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Bakugo Katsuki died exactly one hour, 47 minutes and 16 seconds ago in the Final War against the Paranormal Liberation Front and All For One.
Midoriya Izuku arrived at the battle field exactly one hour, 45 minutes and 16 seconds ago. Exactly two minutes too late. Perhaps, if he’d arrived earlier, he’d have witnessed the way Katsuki fell limply to the ground. The way his arm contorted inhumanely to his side. The way he took his last breath saying Izuku’s name, right before his heart stopped. Maybe, if he had never got so caught up across the ocean, he may have been able to stop this altogether.
“You don’t have to do this.” Best Jeanist warned Edgeshot, glancing at the fight between Izuku and the amalgamation of All For One and Shigaraki Tomura behind them. Maybe, there was a third in that body, a small boy named Shimura Tenko, destined to fly before he fell too low.
Edgeshot shook his head, ready to use the last of his quirk and himself to revive Katsuki. “You said he’s a good kid. The next generation of heroes is already here, Tsunagu. It’s time for us to retire.”
“This isn’t retirement. It’s death.” Best Jeanist cursed, grabbing onto the back of Edgeshot’s jacket.
“When it comes to heroes, there isn’t much difference, is there?” Edgeshot grinned, and suddenly, he was no longer there.
Katsuki gasped for air, his bloody hand clutching the now-stitched area where his heart was destroyed mere moments ago. “Shit—“ He cursed, wincing as he looked around him. He made eye contact with Best Jeanist, who was staring at him with bloodshot eyes. Although, Katsuki wasn’t sure if they were for him or someone else. “What happened?” He croaked, cursing under his breath as his throat burned.
“You were revived by Edgeshot.” Katsuki raised a brow. Revived? Of course. He had to have help to survive. He almost scoffed at the thought of him—Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, the future number one hero—needing help to survive?
There was a loud noise behind Jeanist, and Katsuki held his arms over his face to protect himself from the rubble of the battlefield, as Jeanist tried to cover him with his own body.
Katsuki almost said something snarky about not needing Jeanist’s help, but as the dust cleared, he froze in place, his eyes turning to saucers as he viewed the image in front of him.
Izuku was on the ground, slipping, trying to get up, not yet noticing the reason he couldn’t get up was because his arms had been reduced to stumps, and the liquid he was slipping in was his own blood.
He could’ve vomited, really. Katsuki would’ve believed this all wasn’t a dream, that he hadn’t just been revived from the dead like some stupid Disney movie, if he could just feel pain in that one moment. He couldn’t. The pain from his heart, his chest, his bleeding wounds had all numbed when he saw the damage done to Izuku. He tried to say something but the words seemed lodged in his throat, refusing to move, stubborn as he was when he sacrificed himself for the dying boy in front of him.
Because what really was the cause for all of this? The reason for everything he had done. Everything he had done, everything he was doing, everything he would do in the future—what was the reason? They all knew they would die in this war if it meant to win. There were no losers in these wars, only survivors that slipped out of the battle before it really began. Katsuki had already died, and now it was as if Death was passing himself onto another, after his failed attempt on Katsuki. His new target was Izuku, and there was nobody left around to revive him after Edgeshot’s stupid sacrifice.
Katsuki could call his sacrifice stupid, too, as it hadn’t really done anything, after all. He was alive now, and Izuku was dying and he wasn’t doing anything because his legs wouldn’t move, even though usually they moved on his own and he could actually help him. Like before, in the sky, or before when he had run into danger, or like before when he had brought Izuku to Ground Beta and almost killed him.
No, Katsuki couldn’t move, because this was the universe’s sick try at making him realise how stupid he was, how stupid he had always been, how stupid he always would be because nobody cared and everyone cared all at once, but it didn’t matter to Katsuki because he’d keep anyone at arm’s length, even the boy he’d just died for, and the boy he would kill for.
“Bakugo, stay back.” Not like he could do much else. Katsuki would’ve rolled his eyes if he could move at all.
Izuku may have been too late to save Katsuki, but Katsuki had always been there to save Izuku. He felt like hitting himself, scolding himself for not being revived sooner, because this was his fault—everything had been his fault, and it always would be.
Everyone had cared about him, even Izuku had, but he’d been too late to realise it and care about them too, just as he’d been too late to help Izuku, just as Izuku had been too late to stop him from being so stupid.
Katsuki’s leg twitched, and it was in that moment he knew he could move. He knew he could stop this, help Izuku, stop everything from happening as it currently was, but he didn’t. His head got heavy, his eyelids drooped, and he almost passed out before a loud yell could be heard from across the field.
“Midoriya!” Sero yelled, using his tape to fly through the chaos. “Need some saving?”
“Idiots.” Katsuki muttered, as the horizon dimmed with the shadows of his classmates. He grunted as he pulled himself up, ignoring Jeanist’s hurried yells. He could fight—of course he could fight. There were no beggars or choosers in wars, only soldiers, and they had to fight for no other reason than that the only other option was to fall.
Katsuki really couldn’t understand what was happening through his hazy vision, the aftereffects of his sudden death. His mind was still catching up with his body when he realised Izuku’s arms were back, Eri’s horn was gone and the final blow was about to be dealt.
Once again ignoring Jeanist’s protests, Katsuki jumped forward, using the last embers of his quirk to propel him through the air, and shoved Izuku with the palm of his hand, using the last of his energy to say in the boy’s ear, “Didn’t think I’d hand you all the glory, did you?”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Izuku’s face, that Katsuki could see, until he fell through the air, unconscious yet again, into one of his injured classmates’ arms.
—
Katsuki hated hospitals. He always had, from the moment he went to get his weird-tasting pills due to a cold when he was younger to when he became injured over and over again in training exercises. This time, it wasn’t just an injury.
The doctors and nurses told him about his surgeries. How his arm would never properly work again, at least not as well as it used to, and how he’d had to go through years of rehabilitation to recover it substantially. They also told him about how he had an emergency heart transplant, which luckily didn’t take too long to get once Edgeshot reached the end of his temporary service as Katsuki’s heart.
Izuku also told Katsuki a lot of things. About how he lost his quirk—how he was quirkless once again. About how he now had a stupid haircut and scars that destroyed most of his freckles on the left side of his face. That annoyed Katsuki. He liked Izuku’s freckles. Only to tease him about them, of course.
“You have nine now. You used to have fourteen.” Katsuki had muttered, examining the damaged side of Izuku’s face.
“Keeping count, are we?” Katsuki scoffed at the idea, and soon had to leave for another examination.
Now, he sat next to Izuku’s bed, waiting for the boy to wake up. He was full of meds, as they all were, keeping him so high he wouldn’t realise the amount of pain he was in. Izuku woke up with a start when he did finally reconnect with the world, and Katsuki lightly tapped his arm to let him know he was there.
“Oh.” Izuku breathed, half out of relief, half out of surprise. “You’re alive.”
“Unfortuntately.” Katsuki leaned his head on his good hand, his elbow balanced on his knee. “Dream?”
Izuku made a noncommittal noise, then stared down at his hands. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“Eugh. Stop moping.” Katsuki said, as Izuku turned to look at him. “High people are supposed to be happy, not annoying.”
“I’m always happy.” Izuku protested. Katsuki raised his eyebrows. “I am! You’re the grumpy one!”
“I am not grumpy! I’m realistic.”
“That’s just an excuse.”
“Fuck off.”
“You first.”
“Eat shit.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Bitch.”
“That’s mean.”
“I’m not mean.”
“No, you’re realistic.”
“Oh, finally you—“
“Kacchan?” Katsuki stilled at the familiar nickname, then nodded once. “How do you deal with it?”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “With what?”
“Placing the blame on yourself for what’s happened.” Izuku stared at Katsuki, right in the eyes, and Katsuki felt like he was swimming, on the cusp of drowning.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me when you work it out.”
“Wow, great help. I’m so glad I—“
“Izuku, I sacrificed myself for a reason.” The boy in question froze, eyes wider than usual—if that was even possible. “I tried to win so you didn’t have to try so hard, I really did. It’s nobody’s fault but mine that I did what I did. I mean, if I hadn’t done that, then I could’ve helped you—“
“Now you’re switching it.” Katsuki opened his mouth to protest, but Izuku continued. “You’re acting like it’s your fault that I lost—“
“I don’t need the details again.”
“—my arms. And even my quirk. You were blaming yourself for that while I was blaming myself for you dying, when actually it was our own faults—“
“It wasn’t your damn fault for anything.” Katsuki snapped, but Izuku just shook his head.
“It wasn’t your fault. But, if it wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t my fault then it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the people who threw us into this war ourselves and expected us to fight back against an evil they couldn’t fight themselves. I mean…how old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Katsuki muttered. “And a half. The half is important.”
“I turned seventeen two days ago.” Izuku said, looking anywhere but at the boy who was currently looking at him with nothing but guilt. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking that if you had defeated Shigaraki and died, I would’ve been able to celebrate my birthday.”
“You would’ve.”
“No. It’s not a celebration if it's without you.” Katsuki paused. This was usually the moment he left, when Izuku said something that proved he cared more than Katsuki had ever expected. His legs flexed, as if he was about to leave, but then he stayed. “What? Not leaving like you always do?”
“No.” Katsuki said, teeth gritted. “I’m not leaving anymore. I’m gonna stay right damn here for the rest of your life, Izuku, whether you like it or not.”
Izuku asked, even though he already knew his answer, “Why?”
“So we can spend every birthday together and don’t blame ourselves for pointless shit we can’t control. I’m staying right here and if my heart stops again, you’re gonna have to bring it back yourself, and if you pull any stupid shit again, I’m bringing you right back myself.”
“Bet.”
“Bet, moron.”