Chapter Text
It started off as a day of him missing school. Maybe he’s sick, maybe he just needed a day off. Ever since the war ended and Izuku lost most of his quirk, lessons in the hero course have been considerably more difficult for him.
A sprain, a concussion… it’s not all unlikely. Recovery Girl can only do so much, too.
It’s when days turned into a week that Katsuki became antsy. At this point, he can’t stay silent.
“Oi,” he stopped Ochaco, grabbing her by the shoulder just as she was about to leave their classroom for lunch. “You know what happened to Izuku?”
“Izu-who?” She blinked, her face truthfully confused. Is this a prank? Was he being punked right now? The mere idea irritated him.
“Deku,” he said, hoping that would help. Maybe she just got too used to calling him that.
The name stung his lips, though. Ever since that rainy day when they retrieved him, Katsuki has stopped calling him Deku outside of using it to refer to him by his hero name. But for Ochaco, he’s always been Deku to her, because she was the one who gave it a positive meaning.
To Katsuki’s disappointment, Ochaco simply shakes her head. “Dunno who that is, sorry!”
Fucking useless.
Something was gnawing at him; Ochaco can be rather mischievous if she wanted to be, but she genuinely didn’t look like she was trying to play him for a fool. No, she really didn’t know what on earth he was talking about.
He let her go, and walked off the direction opposite the cafeteria to grab something from a vending machine instead, having lost his appetite.
Living in the dorms was no longer mandatory after the war, though some students opted to remain. Katsuki was one of them; he couldn’t stand being at home most days. He thought Izuku opted to stay, too.
He wondered why he didn’t do this sooner, why he didn’t just go to Izuku’s room on the 2nd floor and find out what in the world happened to him. Maybe part of him was still scared, still couldn’t truly look him in the eye, one-to-one, in the wake of all that happened.
He brought up his knuckle to the door and knocked a couple of times. A few seconds passed without any sort of reaction nor indication that there was even anyone in the room.
He pushed down on the door handle and it opened without resistance. It was unlocked.
That’s weird.
However, the feeling only multiplied when he entered what was supposed to be Izuku’s room: it was so barren, it looked like no one lived in it at all ever since Heights Alliance was erected.
The walls were clean and devoid of posters, the balcony curtains were the standard ones everyone got upon moving in, and even the bed was bare and untouched. There were no longer a hundred All Might eyes watching, no merch lined up in a neat, orderly fashion.
“This has to be one elaborate prank,” Katsuki muttered to himself. In his panic, he almost ripped the closet door open, as he hoped all of Izuku’s belongings would just be comically crammed into it, floor-to-ceiling. His hope ended up shattered when he found the inside just as empty as the room he was in.
His stomach sank, and he broke into a cold sweat. Everything was strange. Everyone is acting strange. If Izuku was going to move back home, he would have told him, right? But even then, why did Ochaco act as if there was never a guy called Izuku in her whole life?
He whipped out his phone, hands and eyes shaking as he looked for All Might’s contact.
“Young Bakugo! It’s unlike you to call me first,” his teacher spoke from the other end. “What’s wrong?”
“All Might,” he felt a lump in his throat as his heart—his already-fragile heart—was beating twice as fast as it should. “Wh– Where’s Izuku?”
“Izuku?”
There it was again: the tone of confusion, the tone that revealed something he’s been denying all this time.
“Don’t play dumb with me!” He finally lost it, snapping at All Might. His lip wobbled, the stress too much, but he can’t just drop it now. “Your student! Midoriya Izuku! Where the fuck is he?!”
All Might sounded terribly confused in his own response. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about! I don’t have any other students besides you, Bakugo. Well, of course there’s the other students in U.A., but that’s probably—”
“Who defeated Shigaraki?!” Surely, he can’t mess this one up, right? There’s no other answer.
“You did, Bakugo. Are… are you sure you’re okay? I can ask U.A. to give you some more time off—”
“Forget it!” Katsuki disconnected the call and sank onto the ground, head swirling as his nightmare started to materialize. He defeated Shigaraki? Is All Might finally going senile? It’s enough to make him laugh.
He thought of contacting other people and asking them similar questions, but there’s only so much his heart can take in one day.
“Ah… shit, what is happening…” he whined, tears finally slipping out of his eyes as his chest grew tighter and tighter.
Izuku… where are you?
After checking in with some of his other classmates, he came to the following conclusions:
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Everyone believed that Katsuki was the one who defeated All For One.
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They also believed that Katsuki was the one who inherited One For All, was also the one who went rogue, and was the one they brought back to U.A.
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Even if he tried to view footage of the final battle, the recording would go fuzzy and crackle whenever Izuku was supposed to be shown on-screen.
It was as if everything Izuku did—everything he was—was replaced by Katsuki. He was the hero who saved everyone.
He knew he wanted to be the number one hero, but not like this.
When he asked Aizawa about it, he said the room has always been unoccupied. When he asked again, to try and poke a hole into his previous response, about why a room on the second floor would just happen to be unoccupied, he was given some flimsy excuse about one of the boys asking to be assigned a floor higher.
That’s bullshit, that never happened, Katsuki thought to himself. Whatever this is, it’s manipulating people’s memories to an unprecedented degree.
During that weekend, he tried to go to Izuku’s house, the apartment he shared with his mother. His own mother couldn’t just forget about her only son, can she?
He rang the doorbell to the Midoriya residence. It’s like standing outside Izuku’s door all over again; there was no one home.
Growing desperate, he pushed it another time. Ping pong. He could hear it from outside, but nothing else followed.
An elderly lady from the neighboring unit popped her head out of the door. “Who are you looking for, sonny?”
“Uh, Midoriya…” he awkwardly pointed to the door with his thumb, but the old woman merely raised her eyebrow.
“Are you sure you have the right house number? That’s the Tanaka residence.”
“Oh. Um, maybe, yeah.” Katsuki blinked, playing it off as a mistake, even though he was Bakugo Katsuki, goddammit, and he never made those kinds of mistakes. “My bad.”
Izuku’s mother couldn’t forget about him if she never existed to begin with—is that the case?
He ended up leaving the apartment complex with a defeated expression on his face, dragging his feet to a nearby park.
It was the park where he and Izuku used to play a lot after school.
From where he was seated, he could see some other kids playing on the monkey bars, swinging to and fro as they burst into peals of laughter. Would they, as children, have looked the same to an onlooker in the past? Or would it have appeared more pitiful as one of the children were singled out, othered, by the leader of their pack?
More than that… what was he supposed to do? He looked back at the apartment complex, to where he was sure Izuku’s home was located. His most secure link to Izuku was also gone. Should he have pushed the matter a bit further? Insisted to meet those Tanaka people the old lady spoke of? Maybe they knew the former tenant. Maybe there really was no former tenant. But he couldn’t have gotten the house number wrong. Not after all this time.
It’s no longer just about altered memories; reality itself has been tampered with. What he didn’t understand, though, was why he remained unscathed.
“They can’t just forget about you, Izuku…” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.”
Furious, Katsuki pulled himself back together and made his way back home, racking his brain for a plan.
This has gotta be the work of a Quirk, he thought. And if so, there’s gotta be a limit.
A time limit was the first consideration, but since it’s already been a week, at least to his knowledge, he ruled it out. He couldn’t risk waiting longer just to test it out. Who knows what’s been happening to Izuku all this time?
He didn’t know who was causing the Quirk. If he did, he would have just blown up the guy responsible to smithereens, and the case would be closed. He wished it were that simple; a problem he could solve with his fists.
His mind flitted back to asking the question ‘why.’ Why was he the only one who remembered Izuku? Was it because he shared the deepest bond with him? Even he isn’t that conceited. Izuku was Izuku because of the way he was: he formed deep bonds with so many people in such a short time. Izuku—who he thought could do nothing—did so much for others, literally changed their lives, and yet, this is how he is repaid? Katsuki was indignant.
There’s gotta be a hole, a weakness he could prod until it broke, the weakest point in the fabric of their shared, altered reality.
He decided he’ll start with Ochaco again.
Katsuki found himself distracted the whole day. He was, by all means, a good student, but he could just feel himself slipping away during their lectures. He even had to be called by a teacher twice because he didn’t hear them the first time—an occurrence so rare, the rest of the class looked at him like he had three heads all of a sudden.
He had no appetite for class, or for training, when he knew Izuku was out there, somewhere.
Was he locked up? Is he even in this world? Is he swimming in a black void? Or sitting in a vast, white emptiness? Trying to figure it out drove him mad, though he can only imagine how hard Izuku must have it right now. His memory of getting kidnapped by the League of Villains was stirred, remembering how powerless and pathetic he felt to the point where he had to be saved, how Izuku, Eijiro, and their other classmates risked it all for his rescue.
He kept his eyes on Ochaco the whole time, but she never gave any sort of indication that something was off. She acted the same as ever, but that’s when something caught his eye: an All Might keychain, hanging from her bag.
He waited until class ended before cornering her again. “Who gave you that, huh?” He asked, jerking his head while referring to the keychain.
“Oh, this?” She looked surprised by the question and turned around, causing the keychain to swing to her movement. “It was a gift!”
“I know,” he grit his teeth. He didn’t have time to play twenty questions with this girl. “Who gave it to you?”
Ochaco appeared unsure. “I… um… I actually don’t remember. I think I’ve had it for quite a while,” her voice faded into uncertainty. She removed the loops of her backpack so she could hold and see the keychain a bit better.
'‘You’ve always been an All Might fan?” Katsuki raised his eyebrow to cast his doubt. Of course, he knew what the answer was.
“Well, aren’t we all?” She laughed a bit uneasily, “He was the Symbol of Peace. It’d be hard to find someone who doesn’t admire him, even just a bit… Oh, but it would be weird, huh…” Ochaco muttered the last part to herself as she started to realize how it was strange that a casual fan of All Might would be gifted a keychain of his, and how she couldn’t even remember who gave it to her.
“After the war, who was it who came rushing to you, up in that spot overlooking the city?” Katsuki changed tracks, not allowing her time to rationalize the last question in her head. Relentless attacks. That was what he was good at, though now, he had to do it on a psychological level.
Ochaco fell silent, eyes fixed to the ground. He could practically hear the cogwheels turn as she tried to figure it out. “Wasn’t it… you…? No… you all showed up at the same time… Wait… that’s not…” As if a sharp pain shot through her head, she winced in pain and suddenly clutched at her temples with a shriek. “Agh—!”
“Yeah, someone else got to you before we did!” Katsuki egged her on to try and remember more, doubt her reality more, dig out her memories a bit more.
“Ggh…” she groaned, crouching on the floor as the pain kept her from standing straight. “Wha– what are you even trying to say, Bakugo?”
“You’re forgetting something. Something real important.”
“I… I can’t…” Ochaco begged, her breathing turning ragged. “Please… let’s continue this conversation some other time.”
“Tch.” Katsuki looked down at her from where he stood. It can’t be helped. Whoever did this must have sank their claws so deep into their subconscious that trying to pull their memories out caused them great pain from the resistance. “Fine. Think it over, carefully.”
Katsuki left her alone to give her the space to collect herself. He made his way back to the dorm, and spotted Shouto preparing tea on the kitchen counter.
“Half-and-half,” he approached him with a growl. He seriously couldn’t stand the sight of the people closest to Izuku just acting like there’s nothing wrong. Why did he have to go through this alone? He couldn’t understand. Those closest to him should at least be in a state similar to him.
“Hm? What is it?” He looked up, looking as unaffected as ever.
“Don’t what is it me…! Don’t you feel like you’re forgetting something?”
Shouto blinked. He did tend to forget things from time to time, though he could not possibly figure out what Katsuki meant by that or why he was being reminded in this way. “Oh, my laundry. I left it in the dryer.”
“No, you fuck—” he sighed in exasperation. “How many of us did our internship at Endeavor’s?”
The sudden change in topic took him aback. “Just us two. I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation, though.”
“No. Try again. Who faced you in the sports festival and forced you to use your left side?”
“I…” Shouto squinted at him, his expression growing darker. “Just where are you going with this?”
“Just fucking go with it!” Katsuki screamed, at wit’s end. If there’s anyone who needed to remember, it was Shouto. Shouto, who became the man he was because of Izuku’s encouragement. Without him, he would never have been able to move forward from his hate towards his father, stunting his growth and never reaching the level of power he displayed when he defeated Dabi. Remember, damn it!
He was so close to grabbing him by the collar over the counter.
“I—” Shouto immediately screwed his eyes shut, like he was suddenly blinded by a searing pain. “That was you, wasn’t it…? N-no…” He tried to make sense of it, tried to give an answer to the question, but he was failing to come to a conclusion his psyche would be satisfied with. He gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white, before deciding to step away lest he knock over the piping hot tea.
The strain of trying to recall caused him to wobble and nearly fall, but Katsuki caught him in the nick of time. “I don’t know how you of all people could forget. Don’t you remember? Midoriya?”
The word shattered something in him as he lurched, falling even more off balance than before. “Midoriya…” He made it sound so foreign. Like it was a word he had never uttered before. Katsuki would never fall for it. In all the time the three of them spent together, or even when it was just them two, he knew just how Izuku’s name sounded with his voice.
“Bakugo, I…” Shouto grabbed the corner of the counter and helped himself up again, with Katsuki providing additional support. “I do feel like… there’s something I’m forgetting. Like there’s a hole in my memories.”
His face lit up at the realization. Finally, he was getting somewhere.
“Try to remember harder. Please.” He sounded almost desperate. Or maybe he already was. “It can’t be just me…”
Shouto could only look at him with a lost expression before he shook his head. “Sorry. This is all I can manage… for now. I need to go.” He turned away and started loading his tea cup and pot onto a tray, carrying it out of the room with him.
Katsuki was left standing in the middle of the kitchen, fuming over how close he was, and how he wasn’t, at the same time.
Katsuki started to feel like he was going to get nowhere with his classmates. Is it because they’re less experienced with Quirks, so they’re also less equipped to deal with this? Is that why they’re having such a hard time breaking through?
He entered All Might’s room, having told him he was going to come over today. This time, he decided to skip the theatrics and all the dance around the facts. He was supposedly All Might’s student, right? Then he has no choice but to listen.
“Young Bakugo! What brings you here today?” He smiled weakly. Even now, he looked frail as ever. He was deeply injured in the war, and his age plus his pre-existing conditions meant that his recovery was much slower than most. The only reprieve was that he was well enough to return home.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” he pulled up a chair and sat down to face him. “I’m not your student.”
All Might looked like his heart would break at the very words. “Where is this coming from?”
“Think about it!” He yelled. “Me, inherit One For All? I already had a Quirk, a pretty damn good one at that. You can’t seriously have decided a foul-mouthed guy like me was gonna be the next Symbol of Peace.” He was putting himself down to drive a point, but boy did it sting. For all his desire to be Number One, here he was, telling the former Number One hero that he never had what it took.
All Might was flabbergasted, though inclined to agree. “Well, yes, you were rough around the edges, but you have the heart of a hero, right? That’s what matters the—”
“Bullshit,” he called it out. “Look, you found all those good qualities and more in someone else. Midoriya Izuku. That ring a bell?”
“Mido…riya…” The pro hero mulled it over, sinking into deep thought. His eyes were furrowed and his expression darkened, but he didn’t seem to suffer from a similar mental break compared to his classmates when their memories were forcefully dredged up. “Hmm… that’s…”
“Come on…” he said impatiently.
As though something clicked in his brain, he looked at Katsuki with mouth agape. “Young Midoriya! How could I forget?”
The excitement caused him to leap to his feet. “Yeah! How could you?! All Might, everyone else’s forgotten about him, they’re acting as if he doesn’t exist!”
The elder tried to think of ways how it could have happened. Katsuki helped to fill in the blanks, telling him about all he found out from talking to his classmates and visiting Izuku’s apartment. All Might thought back to all of the villains he ever fought, whether there was one with a power so formidable that can alter reality. “This is concerning… even videos are altered, and it’s also affected his mother… And yet, you remembered him. Did you experience a loss in memory like I did?”
“No, that’s the weird part… I remember him and…” his words suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. “I remember Izuku, but…”
“But?”
“Shit.” Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Some parts are starting to blur. It’s like half-and-half said—there are holes in my memory.”
“Calm down. At least there’s two of us working this out now. But we need to be quick if you’re starting to forget about him, too.”
All Might vowed to use his connections to get to the bottom of this. Katsuki’s heart pounded in his chest; he made the progress he was hoping for, but he felt like he himself regressed, too.