Chapter Text
Bakugou Katsuki hated hospitals.
Izuku could tell even unconscious.
The machines beeped steadily beside the bed, monitors flashing soft greens and blues, but Katsuki lay rigid beneath the sheets like he was bracing for a fight he couldn’t see. His brow was furrowed. His hands were curled into fists. Even sedated, he looked angry at the world for daring to slow him down.
Izuku sat beside him, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. Shinsou sitting near him, a melancholy smile in his eyes, as he leaned against the wall like he didn't belong anywhere yet.
“You’re an idiot,” Izuku murmured, voice barely louder than the hum of the lights. “You know that, right?”
No response.
Bakugou had thrown himself in front of him at USJ without hesitation. No yelling. No insults. Just action. A blast that took down the villain and sent Katsuki crashing into the concrete hard enough to knock him out cold.
A week, Recovery Girl had said. Maybe more. He had too less energy, and the only way he could gain some was after waking up.
Izuku swallowed and leaned back in the chair, reminiscing about old memories.
When Katsuki’s parents had died four years ago, it had broken something in him. Not loudly. Not all at once. Just enough that he stopped pretending he didn’t care. Enough that he’d let Izuku stand with him instead of behind him. They were closer than brothers after that incident. Whether it had been a good thing or a bad think, Izuku never knew.
Inko had taken Katsuki in without hesitation. Godmother in name long before guardian on paper. Their apartment had gotten louder after that. Messier. Safer.
They trained together now. Ate together. Fought side by side.
UA felt… wrong without him.
“H-hey Izuku, I think visiting hours are over. We should go.” Shinsou remarked. Shinsou had been Izuku’s first friend in UA, the first person apart from Katsuki that he could rely on.
“Wake up soon, Okay?” He muttered, letting go of Katsuki’s hand as he started to walk behind Shinsou.
The hallway outside the medical wing was quiet. Too quiet. Suffocating
UA always buzzed with movement, with voices and footsteps and distant training explosions. Now, it felt like the building was holding its breath. It had felt this way ever after the USJ incident occurred.
Izuku adjusted his bag on his shoulder and headed toward the exit, mind replaying the USJ incident on a loop. The villains. The chaos. The way All Might had arrived like a miracle at the last second.
Peace, restored.
So why did Izuku feel like something had gone wrong long before that?
He slowed as voices drifted down the hall ahead.
“…the numbers don’t line up.”
Izuku stopped. He knew that voice. All Might.
Izuku pressed himself closer to the wall, heart kicking up as another voice answered, lower, sharper.
“They never do. Not at this stage.”
Izuku frowned.
“Villain activity has increased in affluent districts,” All Might said. “But fatalities remain concentrated elsewhere.”
“That’s expected,” the other voice replied. “Fear spreads faster when people think they’re at risk.”
Izuku’s stomach twisted.
“…acceptable losses,” a third voice muttered.
Izuku didn’t hear the rest. He didn’t trust himself to stay. Heroes didn’t speak like that. This was too… cruel for that. His pulse roared in his ears as he slipped away, thoughts tangling over each other. Shinsou asked what’s wrong. He could always tell when Izuku felt something, but Izuku just contained his speech, his eyes darting with fear.
Villain statistics.
Losses.
Fear.
That night, he barely slept.
~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Izuku was summoned. “All Might would like to see you,” a support staff member spoke cheerfully. “In his office.”
Izuku forced a smile and nodded, it probably had to do with something about One for All – The quirk that got passed down to him.
All Might’s office smelled faintly of old paper and polish. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating framed photographs of smiling heroes and past victories.
All Might wasn’t there yet. Izuku hesitated. Then, carefully, he moved. The filing cabinet was unlocked.
Izuku told himself he was just looking. Just curiosity. Ju- But before he could even properly rationalise himself, he found something.
The folder was thicker than he expected. He flipped it open.
Graphs. Charts. Incident reports. Names he recognized and others he didn’t. Words blurred together until one phrase snapped into focus.
Villain Control Measures.
Izuku’s breath caught.
He skimmed faster, heart pounding. Scenarios. Response times. Controlled outcomes. Mentions of “non-lethal expectations” and “acceptable variance.”
Heroes were listed. Not as responders. As participants. This wasn’t negligence, this was design.
His heart pounded in his chest. His world felt twisted, as if he was disoriented. His head was spinning, he couldn't think straight, his palms were sweating, eyes darting across the room.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Izuku slammed the folder shut, hands shaking as he shoved it back exactly where he’d found it. He barely had time to straighten himself before the door opened.
All Might entered, smiling as always. “Ah, young Midoriya! Thank you for waiting.”
Izuku nodded, throat dry.
They talked about One For All. About legacy. About what it meant to be a symbol. All Might’s voice was warm, reassuring, steady. He talked about how much that Izuku would need to sacrifice to be the next symbol of piece. But now, Izuku didn’t know what All Might though he might need to sacrifice.
Izuku listened. And thought about statistics. When he left the office, the sunlight felt harsher than before. Heroes weren’t supposed to need nmubers like that.
And for the first time since he’d been accepted into UA, Izuku wondered if peace was something that had to be simulated, not protected.