror than the actual mutilation of All for One but Katsuki was certain there hadn’t been a moment in his life more rife with horror than that one with Izuku’s teeth barely bared and his head lilting in impetuous insanity.

“I think you were right,” he whispered, his voice faltering in what Katsuki could only describe as guilty ecstasy. “I did want revenge.” He tilted his head back, gaze softened like the effort to keep his lids up was too much in the wake of his power. "Does that make me a bad person?" he whispered.

"Fuck no, Izuku,” said Katsuki. “You only did what had to be done, your reasons be damned. He killed before and he would have killed again if not for you." He was half dead anyway. No humanity could hope to survive the things All for One had done. "You destroyed a monster."

"Only by becoming one myself." His voice was haunted. Fractured. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to soothe it, soften the still rich with distress break in his tone.

Carefully, Katsuki navigated the slaughter at his feet, sidestepping the remains as well as he could, his mind screaming the whole way that it was unnatural, unreal, before coming to rest just in front of Izuku and gripping his shoulders tightly. “Deku—”

“Izuku,” he corrected, lowering his head to look at Katsuki. “I like it when you call me Izuku.”

This close Izuku’s tears glittered like stars. Diamonds, or some equally sappy shit. And it felt fitting. Maybe if he was a poet he’d have said something about it, about how the fact that he was crying was proof enough, gems spilling from his eyes like blood from a wound, and what the hell could be more indicative of his virtue? That he stood there, pity falling down his face as he cried, not for himself—Katsuki knew as well as God—but for the corpse resting behind them. Dead, because of Izuku, but the destroyer only wept for what could have been.

But Katsuki was no poet—at least not out loud—and he was no comfort either, so he said, “Izuku. Shut the fuck up,” and pulled Izuku to his chest, ignoring the way lingering lightning curled around the both of them.

Izuku folded in on him, hands clutching at the back of his shirt, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder. Katsuki felt like he should say something more, but what? So he just held him closer, thinking things he’d never say in hopes the thoughts themselves would impart an ounce of relief.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s mutter was so quiet, muffled in a way that made Katsuki nearly miss it. “You don’t think less of me, do you?”

“You care a hell of a lot more about people’s opinions than you should,” he said, then realizing that wasn’t what Izuku needed, continued, “and no. Of course I don’t think less of you. I woulda done that bastard in myself if given the chance.”

Fuck. He’d tried. And remembering the prey instinct the buzz of All for One had unlocked in him sent a shiver down his spine. In the end, Izuku always had been the only one who’d ever even had a chance.

Izuku nodded softly against his neck like he only half believed him. “It isn’t easy,” he said as he softly pulled away. He grabbed at Katsuki’s sleeves with both hands as he did, like he couldn’t risk losing the contact. “Because I know I’ve done well—hell, I can feel the vestiges, in all their pride and exhilaration—but I don’t feel like it.” Izuku’s face was almost stoic at that point, eyes returning to that state of quiet contemplation. “There had to have been another way, a solution I wasn’t good enough to think of, something, anything—”

“There wasn’t,” assured Katsuki. “And you know it.” He watched as Izuku’s gaze started to drift slightly behind him, back to the product of his pain and passion, All for One’s body painting the pavement like it was a canvas, an ode to his atrocities. Katsuki took Izuku’s jaw in his hand, cradling it like he would a butterfly, with a gentleness Katsuki seldom had. He brought Izuku’s eyes back to his and stared intently as he spoke. “This was inevitable. It was the instant he killed All Might.” Katsuki knew it had been. He’d seen Izuku in that moment and goddamnit, there had been murder in those eyes and had been from the beginning.

Izuku, he thought, you may be the prophet among us, seeing the workings of the world with a wondrous clarity, but I know you and I knew what you’d do before you’d ever even thought of it.

I knew the moment after your smile faded that this was how it would end.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” said Katsuki, “but you’re the only one who ever could.”

And Izuku was still crying, and Katsuki knew it still wasn’t even for himself that Izuku sobbed into his shoulder, and maybe that was okay. It felt right. Katsuki felt safe.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispered as he clutched Izuku through his sobs.

And this time it didn’t feel like a lie.