Chapter Text
If you had told middle school Katsuki that he would die on the battlefield at the ripe age of seventeen, Katsuki wouldn't have believed you.
But it did happen. And it was ass in Katsuki's not-so-humble opinion.
Tell him why he is at another doctor's appointment (the umpteenth in the past month) to check his pace maker and arm rehab. Yeah, he knows what happened to him should have sent him to a permanent grave. Six feet under. Done. Gone for good.
But these appointments were annoying as fuck. And he certainly let everybody know.
"'M fine, Ma. The pacemaker is working. And look," he set off some small explosions in the hospital, "I can even detonate again." Katsuki smiled, triumphant at the progress he was making. It had only been a year since the final battle against Tomura Shigaraki and One For All, and he still had a ways to go, but he was moving exponentially faster than the doctors, occupational and physical therapists predicted. He was excelling like always.
"Katsuki Bakugo, you stop making a rukus right now!" While Katsuki was extremely proud of said progress, Mitsuki was still anxious for her son. She hadn't seen his dead body on the ground (she thanked every diety there was daily for that) but she still had a sense of dread every time her son had a doctor's appointment to go over his recovery trajectory. Like she was waiting for the other hat to drop.
Masaru just patted his son's head. "That's great, Kats, but maybe not in a hospital?" Masuaru squeezed Katsuki's hand gently.
And another thing, Katsuki fucking hated how fragile everyone treated him.
Lest he remind you, again, that it has been a year since that battle. He was fine. His grades were perfect, his quirk still worked on both hands, his heart was beating (yes, he acnowledged the pace maker doing most of the work on that front, fuck you very much), and he had a very eager Best Jeanist ready to take him on as a side kick as soon as he graduated UA. See? Perfectly fine.
So why did his friends and family still walk on eggshells around him? It was worse than after he'd been kidnapped by the League first year. At least then they all pretended to look the other way and ignore how he might've felt about it. In fact, he'd gotten treated like he was tough as nails after that with no regard for the racing heart and panic attacks that woke him up.
Trade one struggle for another, he supposed.
"But see? I'm perfectly fine! Clear for combat training, too. I'm dying to get back on the field and kick some Denki and Eiji ass. And Izuku's been looking forward to a match for months." Katsuki might've been stoic in class, but ever since his new lease on life, he'd learned not to grow up too fast. He was a teenage boy, with teenage boy energy, and that energy needed to go somewhere. Better it be the training arenas on UA's campus.
"We'll see what the doctor says, okay Kats?" Masaru squeezed his hand again.
"And if you still aren't cleared for full combat, we'll figure it out. Aizawa has been lenient with your course work since you've already gotten back to strength and quirk training, so it's no big deal, remember?"
Katsuki bit his bottom lip.
This would be the fourth fucking time he came in for a physical assessment to clear for the final aspect of his heroics course training. Within weeks his physical therapist had him on strength training regiment, up and moving, his occupational therapist even had him doing quirk development. Shit, even Hound Dog had him working through his PTSD and anxiety disorders to manage the strain his quirk-induced anger had on his already fragile heart. The only wall was his stupid doctor who was still concerned for his soft tissue and heart damage. Katsuki might blow up the building if he didn't get the news he wanted today.
The heavy oak door finally swung open and a very tall blue skinned doctor dressed in scrubs and a white coat walked in. Clip board in hand, stacked with Katsuki's medical history files, he sat down on the small cushioned stool before rolling it right in front of Katsuki where he sat on the exam table.
Gods Katsuki hated hospitals.
"Good to see you again, Katsuki." Katsuki just glared.
Some might say he went soft after the war.
It depends on who you ask.
"Hopefully good news today, yeah? Let's review." Katsuki dreaded this part. It was the longest part of the appointments, and it was the same every time. He just wanted to get up and prove that he was good for battle simulations again. Instead, he had to hear just how fucked his body was despite being eighteen now.
"As you know, your right arm was severely damaged and almost needed amputation. We synthetically crafted tendons to replace the shorn ones, but that came at a cost for your musculature. Your PT has noted that you show improved strength, about fifty percent of your pre-injury status. Your OT mentioned contained quirk use was regained five months ago. Limited blast radius, and minimal control." The doctor went on and on.
"Now to the stuff you care about." Katsuki sat up a little higher. He squeezed his bad arm into a fist. The compression sleeve he had to wear itched against the scarred skin he preffered to keep hidden. "Your heart monitor continues to scale up considerably, even when doing basic physical activity nowhere near your baseline. Quirk or no, it's a little concerning how much pressure your heart is under just from your PT, OT and limited heroics training." Katsuki sunk back in his seat. Here it was, another "unfit" label on his chart. If he wasn't so hopped up on SSRIs he swore he would cry.
Thank the sky above for the emotional numbing that came with anxiety meds and antidepressants.
"That being said, you are in your last year at UA. Many heroes come and go in the hospital and this year is the make or break of their careers. I wouldn't be able to call myself your care provider if I didn't take into consider your goals for seeking medical care. So, and I say this with emphasis Katsuki," the doctor paused, noticing the way Katsuki's sulk turned into a hopeful gleam in his eye. "I will clear you for regular activity."
Katsuki jumped up from the exam table and let off small explosive pops. "HA HA! Yes! Finally!"
The doctor cleared his throat and waited for the teen to settle down. "But you must take care to stick to your diet and care routine. Recovery Girl will monitor your progress regularly. That includes having an alert set when your pacemaker measures an alarming heart rate. If I hear you aren't watching yourself, I'll suggest no heroics for another six months."
Katsuki couldn't believe it. He would finally be able to catch up to his classmates. Even Icyhot couldn't stop him now. The rate he was going in recovery, he would surpass all of 3A. He let off another small explosion, ignoring the small cuts in his palms and the way the acidic sweat burned and blistered.
So the doctors didn't notice his palms weren't quite explosion-proof like they used to be. Who cares? Katsuki was back in the field.