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Bakugo Katsuki could only vaguely recall the events that had led him to succumb to the dark void of unconsciousness. Three of these memories, however, stood out amid the haze as he tried to make sense of what happened.
At first, his breath began to fail him; each attempted inhale seemed to catch in his throat, causing panic to surge through his body as he felt himself suffocating. Suddenly, the boy could sense himself being moved. This startled him, but in the back of his mind, almost like an afterthought, he knew that he was safe in the arms of whoever had picked him up.
For a moment, Bakugo felt like he was floating. The world around him drowned in a bizarre array of noise, yet he felt safe. This peace, however, was sadly short-lived. A deafening sound, almost like an explosion, went off next to them. The shockwave made his savior trip, sending the two of them crashing to the ground. This led to the third and final memory Bakugo could still recall, which was the taste of copper on his tongue as blood pooled in his mouth.
Soon after that, everything went dark, leaving him to float in a silent void before he came to, greeted by the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen—one a soft gray, reminiscent of the clouds on a summer storm, the other a vivid blue like the crashing waves on the ocean.
Bakugo felt like he was slipping in and out of consciousness, the world around him blurring as he struggled to stay focused. Even in his haze, he recognized that those beautiful eyes belonged to none other than Shoto Todoroki—his dearest friend and first love, the one who had always stood by him despite his anger. As the pain began to fade, he found solace in Shoto's presence, his racing heart gradually calming as he gazed at his friend. Desperately, he tried to reach out to Shoto, but his limbs remained motionless at his sides, unable to grasp the stillness that had befallen Shoto's pale face which was now covered by a soft white cloth. Despite the growing quietude around him and the impending darkness encroaching on his vision, he found a sense of calm. As his eyes started to close and the world receded, a soft, familiar voice broke through the silence with a single word: "live." With that, he surrendered to the darkness once again.
When the dark void grasping his soul finally relented its hold, the first thing he recognized was voices. Voices over voices, some deep and rich, some high and airy. Their hushed whispers came together into an ear-shattering orchestra. But there was more—underneath the countless voices, he could make out a soft hum of electricity as well as the constant beeping of machines. The explosive blond had half a mind to yell out in the hope that everyone would shut up, but as the world around him finally came back into focus and he managed to pry open his eyes, his breath caught in his throat.
He was laying, swaddled head to toe in bandages, in a huge hospital room. The bright neon lights overhead were blinding, and even if he wanted to yell, the scratch in his throat would have stopped him. Faintly, he registered that the beeping from before had become faster. He looked to the side, the small movement sending a wave of dizziness through him. But his suspicion was confirmed; there, next to him, was a heart monitor. Bakugo had trouble making sense of what was happening. As soon as he tried to understand one thing, something else was already stealing his attention away.
"Katsuki?" The boy in question turned to look at the source of the voice. For one disorienting moment, he almost thought he was looking into a mirror, but no, the face in front of him, no matter how similar, was not his. He blinked once, trying to rid himself of the dizziness still clouding his mind, before he finally realized that the person in front of him was his mother. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Mitsuki's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
Without warning, she moved forward, pulling him into a soft embrace. She didn’t utter a single word as she held him, content to just feel him near. "Mom?" His voice was scratchy and faint from misuse, but it didn't matter. Mitsuki began to sob at his voice. After a moment to recollect himself, Bakugo realized that his mother wasn't the only one there. The first person he noticed, aside from his mother, was his father. He sat at his bedside but made no move to get closer, likely feeling content to let his wife reunite with their son first. But Masuro wasn't the only one patiently waiting to greet him; no, it was a full house. Looking around the room, or as well as he could given the circumstances, Bakugo could make out the familiar faces of his classmates as well as his teachers. The sheer number of people made the room look small, even if it was anything but. Perplexed, he returned his focus to his parents. "What... happened?" He really wished he had a glass of water right about now; his throat was starting to hurt. Around them, the room fell silent, as all eyes turned to look at him.
His parents shared a silent look, the years they shared eliminating any need for words as they seemingly contemplated what to tell him. In the end, it hardly mattered, as Aizawa disrupted the silence. "I'm not going to go into too much detail right now, but you were stabbed when fighting Shigaraki. It is a miracle we even managed to get you to a hospital in time." Bakugo drew in a sharp breath as he tried to process his teacher's words. Morbid curiosity befell the boy; he wanted to know more. How bad had his injuries been? Who had saved him? Who won the fight? As these questions coursed through his mind, a memory suddenly came to him—a memory of mesmerizing heterochromic eyes, and just like that, nothing else mattered to him anymore.
He would get his answers later, but right now, he decided to sit up, even as the tubes and wires still connected to his skin made that difficult. Shoto, the other boy who was with him when he was brought to the hospital, was Bakugo's immediate concern. The explosive boy panicked as he didn't see Shoto right away, but then, as his eyes fell onto familiar red and white hair, his racing heart calmed down again.
But something about the other was... off. Bakugo couldn't exactly say what it was; it could be because the younger wasn't looking at him. And for a moment, Bakugo almost wanted to laugh at the irony—how all eyes in the room were seemingly fixed on him, yet the ones he longed to see most remained hidden from view.
But the calm didn't last; something about the sight in front of him just wasn't right, and he couldn't quite name what that was. Instead of lingering on the thought and letting his mind wander to dark places, he decided to fill the silence. "You actually had me freaking scared for a second there, Icy-Hot. I almost thought you up and died or something." His voice was little more than a raspy whisper, yet everyone seemed to have heard him loud and clear. However, while he had hoped for his words to ease the tension in the room, it seemed to have increased instead.
His whispered chuckle had barely faded when the room suddenly seemed overtaken by a dark aura of grief. A silent sniffle drew his attention away from the two-toned boy, who was still looking out the window, toward none other than Izuku Midoriya. The boy's emerald eyes were wet with tears, and while that, in itself, was not anything new or particularly worrying, the uncharacteristically grim look on his face was. Bakugo let his gaze wander around the room and came to the shocking realization that most of his friends were crying—their faces aged beyond their years by a grief he couldn't yet understand. But despite all of this, Shoto's back still stayed stubbornly turned to him.
Unease prickled at his skin as the harrowing realization dawned on him that something must be terribly wrong. The explosive blond swallowed heavily before he spoke up again. "What the heck is wrong with you? Why are you crying?" Aizawa stepped forward, his remaining eye meeting those of the distressed boy. Bakugo stilled at the unusual sight of tears in his teacher's eye. "Bakugo," his voice was rough, and Bakugo knew that whatever the man was about to say would shatter him. "Kid, Todoroki, he— he didn't make it." Toward the end, his voice had turned to barely more than a whisper, yet his words rang loudly through the room.
Ice-cold shock flooded his senses at the words. This shock was quickly replaced by disbelief, however, as Bakugo's eyes once again found Todoroki's still form. No, Aizawa must have lied to him; Shoto was right there, unmoving and never once looking at him, but there.
A startled laugh tore itself out of Bakugo's mouth as he desperately searched his teacher's face for any kind of sign to prove that he was lying. But he couldn't find anything but sincerity, and just like that, his body filled with rage, numbing any pain he might have had. "That is a crappy joke to make, sensei," he bit out, fuming at the way Aizawa's expression seemed to sadden. "IT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!"
Hesitantly, Deku stepped forward, tears pooling out of his emerald eyes and trailing silently down his cheeks. "It's not a joke, Kacchan; he's gone." He sounded so sincere, so sure of his words that it made Bakugo's stomach lurch dangerously as the unease in his heart grew. They were lying; he knew they had to be lying, but the fear in his soul grew at his friend's words.
"You really think I'm fucking stupid, don't you? You can all go fuck yourselves. Don't say shit like that, especially when the half-and-half bastard is standing right there." He raised his hand, pointing towards the window where Todoroki was still standing, turned away. "Oi, I'm talking to you, IcyHot! Look at me!" The boy was beginning to grow desperate as the other kept his back turned, seemingly uncaring of the distress he was causing Bakugo. The blond boy's heart monitor was beeping furiously in retaliation to the boy's panic, and his chest was beginning to hurt again. But before he could escalate into a panic attack, a hand gently landed on his head.
Startled at the unexpected touch, which he would never admit had caught him so off guard that he almost jumped in surprise, he looked to the side. It was his mother who was now softly petting his unruly hair with gentle hands. Her face adorned an uncharacteristically soft yet sad expression, and for a moment, the explosive blond wanted to let go of all the anger and frustration that had built up inside him, in favor of simply melting into his mother's loving embrace. But her words did nothing but feed the fire in his soul as she once again claimed that Todoroki was gone.
Bakugo had enough. With a burning in his heart, he slapped his mother's hand away, even as he mourned the loss of her touch, before moving to stand, throwing the occupants of the room into startled panic, as he tore out any tube or whire still conected to his skin and almost fell.
He righted himself and began to move towards the window on shaking legs. His father briefly stepped in front of him, hoping to stop him, but as he saw the dark look on his son's face, he stepped away again, not daring to stand in the boy's way. Seeing this, no one else made any move to stop him, and so he continued forward. Each step made his heart hurt unbearably, and the overwhelming sense of "something is wrong" twisted in his gut, making his unease grow.
Bakugo drew closer and closer towards the other boy, to the point he could see his own reflection in the glass of the window. Soon he realized what had been so off about the scene in front of him, the knowledge sending a sharp pang of fear down his body. Bakugo's reflection stood alone in the window. The blond boy lifted a shaky hand towards his friend. "Icy-Hot?" As still no answer came and his hand inched closer and closer to the other's still form, Bakugo couldn't help the panic grabbing hold of him. "Shouto?" he whispered.
He finally laid his hand on the other's shoulder, only to find it go straight through. The blond drew a surprised gasp of air. Now, Todoroki finally turned, and Bakugo screamed. He fell backward as he attempted to get away from the other. Scrambleing uselessly to put some distance between himself and the sight in front of him. And what a grotesque sight it was . Blood was running down those beautifully heterochromic eyes, spilling out of his mouth and dripping from his nose. His chest was torn open, leaving his ribs exposed, but his heart was missing from the cavity. Bakugo bit back the vomit as he took in the other's mangled form, one hand flying towards his mouth to silence his screams. Some people were moving closer, trying to talk to him, trying to help. Bakugo didn't even notice them, as dual-colored eyes met his. The fiery and icy user opened his mouth to speak, leaving more and more blood to rush out. After a few choked noises, he finally spoke, "please live," and with that, he was gone, leaving Bakugo on the cold hospital floor. A few tears had slipped from his eyes in shock. Finally, the room and its occupants started to come back to him. His parents were holding him, trying to soothe his cries like they used to do when he was still a small child. He tried to explain what he saw, tried to make sense of it, but no words would leave his mouth. After they finally managed to maneuver him back to his hospital bed, he had calmed down slightly.
He finally managed to choke out what he had seen as the other people around the room looked at him with varying looks of horror. His mother pulled him close again, petting his hair and trying to reassure him that what he had seen was just a nightmare, a vivid hallucination produced by the painkillers still in his system. But no matter how much he wanted to believe the reassuring words, the nagging feeling that there was something much darker going on persisted. After a while, a hushed whisper caught his attention from across the room, and while he wouldn't normally care about his classmates' conversations, this one stuck out to him. It was Kaminari and Sero, talking about his supposed hallucination, sharing their horror over what he had said. But it was what Kaminari said next that really struck him. "Dude, what if that was like Todoroki's ghost? What if he is angry about... you know, the heart thing?" Sero fixed the blond with a glare. "Don't say stuff like that. Bakugo is already suffering enough; he doesn't need this to add to his worries." Kaminari looked down in what could only be shame as he hesitantly agreed, but it was too late; Bakugo had already heard everything. "What are you talking about? What heart thing?" The two boys jumped at the question and quickly tried to reassure him that it was nothing and that he should just rest. The blond looked around the room, searching for answers, only to find that most were avoiding his eyes. It was pissing him off. "Tell me! What is going on?" Finally, All Might stepped forward..
After a moment's hesitation, the former number one hero took a seat next to him on the hospital bed, maintaining a respectful distance between them. He drew a deep breath, choosing his words carefully before he spoke.
"Young Bakugo, I don't think I should be telling you this, but after everything you have been through, I believe you deserve to know the truth." All Might paused, meeting his parents' eyes, seemingly searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, seeing as he soon continued.
"You and young Todoroki were both severely injured during the fight. When you were brought in, your heart was their main concern, as it gave the hospital staff trouble stabilizing you enough to even try to do anything." All Might couldn't look at the boy anymore, keeping his gaze on the ground instead as he continued, "While they were trying to keep you alive, they soon found out that Todoroki's injuries were a lot more severe than they initially thought. Despite his extreme heat resistance, Dabi's flames had done severe damage to his body. Because of how long he was exposed to the flames, his internal temperature became far too high. The doctors realized much too late that his organs were failing him, and it quickly became clear that, with the hospital's limited resources, he wouldn't make it."
Bakugo had to look away at that, the mere thought that his friend was really gone becoming too much to bear, but All Might wasn't done just yet.
"But they could still save you; they just needed a heart." The former number one hero trailed off, but he didn't need to continue, as the final puzzle pieces finally fell into place, and tears were once again gathering in the boy's red eyes. He clutched at the front of his hospital gown, above his—no, Todoroki's heart.
"No—please tell me it's not true, please," but no one would look at him, trying desperately to avoid his eyes or maybe to avoid reality. Aizawa took pity on the distressed boy.
"He would have died no matter what. He was far beyond saving. Let's just be thankful that his death at least wasn't in vain, that he gave us this last gift and saved your life. We could have lost you too, after all."
Bakugo knew Aizawa was trying to be reassuring, to give him some peace of mind, but at that point, it didn't matter. So he voiced his fury, he screamed, and cursed, and cried until he had nothing left, until his langsam burned and he had no more rears left to shed. After the fury and anguish finally began to ebb from his system, all he could do was curl in on himself and try to pretend the world didn't exist.
As his outburst subsided, scarcely a dry eye remained in the room. With a clearer mind, he took a moment to truly observe his surroundings, for what he witnessed then was a stark difference from the world he remembered from before the war. His classmates bore the physical toll of battle, adorned with countless new scars and still-lingering wounds. Yet, it was the haunting emptiness in their gazes that shook him the most. Once brimming with vitality and bright smiles that were so contagious, hardly anyone could stop themselves from smiling back, their eyes now reflected weariness and loss. Their once radiant light seemed to have dimmed, as if their spirits had departed alongside their fallen friend. The teachers, too, showed signs of struggle, silently acknowledging the toll of the conflict. Though they remained among the living, he understood that many might never return to active hero duty.
In the solemn aftermath, Bakugo's mind replayed the events from before, and he couldn't shake the image of Todoroki's ghostly apparition. It haunted him, making him question what lay beyond, what awaited them all in the realm where his friend now resided. The room remained heavy with unsaid words, grief, and the weight of the sacrifices made during their harrowing battle.
As he observed the weary faces around him, Bakugo couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of responsibility. Todoroki's heart beat within him, a constant reminder of the sacrifice made for his survival. The weight of that realization settled on his shoulders, and he silently vowed to live a life worthy of the precious gift he had received.
The hospital room, once filled with the cacophony of emotions, now rested in a heavy silence. Each person present grappled with their own thoughts and the scars that marked both their bodies and souls. Life had irrevocably changed, leaving them to navigate a world forever altered by the price they paid for victory.
In the quietude, Bakugo contemplated the journey ahead—a path forged with loss, resilience, and a shared commitment to carry on. His classmates, his teachers, and himself—bound by the echoes of a battle that would forever linger in their hearts. Their school, once a haven for camaraderie, now stood as a testament to the harsh realities of heroism, and its flaws. but despite all of this they were still here even if Shoto wasn't.
So, he set aside his own pain to engage with these wonderful people, these heroes who waited patiently by his side for him to open his eyes, despite nursing their own injuries. Amidst the exchanges, he discovered that, despite the severe injuries most had sustained during the war, Todoroki was the only one from UA who had lost his life. The weight of this realization hung heavy in the air, a somber reminder of their friends sacrifice.
He learned that All For One was finally defeated, and the remaining members of the League were now under high-security care at the hospital, their quirks suppressed. The aftermath of the battle cast a lingering shadow over the room, a mix of relief and grief interwoven in the tales shared.
After a while, Bakugo received the news that the Todoroki family expressed a desire to see him, if he felt up to it, that is. The mere thought made his stomach churn again. The prospect of facing them, the individuals who, willingly or not, had caused Shoto so much pain, the people who might harbor resentment toward him for living with their Shoto's heart while the dual-toned boy was forever gone—it made him sick. But he couldn't find the right to refuse them. even as guilt ate away at his soul, he knew that he needed to do this, not just for Todoroki but also for his own state of mind. With a renewed sense of courage, he declared his agreement to see Shoto's family to his teachers. While everyone tried to dissuade him, urging him to rest more before confronting such an undoubtedly stressful situation, he remained steadfast. As he pondered about Shoto's family, an unfamiliar warmth blossomed in his chest—a feeling he couldn't quite put a name to, but it conveyed a sense of safety and connection.
Reluctant but supportive, All Might made a call to Endeavor, notifying him that Bakugo wished to see him and his family. The flame hero remained quiet for most of the call, responding only to confirm that they would be there shortly, having been at the hospital themselves. True to their word, not even fifteen minutes later, the remaining Todorokis (save for Toya) entered the already cramped hospital room. Bakugo observed his friends hurriedly making space for the new arrivals, ensuring they had plenty of room to gather. The atmosphere in the room underwent a subtle shift, a new tension mingling with the pain of loosing someone dear.
As Bakugo braced himself for the emotionally charged encounter about to unfold, he couldn't help but feel a complex tapestry of emotions—fear, guilt, but also a growing sense of understanding and connection. Each moment in that passed seemingly brought a new emotion with it
The air in the room was tense as no one dared to break the silence out of fear of what could happen. Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Endeavor pointedly avoided his eyes, but not Rei. The frail woman was the only one to look at him, to hold his gaze strongly, and with a warmth in her eyes that only a mother could possess. "Hello, Bakugo. How are you?" The question caught him off guard. He wasn't sure what he expected, but this certainly wasn't it. This kindness, as if she hadn't just lost her youngest child.
Bakugo shook the thought away as quickly as it came. He shouldn't think like that about her, especially since she was clearly trying to be kind and understanding, a sentiment that the rest of her family didn't seem to share.
"I'm fine, I guess." The blond inwardly cringed at his voice, pointedly trying to ignore Natsuo’s cold look and Fuyumi's tears. He kept stubbornly looking at Rei, whose fragile, strained smile never once wavered. "That's good to hear." The boy almost wanted to feel awkward, but he mainly just felt bad. It somehow felt like he had taken her son from her, even if he objectively knew that it wasn't his fault. He just couldn't stop the guilt from biting at his soul.
It was only now, after a long beat of silence, that Rei faltered. She suddenly seemed far more hesitant than before, which was almost worrisome. However, before Bakugo could voice his worry for the woman, she hesitantly spoke up again. "I'm really glad that you are alive." Tears were softly gliding down her cheeks as she spoke, and something inside of Bakugo broke. "You shouldn't be. I shouldn't be here at all. Shoto should have lived; he deserved to live. He is so kind and strong and forgiving. He took his pain and anger and let it drive him to be better, to be a hero." Bakugo looked up with tears in his eyes, letting his gaze wander around the shocked faces of his friends and family. But the dam had burst, and there was no stopping now, so he continued, "I'm just a spoiled, angry asshole." When he met Rei's eyes again, there was something akin to determination flickering in her gaze, and soon after he finished talking, she came closer.
Nobody spoke as Rei took a seat next to him on the hospital bed. She gently cradled his face in her cold, shaking hands, looking him straight in the eyes as she spoke, "That is not true at all, Bakugo. Shoto has told me so much about you—" She took a second to let her eyes wander around the room, towards the remaining people "—about all of you. He told me how courageous, strong, loyal, and driven you are. And if there is one thing I know about Shoto, it is that he is honest to a fault. He never says anything he doesn't truly believe."
The blond's hands were shaking as he took hold of hers. He was about to object, but she beat him to it. "You know, Shoto has always had the heart of a hero. He always tried to protect his siblings and me, even when he was just a small child. He was never really angry about his own pain, rather feeling hurt for the pain the people he loves were dealt. He was— is a true hero, our hero. And I know that, with his heart, you will do great things, be that saving the world, or just one person, or even just living your life. I will be proud of you either way. I just want you to live." Rei pulled him into a soft embrace as he finally truly let go, allowing his tears to fall freely.
"I can't do this," the words startled him back to reality as he carefully pulled away from the hug to assess the unfolding situation. It was Natsuo who uttered those words, making his way towards the door with his sister hot on his heels. "Natsuo, wait," her attempts to stop her brother fell on deaf ears as he opened the door to leave, not without casting one last dark look towards Bakugo. He quickly looked away muttering "This is all fucked up." Under his breath. And with that, the two siblings were gone. Rei stood to follow her children, distancing herself from Bakugo as she left to check up on the two young adults. The boy on the hospital bed almost mourned the loss. The room fell into a quiet void as the three departed, leaving only Endeavor behind. The flame hero watched as his family left before turning to address Bakugo. "You were still unconscious when we had his funeral, but we would like you to be at the memorial next week if you feel up for it." Endeavor didn't wait for an answer, instead opting to find his family, leaving Bakugo to sort out his own thoughts.
He missed the funeral, and for some reason, the thought hurt more than expected. What does it matter if he saw them lower Shoto's body into the ground or not? It doesn't change the fact that Shoto is gone, or that his heart now beats inside Bakugo. Whether he was present or not, it doesn't change anything, yet he still found himself tearing up at the knowledge that he wasn't there. With the tears came the familiar anger — anger at the world for being so unfair, anger at his friends' pitiful expressions, anger at the realization that most of his teachers would have to retire from hero work and possibly from teaching. But, most of all, he was angry at himself for not making it to Shoto's funeral, for crying so much, even for just being angry.
After a while, someone placed their hand on his head again to gently pet his hair. And really, he must be looking absolutly pathetic if everyone is just ok with codeling him like that, but it hardly mattered anymore. Bakugo looked up into the black eye of his teacher, who stayed by the boy's side until he calmed down again, the hand never once stopping its soothing movements. The quiet room became a refuge for Bakugo's tangled emotions, slowly unwinding under the comforting touch.
After his tears finally subsided, his friends and teachers took turns bidding their goodbyes, each promising a swift return. Bakugo, while attempting to put up an annoyed façade, couldn't help but secretly appreciate the genuine care his friends showered upon him. As they left, an unspoken bond lingered, a promise etched in their farewells.
The room gradually emptied until only Bakugo and his parents remained. Their conversation meandered through a myriad of topics, weaving a tapestry of stories that ranged from the profound to the mundane. Amidst the shared memories, his mother felt compelled to address Endeavor's earlier words. "You know you don't have to go to the memorial," she gently suggested. Bakugo met her gaze with unwavering determination, declaring, "I know, but I'm going anyway."
In that quiet moment, a palpable understanding passed between mother and son. It was a choice rooted in duty and a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken ties that bound them. Their conversation continued. They talked abaut everything and nothing, abaut happier yesterdays and brighter tomorrows. The pain in his chest faded away.
As the night progressed, the room transformed into a haven for emotions, a sanctuary where vulnerability coexisted with strength. Bakugo's decision to attend the memorial was so much more than a mere obligation; it became a testament to his indomitable spirit, a silent proclamation that he would confront the pain head-on. And who knows, maby he will find healing in the compfort of shared grief.
_________________________________________
Throughout the week leading up to Shoto's memorial, Bakugo found himself surrounded by the unwavering presence of his friends, who had collectively made it their mission to spend every available moment with him. While their caring nature was undeniably sweet, there was a tinge of suffocation in their constant companionship. It seemed as though they were afraid he might vanish into thin air if they so much as glanced away for a moment too long.
Bakugo wasn't oblivious; he understood the reason behind his friends' sudden aversion to leaving him alone. His recent freak-out, coupled with the raw grief stemming from the loss of a close friend, had sent everyone into a collective spiral. The fact that he had also come perilously close to losing his own life only added to the palpable anxiety that clung to their group like a heavy shroud. The air crackled with unspoken worries and the weight of shared trauma, making each moment feel like a delicate balance between providing comfort and grappling with their own fears.
It was the unbearable clinginess of his friends that led him to find solace standing alone on the hospital roof. A gentle evening breeze played with his hair as he settled near the edge, taking a seat to appreciate the ever-changing canvas of the sky. Here, for the first time since waking up, he felt the freedom to truly breathe again. Sitting in solitude, he allowed his perpetually racing mind to quiet down, witnessing the sky's transition from the fiery reds and oranges of dusk to the serene blacks and blues of night.
As he sat there alone for an extended period, time seemed to stretch, providing a welcome respite. The lone star on the horizon captivated his attention, appearing small and unassuming from his vantage point, yet inexplicably mesmerizing. Bakugo fixated on that solitary celestial body, lost in thought, his gaze tracing the path of the lone star across the darkened sky.
The boy continued to sit in quiet contemplation, locked in a small eternity of reflection, before the subtle creak of the door behind him announced a new presence on the roof. Unperturbed, Bakugo kept his gaze fixed on the lonesome star, allowing the newcomer the freedom to engage in whatever activity they sought, as long as they respected his desire for solitude. The rhythmic sounds of the hospital below and the distant city lights added to the ambiance, creating a moment where the boy could savor the tranquility found in the simplicity of the night sky.
Luck, unfortunately, wasn't favoring him as someone settled down next to Bakugo. "You okay there, kid?" Bakugo released a heavy sigh, finally tearing his gaze away from the star to meet the tired eyes of his teacher. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that. I'm fine," he asserted, turning back to gaze at the once-lonely star, now obscured by a looming wall of dark clouds. Bakugo tried to conceal his disappointment as Aizawa continued to speak.
"We're just worried about you, kid," Aizawa expressed, and they both sank into a semi-comfortable silence. Neither felt compelled to fill the void with words until the quietness became too much for Bakugo to bear. "It's just... a lot. I don't know." Aizawa responded with a soft hum, taking a moment to carefully choose his words. "I get it; I'm no stranger to grief. So, I'm not going to try to sugarcoat this. This pain, it's going to stay with you for the rest of your life."
The rooftop became a haven for their shared silence, a space where unspoken thoughts hovered in the air. Bakugo's gaze wandered, grappling with the disappointment of the hidden star and the weight of Aizawa's words. The dark clouds mirroring the heaviness that enveloped his heart.
As they sat there, the ambient sounds of the hospital below and the distant city lights provided a backdrop to their contemplation. Aizawa's presence became a comforting constant, a silent acknowledgment of Bakugo's struggles. The night, once a canvas for solitary reflection, now bore the weight of shared understanding, uniting teacher and student in the quiet acknowledgement of their grief.
The passage of time unfolded in a quiet dance between Bakugo and Aizawa on the hospital rooftop. The silence, pregnant with unspoken thoughts, was a canvas upon which Aizawa painted words of solace. With a comforting grip on Bakugo's shoulder, he continued his reassurances, "It will get better. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even a year from now, but over time, it will become easier. And if you ever want to talk, we are all here for you. Now, how about you come back inside and get some rest?"
As Aizawa rose, there was a subtle shakiness to his movements, accompanied by discomfort etched across his face as he adjusted the weight on his prosthetic. Despite the challenges, his outstretched hand offered support and an invitation for Bakugo to rise. Yet, Bakugo's gaze remained fixed on the night sky, a silent yearning for one last glimpse of the solitary star that had captivated his thoughts.
"You know, the stars will still be here tomorrow," Aizawa remarked, his words carrying an unspoken message of resilience and continuity. Without saying anything more, the teacher's gesture on the quiet rooftop became a symbol of understanding. In response, Bakugo extended his hand, accepting the guidance that would lead him back toward his room.
Their footsteps echoed a tentative return to the world below, each step marking the transition from the solace of the rooftop to the ambient hum of hospital corridors. Aizawa's presence, both physical and symbolic, offered a lifeline of support. The hospital, once a place of grief, transformed into a space where shared struggles and collective resilience held sway.
Re-entering the hospital, the background symphony of medical equipment provided a comforting backdrop to their journey. Each step guided by Aizawa became a metaphorical stride toward healing, a gradual return from the isolation of the rooftop to the interconnectedness of shared spaces. The promise of a new day, with its challenges and communal support, awaited Bakugo as he willingly allowed himself to be led back to his room.
As Bakugo re-entered the room, a sea of worried faces greeted him, each expression showing the collective concern for his well-being. He brushed off their attentiveness, exsausted by the constant worry that seemed to engulf him. The weariness was beyond just the physical tiredness, as he yearned for a reprieve from the persistent concern that surrounded him. Laying down, he closed his eyes, attempting to drown out the voices that persistently lingered in the background.
Despite his best efforts to find solace in the quiet cocoon of his blankets, the murmur of voices persisted, people around him calling for his attention. Undeterred, Bakugo pulled his blanket higher, hoping the subtle gesture would convey his wish to be left alone. It took the authoritative voice of Aizawa to bring about the respite he sought, "Alright, problem children, let's let the kid rest."
In that moment, Bakugo felt an overwhelming gratitude for Aizawa's presence. The room slowly but surely hushed, leaving only the boy and his tired teacher. Aizawa settled at the foot of the bed, his hand finding Bakugo's shoulder once more. "Get some sleep, Bakugo. But please, try not to push your friends away. I know it's difficult right now, but pain is usually easier to deal with when you don't have to do it alone." and with that Bakugo was well and truely alone.
The room, once abuzz with worry, transformed into a haven of relative quietness. The shadows cast by the dimmed lights danced across the walls as Bakugo lay there, contemplating the weight of Aizawa's words. The weariness in his eyes mirrored the exhaustion that permeated not only his body but also his soul.
As he succumbed to the embrace of sleep, the room held an air of delicate calmness, even as the darkness became overwhelming, laying down hevily on his still hurting heart.
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The next morning, his parents came to take him to the memorial at the Todoroki residence. They helped him get ready, his mother gently brushing his unruly hair as his father went to get them all breakfast. Mitsuki sat behind her son on the hospital bed, her child's comb in hand, working on the wild blond mane of her son. Katsuki didn't complain, feeling at ease under his mother's gentle touch. They were silent for a while as the comb glided through the soft strands.
When Mitsuki came upon a patch of tangled hair, immediately starting to carefully brush each knot out, Katsuki quietly asked, "Is it really okay for me to go?" His mother stopped in her motion, taken aback by the sudden question. When she continued, her eyes were sad. She knew what he meant but decided to ask him anyway, "What do you mean, Katsuki?" The boy in question gave an annoyed huff before answering, "I mean, after everything that happened, is it okay for me to go to the memorial? Shoto, he gave me his heart, and I can't help but feel like I don't deserve it. How could they not despise me?" His voice began to break toward the end, and had his mother been just a bit farther away, she probably wouldn't have heard him at all. But she did.
Mitsuki was glad that her son couldn't see the tears running down her cheeks at his words. It made what came next easy. It made pulling her son into her chest and holding him close, holding him together easier. It made pretending to be strong for her little boy, all while she wanted nothing more than to crumble under her son's words easier. So she held him close, resting her chin on the freshly brushed locks as he cried, whispering sweet reassurances into his ears.
That is how Masuro found them, Katsuki sitting in his mother's lap, holding onto the arms pulling him close like he did when he was just a little child; all while Mitsuki let her tears run freely down her cheeks. There was a slight tremble in her form, silent sobs racking her body. Katsuki, however, seemed none the wiser to his mother's distress, though perhaps it was better that way. And while Masuro was not one to interrupt such a sweet display, he knew they both needed to eat if they were to make it through the day ahead of them. So he cleared his throat, successfully startling both of them out of their misery.
Mitsuki quickly wiped away her tears, determined to keep up her strong facade in front of her child. Masuro quietly held up the food he brought them, relishing in the fragile smile the gesture brought to their faces. Katsuki's mother tried to move away in favor of a more practical position for them to eat, something she quickly gave up when she realized that Katsuki was making no move to get off of her. So that was how they ate, with their plate on Katsuki's lap as Mitsuki moved around him to get her own food. The boy was by no means small, and it looked almost comical how his mother struggled to to not spill any food, while keeping their son close to her. Despite the awkwardness of the arrangement, a shared warmth enveloped the trio as they quietly savored the meal. With the plates cleared it became time to pack up in favor of driving to the Todoroki estate.
As they reached the hospital doors, the last threshold between Bakugo and reality, Mitsuki and Masuro took the boy between them, leading him with gentle hands out of the confines of the hospital Katsuki had become so accustomed to.Soft light flooded into the lobby from outside, not unlike a beacon, beckoning him to reclaim his freedom. The small family stepped through the door. The sun, warm on Katsuki's skin, brought with it a soft breeze, softly ruffling his hair. Katsuki took a deep breath, his heart growing warm with a feeling he almost thought he may never feel again: hope. A familiar red and white filled his peripheral vision for all but a second, but the blond boy refused to dwell on the thought. So, he stepped out of the hospital and into the future. And while none of them knew what that future would entail, they were ready to face it together.