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If there was one sound Midoriya Izuku could recognize in his sleep, it was an ECG wave from a Riken ToshThree vitals monitor. The strong and rhythmic beep beep beep let Izuku know two things: one, he was in a hospital, probably Mustafa General, as Mustafa Municipal Mercy was already using the ToshFour. And two, he was alive.
Which seemed improbable, since the last thing he remembered was—oh shit, what had happened to—
“Kacchan?” he rasped weakly, struggling to open his eyes against the fluorescent lights.
“Oh hey, fuck, you’re awake—Midoriya, stop struggling—hang on, let me call a nurse—”
“Where’s Kacchan?”
“He’s—he can’t be here but he’s okay,” the voice said. “Katsuki is fine. Don’t worry about him right now.”
Izuku smacked his lips together tackily, trying to bring moisture to his mouth. “‘shima?”
Kirishima Eijiro let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah, Mido-bro, it’s me. The nurse is on her way. Damn, man, it’s good to see you finally awake.”
“How long?”
“How long were you out? It’s been almost two weeks, bro.”
“Kacchan?”
“He’s okay, but he’s not here. He, uh, didn’t get shot.”
“Oh, mmm. Good. I got shot?”
“Yeah, bro, you did.”
“Hurts.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Did it—was it—” Izuku couldn’t quite finish the sentence.
But Kirishima knew what he was trying to ask. “Yeah, it was.”
“Am I—”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.” The profanity was uncharacteristic of Izuku, but what else could really be said?
“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed.
“Kacchan?”
“He’s—uh, he’s not taking it well.”
“Fuck,” Izuku repeated, sagging deeper into the hospital bed.
Of course Katsuki wouldn’t take it well. Flashes of the scene came back to Izuku—pro hero duo team Dynamight and Deku, following rumors of quirk-erasing bullets that survived the Shie Hassaikai’s downfall. Together, leading a multi-hero trafficking bust. The ringleader, pulling out a gun. Deku, taking the bullet meant for Dynamight. The quick-erasing bullet meant for Katsuki.
“Hurts,” Izuku said again, voice reedy with pain.
“The nurse is on her way.”
“Stay? Please? Until Kacchan can get here?”
Izuku hated being so needy—he knew how much it annoyed Katsuki when he got like this. But the pain in his shoulder was nearly blinding, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of being alone right then.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kirishima promised him, though he made no mention of when Katsuki would get there.
“You’re a good friend,” Izuku said weakly.
But Izuku couldn’t see the slight twist of Kirishima’s lips as the other hero frowned and shook his head in disagreement. Couldn’t hear the soft “I’m really not” over the bustle of the nurse’s entrance.
Izuku should have known one of the nurses would tattle to Kirishima. He bet it was Nurse Watanabe; she’d been tsking her teeth every time she stopped by Izuku’s room.
“What’s this I hear about you not eating?” Kirishima asked, voice light but tone serious, as he stood next to the chair beside Izuku’s bed.
A few flowers and cards on the windowsill showed well wishes from Todoroki and Uraraka and Iida, but Kirishima had still been the only former classmate to visit in person since Izuku had woken up a week earlier. Several of his former teachers had been by, and his mom and All Might had both been there almost every day. But Izuku missed his friends. He missed—
“I’m waiting for Kacchan,” Izuku said mulishly.
It’s not like he was on a hunger strike or anything; he was drinking the specially formulated smoothies they’d been giving him, so he wasn’t risking his healing by ignoring the food the nurses brought. And as he no longer required intaking the massive amount of calories required for the now-forever-lost One-for-All, his appetite was already low. It was just that, until he saw Katsuki well and uninjured with his own eyes, he could barely even stomach the idea of food.
“Shit,” Kirishima said, closing the room’s door and taking the chair he’d been hovering over.
“What is it?” The other man’s defeated posture was making Izuku nervous.
“Kats isn’t coming.”
“Today? You mean he isn’t coming today, right? He’ll come eventually?”
“No, Midoriya. Katsuki isn’t coming. He’s—ugh, fuck.” Kirishima wiped a hand across his face. “You have to believe me—I didn’t know that you two had been dating—”
It’s new, Izuku wanted to say. After nearly twenty years of tumultuous off-and-on friendship and a rocky path to becoming a formal hero duo team, Izuku had finally confessed his feelings to Katsuki only a few months earlier. He hadn’t even told his mother or All Might yet, though Todoroki, Uraraka, and Iida knew. Izuku was slightly put out that Katsuki apparently hadn’t also told his own friends, but then again Katsuki had always held his inner feelings close.
“Kirishima?”
The other man wouldn’t look at Izuku, instead staring down at his own hands. “It was a few days after you were shot—right after the doctors determined you’d lost your quirk, apparently.” Kirishima took a deep breath. “Katsuki came over. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t quite drunk. Was just going off on how angry he was at you, how fucked up the whole situation was. And then—shit. He kissed me. And I—I didn’t know you were together, Midoriya, you have to believe me. I would never—fuck, I would never have kissed him back if I’d known. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Izuku was silent. What was he supposed to say to that?
“And he—he stayed the night. In my bed. We didn’t—we didn’t actually fuck or anything, but we—shit, I don’t even know anymore. And in the morning, he told me that you were together, and that now that you were quirkless he couldn’t—wouldn’t stay with you, and I just—I just—” Kirishima chuckled unhappily “—well, I broke his fucking nose, told him I never wanted to see his face again, and kicked him out. Katsuki is my—was my best friend, and it feels like I never even knew him.”
“So you’re here because you feel guilty?” Izuku asked dully. “Is taking care of the injured quirkless chump supposed to be a penance?”
“I’m here because you’re my friend, Midoriya.” Kirishima looked up with a hurt fire in his eyes. “I’m here because you’re one of the absolute best heroes—hell, the best people that I know. You deserve to have someone here.”
Embarrassingly, Izuku felt his lower lip start to quiver. “Then why wasn’t I enough for Kacchan?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” Kirishima said gently and honestly. “I don’t think it was you, though.”
Hesitantly, as if he were unsure how the physical gesture of comfort would be received, Kirishima reached out and patted Izuku’s hand, mindful of the IV placement. Izuku flipped his own hand over and grasped onto Kirishima’s like a lifeline, like that single point of physical contact was the only thing holding him together right in that moment.
And maybe it was.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on,” Izuku said bluntly. In one small bang of a gun, Izuku had gone from a super-powered half of a hero duo with his childhood friend and romantic partner, to… what was he now? He couldn’t—wouldn’t work with Katsuki anymore, that was for sure. Could he even still be a hero?
“You’ll figure it out,” Kirishima said earnestly. “If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you.”
Izuku wanted to say, I don’t know if that’s true. He wanted to say, I don’t think I can.
Izuku just hummed noncommittally instead. As he predicted, asking Kirishima to pass him something to eat was enough to change the topic.
Izuku had come back from PT to find a stack of paperwork waiting on the side table in his hospital room. He was already cranky from the stretches he’d been put through as they worked on restoring his shoulder’s range of motion. So returning to the room to see those forms—non-disclosure agreement, dissolution of professional partnership, sale of office and assets, no-contact request—was enough to push Izuku over the edge.
Which is why Kirishima found him curled in a ball on the floor of the room’s small attached bathroom thirty minutes later, eyes red and stinging.
With infinite patience, Kirishima used a wet washcloth to wipe Izuku’s face off, the cool water soothing the inflammation around Izuku’s eyes. He helped Izuku stand—stiffly, after PT and sitting on the tile floor—and helped him back to bed. Then Kirishima took the chair next to the bed and, after a nod from Izuku confirming it was alright, poked through the papers on the side table.
Kirishima then sat back with a low whistle. “So he’s closing the agency and going solo.”
“Looks like it.”
“I give it three months.”
Izuku furrowed his brow and looked over at Kirishima. “What do you mean? I might not want to be anywhere near him right now—” hate him love him hate him “—but he’s still one of the best heroes out there. He was ranked in the top five of our graduating class.”
“Yeah, but c’mon,” Kirishima said, gesturing at Izuku.
“I… don’t get it?”
“His popularity ranking was always as part of a hero duo. And it was mostly due to you. Katsuki is…” Kirishima shrugged. “He’s an acquired taste, and honestly in one-on-one situations he doesn’t come across great. There definitely aren’t going to be other heroes lining up around the block clamoring to work with him.”
“Yeah, well. There aren’t going to be heroes clamoring to work with Deku either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. I’m quirkless. Even if I still want to be a hero after I get the all-clear from PT, I’m agency-less now. And who’s going to want to work with a quirkless Deku who couldn’t even get his partner to stick around?”
“There are plenty. I would, for one. Fat Gum, for another.”
“Fat Gum?” Fat Gum was Kirishima’s old mentor from his work study days. Kirishima had ended up debuting at Fourth Kind’s agency alongside Tsetsutsetsu, but he’d apparently stayed in contact with Fat Gum.
“Ah right,” Kirishima said, slapping himself on the forehead. He reached into a coat pocket and fished out an envelope. “Letter from the big man himself.”
“What does it say?” Izuku asked, accepting the envelope and looking at it, his name printed in a precise script on the front.
Kirishima shrugged. “I didn’t open it, and Fat Gum didn’t say. Just asked if I was still in touch with you, and when I mentioned that I was actually going to come see you today, he gave me this.”
“Huh.” Izuku broke the seal and opened the letter. Then he drew in a short breath. “Does Fat Gum know I got hit with one of the quirk-negating bullets?”
“Yeah, I mentioned it to him, but I don’t think he’s one to spread gossip around if that’s what you’re worried about. Why, what did he say?”
“He’s inviting me to be a sidekick at his agency.”
“What? Oh that would be super manly! Suneater is a sidekick there too, you remember Amajiki, right? He’s totally awesome, you would get along so well!”
“Is this your doing?”
“Nope, though I totally wish I’d thought of it. I would’ve asked Fourth Kind—it would be sweet to work with you.”
“Really? Even though I’m quirkless?”
“Midoriya, I’m pretty sure you could still kick my ass quirkless and with one hand tied behind your back.” Kirishima laughed out loud.
“Oh.” Izuku looked down at the letter in his hand. He was going to do it—the offer was great, and from everything Kirishima had ever told him, Fat Gum had been a great hero to work under. “You’re a good friend, Kirishima.”
Kirishima turned as red as his hair but smiled wide, sharp teeth shining white and happy. “You’re a good friend too, Midoriya.”
Izuku flushed but returned the smile. “Maybe you should call me Izuku?”
“You got it, Izu-bro! And you should use my first name too!”
“Okay, Eijiro.” Izuku smiled again, before looking back down at the letter in his hand.
When he’d first been shot, and then learned of Katsuki’s betrayal, part of Izuku thought he would never be able to smile again. Thought he’d never find a reason. But Kirishima’s persistence had paid off. Eijiro’s persistence had paid off. Now, armed with a new friend, a new job offer, and a new outlook—things didn’t seem quite so bleak for Izuku anymore.