Chapter Text
Their old middle school was deserted during the war against All for One.
It was an old building to begin with, and years of disrepair conspired with petty vandalism to make it completely uninhabitable by the time the war was over. When it came time to rebuild, the city government decided that it would be more cost-effective to simply condemn the place and construct a new school down the road. And so they did.
Last Katsuki checked, the old school grounds have been scheduled for demolition since last August. The delay can be attributed to the post-war government, which is plagued by infighting and bureaucracy to an even greater extent than the last one.
Katsuki would gladly do the honors, but the last thing he needs is yet another Hero Association lackey beating down his door about unsanctioned property damage. The school building is safe from his wrath for the time being.
The same cannot be said for Midoriya Izuku, who has finally accomplished his lifelong ambition of venturing to the farthest reaches of Katsuki’s patience and planting a goddamn flag there.
"Get your sorry ass out here and face me like a man, Deku!"
His voice booms like thunder on the empty rooftop. For added effect, he kicks over an empty mop bucket. It clatters noisily against the concrete before coming to rest at the edge of the roof, just shy of the fence.
There is absolutely no solid evidence to suggest that Izuku came here, of all places, and in fact this is the last place anyone would expect him to go. Anyone except Katsuki, that is.
When they were kids, he developed the uncanny ability to pinpoint exactly where Deku went to hide. As they grew older and the urge to prove himself to the world made Katsuki nastier, Deku hid from him almost every day. Katsuki got a lot of practice hunting him down. He thought he moved past all of that, but maybe not.
It was a hunch that brought him here, and he was immediately rewarded with a trail of broken locks leading from the front gate all the way up to the rooftop. (He didn't stop to take his shoes off at the lockers, but it was a near thing.) It didn’t take a detective to figure things out from there.
"Deku," he growls again, a warning. "If you don't come out in the next five seconds, so help me god.”
"All right, all right."
The man of the hour ducks out from behind a rusted AC unit with his hands in the air. He traded the monkey suit from his press conference for a pair of joggers and an old t-shirt, stretched tight over his broad shoulders and pecs. Katsuki approves of the change on sheer principle. He always hates when they put Deku in a suit.
(The last time he wore a suit was at All Might's funeral.)
"Now that you've finally decided to grace me with your presence," Katsuki begins, sneering, "do you mind telling me what in the name of sweet glorious fuck you were thinking when you decided to announce your retirement without telling me beforehand? Wait," he says before Deku can respond, "that was a stupid question. You weren't thinking at all, were you? All those years of getting your brain knocked around in your skull finally made you stupid. More than before, obviously.”
Deku smiles, a faint quirk of the lips.
"Not pulling any punches today, I see.”
It's next to impossible to get a read on him when he acts like this. All those times in school where Katsuki chastised him for wearing his heart on his sleeve, he never imagined it would come back to bite him like this. The constant muttering was annoying at best and a liability at worst, but Katsuki cannot stand being foxed.
It is with mounting dread that he realizes the only way to resolve this situation is by falling on his strategy of last resort: direct and honest communication. They can't just beat the shit out of each other and wait for All Might or Aizawa to administer impromptu talk therapy, because All Might is dead and Aizawa is done putting up with their bullshit. Plus, adulthood and maturity and blah blah blah whatever.
"Explain," he demands. As an afterthought, and in the spirit of being mature, he tacks on a curt: "Please."
"You know it scares me when you act polite.” It's an anemic excuse for a joke, and for a moment Katsuki allows himself to imagine how satisfying it would be to punch him just for that.
Then Deku chews his lip the way he always does when he's thinking too hard, and ventures, in an uncharacteristically hesitant tone: "Come sit with me?"
As much as Katsuki wants to regain some semblance of control over the situation by rejecting him, he isn't quite that petulant. He allows Deku to lead the way to an anonymous corner of the rooftop, screened from street view by a pile of mildewy gym mats that some club members probably stowed up there and then forgot.
They sit next to each other, backs resting against the pile. Whereas Katsuki sprawls out as much as humanly possible, Deku folds in on himself: knees drawn up to his chest, hands grasping opposite elbows. The space between them is shorter than an arm's length, but they may as well be miles apart. Katsuki is surprised at how vehemently he hates it.
"Nobody else knew," Deku says at length, fixing his eyes on some inscrutable point in the distance. "Even our PR team thought it was just a fluff interview. It wasn't that I wanted to keep it secret, exactly. I just couldn't stand the thought of repeating the same story to everyone in my contacts list. I thought if I could just make one big announcement, it would be a clean break. Ripping off the bandaid."
"Should I be grateful that you lumped me in with all the other extras?"
"Guess not." Deku flashes him a grim smile. "For what it's worth, I meant to tell you beforehand. You of all people deserved that much. But no matter how many times I ran over the script in my head, I couldn't do it. I was worried that if I warned you first, you would try to talk me out of it."
"Yeah, no shit.” Katsuki grabs a half-deflated volleyball and throws it at the fence with perhaps more force than necessary. “Anyways, I don’t give a rat's ass about any of that. Tell me why."
He’s been turning it over in his mind since the news came out, and even though he prides himself on his ability to read Deku like elementary school kanji, the answer still eludes him. In the absence of factual input, his brain keeps churning out increasingly bleak theories: Auntie Inko is dying, Deku is dying, Deku has been kidnapped and replaced by an eerily similar robot in an attempt to sabotage his career, Deku has lost his fucking mind.
Of course, if he has a lot of practice reading Deku, the same is true in reverse. Katsuki nearly jumps out of his skin when Deku bumps their shoulders together, jarring him out of his thoughts.
"You had a scary look on your face," Deku explains. "Really, Kacchan, it's nothing bad."
"Then spit it out already," Katsuki demands. "'The Deku who never gives up,' isn't that your dumb little slogan? Correct me if I’m wrong, but this sure as fuck sounds like giving up.”
"I can't believe you remember that," Deku says, sounding oddly pleased about it. Before Katsuki can disabuse him of the notion that he actually gives a shit, he adds: "Anyways, I wouldn't call it giving up. Remember when All Might retired, after the Kamino Incident?”
As far as Katsuki is concerned, this is a very charitable way of saying ‘remember when All Might sacrificed what little remained of his long and distinguished career to rescue some no-name brat who got himself kidnapped?’
But he doesn’t care to retread the same argument he and Deku have every other week, so he bites his tongue and nods.
“The news outlets called it ‘the end of All Might,’ but it wasn’t an end at all. He was still fighting. We would have lost the war if not for all the work he did behind the scenes. Maybe it wasn’t flashy or cool like his Golden Age, but it still mattered, you know? He was more than his career."
"If that's your excuse for quitting, you can shove it up your ass. This is different from Kamino. All Might retired because he had no other choice.” Because Katsuki gave him no other choice.
“He had choices,” Deku reminds him, gentle yet firm. “And anyways, I’m not All Might. I tried to be him. Believe me, I tried. But you told me yourself that I should stop copying his every move. That’s the real benefit of One for All, you know: each generation learns from the mistakes of its predecessor.”
“What’s your point."
Deku takes a slow, steady breath, like a man preparing to set foot on a minefield.
Then: “All Might was sick for a long time before he met me.”
Katsuki is mildly surprised, not because this is news to him, or even because of the stark non-sequitur, but because Deku always avoids talking about All Might’s illness if he can help it. It’s one of the very few things that can truly hurt him, and Katsuki, not particularly keen on the subject himself, has learned to give it a wide berth when Deku is within earshot.
"Quirk overuse is bad enough for people with just one quirk," Deku continues, picking at a hangnail. "Multiply that by a factor of seven, and the stress will tear you apart on a cellular level. On top of that, he was active as a hero well into his forties, hardly ever took a proper break, and spent more time in the hospital than he ever did out of it."
"Don't get me wrong, I don't blame him for any of that. For a long time, I even admired him for it. I knew what it felt like to struggle against the limitations of your own body, to push past the pain and then keep pushing. But what I didn't realize back then is that the consequences always catch up with you eventually."
He smiles bitterly down at his hands, borderline arthritic and covered in scar tissue.
"So that's it? You're quitting because there's a chance you might end up…"
He chokes on the word 'dead,' suddenly paranoid of speaking it into existence.
"Sick," is what he settles on, even though it still doesn't sit right. "Like All Might. But that might not even happen.”
Deku barks a laugh like he just heard a joke, but not a particularly funny one.
"Kacchan, I'm already sick."
And Katsuki feels his heart in his throat.
"Bullshit," he hears himself say.
If Deku was sick, Katsuki would have been the first to know. He’s spent his entire life doing everything in his power to push Deku to his limit, which means that he always knows exactly where the limit is. He would have seen it coming a mile away. He would have seen it.
“It’s not as advanced as it was with All Might,” Deku continues, blissfully unaware that Katsuki is experiencing something close to blind, all-consuming panic for the first time in his life. “Fatigue, delayed recovery, some muscle atrophy. The less said about my joints, the better. All of it is relatively manageable right now, but another five years and I'll end up like Tensei. Early retirement was always a foregone conclusion for me.”
"Bullshit," Katsuki says again, like if he repeats it enough Deku will laugh again, for real this time, and say okay, okay, you got me. But you should have seen the look on your face.
Instead, Deku stares at him with something alarmingly close to pity.
“I thought you knew,” he says quietly. “I’ve been slowing down lately. Even Ochaco noticed. I thought you were keeping quiet on purpose.”
“You never said anything. How was I supposed to fucking know?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. I didn’t want you to think I was weak.” Realization dawns on his face and morphs quickly into horror. “Oh, god," he murmurs, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. "I sound just like him, don't I?"
Katsuki's mind goes blank.
Something important to note about Bakugo Katsuki is that he keeps track of his own mistakes. Some mistakes are easier to recognize than others, but once he catches himself in a fuck-up, he never forgets it. That's probably why he remembers all three years of middle school with such agonizing clarity.
A long time ago, Katsuki told Izuku to kill himself. He apologized for it, but there it is. It turns out that Izuku decided to follow his advice after all; it just took a little longer than expected. One for All chewed him up and spit him out, just like it did with All Might, and Katsuki was the catalyst in both cases.
Suddenly he’s angry, mainly at himself, and with no villains nearby to take it out on, he’s struck with the unsettlingly familiar urge to turn his anger on Deku.
"So you're taking the easy way out."
To his credit, Deku doesn't flinch. He spares Katsuki a sideways glance, something unreadable in his eyes, before turning his attention back to his hands.
"If that's what you want to call it," he says at length. "It gives me time to pick my successor. Better to get that out of the way while things are relatively peaceful. With any luck, I'll have them fully trained on One for All before they ever have to use it. I would prefer that they don't feel pressured to take unnecessary risks."
"How noble," Katsuki sneers. "Now you can leave all the hard work to people who actually give a shit, right?"
In some forsaken corner of his brain, what remains of his good sense is snarling at him like a caged animal.
Don't talk to him like that, don't you ever fucking talk to him like that. Haven't you done enough damage already?
Stupid question. Since when has Katsuki been good for anything other than wrecking shit? They say if all you have is a hammer, everything starts looking like a nail. Well, all Katsuki has is nitroglycerin and anger management issues; it’s a wonder it took so long to get here.
"Must be nice," he barrels on, gaining momentum like a car with severed brake lines. "Finally got it out of your system, right? Now you can stop pretending to be a hero and go back to being a weak, quirkless little nobody. Pity for your fanclub, but they were always going to flock to someone better eventually."
"Kacchan," Deku warns, sounding more tired than angry. "Drop it."
Katsuki wishes he could drop it. If he could just calm down enough to apologize, Deku would forgive him. That's the basis of their entire relationship, after all: Katsuki fucks up and Deku forgives, forgives, forgives.
But there has to be an upper limit to the shit he's willing to tolerate. If he gave up on being a hero, his dream career since before he could even tie his shoes, how long until he gives up on Katsuki, too?
"If you're waiting for me to give you my blessing, forget it. I swore. I told All Might that I wouldn't let you give up, and unlike you, I don't make promises I can't keep."
“Kacchan.”
“Did it even occur to you that this decision might affect other people? Not just me, you know, your partner, but everyone in the goddamn country. The world. You're the Symbol of Peace, for fuck’s sake, this isn't a part-time job you can quit whenever you feel like it. There are lives at stake here.”
"Katsuki, enough."
Sparks of green lightning trip up and down the length of Deku's arm.
"You think this is easy for me?"
Katsuki gets as far as opening his mouth to reply before Deku cuts him off: "I hate this. Is that what you want to hear? I hate that I spent my entire life trying to be the best, and now it doesn’t even matter. I hate that I have no idea what comes next, and nobody can help me figure it out, because All Might is dead.”
"You said you didn't blame him."
"Yeah, well. Maybe I do. A little." Katsuki balks; Izuku ignores it. "He always got so upset when I did something reckless, but I learned that behavior from him. When a kid idolizes you like that, you can't reasonably expect them to differentiate your good habits from your bad ones."
"Are you saying he forced you to break your own arms? You had no other choice?”
"Of course I had choices," Deku snaps. Katsuki cannot remember the last time Deku snapped at him. "That's my point. I had choices just like All Might had choices. Sometimes, when people are under a lot of pressure, they make the wrong choice. Now he's gone, and I have to deal with everything that comes after. Are you satisfied now?”
Is he satisfied? Fucked if he knows. His heart is a pyre of rage that burns lesser emotions for fuel. Maybe when the fire dies, he'll find a tiny glimmer of satisfaction buried in the ashes. But he really doubts it.
Izuku draws a ragged, shuddering breath, covering his face with both hands. When he finally lets them drop, his eyes are more tired than Katsuki can ever remember seeing them.
Izuku says: “I handled this poorly, and I'm sorry for that. I really am. But I won't apologize for doing what I think is right. You of all people can't ask me to do that. God knows I never asked it of you.”
Katsuki doesn't have a snappy comeback for that; it's the truth, stark and undeniable. Izuku has never once asked him to apologize for anything. Not for doing what he thought was right, and not for doing what he always knew, deep down, was wrong.
“Must be nice to always have the moral high ground.”
“It comes in handy,” Izuku agrees, sounding exhausted. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, you don't have to agree with me. You heard what I had to say, and that's all I could ask of you. But if that's all you came here for, I'd really like to be alone right now.”
Normally Katsuki knows better than to let Izuku isolate himself when he's stressed. It’s a lesson he learned the hard way in high school. You let him stew over one problem and he'll brainstorm fifty more by the top of the hour. And it never occurs to him to ask for help, because deep down he's as much of a control freak as Katsuki: fully convinced that he can handle everything by himself.
He can't, obviously. That's why they teamed up in the first place. If Katsuki was a good partner, he would remind him of that. But then, if Katsuki were capable of being good in any facet of his life, they wouldn't be here right now.
“Sit here feeling sorry for yourself as long as you want, then. The rest of us have shit to do.”
An emotion flickers across Deku's face that might be hurt, but he turns away before Katsuki can look too closely.
“Then don't let me stop you.”
Five years ago, Katsuki would have sniped back something unbearably petty, like "I won't" or "don't flatter yourself." Anything to have the last word. Right now, though, he's afraid of what will come out if he opens his mouth.
So he doesn't say anything. Just vaults over the safety guard and propels himself as far away as he can get.
He doesn't look back.