Archive of Our Own ^beta

October 31st. Jirou’s favourite holiday. While it wasn’t exactly celebrated in Japan, her parents had always been really into American culture, so it had become customary in her home growing up that they would celebrate Halloween together. When she was really little, they would all get dressed up in costumes, her parents would make a spread of junk food she liked and wasn’t allowed to have often, and they would cuddle in front of the TV, watching scary movies for kids. As Jirou got a little older, that tradition changed with her. By the time she was fourteen, her parents had started throwing Halloween parties, she could invite any of her friends, and they would invite their own. The only stipulation being that everyone had to come committed to their costumes. 

Once she turned ten, she even came up with a tradition of her own; Jirou and her primary school best friend would go to whatever haunted house would be set up at the local carnival. They were always cheesy and always trying too hard to actually be scary, but she loved it. From decorating their home to getting dressed up together to cleaning up after. She loved all of it. It was her favourite day of the year, and she looked forward to it every single year. 

Until this year, that is. This year, on the morning of October 31st, Jirou had woken up with an unbearable tightness in her chest. She reached over and grabbed her weighted blanket, covering herself with it immediately. Jirou began to count out loud, backwards for one hundred, forcing the numbers out of her mouth until finally, mercifully, her breathing began to even out. She sat up with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. 

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

Of course, she had ptsd. She wasn’t even surprised when the psychiatrist diagnosed it, hell, she probably shared that diagnosis with everyone in her class. It had only been six months since everything happened. Since they had all undergone the kind of trauma most people would never even brush past, and had all been changed irrevocably. Jirou’s hand travelled up, almost unconsciously, to brush against her the harsh cut off where her left ear was mostly torn off. She shivered when her fingers met the rough skin the doctors had grated over the wound. In the moment, despite the agonising pain she had been in, she was carried through it purely on adrenaline and a desperate need to help her friends. 

Only once everything was over and the dust had settled, that it really sank in. The first time she woke up in the sterile hospital room after surgery, she immediately knew something was wrong. Jirou felt off balance, like her right side was heavier than her left. It only took a few minutes for all the painful memories of AFO ripping her ear off to come rushing back. Those first few months before her prosthetic was ready were torture; if she was being honest, it hadn’t gotten much better after she got the prosthetic either. 

Her eyes drifted over to the attachment, sitting in its box on her desk. Jirou hated it. She knew that she should be grateful that they were able to figure out a way for her to use her quirk so quickly. She also knew that there were people who had lost things much more permanent, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had lost a part of herself; it felt like she had lost a limb along with her ability to hear properly. Her ear jacks were like extensions of hands as much as they were part of her ears, and now, without one, she was tilted in one way. Jirou wasn’t sure if she could ever stand up straight again. 

She dragged herself out of bed, leaving the prosthetic on the table as she grabbed her toiletries and headed out to the washrooms. On the way out of her room, a bright orange marking on the calendar she hung by the door caught her attention, and Jirou felt that tightness in her chest again. 

Halloween. She had been dreading it. 

Jirou wasn’t someone who got scared easily; she was made of tougher stuff, and she had long since gotten desensitised to horror. No, the reason why her stomach was twisting into knots and the back of her neck had broken out in a cold sweat wasn’t the prospect of ghouls or ghosts. It was the idea of her own traditions. The very thought of being stuck in the cramped halls of a haunted house, being jumpscared and startled, having things touch her, and not being able to hear it coming. It had been keeping her up all month. She knew, logically, that she didn’t have to go. No one was forcing her to do it; she had long since lost touch with the friend she used to do this with, but it felt like she was failing herself. Like she had gotten weaker after the war, while everyone else pushed forward, and that’s what really caused her anxiety to spike. 

She swallowed hard and tore the page for October out of the calendar, crushing it in her hand and tossing it in the garbage before walking out to the washroom. It was just a dumb tradition. It didn’t mean anything, and Jirou would be fine. She would deal with it. She always dealt with it. 

-

It was nearly four in the evening when Katsuki finally returned to the dorms. Stupid Kirishima and stupider Kaminari had dragged him to some horror movie they swore up and down would be scary. So Katsuki found himself spending two hours wedged between the worst two people to go to the movies with, forced to listen to all the commentary they thought was being whispered as a group of idiots got slaughtered on screen. He couldn’t even enjoy the mindless violence like he had hoped to, considering the killer was a moron, so were the victims and especially the cops. By the time he had stomped away from the theatre, overstimulated and nails dug into his palm to stop from exploding at his friends, he was wound tighter than Iida during parent-teacher week. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t fuming anymore when he walked through the door. The walk in the cool autumn air relaxing him considerably, though he was still muttering about murdering his friends. He stumbled upon Kyouka while planning a particularly grisly way to sew their mouths shut. She was sitting at the dining table, despondently swirling a cup of tea that had long since cooled. 

“Oi, what's wrong with you?” Katsuki demanded and sat down next to her with a huff. 

“Nothing,” she sighed in response without even sparing him a look.

“Don’t give me that shit,” He kicked her shin lightly as he spoke, repeating the irritating gesture until she finally looked up at him. A self-satisfied grin spread across his face at the sight of her pursed lips and scowl. 

“You’re so fucking irritating,” Kyouka sneered, taking a sip of the tea and immediately grimacing. 

Katsuki laughed, “That’s what happens when you sit around moping instead of drinking your tea,” he told her and took the mug away, “Now, what’s wrong, Ears?”

Jirou watched as he pushed the mug away before sighing and pressing her forehead against the table, “It’s stupid,” she muttered. 

“Then I’ll make fun of you for it later,” He said, flicking the top of her head. “Tell me.”

“You’re such a bad best friend,” Kyouka added, lifting her head just enough to glare at him. 

“Well, I’m the one you got, so spill.”

She groaned again. Kyouka knew he wouldn’t let this go, and the more Katsuki got fixated on something, the more annoying he got. She didn’t think she could deal with being on the receiving end of his pestering today, so she sat up and folded her hands on the table. “It’s Halloween.”

“Right…?”

“I usually go to a haunted house on Halloween,” Kyouka continued, watching her fingers instead of his face. She knew, logically, that Katsuki wouldn’t tease her about something she obviously cared about, but anxiety had never been a logical mistress. “I didn’t go today.”

“Why?” Katsuki asked, resting his chin on his propped-up elbow. 

She chewed on her lip until it turned raw under her teeth, trying to work up the confidence to tell the most stubbornly brave person she knew that she was scared. That she, Kyouka Jirou, was scared of a stupid haunted house, and it was making her sad. She took a deep breath and continued, “I’m scared… it’s just that-”

Katsuki stood up as Kyouka was talking and put his jacket back on, making her furrow her eyebrows at him in confusion. 

“Well, come on,” He told her, rolling his eyes when her eyebrows just knitted together even closer. “Let’s go to your dumbass haunted house. Can’t have you moping around all day, and it’s probably better I’m not here when Dumb and Dumber get home.” Katsuki knew he was making excuses; he also knew that he didn’t need to pretend like he was above this whole friendship thing anymore. Still, old habits die hard. He’s trying. 

Kyouka’s eyes went wide at the unexpected offer. She stood up quickly, grabbing her mug to rinse out. “I’ll go change. Will you actually go with me?!” She asked, affection twinkling in her eyes as she looked up at him. Curse this god forsaken height difference, Kyouka shook her head. Not the time to focus on his unfair height advantage. 

“I already said yes, now go change,” He snapped, though there was no venom in his voice. He could barely summon it when he was actually mad at her nowadays, much less when she looked up at him with those bright, shining eyes. Stupid girl. He grabbed the mug out of her hand and pushed her out of the kitchen, “Ten minutes, Kyouka. I’m serious.” 

She nodded enthusiastically and ran up the stairs, her earlier bad mood chased away at the promise of a day out with her best friend. Exactly ten minutes later she returned, changed and fresh faced. “Stop scowling, you suggested this,” she told him as she pulled her shoes on.

“Whatever,” Katsuki replied, rolling his eyes even as he held the door open for her. “So where are we going?” he asked as they walked to the bus stop outside UA.

“Funny story,” Jirou started, a wary smile on her face, “I actually didn’t do any research this year, so I’m not totally sure where the good ones are.” She ducked out of the way when he reached out to flick her again and held her hands up in defence. “ But I do know where they usually are, so we can just walk around and we’ll probably run into one!” 

Katsuki glared at her, folding his arms over his chest. He considered her suggestion. Usually, walking around aimlessly with someone all evening would have been his personal hell on earth. She was different, though. Ever since their team-up mission in first year, Kyouka had been different. He enjoyed being around her. It was easy in a way he’s only ever felt around Izuku, and now that the nerd was acting distant and weird, she was the only one who didn’t make him feel crazy. He sighed, long and dramatic, to really drive home the point that he was doing this against his will. They both knew the truth. “Fine, lead the way, then, dumbass.”

-

An hour later, the pair were still wandering. They had indeed come upon a few haunted houses already, but they were either incredibly corny or overpriced, and both Katsuki and Kyouka agreed that they wanted to get a real, good scare if they were going to spend their money anyway. That was how they found themselves at the beachside, a cup of Dango in Katsuki’s hand as Kyouka walked up on the promenade. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think we’re gonna find a haunted house, man,” Katsuki told her, holding up the cup so she could take one of the sticks. 

“First of all,” Jirou mumbled around a mouthful of Dango, “You love being the bearer of bad news. I’ve seen the way your face lights up when someone groans. And second, have faith! The beach is plenty haunted, maybe we’ll find an actually haunted one.” Jirou suggested, wiggling her eyebrows at him. 

“We’ll find a real haunted house when Denki gets laid,” Katsuki grumbled, rolling his eyes up to high heaven. 

“That’s so mean, Katsuki!” Kyouka exclaimed, though her indignation was undercut by the snorting sound of her laughter. Loud and uninhibited, the kind of laugh she only ever felt comfortable doing around her family. Katsuki managed to pull it out of her, as did Mina and Momo, sometimes Kaminari managed it too, and she liked it that way. She liked that there were parts of her that she got to keep close, which made her feel like there were more layers to her than she believed. 

“Speaking of Denki getting laid,” he continued, biting off the last skewer and crushing the cup in his hand. Katsuki raised his eyebrows at her, clearly expecting an answer. 

“Ugh, no,” Kyouka groaned and hopped off the promenade to walk beside him on the pavement, “like don’t get me wrong, he’s my friend and I love him and all that, but I just wish he’d stop hitting on me all the time, you know? I’m just not in a place for anything like that, and it’s like, after everything that happened, he’s gotten even more needy.”

“Mmm,” Katsuki was quiet for a bit before turning his head to look at her. Kyouka’s fingers were wrapped around her ear jack, the right one. The only one she had left. It was a nervous habit he had witnessed too many times to count; she would twist the jack round and round her fingers only to release it and do it all over again. “You should tell him. Straight up, even if it hurts him.” 

Kyouka was quiet. She knew he was right, knew that the only decent thing to do was speak to Kaminari openly, but the thought of his face all contorted into tears and hurt made her stomach ache. Kaminari’s crush on her was something that hadn’t changed after the war, when everything and everyone around her felt alien; his feelings were always there. A reliable crutch or something soft to fall back on, but she knew she was being cruel. Entertaining him without having any plan to actually accept him. She groaned and dragged her hands down her face, grateful she hadn’t worn makeup. 

“How about Midoriya?” Kyouka asked.

“What about Izuku?” Katsuki asked right back, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in topics. 

“Have you guys talked since you finished rehab?”

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly, and Kyouka wished she hadn’t asked. Katsuki was usually such a force of nature; he walked into every room like he owned it. When he spoke, people listened, and he took every step like he knew exactly who he was and wasn’t going to change that for anyone. It was as terrifying as it was inspiring, which was exactly why seeing him shut down this way was especially heartbreaking. 

It wasn’t like this in the beginning. When she used to ask him about Midoriya, back when Katsuki and Kyouka were learning how to use their hearing aids together, he would smile brightly, all gums and teeth and talk a mile a minute about whatever they were doing in rehab. Or he would smirk and brag about beating Midoriya in some exercise or the other, and sometimes, if she was lucky enough to catch him on a quiet day, he would speak softly. He would smile, more with his eyes than his lips, and he would tell her in a quiet voice that she hadn’t realised could come out of his mouth about something Midoriya said that day. In those days, it only made her respect Katsuki all the more. He had made such leaps and bounds since only a few months ago, and all of it had been because of his own effort. No one grabbed him by the scruff and forced him to change or threatened him into correcting his behaviours. He had made the realisations on his own and changed his behaviour without giving up on who he was. 

Now… now she tried not to ask about Midoriya, mainly because that sad, resigned look that would crawl onto his face broke her heart. She didn’t know what was wrong. She wasn’t close enough to Midoriya or anyone he was close to that she could just walk up and ask, and it seemed like Katsuki didn’t even know. They had finished the first round of rehab a month ago, and suddenly, Katsuki was shut out. Midoriya would talk to him in short, clipped sentences. He would leave early, so they didn’t have to walk home together. Kyouka tried to tell him that he was being that way with everyone, that she couldn’t even remember the last time he had lunch with Todoroki, Iida and Ochako, but that didn’t matter to Katsuki. 

To Katsuki, they were something special. Their bond was something that had been tested over and over, often by Katsuki himself, and had survived anyway. So to be shut out with no warning and no explanation when they had promised to be there for each other? It left him listless. Sometimes he wondered if this was just the penance he had to pay. Was Izuku regretting accepting his apology? Now that they didn’t have the looming threat of the war ahead of them, did he realise that he actually did not want to be friends again? And sometimes those thoughts would spiral further and convince him he deserved this. That he had treated Izuku in such an unthinkable way, he did not deserve to be so easily forgiven. 

“What’s that?” Katsuki asked, pointing at a building tucked into the far end of the path.

Kyouka pursed her lips, wanting to push further and get him to talk about what it was that troubled him, but she held back. She wasn’t sure if she was even equipped to give him advice about Midoriya. Their relationship was so complicated and intense that it made her uncomfortable sometimes. So she kept quiet and followed his finger, her eyes landing on a thin four-story building that, from this distance, looked like it was painted entirely black.

“I don’t know,” she murmured before grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward, “let’s find out.” If she couldn’t fix his problems for him, at least she could distract him. Help him have some fun when she could. 

Katsuki stumbled a few steps before getting his footing again and catching up to her. He loved running. At stop speed, feeling the wind cut against his face and freeze his nose. He used to run all the time. Before working out, when he was stressed, when he just needed to think, but he had been told to take the exercise slow and steady, what with his heart the way it was. He had been told to be careful of a great many things he enjoyed, spicy food, running, red meat, working out with weights or machines and worst of all, using his quirk. Katsuki hated being without his quirk. It had been his closest companion for as long as he could remember, and he had worked himself to death to perfect it. But it had all been flipped around in one day. For so long, everyone around him would ask to see it, ask him to set off an explosion, show them how he flew, but suddenly, the law was that using his quirk for anything other than a short burst could damage his heart further; it could kill him. He scowled. What was the point of being alive if everything that made him feel good was off limits? Katsuki pushed harder, his breathing short and lungs ice cold from the ocean breeze. 

He came to a skidding halt at the building, nearly slamming into the wall before catching himself on his good shoulder. He turned around to see Jirou run up a few seconds after him. 

“You got faster,” Katsuki observed. 

Kyouka beamed at the compliment before bending in half to place her hands on her knees and take great, heaving breaths. When she was finally upright again, she spoke, “Been training with Tsuyu, she’s crazy fast.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki agreed, an image of her leaping across the classroom flashing in his head. “Creepy too.”

“Asshole,” Kyouka reprimanded, punching his arm. “So what is this?” She asked, turning to face the building. 

“Doesn’t seem to be anyone here,” he mumbled, walking past her to what seemed to be a ticket booth at the base of the steps leading up to the door. “Uh… says we need to put a hundred yen in.”

“What?” She exclaimed, jogging over to double-check. “That’s so cheap, what the hell?” 

Katsuki shrugged and turned to look at her, fishing out two coins from his pocket. He held them between three fingers like he was going to perform a magic trick, “Wanna do it?” 

Kyouka pursed her lips again and looked between the building and the coins in his hand. This reeked of trouble. Every survival instinct she had, both born of paranoia and just plain good sense, warned her against it. She looked at Katsuki and saw her hesitation reflected in his eyes, “Fuck it.” She grabbed the coins from Katsuki and popped them into the slit at the ticket counter before they could change their minds. 

There was a small tick and a whirring sound, and two tickets slipped out from a different opening. Kyouka pulled the tickets out and held them up for him to see, an impressed look on her face.

“We’re gonna get axe murdered,” Katsuki groaned as he took one of the tickets from her. 

“Don’t worry, princess,” Kyouka teased, taking the stairs two at a time to get up onto the doorway, “I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.” She said confidently, giving him a thumbs-up. 

Katsuki shook his head, exasperation and amusement mixing into an overwhelmingly fond cocktail. He pushed her head away as he walked past her to the door, ruffling her hair a bit before pulling back. “I guess we’re doing this then.”

“Yup!” Kyouka said, coming to stand next to him. She reached out and put her hand on the knob, swallowing hard and turning her head back to look at him. “Going into a random house only populated by a ghost ticket machine that neither of us has ever seen at the beach.”

“Fuck, just open it before I lose my nerve.” 

The door creaked open, echoing somehow and they shared a nervous laugh as they walk in. It slammed shut as soon as Katsuki’s back leg crossed the threshold, and they were submerged in darkness. 

“Katsuki…” Kyouka trailed off, reaching to feel around blindly for him. 

“I’m here,” Came his response from the empty space to her left.

Before either of them could move any further, the lights came on with a loud whirring noise and illuminated a hallway, decorated with cheap plastic decorations. A fake gravestone in the corner, rubber spiders and snakes on the wall. A wall decal sticker of dripping blood, black streamers, and even a little hanging skeleton tucked into the corner at the end of the hallway. 

“This looks dumb,” Kyouka frowned as her initial fear dissipated. 

“Well,” Katsuki shrugged, “you get what you paid for, I guess. Come on, let’s just do it for the sake of finishing your ritual.”

Kyouka smiled as she followed him, hands tucked into her pockets. She was grateful for him, more than she could ever properly express. Grateful that Katsuki seemed to care about things she never expected anyone to care about, grateful that he never treated her like she was fragile or weak despite her size and more than anything, grateful that his care and kindness were a quiet sort. He never made a big deal of trying to cheer her up or doing things like this. It would happen quietly and naturally amidst the chaos of their usual relationship, and it was something she relied on. 

“I mean, they could have at least used corn syrup,” Katsuki grumbled, taking a dead stop once they turned a corner and came upon a room that Kyouka guessed was meant to look like it was bleeding. But the effect was entirely ruined by the cheap, peeling decal stickers haphazardly stuck on the walls. 

She shook her head and pulled him along, “We could’ve made a scarier haunted house at the dorms.

Katsuki snorted, falling into step with her once more. “Damn right we could.”

They went on like that for a while longer, trading jabs and comments, turning corners as they moved deeper and deeper inside the house. It wasn’t until the walls started to get bare that either of them realised they hadn’t made a turn in quite some time. 

“Katsuki…” Kyouka trailed off, stopping to turn back. The corridor stretched endlessly behind her until it faded into a darkness she couldn’t see into. “Katsuki, this is weird.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

When Kyouka turned back, he was banging the side of his phone against his palm and scowling down at it. “What happened?” She asked, jogging up to him.

“The things fucking dead,” He grumbled and put it back in his pocket. “Check yours.” 

Kyouka nodded and pulled her own phone out of her jacket pocket—the same outcome. It was just a brick now, an expensive, useless brick. “What the hell’s going on, man?” She asked, putting it away. 

“I don’t know,” Katsuki muttered distractedly as he looked around. He walked up to the walls and tapped them, starting from his eye level down to his feet in different spots. “It’s solid,” He told her, turning back. His scowl was deeper, all the carefree playfulness gone from his face, replaced by a steely determination and irritation at being caught off guard. “Kyouka, stay on my left.”

“Huh?” Kyouka asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“I can only use my left hand, dumbass, so if anything comes at us, I can protect you,” He answered impatiently, fingers tapping against his thigh, betraying his own anxiety.

“You don’t need to-”

“You’re not equipped for combat right now, and you haven’t gotten used to your prosthetic yet. I’m not trying to be a dick, Kyouka. Just stay on my left.” Katsuki grit his teeth and took a breath before adding, “Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

Kyouka opened her mouth as if to argue, but the look in Katsuki’s eyes gave her pause. There was a new intensity to it; there was also fear. She could see it in the way his eyes kept darting from her face to the corridor ahead, how he shifted his weight from one foot to another. She nodded and pushed the ugly insecurities that bubbled up inside her down. Inferiority, bitterness, anger. Even with only one working hand, Katsuki was still obviously stronger than her. Obviously, he would be the one to protect her, to get them out of here. She walked over to his left side and walked a step behind. Her gaze drifted between his left hand, poised to strike if necessary, to the tension in his shoulders, to the looming corridor ahead of them. He wouldn’t have to do this if she were Uraraka or Yaomomo. They could hold their own against any villains and had proven it time and time again. She had gotten her ear ripped off and barely done her part to completion, even after being supported by the others. She tasted it in the back of her throat, the nasty, sourness of resentment. 

Resentful that they were better than her, that even when she tried her hardest, she wasn’t good enough. That she would never be good enough. Kyouka scowled, discreetly pinching herself once she realised the path her thoughts had gone down. This wasn’t the time to spiral about her issues and insecurities. She shook her head and took some long, deep breaths and closed the gap, walking beside him instead of behind now. 

“Kyo–”

“I won’t be reckless,” Kyouka cut him off, reaching out to squeeze his hand,

Katsuki looked like he wanted to argue, and if she could read his mind, she would hear the hundreds of arguments he’d already come up with. Instead, he sighed and nodded, putting his hand down. Stubborn friends were going to be the death of him… again. 

They continued down the corridor, eyes peeled for any sign of who was messing with them. It had to be a quirk. Someone had set a trap, and they had walked right into it. The only thing they needed to figure out was whether the trap was set for them or just for any unsuspecting mark looking for a cheap thrill. The walls began to shift the longer they walked, getting brighter until it was a pale shade of red. Kyouka turned back once more, only to see more of the empty darkness. Was it closing in? Following them? It certainly did feel like it was closer, as though if she reached out and touched it, she could sink into the warm embrace of nothingness. 

“Focus,” Katsuki snapped, tapping her side while his eyes remained on the walls. “It’s changing. Do you know how long we’ve been walking for?” He asked, scowling at his watch when he realised that it had stopped working too. “Feels like forever and there’s no way we’re still inside that tiny house.”

“Well, obviously not, Sherlock,” Kyouka retorted, rolling her eyes. “Katsuki, maybe we should stop walking? Just stay put for a while, see what happens.” 

“No fucking shot,” he replied immediately, “I am not sitting and waiting for rescue. If someone is fucking with us, we’re going to find them and punch them right in the nose, now come on.” 

“Katsuki, be reasonable,” Kyouka groaned, reaching out to grab his wrist and stop him. “We’ve been walking for ages now, and nothing has changed. Still the same corridor, the same empty walls and… and it’s too quiet, man. I can’t hear anything, and I can always hear something.”

Katsuki considered her point. It wasn’t like she was wrong. They had been moving for a while now, and nothing had come out of it; maybe they needed to reevaluate their strategy. He considered the walls again. Sure, they were solid, but he’s punched his way through tougher stuff. Maybe if he could just work up a big enough explosion-

“Do you hear that?” Kyouka asked, cutting off his train of thought. 

Katsuki opened his mouth to say no, to remind her that he couldn’t hear half the things she could, but the words barely had time to form before a loud stomping echoed through the room. It reverberated from wall to wall, bouncing back and forth like a barrage of tennis balls. “What the fuck is that?” he demanded, reaching out to grab her and pull her close instinctively. “Where is it coming from, Ears?”

Kyouka shook her head, pressing a hand to her ear. It was painful; what sounded like bouncing balls to Katsuki felt like being stabbed through and suspended mid-air to her. “Let’s go,” She forced out, clutching his arm to keep from falling over. Kyouka could taste blood in her mouth as the footsteps got closer.

“Shit, alright, hold on,” Katsuki looped her hand over his shoulder and supported her waist, half dragging, half carrying her as they hurried down the corridor. 

The footsteps followed them, getting closer and urgent every time they slowed down or Katsuki even considered stopping. It was like whatever was chasing them was inside his mind. Like it could tell when he was getting tired. Katsuki was convinced that they were being pushed towards something. The footsteps had started just as he was about to agree to stop, to rest and with the way it was toying with them now. Katsuki grit his teeth together as they moved. This villain was starting to piss him off. First, it ruins their day out, then it takes their money to torture them? What kind of fucked up creep makes you pay before messing with you? Now, Kyouka looked like she was going to pass out, and Katsuki could see a faint trickle of blood leaking out of her good ear. It only served to inflame his anger further.

“Don’t pass out on me, Kyo,” Katsuki warned, squeezing her side. “Not yet, asshole, we need to get out of here first.” He looked up, hoping to find some crook or bend they might be able to hide behind. Maybe if he could wrap her jacket around her head, it might muffle some of the sound? He was getting increasingly desperate, trying to find some way to help her, when suddenly the footsteps came to a dead stop. The hallways were silent again, and Katsuki let out a breath of relief even as wariness pricked at his conscience. A small voice telling him they shouldn’t stop here, that they should keep going until they could find a way through to the end, but one look at Kyouka and he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Sit,” He ordered, softening his voice considerably until it was a low rumble. Katsuki gently lowered her to the floor, helping to prop her up against the wall before crouching in front of her. “Hey, can you hear me?” He asked, tapping on her cheek softly. 

Kyouka registered his voice distantly, and she nodded. Her mouth was beyond dry, but the stabbing feeling in her ears had already dulled to an ache. “W-what happened?” She asked, forcing her eyes open to find Katsuki’s worried face looking back at her. “Are we out?”

“I fucking wish,” he snorted, shaking his head. He reached out to twist her face this way and that, checking to make sure she wasn’t concussed. When her irises followed the movement and she pushed his hand off, he nodded, relief strengthening. “Can you walk? I think it wants us to keep moving, and I don’t wanna risk that happening again.”

Kyouka lay her head back against the wall and took a few long breaths. The pain was bearable now; she could ignore it, and at the rate it was going, she figured she would be fine soon enough. “Yeah,” Kyouka murmured, putting her hand up. “Yeah, help me up.”

Katsuki pulled her to her feet, on guard in case she was dizzy, but it seemed to be fine. The colour was returning to her face, and her ear looked okay, too. Had he imagined how bad she had gotten? It made no sense for her to look this okay this quickly when she had been deathly pale and barely conscious a few minutes ago, but he forced himself to accept the blessings as they came. If she got worse later, they could deal with that then—no need to waste time freaking out now. “Let’s keep moving,” Katsuki said finally, offering her his hand. 

Kyouka shook her head and patted his shoulder, “I’ve got it.” She took another stabilising breath and straightened her shoulders. She nodded to herself and walked forward, down the corridor again. 

Katsuki watched her go for a second, lips pressed together, before following her. His long legs ate up the short distance between them, and he was by her side once again. Katsuki’s eyes kept flitting over to Kyouka, making sure she wasn’t slipping or weakening with exertion, but she seemed to be getting stronger like the further they got from whatever had been chasing them, the better she felt. He didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust anything about this weird place and its weirder rules. Just as he was about to check in with her, she grabbed his arm.

“Look! There’s light up ahead!” Kyouka exclaimed and started pulling him towards it faster. “Maybe it’s a way out or there’s a window or something.”

Her hope was infectious, and whatever paranoia Katsuki harboured faded to the back as he followed her, picking up his pace to match. The walls changed as they got closer to the light, the pale red leaking out like ink bleeding through tissue paper. Even the floor below them was starting to lighten. The colour was draining out of everything around them, but neither noticed, too caught up in the excitement of possibly finding a way out. It wasn’t until they reached the blinding light and stepped through that it became apparent that it wasn’t a way out or a light at the end of the tunnel. It was just another room, painted white from floor to ceiling. Another level to the tricks this house was playing on them. They stumbled in, through the light and into a blank room. 

Both Katsuki and Kyouka shielded their eyes as the painfully bright light blinded them momentarily. When their sight finally settled, they realised what had happened. 

“FUCK!” Katsuki yelled, kicking the ground in frustration. 

Kyouka's eyes widened as she looked around the room. In place of the bare walls of the corridors, they were now standing amongst a menagerie of windows. Placed here and there and everywhere without any rhyme or reason, of all different sizes, some framed and others crudely carved into the wall itself. Some even had curtains or shades, all pulled open. She tried to count them, but it was a useless endeavour. Every time she got a quarter of the way through, everything seemed like it had shifted, like the windows she had just counted moved to the next portion. It was disorienting, and the more she tried, the dizzier she got. What really unsettled her, though, was that the windows were all empty. Nothing she could see beyond, just pure black. Not the kind of darkness that came with nighttime time but the empty, swirling darkness from the corridor. The room itself was circular. No doors anywhere, just more windows than she could count and the path back to the corridor. 

“Katsuki…” she trailed off, turning to look for him. He had walked a few paces away from her, his fingers trailing along the windows at hip level as he peered through them. She pursed her lips. They should stay together. Who knew what was waiting for them here and how they were supposed to deal with it? At least if they stuck together, they could keep each other safe. He’s sick of carrying you, a persistent voice spoke in her head. No… not in her head. Kyouka whipped her head around to where she thought the voice had come from and found herself staring into one of those empty windows. She leaned a little closer, examining the frame of the window before her. Nothing seemed off, well, not more than the rest of them. She was about to turn away again, about to tell Katsuki that they should stick together, when it came again. 

He’s sick of carrying you.

Kyouka paled. She had definitely heard it time, and it had definitely come from the window directly in front of her. White casing around it and a small stool with faded water stains in the shape of rings, like there used to be plants placed there. She took a step forward, fingers toying with her jack again. 

Kyouka, just stay out of the way.

It came from further into the bend of the room, a different voice now from a different window. It sounded almost like her mother. She turned to face it, her feet moving to walk in the new direction that beckoned her. Before she could reach it, though, the windows seemed to come alive all at once. Speaking in different voices she could just barely recognise, the cadence was wrong, the pitch altered like it was trying to trick her, but couldn’t reach into her memories far enough just yet. She pressed her hand to her ear, trying to block the voices out, but it offered no reprieve. The voices didn’t feel like they were pressing in from the outside. Instead, it was as though they reverberated from inside her head, pushing against the back of her eyes and her teeth. Kyouka turned around, immediately seeking out Katsuki. Whether it was because she simply wanted the comfort of having him around or to ask him if he could hear the voices too, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted him nearby, wanted to know that he was within reach. What she found, though, was less Katsuki Bakugo and more a statue. He stood, as though he was frozen, stuck in front of a window and lost in the darkness beyond it. She could see the way his hands shook ever so slightly.

If you think you’ll have a quirk in the next life, go take a swan dive off the roof.

Katsuki hadn’t heard those words said out loud in almost two years, and they had hit his ears with the impact rate of a truck crashing into a brick wall at full speed. It stopped him in his tracks, the colour draining from his face as he stared into the window the voice had come from. It was his own voice, or rather his voice from when he was fourteen, but it was unmistakably his. He would never forget what those words sounded like coming out of his mouth. The look on Izuku’s face when he heard them, how hard it had been to act like he did not regret them and then the crushing weight of guilt when he finally allowed it in. 

If you think you’ll have a quirk in the next life, go take a swan dive off the roof.

His voice came again. Crueller this time, somehow. Like it hoped he would do it, like the greatest source of joy for the voice would be to see his head cracked open on the pavement below. Katsuki felt sick. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he wanted to move. He wanted to walk away from the window, go get Kyouka and leave this place. It didn’t matter if they had to return to the corridor or face whatever was behind those footsteps. It was better than this. Anything was better than this. 

But he couldn’t move. His feet wouldn’t obey, none of his muscles would really. He stood there, frozen in place as the voice repeated the taunt over and over again, each time sounding more like an order than a jab. It seemed to be getting closer with every repetition, too. The space between him and the window was inching to a close, making it easier for him to obey, giving him a jumping off point to fall to his death, to finish what he had started all that time ago. 

“Katsuki!” 

Kyouka’s voice broke him out of the trance, and he realised that he had reached the window. His hands gripped the edges, poised like he was going to climb through it. Her fingers were curled into the back of his shirt, pulling the fabric taut. When Katsuki turned his head to look back at her, her face was contorted and sweaty. 

“What are you-” He trailed off, blinking a few times as he tried to clear the haze from his mind. He could still hear the voice, whispering to him, enticing him, but now he could see her face too. See the worry, the fear, the anger that was starting to bloom there. Why was she angry?

“What am I?” Kyouka demanded, her voice tight and irritated. She pulled him back again, putting all her strength into it; this time, he obeyed and fell away from the window. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“I…” Katsuki looked around, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. “I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ, Katsuki,” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It looked like you were going to jump right through there.” Kyouka pointed at the window with her thumb, walking around to place herself between him and the window. “What happened? What did you hear?”

“How…” Katsuki shook his head, a confusing mix of emotions bubbling in his chest. “How did you know I heard something?”

Kyouka’s hand moved to scratch below the stub left behind by her left ear, “I might have heard it too… something.”

Katsuki tilted his head as he studied her, the red of his eyes were dim, like somehow whatever had happened at the window had drained the colour out of them. He hmm’d at the information she shared, not really sure why she told him. Her quirk was listening, of course she heard something. Maybe she was playing some kind of game. Katsuki looked around the circular room, squinting at all the windows. 

“Okay, this is too weird,” Kyouka decided and reached out to wrap her fingers around his wrist. She tugged on his hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here. Whatever's out there is better than this.”

Katsuki allowed her to lead him for a few steps before he pulled his hand free, “I can walk m’self,” He stated, his words slightly slurred. 

Jirou turned back to glare at him, irritation clear as day on her face. She tried to reach out and grab him again, but he jumped back, putting his hands up in the air so she couldn’t reach them. “Ugh, you’re being such a child.” 

“Yeah, well so are you,” Katsuki refuted, though it was hard for Kyouka to take him too seriously when he looked like he was a bowl in. “Am comin’,” He insisted and shoo’ed her off, telling her to walk ahead of him. 

“This is like, the worst time for you to be throwing a tantrum. I hope you know that,” Kyouka groaned. She backed off, though and put her hands up beside her head, “Okay? Let’s go, come on, Katsuki.”

Katsuki smiled, straightening his shoulder proudly as if he had won something. He walked forward, his steps a little unsteady but he focused on closing the distance between them, “Stop runnin’,” He complained, squining at the floor as he tried to walk faster. But it didn’t seem to matter how fast he walked or how he tried to reach her because Kyouka remained stubbornly out of the way. 

“Stop messing around, Katsuki. What are you doing?” Kyouka demanded, her earlier frustration giving way to anxiety once more. He was clearly moving; Kyouka could see that his feet were moving. She could see him trying to pick up speed, and she could see him moving, but he wasn’t getting any closer. “Katsuki- FUCK!”

The ground had opened up. That was the only explanation she could come up with, and even that didn’t make much sense, but that had to be what happened. One second, she was standing in that weird circular room with Katsuki, and the next, she was free-falling through… a tube? A hole? Where the hell was she going? She stopped screaming after about fifteen seconds of falling and tried to get her bearings. She would crash; she was definitely going to crash at some point, and she needed to prepare for that. A small part of her suggested that there was a possibility that she never reached the ground. That she stay stuck in this perpetual state of falling until she eventually starved to death or something worse. 

Before she even had a chance to mull over those fears, the dark hole she was falling through opened up and emptied her into… a pool? She swam up and surfaced, breathing heavily as she pushed her hair out of her face. Kyouka paddled to the end of what was definitely a pool in a residential community and pulled herself out with a groan. “What the fuck?” She asked under her breath. She began to peel off her jacket when she realised that her clothes were dry. So was her hair. “What the fuck?” She repeated, patting her left pocket surreptitiously. A weird mixture of relief and irritation filled her at the small bulge there.

The first thing that caught her attention was how familiar this place was. Like somewhere she had been before, but inverted or tilted slightly to the side. Kyouka looked up in the direction she had fallen through, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the sky. She didn’t know what exactly she was looking for. Maybe a hole in the sky? Some proof that this was a fake reality? All she could see, however, was the vast blue sky looming above her, pleasant, as if it were mocking her. The sun didn’t seem that hot. Kyouka blinked and turned away. Katsuki hadn’t fallen with her. That was the second thing she realised. Whatever had opened up for the ground to swallow her whole hadn’t taken Katsuki, or at least it hadn’t spit them out in the same place. 

The third realisation came in the form of a chill going down her spine. She couldn’t hear anything. No children playing, no cars, no chattering of people on walks, the noises that should have populated a place like this were entirely missing, but that still wasn’t what worried her so. It was when she realised she couldn’t hear the cicadas, when the sound of the wind rustling the trees didn’t reach her ears. 

It was a dead kind of silence. She needed to move, needed to get out of here before this somehow got worse. So Kyouka put her jacket back on and began to walk. She didn’t know where she was going or what path even led out of here; all she knew was that she couldn’t stand around waiting for something to happen. She couldn’t stand around waiting for Katsuki to find her. She needed to find him. 

It was like a maze, hedges and fences, well-maintained houses with tricycles and toys out in the front. Kyouka couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all so familiar. A memory of skinning her knee on the pavement here, of chasing a boy with pink hair down the street there. All barely solid memories, but memories nonetheless. It wasn’t until Kyouka finally found a small gate wedged inside a high hedge that the memories clicked into place. She stepped through the gate, careful, on edge, ready for a fight, but what greeted her was an empty road, separating two lines of houses. 

It was as though puzzle pieces that had been wedged into corners had suddenly been dusted and slotted into place. The memories flooded back, overwhelming her senses as she stumbled onto the road. Kyouka pressed a hand to her forehead, the sudden influx of images giving her a splitting headache. She had lived here once. A long time ago, when she was barely seven or eight, her family had lived in one of these houses, and she used to play on these streets. 

“Fuck,” She cursed under her breath as the blinding pain in her head forced her to her knees in the middle of the road. Her sight seemed to be completely overtaken by this oppressive pain, and her ears still picked up nothing at all. 

She should be more careful. She knows that. She can hear her mother's voice in her head, warning her about the dangers of playing in the street and behind it, distant, almost muffled, there is the sound of a horn blaring. It gets closer the longer she stays on her knees, and the light seems to be focused on her like a spotlight. No… not a spotlight. It's something else, something so close to the tip of her tongue she feels like she should know what it is. She should remember why she’s not meant to be on the street. Kyouka looks up, and the lights are in her eyes now. Bright, focused, headlights. 

Headlights. 

A memory surfaces, she hears a scream, the screeching of car brakes being stomped down on as hard as can be, and crying. It’s loud and it comes from every which direction and it burns her when it reaches her. Kyouka barely has time to duck out of the way before a car barrels past her, driving over the spot where she was kneeling. 

“Don’t play in the street, Kyouka, it’s dangerous.”

“I don't wanna cycle today, Kyo-Chan. Let’s go to the playground instead.”

“WHAT HAPPENED?”

Kyouka turned to the right and threw up her lunch. By the time she was done and sitting upright on the pavement, the car had disappeared down the road. She couldn’t tell if the car had even been real. There were no marks on the road, no smell of exhaust and that dead stillness that permeated the air seemed to have been untouched. It didn’t matter. She remembered now, she remembered what she had kept suppressed for so long. A stupid decision made out of childlike stubbornness, the fatal mistake and the subsequent series of events. They had moved out of this neighbourhood. Moved to a whole new city, in fact, and Kyouka had been put into therapy to help her deal with what had happened. To help her work through the guilt she felt. A bitter laugh dribbled from her lips. Of course, she hadn’t worked through it. Kyouka Jirou has never been able to deal with anything head-on. She always had to run, always had to hide behind her friends, her parents and now it seemed she was hiding behind her own consciousness. Hot tears formed in her eyes, and her hand moved to tug on her earjack. She pulled until she felt like the thing would tear off, until the pain from the stretching of skin forced her to stop crying and stand up. 

She was pathetic; she knew that. At least now she knew that it’s always been in her; it wasn’t something she developed because she was shy or something that happened after the war. She’s always been this way. A burden, unable to do anything right, unable to even use her fucking quirk anymore. Kyouka closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to fight the waves of anger that washed over her. Anger at herself, at her parents, at her friends, at everyone who’s ever believed in her and at everyone who hasn’t. She buried her face in her hands and screamed as loud as she could. 

It echoed. The sound of her anguish bounced off the walls and doors and sank into the ground below. She screamed again and again until her throat ached. When she finally stopped, exhausted and numb, only then did she hear the faint sounds of people talking. Muffled like the car horn as though it came from the bottom of the pool, but didn’t lead her in that direction. She stood up and turned around towards the houses. It was coming from one house. 

Her old house. 

Kyouka nodded, “Whoever you are,” She yelled into cupped hands aimed towards the sky, “you’re a fucking dick.” 

She kicked the pavement lightly before making her way across to where the driveway began. She didn’t remember much about this house or the time they spent there, but what she did remember made her heart ache. Kyouka has always been close to her parents; they’ve always been a tight unit, always a team, but the older she got, the more she felt there was a distance. Not something forming because of her growing up or the changes she was going through, but rather because of something that existed. A distance that wasn’t apparent when she didn’t know any better, but now sat on their dinner table like a centrepiece. 

Now that the corners of these long-suppressed memories had been dusted off, that distance was starting to make sense. They were probably grateful when her memories of the incident had disappeared. Treated her special and soft to make sure they never came back, make sure she never cracked. Kyouka’s hand drifted to her pant pocket, where the prosthetic attachment for her left ear sat. She had cracked anyway. 

She placed her hand on the doorknob, but something stopped her. A feeling in her gut that it wouldn’t open for her, that this wasn’t her home anymore, and it wasn’t her place to go back into these memories. There was a reason they were hidden from her; there was a reason her parents would never actually get mad at her. There was a reason why she couldn’t bring herself to use the prosthetic. It lived deep in her chest, a fear that she wasn’t good enough. 

It was like a carnivorous flower, blooming when her insecurities watered it and closing just long enough for her to fall into a false sense of security. It fed on her fear and anxiety and then circulated it right back through her body until that poison was all she could feel. Until she was forced to spit it out in the form of anger lest it killed her. 

Kyouka knocked. She rapped on the door with closed knuckles four times before giving up. She could hear the sounds coming from inside the house. People were home, she didn’t know whether they were her parents or strangers or even if she could interact with things in this world that seemingly only existed in her memories and the haunted house. This was getting irritating, and, like a friend she hated but had grown dependent on, she wished once again that she had Katsuki’s quirk, something volatile and aggressive. Something strong enough to level the town and take the brunt of her anger. Kyouka looked around again, sighing when she saw no one else. Heard no one else. 

She knew that she would have better luck with the prosthetic attached, knew that if she had it on, she probably would have heard the car sooner or heard the voices beyond this door clearly. But it was hard. It was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. Accept that she wasn’t complete as herself, and she needed something to complete her. To fix her? Kyouka hated it. It was hard enough to rely on other people to pick up where she failed, but the idea that she couldn’t even be of use without something extra made her sick. She was fine without it. She had been fine all this time, and she would be fine going forward. She didn’t need it. She didn’t need to depend on anything but herself to work right. 

Kyouka’s hand returned to the doorknob, and she twisted it this time, scoffing when it opened. Of course, she had made it up in her head. The house is alive when she steps inside. The chattering of voices from just beyond the bend in the hallway, the faint blues music playing in the background. Kyouka could smell pork cooking, and there was the distinct scent of banana bread too; all staples of parties at her home. A small smile found its way to her lips despite the circumstances. There was comfort in the familiar, comfort in the fact that no matter how messed up or useless she was, she would still have this. Kyouka took a few steps inside, gearing up to greet her parents, or whatever dream version of her parents was nestled away in these memories. 

Something glinted on the wall beside her head and stopped her in her tracks. Kyouka turned to find photo frames. Like the kind that existed in her home back in the real world, a set of six, connected by music notes and displayed on the wall by the door. The frames weren’t what caught her attention, though. Kyouka stepped closer to the frames, her skin beginning to itch as her eyes flitted from one image to the other. They were her memories, alright, pictures of places she’s been before. An amusement park where she had gone on her first rollercoaster, the field where her parents had taken her for her first music festival, the beach in Barcelona where she had tried crab for the first time, all memories that she recognised. Ones that she held close to her heart as evidence for her place in this world, in this family. 

Alas, she was nowhere to be seen. Each photo showed the smiling faces of her parents, clear as day, smiling and excited, posing in front of all these places that live in her memory but not in their photos. She wasn’t there. She didn’t exist in these pictures, maybe not even in this world. Kyouka turned to look down at the shoe stand by the door. Two pairs of everything. Sneakers, slippers, traditionals, everything came in twos, and everything came in adult sizes. Kyouka knew it was coming before the fear took over. She could feel it building at the base of her stomach and climbing into her chest. It filled her up, weighing her down until she was forced to sink down onto the floor. 

Kyouka tried to speak, to count backwards, to identify her senses. Anything she had been taught in therapy, really. She even tried to sing that stupid song she and Mina had come up with, but nothing would work. Her mind refused to cooperate with her. That was when the voices started again. 

They scurried in like ants ready to crawl all over her and burrow into her skin, spread out across the floor and the walls. Muffled at first until it got close enough to scream in her ears. She could barely tell the voices apart, the way they looped and twisted, climbing over one another, screaming louder and louder, demanding attention. They were threats, taunts, promises that had been broken and friends she had let down. She heard each and every one, and none of them at the same time. Kyouka wanted to scream, but she was terrified that if she opened her mouth, they would get inside. That these voices with a thousand legs would crawl inside her mouth and down her neck until they made a home in her body. So she clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her knees up with the other. The sounds and scents of the party faded into the background until she wasn’t sure if they were even real anymore. 

A banging interrupted the voices. Forcing them to quieten all at once for but a second before descending on her once more. A second was enough, though. Enough for a girl so desperate to be saved to hear it. Kyouka’s head snapped around to the door, her hope almost nonexistent as she tried to hear what the sound was. The banging was insistent. Angry and continuous like war drums fighting for space amongst the ants. She strained her ear, squinting as she tried to make out what the blurry image beyond the frosted glass in the door was. She should have been wary. She knows that, but it was the better of two evils. A monster banging on the door, trying to get in, she could handle it. Something she needed to fight and kill, she could handle, but these incorporeal ants with a lifetime worth of self-hate? 

No, she preferred the monster. So Kyouka tried again. She leaned towards the door, not daring to crawl away from her captors yet, but it was no use. The banging was accompanied by a muffled yelling now, and Kyouka could hear none of it. “Fuck,” she cursed behind her hand as she tried again and again. Straining her ear, willing it to pick up what she so desperately wanted. 

Kyouka knows what she has to do. She knows that the weight in her pocket, which only seems to be getting heavier the longer she ignores it, is the only way through this. With gritted teeth, she reached into her pocket with her free hand and brought the hated prosthetic out. “I hate you,” she whispered to it as she raised it to her left side. The damned thing had prongs on one side and extended into an imitation of her earjacks on the other. For anyone who looked on from afar, it would seem like nothing more than her ear. A weird girl with weird ears for her weird quirk. Nothing to pay attention to and nothing to agonise over. For Kyouka, it meant giving up, giving in. It didn’t matter how many times her therapist had told her that a prosthetic was nothing more than a bit of support. It didn’t matter that no one had ever hinted that she was weaker for having to use it. It didn’t matter that even she knew she was being unreasonable. She hated it. 

But she had to use it. So, with Herculean effort, Kyouka clicked the small button on the side that caused the prongs to protrude and held it up to the stub on her left side. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily through her nose and stabbed it through, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood when the sting of metal piercing her skin reverberated through her skull. Should have done this before, that annoying voice Momo liked to call Hindsight chided. 

“I know,” Kyouka snapped back, eyes still closed and breathing still heavy as she felt the small machine whir to life with a slight buzz. She could feel it attaching to her body, the little robotic pieces working together to imitate her quirk. Kyoua dug her nails into her cheeks as she waited for it to finish. 

“You’ll hear a pleasant Ping! Sound,” Her doctor had told her when showing her the device. 

She had wanted to punch the lady in the face—her cheeriness, her firm belief that Kyouka would use and come to appreciate the thing. Now, she wished she had listened better instead of picturing all the ways she could have dangled the lady out of her office window. 

Ping! 

The effect was immediate. The muffled shouting from behind the door cleared up into the distinct raspy and often nasal voice of her best friend. 

“KYOUKA!” Katsuki’s voice came from behind the door, “GET THE FUCK UP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STAND UP.” 

Kyouka wants to yell back and ask him what the hell he thinks she’s doing, but she can’t. The ants are still crawling, still trying to force their way inside her ears, past her lips, even pushing against her eyeball as they try to fill her up. 

“DON’T LISTEN TO WHATEVER IT’S TELLING YOU,” he continued, “IT’S A TRICK. IT’S ALL A TRICK DESIGNED TO CONFUSE YOU AND MAKE YOU HURT YOURSELF. DON’T LISTEN TO IT. YOU AREN’T THE THINGS IT TELLS YOU YOU ARE. YOU CAN’T STAY HERE. COME FIND ME, I NEED YOU! FUCK, KYOUKA, YOU’RE BRILLIANT AND STRONG AND A FIGHTER GOD DAMMIT, STAND UP!” 

The door disappeared the very second he finished yelling his encouragements at her, and Kyouka nearly cried. It was such a relief to hear his voice again; it had warmed her to her core. Kyouka hadn’t even realised how important Katsuki had become to her until that moment. Of course, she knew that she loved him and that if anything were to happen to him, it would devastate her, but this was different. The sound of his voice, no matter how irritating, had shocked her system into action. Forced her heart to regulate and her senses to pay attention because she needed to find him. She needed to find him and help him. In all the hubbub of her memories returning and her own anxieties running wild, she had entirely forgotten that they had been separated. 

Kyouka closed her eyes again and tried again. She pictured the hallway in front of her, covered with ants all clammering and skittering to get to her and burrow into her. She shook her head. The hallway is clear, she thought to herself. Repeated it over and over until slowly but surely the ants began to dissipate. Turning to dust in front of her eyes and clearing a path. It didn’t lead to the living room like she had expected. The path turned right at the end of the hallway, and Kyouka willed her body to move. She crawled through the house, keeping her mouth clamped shut and eyes closed the entire time. She could hear. Kyouka had always been able to hear better than anyone else and she could do it now, too. If she needed to save her best friend, she would do it by doing what she could do best. And to the tune of a grateful, choked sob, her ears answered her prayers. The prosthetic melted into her skin, acting like an extension of her body, simulating the feeling of completeness she felt when her quirk first manifested. Tears rolled down her face as she made her way through the house, following the path her ears painted for her until finally, she stopped at her bedroom door. 

She opened her eyes tentatively and realised the ants had long since faded away. So had the murmuring from the living room. She was alone in a house, and the door before her was familiar. It was warm. Not like the sun or a fire, but warm the way Katsuki’s explosions were when he lit up fireworks for them last year. Warm like his hands when he hugged her unexpectedly the first time they saw each other after the war. He was behind the door. He had to be. And if he wasn’t, then Kyouka would keep looking. She would find him and she would save him. 

Kyouka pushed the door open to the sound of cars honking. 

-

The haze that had been blurring his mind lifted as soon as Kyouka fell through the ground. Katsuki lept forward, arm outstretched, with a strangled scream tearing from his throat, but he was too slow. He crashed against the now solid ground, and she was gone. Disappeared before his eyes. 

“FUCK!” Katsuki yelled, punching the ground with his good hand. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck where did you go?” He muttered, feeling around the area she had fallen through. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, a trapdoor? A lever to pull or a switch to push? Anything he could kick or punch his way through? He had no idea, and it didn’t seem like the floor was going to give him a break. “God fucking dammit.”

Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the ends until he felt the pain in his eyes. He couldn’t mope. He didn’t have time to just sit around and wait for her to find him. Kyouka didn’t have her gear for battle, and she was still hesitant to use her prosthetic. If something went after her, she wouldn’t be able to fight it off alone. He needed to find her. 

So Katsuki stood back up, dusted off his pants and squared his shoulders. He had faced worse things than some fun house and a trickster that couldn’t even face him and fight. He had died and come back to life. He had beaten the worst villain since before All Might's time with one shattered arm and a heart that barely worked. He could do this. He could find Kyouka and get them the hell out of here. Katsuki turned away from the windows and their siren song and walked back out into the corridor. All these paths and hallways had to lead somewhere, and wherever she was, there would be a way to reach her. There had to be. 

He kept up a steady pace as he made his way through the corridors once more, keeping in mind that they were winding and twisting now instead of going straight ahead. Clearly, something had changed. Whether it was trying to confuse him so he couldn’t be able to find the way back, or if it was leading him to her for some wicked reason, he wasn’t sure. All Katsuki knew was that he was going to find Kyouka and punch whoever was doing this to them square in the nose. 

Katsuki called out for her as he walked, speaking through cupped hands. His right shoulder ached, and his elbow creaked every time he shifted. It wasn’t fully back in shape yet. He was supposed to use the arm every now and then. Make sure it didn’t get rusty and exercise when he could. The problem, currently, though, was that he had, stupidly, broken his earlier fall with that arm. It had been burning earlier, and a part of his mind begged him to rest, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have time for all that, so he would just have to deal with it. Katsuki would get it checked out when they got back, even put it back in the cast if need be. For now, he was going to keep moving. 

Not long after he started walking, the corridors started to change again. Not in shape or colour, but it was getting brighter. Katsuki was, understandably, wary. The last time they had walked towards a bright light, it had turned out to be another room, another trick. He moved carefully this time. Good arm poised to fight if need be, stance firm and wide. He would not get caught off guard again. He was a better fighter now, a better hero, and damn it, if he was going to let a friend get hurt on his watch. Especially not her. Especially not now.  

He was forced to cover his eyes the closer he got to the light. It was hot like the sun in the middle of summer, but that didn’t make a lick of sense. It was the end of October, and there was no way he had actually walked outside, but once his eyes adjusted, there was no two ways about it. He was standing outside, on a patch of crisp grass with a warm, humid wind blowing against his cheek. Katsuki blinked. Once, twice, three times before his gaze finally settled on the building that loomed ahead. 

“No…” 

-

Kyouka knows Katsuki’s heartbeat almost as well as she knows her own. After the war, once they had all found out what had happened to him and how he had barely survived, she couldn’t sleep at night. No one had allowed them to watch the footage that showed his death, and to be honest, Kyouka wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see that anyway. The images her mind conjured were terrifying enough as it is; she didn’t need visual confirmation of her best friend, pale and dead on the ground. One day, when Katsuki had disappeared in the middle of the day and no one knew where to find him, she tracked his heartbeat. She had never done that to him before, hadn’t ever consciously kept track of what his heart even sounded like, but in that moment she knew. She knew exactly what she was listening for, and the second she picked up the sound, Kyouka ran straight to him. Katsuki didn’t ask how she found him, and she never told anyone that he was sitting on the roof, legs dangling over the sides and peering out at the horizon as the sun set. 

After that, Kyouka would listen for his heartbeat all the time. Even when she could see him and knew he was okay, she would still listen. It was comforting to hear, to know what he was feeling, whether he was stressed or calm, whether he needed her to intervene. She’s always had an inkling that Katsuki knew about her little invasion of privacy, the way he would turn to look at her in class sometimes when she tuned in or how he was never surprised when she suddenly showed up when he was upset. It was but a feeling, but it was a strong one. 

She had told herself she would stop doing it eventually, that once the storm had passed and he wasn’t waking up in the middle of the night panting and shaking, she would stop. She would stop once he didn’t immediately tense up at certain words or when his breathing would get erratic at his neck being touched. Kyouka didn’t plan on doing this forever, but god, was she glad she hadn’t stopped yet. 

As she made her way down the tree-lined street and the familiar sights of her old neighbourhood changed, all that was guiding her was the sound of his heartbeat reverberating through the ground. She kept her jacks low, not pierced through the pavement or asphalt just yet, but close enough to hear. He was near; she knew he was nearby, she just needed to find out exactly where. 

“Where are you, man?” Kyouka muttered to herself as she turned corners and cut through backyards until she found herself standing in front of an all too familiar signboard. 

Musutafu Prefecture 

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked around once more. She was… home? This was where she lived with her parents currently; these particular streets, however, were alien to her. Kyouka knew that Katsuki’s parents' house was in the same prefecture, but they had never crossed paths. It made enough sense. Musutafu was huge, and they didn’t exactly run in the same circles, so it should have been completely normal that she didn’t recognise it, but that knowledge didn’t do much to assuage the feelings of unease in her gut. This had to have something to do with the villain’s quirk. If Kyouka had been sent back to the biggest mistake of her life and forced to confront it, then Katsuki must be facing the same. The only problem was, she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what that mistake could be. She took a steadying breath and shook her head. Kyouka could figure it out while walking. She didn’t have the time to stand around theorising, especially if Katsuki was in danger. 

-

Katsuki felt sweat beading on the back of his neck as he stared ahead at the five-storey, white building, surrounded by a red brick wall. Phantom sounds brushed past his skin; the sound of a shrill bell, high-pitched, raspy voices yelling and shouting over each other to be heard. Lockers slamming, loud, unrestrained laughter. An irritating, grating voice boasting of his own talents. Katsuki could almost see the footsteps in the ground leading in through those black metal gates, and he winced at the memory of sticking a foot out to trip someone he didn’t even deserve to stand next to, much less look down on. 

Aldera Junior High. 

Katsuki wanted to turn away immediately. He wanted to pay heed to the alarm bells blaring in his mind and respect the way his mouth had gone dry and his palms clammy, but his feet wouldn’t move. He wanted to melt into the ground or drop through like Kyouka had, but the asphalt, when had the grass changed to asphalt?, was hard and solid. He wanted to lay down and die; he hoped that this was all just a prolonged state of purgatory and he had never actually survived his heart exploding, but he knew better. He could feel his heart hammering away in his chest and the erratic breathing that threatened to send him into a full-blown panic attack. 

With Herculean effort, he twisted his head to the side, looking both ways to try and find another way. Any other way that gave him an excuse to not go in there and confront the demons he had buried in those walls. Alas, the street cut off inexplicably at both ends, fading off into a wall of light that confirmed, once more, that this was a situation designed especially to torture him. 

“You better be in there, Ears,” Katsuki grumbled under his breath and forced himself to move. 

The school was exactly the same as how he had left it. Classrooms labelled the same way, walls the same colour, a scorch mark on a hanging exit sign from when one of his friends had dared to imply Katsuki wouldn’t be able to jump and reach it. He hadn’t been back to Aldera since graduation, hadn’t really had any reason to and even when they sent word about wanting him to talk to the next group of Hero Hopeful, he had ignored the offer. No place brought greater shame to Katsuki than Aldera Junior High, and if it was up to him, he would never go back there, never even walk past it or think about it again. 

But it wasn’t up to him now. No, he had bigger things to worry about than his own bruised ego and the guilt that threatened to eat him alive. He needed to find Kyouka. That’s the only reason he was doing the reason. Katsuki walked through the familiar corridors, trying not to run his fingers along the walls or windows. He kept them stubbornly shoved in his pockets, despite knowing he should be on guard and ready to fight. He felt like he was that kid again. Scared and small, unsure how to do anything but get angry and mouth off at the first person to piss him off

He had to remind himself he wasn’t, though. Katsuku rubbed the edge of the laminated, holographic card in his pocket as he made his way through the halls. Once everything had settled down, Katsuki had asked All Might for a real signature and immediately gotten the card turned into a keychain. He never told anyone, and he never planned on telling anyone either, but he believed, deep in his heart, that the sheer weight of emotional attachment that little piece of plastic held was what coaxed him back to the world of the living. He didn’t leave the house without it anymore. It moved from bag to bag, from his house keys to room key. It didn’t matter what the card was attached to; all that mattered was that it was always on Katsuki’s person. 

Once Katsuki reached the third floor, where his old classroom was, he started looking through the rooms. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. He knew Kyouka wouldn’t be in any of these rooms; there wasn’t any real reasoning or logic behind why, Katsuki just had a feeling. She wasn’t near, and yet, something in his gut told him this was where he was supposed to be, and if nothing else, Katsuki Bakugo always trusted his own instincts. So he kept walking, kept looking inside classrooms, even calling out for her when things got too quiet. 

By the final class, the one he shared with Izuku, his nerves were fraught and his at his wits' end. The silence was suffocating and oppressive, and the echoing of his own footsteps sounded like gunshots in the dead air. The air itself was heavy, as though it was pressing down on him from above and trying to keep him trapped here. The final thread snapped when he was standing at Izuku’s old desk, and he thought he heard the jingling of keychains behind him. He whipped around, quick enough to send a sharp stabbing pain up his right arm, and shot a focused blast in the direction of the jingling. When the small plume of smoke cleared, he realised he had just blown up a desk. 

“FUCK!” Katsuki yelled, punching down on Izuku’s desk and immediately regretting it. Not because it hurt, even though it did, but rather because the thought of directing anger at even something that represented Izuku made the stitches around his healing heart ache like nothing else ever had. 

Katsuki realised his mistake soon enough, though, when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Faint and timid, soft like whoever was walking towards him was scared to reach him. Accompanied by that damn jingling again. Metal keychains knocking against each other in a tune that was so familiar it existed just on the edges of his memories. It itched in his mind, like something persistent and urgent that was trying to get his attention but stubbornly remained out of reach until he found it himself. Katsuki walked out of the room, peering past the doorframe, his good hand ready to blast whoever was coming to kingdom come if need be. 

“Kacchan, give it back!” 

Katsuki recoiled like he had been shot when the memory broke through his subconscious and cemented at the very front of his mind. He knew those keychains. He knew who was coming. Katsuki ran in the opposite direction. 

“Not now, fuck not now,” He cursed under his breath as he ran down the hall and up the stairs at the far end. He didn’t have time for this now. He needed to find Kyouka, not face his demons and especially not when things with Izuku were already so weird. He couldn’t do this right now, but it didn’t seem like whatever force was roleplaying with his life cared because no matter how hard he pushed and how fast he ran, those footsteps and keychains stayed right on his heels. 

Katsuki ran until he reached a dead end. A wall that shouldn’t have been there, one he couldn’t remember existing until this very moment and no way out. He watched as the classrooms disappeared before his eyes, and at the far end, a small shadow appeared. Fear clawed its way up Katsuki’s body, digging sharp talons into his muscles and drawing blood untit it settled in his chest. The shadow got closer and, though there was no body accompanying it, Katsuki knew who it belonged to. The outline of messy curls, the short, stick-thin frame and the way it shook as it moved. He knew without a single doubt that it was Izuku. 

Middle schooler Izuku, fourteen-year-old Izuku, the Izuku he had said such unforgivable things to, the Izuku that haunted the worst of his nightmares, and he was here. He was slowly but surely making his way to Katsuki, and the closer he got, the larger the shadow grew. When it fell on Katsuki’s chest, he tried desperately to brush it off. Katsuki pressed himself as far back against the wall as he could and nearly tore his shirt open in an effort to get the murky, dark figure off him, but to no avail. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whimpered, and he’s never heard his own voice so small before. So terrified and shaky, not when he apologised the first time, not even when he walked to his death. This was worse. This was definitely worse. Katsuki could barely hear anything else over the sound of his own heartbeat now, and the shadow had grown larger than him. It sucked the light out of the hall, blocking out the summer sun outside and filling Katsuki with the kind of cold, dejected hopelessness that left his teeth chattering. “It’s my fault,” Katsuki tried again, all thoughts of the villain and the haunted house leaving his memory as he focused on the weight on his chest. “I’m sorry, Izuku,” he begged, tears pooling in his eyes as his heart stiffened with the kind of fear that was born out of regret. The type of fear that stuck between his eyes like a bullet and rooted deep inside his body until branches grew out with poisoned fruit. “I’m so sorry.”

The wall behind him opened, and Katsuki fell backwards with a yelp. When he got back up to his feet, he realised the shadow was gone and so was the wall that had caged him in with his fears. Katsuki turned around only to find another empty corridor, no classrooms or windows in this one either, but there was a door. At the very end, there was a grey door with a metal bar across the front. He grit his teeth together and forced himself to keep walking. Katsuki refused to wipe at his eyes. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He had let this villain get inside his head and use his own insecurities against him. Insecurities he thought he had already gotten past. Katsuki and Izuku were friends now. Izuku had forgiven him. He had died and come back for Izuku. He was kinder to Izuku now. He was good now. 

But the regret remained, and guilt ruled with an iron hand, so instead of acknowledging just how much it hurt to know how pathetic he really was, he stormed ahead. When Katsuki reached the door, it was locked. The damn thing wouldn’t budge, and he could feel anger churning in his gut. Anger at Izuku for still haunting him, anger at this damn funhouse for daring to mess with his innermost thoughts and more than anything, pure, unfiltered anger at himself for still being as weak as he’s always been to his own emotions. 

“KYOUKA,” Katsuki yelled, pressing close to the door and hoping she was on the other side. There was no response, though, and he growled as he banged on it. There was nowhere else to go. No other doors or stairs. He couldn’t blast through the wall; he wasn’t even sure if he had enough firepower right now to manage something so heavy-duty, so this was his only option. And to be very honest, Katsuki was getting sick of running. The game of cat and mouse, the master of this funhouse seemed to be playing was getting less and less fun with every memory and insecurity it plucked out of his mind and twisted for its pleasure. 

“KYOUKA, ARE YOU IN THERE?” Katsuki yelled again, wiping the condensation on the small glass pane in the door. He could see a vague shape through the frosted pane. 

It was her. It had to be her. Katsuki could just barely make out the shape of her hair and her small figure crouched against a wall, “GET THE FUCK UP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STAND UP.” 

The figure looked up, and Katsuki could see the way its head shifted to look at him. He felt a chill go through his body when it did, and he started to yell again, “DON’T LISTEN TO WHATEVER IT’S TELLING YOU, IT’S A TRICK.” Katsuki wasn’t sure why he was yelling; he didn’t even know if it was Kyouka past there. Neither did he know if she was in any trouble, but a voice in his head told him this was what he needed to say. That, for all her snark and independence, in that moment, his best friend needed to hear him remind her who she was. So he continued,  “IT’S ALL A TRICK DESIGNED TO CONFUSE YOU AND MAKE YOU HURT YOURSELF. DON’T LISTEN TO IT. YOU AREN’T THE THINGS IT TELLS YOU YOU ARE. YOU CAN’T STAY HERE. FIND ME, I NEED YOU! FUCK, KYOUKA, YOU’RE BRILLIANT AND STRONG AND A FIGHTER GOD DAMMIT, STAND UP!” 

The door melted into nothing as soon as he finished speaking, and Katsuki stumbled through, landing on his knees on the hard concrete ground of what he immediately recognised as the terrace of Aldera Junior High. Katsuki stood up, ignoring the pain in his knees as he looked around for any sign of her. What he found instead made his blood run cold. 

“Hi, Kacchan.”

-

 About five minutes ago, Kyouka had started running. The steady heartbeat she had been following suddenly shifted to an erratic, panicked rhythm and sent a bolt of urgency through her, so she picked up the pace. She didn’t stop to think or try and make sense of where she was with the stories Katsuki had told her. There was only one thought in her mind, and that was to reach him. She could figure out what to do next once she found him. 

Kyouka skidded to a halt when the road she was running through inexplicably turned into a school building. Aldera Junior High. It wasn’t her old school, no place she had ever even visited before, either, but she felt a chill go through her like she had stepped into a freezer. Katsuki was through there. She could hear him, loud and insistent as though beckoning her forward. His heartbeat had gotten louder the closer she got to the school, raising in tempo and making her teeth chatter with every step she took. Kyouka didn’t even need to drag her jacks along the ground anymore; in fact, she was pretty sure that even without her quirk, she would be able to hear it. 

The school was as normal as any other middle school, faded white walls, shoe lockers at the front, classrooms lining the halls and floors that were sticky in a way you wouldn’t really notice unless you stopped and checked. She climbed up the stairs, not bothering to look through the classrooms or step off the path. Kyouka had her own trail of breadcrumbs to follow, and she would stick to it. It didn’t matter how strong the urge was to peek in; it didn’t matter that in her heart she knew these classrooms would hold memories of Katsuki. Memories that would help her understand him better and be a better friend to him. Memories that she could use to not be such a pathetically disappointing friend, one who couldn’t even help him fix a relationship that mattered to him, one who couldn’t figure out what the source of the guilt she knew he wore like a cape was. 

Kyouka took deep, deliberate breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth, as she climbed the stairs. If Katsuki wanted her to know where he came from, he would tell her. She would not go snooping. On the third floor, the heartbeat seemed to shift directions and turn left into the corridor. Kyouka furrowed her eyebrows, suddenly unsure whether she was actually listening to a trail he left or one that was manufactured for her. 

“If you’re fucking with me,” She murmured, talking aloud to the haunted house. “I’m already going to kick your ass, but it’s gonna hurt so much more if you’re messing with me right now.” Kyouka followed the heartbeat nonetheless, coming to stop in front of a grey door labelled ‘Security’. 

She frowned. There was no reason for him to be in there. She should keep looking, every instinct Kyouka had told her to keep looking, but the tune had changed from a steady drum to what sounded like the stampeding of army men. She pursed her lips and squared her shoulders. If this were another trick, she would do exactly what she said she would and fight her way through. Whatever was on the other side, it would get her a step closer to Katsuki, even if the step meant she would have to dangle herself off a cliff.

Kyouka pushed open the door and took a tentative step inside. The room was dark, pitch black in fact. Which shouldn’t have been possible with the way the sun was shining in through the windows. The light seemed to come to a dead stop right at the threshold of the security room, though, and she couldn’t see two steps in front of her. Still, Kyoua kept moving, one foot in front of the other, until her thigh hit the low edge of what she was sure was a table. 

“What the-” Kyouka had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when a bright light filled the room, blinding her, and the door slammed with a resounding bang. Kyouka screamed at the assault on her eyes, her hands flying up to cover them as she stumbled back onto a chair. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she realised the door had shut behind her, but as soon as she tried to get up, belts shot out of the chair and strapped her in. 

“What the FUCK?!” Kyouka yelled, struggling in the seat as she tried to tear her hands and legs free, but the leather straps dug in. It locked her wrists to the armrests, her ankles to the chair legs, and a strap banded around her waist to hold her in place. She was entirely restricted, cut off at the ankles and forced to participate in whatever this twisted gamemaster had devised. 

“WELCOME!” The screens in front of Kyouka lit up, and a voice came through. “PLEASE FIND YOUR SEAT AND MAINTAIN SILENCE AS THE SHOW IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!” 

The voice was painful, it was thunderous, and Kyouka was surprised her ears hadn’t started bleeding. It wasn’t just the volume, though; it was the cadence the voice spoke in, too. Like an announcer in a game show or an overzealous camp counsellor who was just “so excited to have her here!” Kyouka tried to struggle again, yelling obscenities at the screens as she squirmed and fought against the straps, but it was no use. The more she tried to break free of them, the tighter the straps wound around her, the leather cutting into the skin on her wrists and ankles. 

“PLEASE MAINTAIN SILENCE AND WATCH THE SCREENS! THE SHOW IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!” 

This time, before Kyouka had the chance to tell it to suck her off, the blank white of the screens flickered and shifted to what she deduced was a live video feed. There were six screens in total, and each one showed a different angle of what seemed to be a terrace. From what little she could see of the surroundings, it was the terrace of this very building. The cameras adjusted again, and this time they focused on one figure. A boy who was all too familiar to her. 

“Katsuki,” Kyouka whispered, grunting in pain when she instinctively tried to raise her hand to her mouth, and the leather held her back. She watched in rapt attention as Katsuki walked forward. He was wearing what he was when they had been separated, and she could see the way his right hand hung limp at his side. This was definitely from today, and despite everything that told her not to trust the blinking red ‘LIVE’ sign on the corner of the screens, she did. Like she knew that Katsuki knew about her spying, she knew this was live. This was part of the game. Force her to confront the ghosts of her past, leave the moment she had watched helplessly as her friend bled out fresh in her mind and then make her watch once again while another friend struggled. 

The cameras moved with Katsuki as he walked across the terrace, his hands trembling and footsteps shaky. She didn’t know what could possibly scare him this way. Her friend, who hadn’t flinched in the face of death, and even now, after all that, threw himself headlong into danger. She couldn’t imagine anything being scary to a person like that. That is, until Katsuki finally stopped walking and the cameras focused on a second other figure. 

At the very end of the terrace, smaller than she had ever known him to be and dressed in a black middle school uniform. Izuku Midoriya. 

“Fuck.”

-

“Hi Kacchan,” Izuku greeted, looking back over his shoulder at Katsuki.

He sounded different. Not like the middle schooler who lived in Katsuki’s memories, chirpy and excitable despite Katsuki’s cruelty. Ever hopeful, ever heroic. The boy before him sounded the way Izuku did now. After the war, after he had been given a chance to chase the dream he had cradled close to his heart for as long as he had been alive and had it torn away all in a matter of a year. Tired and empty, a ghost of a smile on his tanned, freckled face as though he was trying to hold it together for Katsuki. 

Katsuki’s heart throbbed in his chest, beating so fast he was sure it was going to explode again and leave him to bleed out all over the terrace. He tried to speak, but for the umpteenth time today, he found that he couldn’t do it no matter how hard he tried. He swallowed around the painful lump in his throat and watched with increasingly wet eyes as little Izuku twisted at the waist to face him. Izuku was sitting at the end of the terrace, legs hanging over the end and hands placed on the edge. Katsuki wanted to run over and pull him back to safety, wrap his arms around his little friend and apologise until his voice turned hoarse, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. 

“Come look at the view,” Izuku invited with a small smile. That wasn’t right either.

Katsuki’s feet finally moved, and he forced himself forward. Everything around him seemed to shift into Technicolour as he got closer to Izuku, except for the boy himself. The branches that reached over and brushed against the railing of the terrace sported leaves so verdant, they shone like jewels, and if Katsuki focused on the streams of light that broke through the clouds, he could almost see them glittering. It was as though everything around him had come alive while Izuku got smaller and greyer, like the life that shone so bright inside the little boy he knew had bled out into everything around him, leaving him empty. 

“Sit, Kacchan,” Izuku invited once Katsuki reached him. 

Katsuki looked down at him, taking care not to let his eyes go past the edge of the building. He didn’t know what lay beyond it, whether there even was anything, but he couldn’t find the strength to check. Instead, he sat down next to Izuku. Katsuki had always been bigger than Izuku. Taller, stronger, but now… now he loomed over the boy. Izuku looked so frail that Katsuki was sure he would topple over with a strong gust of wind. Somewhere in his head, a voice asked him how he could have ever hurt someone so small, so vulnerable. 

“Izuku-”

“Deku,” Izuku corrected immediately.

“No…” Katsuki trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip until he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. “That’s not– I was wrong. A stupid kid, you’re not-”

“But I am,” Izuku countered, turning his head to look at Katsuki now. “The me that you created. The one you tied up with the jump ropes in the gym locker and poured pond water on. The one who stayed stuck here forever. In this school, in these halls. I’m Deku.”

Katsuki’s heart pressed against his ribs like it was trying to escape and run away, and Katsuki couldn’t blame it. He would have done anything to get away from here, to escape the empty nothingness in Izuku’s eyes as he recounted the horrible things Katsuki had done to him. 

“But you’re okay now,” Katskuki said, his voice coming through his mouth as though from under a layer of jelly. Barely audible and strained as he tried to mitigate the weight of his past actions, “We– we talked. I apologised and you forgave me. You’re okay now, we’re okay.”

Izuku tilted his head to the side as though he was surprised by what Katsuki told him and hummed softly, “Am I?” He asked, turning away from Katsuki and leaning forward to look past their legs at the ground below. 

Katsuki followed, imitating his actions almost in a trance. His eyes flew open as soon as they focused on the scene below them, his breathing immediately turning shaky and erratic. There, against the backdrop of the grey asphalt pavement lining the school building, lay a body. Small and clad in the same black uniform the boy beside him wore. What made a rush of bile rise up Katsuki’s throat and settle against his teeth, though, was the gore surrounding the boy. His head smashed open on the ground with a spray of brain matter surrounding it and blood pooling around the body, creating a sickening display. 

Katsuki scrambled back at the sight, turning his head to vomit to the side. As he sat there, twisted at the waist and bracing himself on shaky hands, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t know what was happening. This wasn’t real. Izuku hadn’t done it. He hadn’t listened to Katsuki’s cowardly threats, and he was alive now. They were friends now, they cared about each other now. Izuku wasn’t dead? He was alive, he was back at the dorms with their other friends. They had fought a war together, they had fought for, against and beside each other, and they had come out on the other side better for it. They were friends, they were friends, they were friends, this wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku called softly, now crouched beside him. 

“What do I do?” Katsuki asked, his voice shaky and desperate when he turned back to face the source of all his shame, of all his fear. “Help me,” Katsuki begged, reaching out to grab Izuku’s hands. “Tell me how to make it right. Please– please, Izuku, I’ll do anything, just tell me what it is.”

Izuku tilted his head at Katsuki’s pleas, his face still a mask of undisturbed calm as he considered the request. 

“You could kill yourself.”

The effect on Kyouka was immediate. As soon as the apparition spoke, she began to thrash and scream once more. Trying in vain but with all her might to topple the chair over, to try and get its attention back on her so it couldn’t torture Katsuki anymore, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing changed. The scene on the screen before her kept playing, and Katsuki stayed seated on the floor, looking like the smallest person in the world. She had never seen him that way. Hunched in on himself, shaking and terrified. So unsure of who he was and what he believed. Before now, Kyouka would have laughed in your face if you suggested that he could experience emotions like that. Angry tears pricked in her eyes, burning as they crowded her lash line and spilt down her cheeks. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” she warned as she tried to bend down and bite at the straps keeping her arms locked. “I’ll rip your head off, you hear me? You won’t even have time to play your little games when I find you. Let him go!” She exclaimed. Saliva filled her open mouth as she tried to bend low enough to bite the straps; it dripped past bared teeth and pooled on the ground below. The more she struggled, the worse the pain in her limbs got, the brighter the screens got. She couldn’t see blood, though; the cutting pain on the skin on her wrists and ankles should have resulted in thin cuts and beads of blood, but it was clean. Her skin was still clean and unblemished, save for the calluses on her fingertips from her guitar. That was her first clue. 

“PLEASE DON’T BE A NUISANCE!” The loud, cheery voice chided, not even bothering to try and stop her attempts at getting free. “THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO. THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD BE. PLEASE ENJOY THE SHOW!” 

There was a whirlpool of emotions bubbling and swirling inside Kyouka, and her mind drifted to a story Kaminari had told her once. He had always been a fan of mythological stories, Japanese, Greek, Roman; it didn’t matter. If it was old and fantastical in nature, he had it committed to memory, and whenever he was given the chance, he would recite it. The story that scratched at the edges of her memory was that of the sea monster Charybdis and Odysseus. A monster that lived at the bottom of the ocean and attacked by creating whirlpools that sucked everything in its vicinity in, crushing it down to debris before spitting it out again. She wasn’t sure why she was thinking of it now. Maybe it was the state of her emotions, threatening to drown her like the treacherous waters from Odysseus’s journey. Maybe she just missed Kaminari.

She tried to push the memory away and focus on Katsuki, to try and find a way to save him, but it was insistent. Kaminari’s face as he prattled on and on about how Odysseus saved himself, the heat of his breath on the side of her face as they lay on the grass together. 

“So how did he escape it then?” Kyouka remembered herself asking, interested in the story despite herself. His excitement was infectious; it always had been. She had forgotten about that recently. 

“He was patient,” Kaminari had told her, turning to look up at the sky above them and putting his hands up, gesturing as though he was seeing the scene he relayed in front of him. Kyouka recalled how she had tried to picture it too. “He hung on to a branch while Charybdis swallowed the water, sacrificed his ship so he could keep his body safe, and when it spat the debris back up, his small raft came along with it.”

“That seems… anticlimactic,” She thought back to how disappointing the end of that story was. Kaminari had been telling her about Odysseus for a few days now. Whenever they had free time, he would drag her somewhere quiet and narrate parts of the story. She racked her brain to try and retrieve his reasoning. She had scoffed at it the first time he told her, but now, with Katsuki’s life hanging in the balance, she decided to trust her mind. Kyouka put her insecurities surrounding her own self-worth and usefulness to the side and placed her trust in herself. In the things she knew and the experiences she had. It didn’t matter how much stronger Uraraka was or how much smarter Momo was. It didn’t matter that she had never won a fight on her own. What mattered was that, in this moment, all she had to rely on were her own wits, and she wasn’t going to let Katsuki down. 

“It’s about pride, Kyouka,” She finally heard him say, “Odysseus had for so long believed himself to be a genius. So brilliant that he could scheme and trick his way out of anything, until one by one the perils of his journey outwitted him. When he got to Charybdis, he couldn’t resort to trickery or try and skirt around it. He had to wait. He had to bend to the power that this centuries-old monster held and use that against it.”

“But he still only got out of there because he knew what to do. How is that humility?” Kyouka had asked, confused even now as she recalled the conversation. 

“It’s both,” Kaminari countered. “He put his pride aside for long enough that the monster was not trying to harm him, and once it was no longer an active threat, he put the plan he had come up with into action. It’s not about him giving in or bowing his head. It’s about using what's around you to win, about having enough humility to trust that sometimes you need to be underestimated before you can act.”

Oh. 

The point he had been trying to make finally clicked into place in Kyouka’s mind, and though she still didn’t fully believe that that was the point of Odysseus’s story with Charybdis, she finally understood what he had been trying to tell her. Kyouka let the tears that she had been fighting against spill freely now, and she sobbed loudly. She began to beg and plead, laying it on thick as she finally allowed herself to feel the full extent of her fear. It wasn’t hard. Kyouka had been skirting the edges of a breakdown the entire time she was running through this house of horrors, and it didn’t take much effort to let the damn break. 

Kyouka could almost hear a pleased humming vibrating through the floorboards as she cried and begged for mercy. Whatever this thing was, it had an ego, and if it had an ego, she could trick it. As Kyouka allowed her fear to overtake a majority of her conscious thoughts, she compartmentalised. She paid careful attention to the presence, and Kyouka could pick up faint traces in the walls, in the floors, even in the leather wrapped around her limbs, but focused most inside the screens. As she suspected, the real target was Katsuki. Kyouka had been collateral damage, something to play with before it could get its hands on Katsuki, and while it stung somewhere deep in her chest to be undervalued by even a villain, she was grateful for it. 

Kyouka watched with rapt attention as Katsuki continued to talk to the apparition of Midoriya. She had decided as soon as the screen flickered on that there was no possible way this was really him. The Midoriya she knew, even as little as she knew him, would never say the things this… thing was saying. It had to be a product of the quirk, and if it was, then it had to be pulled straight from Katsuki’s fears. Everything she had observed about this villain so far had only reaffirmed her theory that none of this was real. Not the straps cutting into her skin, not the version of Midoriya that was taunting Katsuki, and more importantly, she had concluded that none of this had erupted out of thin air either. Kyouka had decided to gamble on the idea that this game master or puppeteer or whatever it called itself, couldn’t create things to hurt them that they weren’t already afraid of. 

The neighbourhood where she had first discovered what it felt like to be truly scared, to feel guilt and shame, the ants that had crawled over and inside her, these straps that held her down and stopped her movement. All of it came from her own insecurities, from the cages she created for herself in her mind, and the funhouse had only served as a medium for it to manifest through. And if that was true for her, it was true for him. This version of Midoriya existed somewhere inside Katsuki’s head. It had to be where all that guilt and hatred came from. If not the root cause, at least the point on which it was caught and coiled around until it suffocated him. 

Kyouka stretched the jack of her prosthetic at a snail's pace as her eyes remained focused on the screens. She watched on in horror she did not have to fake as this mirror version of Midoriya convinced Katsuki that there was only one real way to atone. The jack snaked down the back of the chair and just above the floor, not coming in contact with any part of the room lest she risk discovery until finally, blessedly, it slipped into the input slot on the speaker below the screen. 

She knew instantly it had worked when the presence that had been divided amongst the various parts of the room all of a sudden pushed down on her with smothering intensity. Kyouka forced herself to breathe through the anxiety rising in her chest as the walls began to close in and she focused all her attention on the point where her jack connected to the speaker. If the straps cut through her muscle and bone and severed her limbs from the rest of her, then so be it. If the walls crushed her into dust, that was fine too. She would do what she planned to do. She would not run away when she was so close to saving him. 

She was not a coward; she had never been a coward, and she would prove it to this fucking monster that had messed with her best friend. 

“KATSUKI!” Kyouka screamed, willing her voice to travel through her jack and the speaker out to where he stood. She nearly sobbed with relief when Katsuki’s head snapped up to look directly into one of the cameras. “KATSUKI, LISTEN TO ME!” 

The presence had turned all its attention onto her now, and Kyouka could hear the voices of everyone she’d ever known. Everyone she’s ever been afraid of disappointing, everyone she had let down, speaking at once. Reminding her why she couldn’t do this, telling her to give up, to give in and leave him to his fate. Their voices blurred into a cacophony of taunts and threats, promises that she would only end up hurting him further. That this plan of hers was misguided and idiotic. Kyouka searched through the blizzard of noise to find Katsuki’s heartbeat once more. 

And she did find it. Nestled under the shrubbery covered in snow, soft and weak but still beating. She focused on it. 

“It’s not real,” Kyouka said, her voice steadier than it had been in months. She wasn’t yelling anymore and around her the walls had stopped their advance. If Kyouka noticed any of it she did not let it show on her face or heard in her voice. “This whole place is a nasty trick Katsuki,” she continued, “it’s designed to use your worst fears against you. That’s not Midoriya.” 

Kyouka could see the confusion and suspicion playing on Katsuki’s face through the screen and her mind raced as she tried to find a way to get him to believe her. To believe that she was real, that she was going to save him if he just listened to her. 

“It’s about using what’s around you to win.” 

Kaminari’s words echoed in her head once more and she took a deep breath before letting the visions the villain was trying to drown her with in. 

They rushed in with the force of a typhoon, swirling around her and beating down against everything she was using to stay afloat. Images flashed through her mind with painful intensity: a car hitting a small body, her embarrassing fumble at the entrance exam, dragging behind her friends, having to be carried to safety after passing out, her insecurities about her body and size, losing her ear in the war, blood covering the asphalt as she stood frozen to the spot, Katsuki kicking her out of the way so she wouldn’t get hurt, being given the prosthetic, snapping at Kaminari when he tried to help, losing her ear in the war, the sound of sirens and a woman wailing, Yaomomo getting hurt because Kyouka wasn’t strong enough, being told that maybe she should consider becoming a musician instead of a hero, the guilt that filled her veins when she finally came to and saw the white sheet covering her little friend. 

“I’M THE REASON MY FRIEND DIED.”

Both Katsuki and Izuku tilted their heads at that, Katsuki at the speaker where her voice came from and Izuku at Katsuki as he gauged his reaction. 

“When I was eight years old, I had a friend…”

Katsuki shifted as Kyouka spoke, his suspicions melting away the longer she did. He turned around to face the speaker fully, kneeling now as he listened. 

“I was being a little shit,” Kyouka continued. “Both our parents told us not to cycle in the street. They had opened a new intersection a few blocks down from our neighbourhood, so cars were coming through more often than before, and they warned us,” Kyouka dug her nails into her palm as she spoke. “But I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to race, to prove that I was faster than her, that I was better. I didn’t know who I was trying to prove it to; it’s not like she cared… At least, I don’t think she did, but I cared. I thought she was better, and I wanted to prove that wasn’t true, so I insisted.”

Familiar feelings cropped to the surface as he listened to her speak. Feelings of competition, of insecurity, of a deep, desperate need to prove himself. He turned to look at Izuku, who was still watching him with curious eyes. Not that twinkling kind of yearning to learn or to understand, but a morbid curiosity. A need to see what Katsuki will do, like he was looking at Katsuki from the inside.

“I didn’t even see it when the car hit her,” Kyouka’s voice cracked, and Katsuki found himself rising onto his feet, needing to go to her. Needing to comfort her and tell her it wasn’t her fault. That she was just a kid, and she couldn’t be blamed for things she never even meant to do. “I was too busy celebrating the fact that I had reached the finish line fast, that I had won that stupid game, and by the time I finally turned around, there was already a crowd of people around her. I think I heard her mother crying before I saw her, which…” Kyouka trailed off, sniffling, her breathing ragged as she forced herself to speak. “I know it’s my head twisting up the memory because there was no way her mother would have reached her before me. I can’t remember it, Katsuki,” she confessed, “I can’t remember what happened after, I can’t remember what her body looked like or if I even tried to help her. All I can remember is what I could hear. The ambulance, her mother crying, my mother begging me to tell them what happened, people whispering and pointing, telling each other that they saw me push her, that it was my fault, that my parents had raised a villainous little girl.” 

Katsuki’s fists clenched at his sides as he listened. Anger mixed with a sick sense of understanding as he listened. He knew all too well what this felt like. Even though he was praised his whole life, told to his face he was a hero and powerful and strong he could hear them whispering when they thought he couldn’t. Talking about how his temper was a problem, that he was a problem, that they should be careful around him or he might turn on them. To hear that they talked about her the same way. Talked about Kyouka, one of the softest, kindest people he had ever had the privilege of meeting, it made his blood boil in his veins. He could feel Izuku’s eyes on him, a gaze that felt like surprise meeting interest lingered on the back of his neck.

“I had forgotten about all of it.” The straps that kept her tied to the chair faded away the longer she spoke. The more she bared of her soul, of the secret she stored all her shame within, the easier it got to take back control. “Until today, I had pushed it all to the back of my head because I couldn’t bare the knowledge that my insecurity had led to my friend dying. I couldn’t live with that guilt and I had forced myself to forget, but you… you carried it with you.”

Katsuki flinched at the awe in her voice. He wasn’t anything to be awestruck over, no one to be held as an inspiration or as a standard. He had hurt the only person in the world to ever truly understand him, to ever truly care about him beyond just the strength he possessed, and he deserved to feel guilty for that. He should carry it around. 

“It’s not the same, Ears,” Katsuki said, unsure if she could even hear him. “What happened with you was an accident. You were a little kid, and you didn’t try to kill your friend on purpose. I’m not…” he swallowed hard, looking down at Izuku through the corner of his eye before continuing, “I knew what would happen if he listened. I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to die, and I told him to do it so I wouldn’t have to deal with how he made me feel. It’s not the same.”

Jirou pursed her lips as she listened to him speak, relief flooding through her to know they could converse even through this weird setup. “I know it’s not the same,” she replied, moving up to the screens now. There was blood steadily leaking from her ear now, but she paid it no mind. Nothing mattered now, not the pain in her limbs or the ringing in her ear. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake. You were a stupid kid, too, and you made a mistake.” 

Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, squaring his shoulders as though he was entering an arena, but Kyouka’s voice cut him off. 

“You were irresponsible and cruel and a huge fucking asshole,” Kyouka exclaimed emphatically, slamming her hands down on the table that held the screens. “But you aren’t that person anymore. You and Midoriya aren’t those same kids anymore. That,” she said, pointing at the small imitation of their friend on the screen, “isn’t Midoriya, and you know it.” 

Katsuki wanted to fight back. He wanted to stick to his guns and insist that, of course, it’s Izuku, who the hell else would it be, but instead he turned back to face the smaller boy. Izuku’s head was tilted to the side. He watched Katsuki as though asking him if she was right. As though Izuku didn’t know whether he was real or not. 

“I–” Katsuki stopped, memories playing on a loop in his mind. From when Izuku saved him from the sludge monster, what felt like a lifetime ago, to the first time Izuku really fought back, and Katsuki realised the extent of his strength. The faintest of smiles tugged at his lips at the memory of their fight at Ground Beta, to Katsuki’s apology in the rain and catching Izuku in his arms before bringing him home. His eyes watered as he remembered the way he refused to give up hope even as he walked to his death because he knew Izuku would be there, because he knew that Izuku would carry on his will and win the fight by saving everyone. He remembered the way they locked eyes from across the sky before joining hands to save the man who had brought them together. The feeling of Blackwhip twisting around his broken arm to stabilise him, Izuku’s tears hitting him in the face when he flew past to save All Might. The promise made amongst hospital beds and beeping machines to keep fighting and chasing each other, no matter what else happened, the way they had talked and laughed and helped each other gain mobility again. Katsuki’s voice broke in a sob as the memories of the past year flooded his mind and assured him that no, this wasn’t Izuku. Not his Izuku, not the one that mattered. 

“No,” Katsuki said, his voice a small whisper, “it’s not him.” 

“So don’t listen, Katsuki,” Kyouka begged, something desperate and manic punctuating her sentence, “Just don’t listen to what it’s telling you.”

He stared at Izuku. Empty eyes, hollow smile and a thin frame that shook in the wind. How was he supposed to forgive himself when the victim of his callous and cruel words stood before him in flesh and blood? “I still-”

“Your guilt is holding you hostage.” 

She cut him off again, and Katsuki winced at the irritation he heard in her voice. It wasn’t often that Kyouka got annoyed with him, and he didn’t enjoy it when it happened. 

“You have attoned,” she went on, “and more for what you told him. For what you did to him. You have done what you need to, and he has forgiven you. You are holding onto this because you’re scared.” Kyouka’s voice rose as she spoke, frustration that he couldn’t see in him what she could mounting as the pain in her body sapped her patience, “You’re scared to talk to Midoriya. Not this fake one that you’ve made up in your head to keep feeling sorry for yourself, the real one. The one that’s waiting for you back at UA. You’re comfortable in the grief you recognise, and you’re scared of what might happen if you actually talk to him for once instead of resorting to fighting your feelings out.” Kyouka grit her teeth together, pressing her hand to her forehead. She wiped the blood that had begun to leak out of her nose with a groan, “Stop drowning yourself in self-pity and fucking stand up, Katsuki Bakugo.” 

Katsuki recoiled as though he had been slapped across the face. He shook his head, blinking hard and looking around. He turned to look at Izuku, and he saw the truth in what she said, as rude as it was. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t his Izuku, and it wasn’t Izuku that wanted this from him. Izuku would never want this from him; if for nothing else, he wouldn’t want Katsuki to take this easy way out. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki repeated, his lips pursed in a downward smile. 

“I know, Kacchan.”

“I was horrible to you,” Katsuki continued, “I was a horrible bully and a worse friend, nothing will ever excuse what I did and I never expected forgiveness from you, but you gave it to me anyway. I’ll always be grateful for the second chance we got Izuku,” Katsuki’s hand reached out to rest on Izuku’s shoulder, “and I can’t… I can’t throw it away. Not even for you.”

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows, twisting his head to look at Katsuki’s hand as though he couldn’t make sense of such a gentle touch from him. 

Katsuki sighed, something sad and understanding, before pulling the smaller boy into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Izuku,” he murmured, cupping the back of Izuku’s head with one hand and burying his face in his green hair. 

When Katsuki opened his eyes again, Izuku was gone. So were the terrace and the trees that surrounded Aldera High. Instead, he was greeted by a sprawling theatre. Red, cloth-covered seats in what looked like an amphitheatre before him and under his feet a wooden stage. 

“FUCK!” 

Katsuki whipped around to see familiar purple hair, and he ran straight to her without a single second spared to think. “KOUKA!” 

She looked up just in time to brace herself before Katsuki crashed into her, his arms wrapped around her neck as they both fell back onto the stage.

“Suf- suffocating me,” Kyouka coughed out even as her hands banded around his shoulders. 

Katsuki kept her locked in his arms for a few seconds longer before pulling back with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, “You saved me.”

Kyouka smirked, punching his shoulder, “Did you doubt it?”

“Not for a second,” he assured her as he got to his feet and helped her up. “You’re bleeding,” He told her, pointing to her nose. 

“Huh?” Kyouka raised her hand to her nose and laughed, “It’s nothing,” She told him, wiping it on her sleeve and looking around. “Where the hell are we?”

Katsuki raised his eyebrows at her display of bravado but said nothing, choosing instead to look around as well. “No fucking clue. You figure out what’s going on yet?”

“It’s some kind of quirk,” She replied, nodding, “I don’t think the person running it can hurt us directly.”

“Huh,” Katsuki snorted, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, getting ready for a fight regardless, “so they’re relying on psychological bullshit? Pussy.” 

Kyouka rolled her eyes, “Okay, dude.” She’s smiling, though. She couldn’t stop smiling now if she tried, not when he was within arm's reach, not when they were so close to getting out. 

“So where the fuck is this guy?” 

Kyouka looked around again, pursing her lips before crouching low and touching the stage. She stretched out her jacks, both prosthetic and flesh, and forced them through the wood as she listened intently. 

He watched her, pride tugging in his chest at the sight of her using her prosthetic so naturally. She had gone through her own journey, he was sure of it. Before Kyouka had come to save him, she had saved herself, and when they got out of here, he would make sure she knew just how fucking proud of her he was and how much she inspired him. He would never let her go again, never risk anything happening to her without knowing just what she meant to him. 

Kyouka looked up and subtly gestured up to the projection box, her pupils moving up. Katsuki’s grin turned feral as understanding settled, and he offered her his hand again. As soon as he had a strong grip on her hand, he swung her onto his back and blasted up from the stage, trusting her to hold on as he manoeuvred the air with his good arm. Kyouka complied immediately, their actions attuned to each other through nothing other than trust that the other would never do anything to cause harm. 

They crashed through the projection box, and Katsuki’s arm was back around Kyouka’s waist before they were even steady on the ground. He gripped her tight and flung her forward. Kyouka twisted mid-air, angling her body towards the one other person in the box, and she crashed feet-first into the villain's TV head. 

“Nice,” Katsuki chuckled, walking forward and bringing his foot down on the villain's chest as Kyouka landed with a soft thud beside him. 

The screen of TV Guy's head flickered and crackled, a small crack forming in the middle of it from the force of Kyouka’s kick, and Katsuki snorts at the sight, “Fucking loser.”

“Just embarrassing, really,” Kyouka tutted, shaking her head in disapproval. 

Before TV Guy could formulate a response, two pairs of boots came down on his face, and the crackling static went dark. As soon as the screen blacked out, the amphitheatre melted away as well, and they were standing in the shitty haunted house with the cheap decorations once again. 

Katsuki's laugh echoed through the halls when he realised that they had done it. It was over, they had won. Kyouka threw herself at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before jumping around, hollering for their win. Katsuki chuckled, shaking his head fondly at her antics before twisting his left hand in TV Guy's collar and dragging him out. “Come on, dumbass, let’s get out of here before this freak wakes up and starts up some new simulation.”

“Excuse me,” she countered even as she ran up and fell into step beside him, “some more respect for the person who saved your life, please?”

“Hah!” Katsuki exclaimed, “In your fucking dreams, Ears.” 

Kyouka laughed in response, her hands tied behind her back as she walked alongside him, a small skip in her step. Katsuki was quiet. 

“What is it?” She asked, turning her head ever so slightly to look at him.

He chewed on his bottom lip before speaking, “How did you know?” Katsuki asked, rolling his eyes when she raised her eyebrows at him. “How did you know what with Izuku and me in middle school? I never told you about that.”

“Ah,” Kyouka nodded. She was contemplative for a moment before speaking, “I didn’t know. I still don’t. Not really. I just– I made an informed guess based on what you did say, I guess.” Kyouka shrugged, smirking, “You’re not that complicated, you know?”

“Oh, haha, fuck you too then.”

Kyouka’s laugh rang out, loud and clear. It made something warm and peaceful bloom in Katsuki’s chest. 

They walked for a minute or so more before the front door came into view, and they both picked up the pace, anxious to get out of there despite the levity in their actions now. There was a sigh of relief that left both friends the second they stepped out into the cold night air, though neither commented on it. 

“Will you call UA?” Katsuki asked Kyouka as he tossed the TV Guy down the stairs, watching him land with a satisfying thud. 

“Mhm,” She nodded and bounded down to settle on the bottommost step. She pulled out her phone, her right jack stretching out and wrapping around the villain to keep him subdued as she called for backup.

Katsuki watched from the top of the steps, smiling at the easy way she used her quirk again. Something had definitely changed with her in there, and he couldn’t find it in himself to fully regret everything that had happened. He shook his head, trying to banish the sappy thoughts and pulled out his own phone. Katsuki let out a breath he had been holding since he first saw Aldera High back there and opened up his messages. 

“We need to talk.” He typed out, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

His hit sent, and his thumb hovered over the icon. A profile picture of two kids, barely five years old. One with a mop of curly green hair and the other with blonde, spiked up to the sky. He smiled to himself, something small and private. 

“No excuses.”