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Bakugou Katsuki has always been called lucky for his quirk. It was bright and powerful and everything a hero needs. It was also destructive, but when you have well-known parents and go to a ghetto school that was an easy thing to look over.
It was also very valuable. He didn’t just make explosions, Katsuki sweats nitroglycerin. A very volatile substance, something that could ignite into a fiery explosion even without him detonating it himself.
It was a wonderful mix of his parents' quirks. His mother, Bakugou Mitsuki, could secrete glycerin, making her look eternally youthful and blemish-free. Perfect for her modeling career. His father, Bakugou Masaru’s quirk was Acid Sweat. He sweats a substance that causes sparks when he rubs his hands together, which probably made his career more difficult, what with the flammability most clothes have, but he’s always been a careful man.
All in all the Bakugou’s had it good. They were all powerful and they were successful. People loved them, even if Katsuki’s appearance wasn’t known to the public the same way his parents were. His life was perfect, almost suspiciously so.
It shouldn’t have surprised them when it all went wrong. He had been walking home from school one day, the same way he always did. After all, he was 8 years old, he didn’t need his parents to come pick him up like some baby. Not like Deku did. That kid was so annoying, always whining about wanting to be a hero even without a quirk and then not doing anything to get what he wanted.
Anyway, he was walking home. It wasn’t very far, maybe a 10 minute walk at most, and that was if he was dragging his feet. He was used to this walk, it had never bothered him. His parents had obviously warned him about strangers and why he can’t stop to talk to anyone, but it didn’t worry him. He was smart and he was brave, Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a victim.
Or that's what he had always believed anyways. Maybe if he had been a little more worried he would have paid closer attention. Maybe he wouldn’t have been grabbed off of the street. Maybe he wouldn’t have been stuck with a needle right in that part of your arm doctors collect blood from. Maybe he wouldn’t have woken up in a dark room with some man he’d never seen before.
He was tied to a chair, his feet were taped together, presumably to stop him from running. Though he was also taped to the chair around the waist, and his palms were pressed together under a few layers of the duct tape. His palms being forced so close to each other were the most worrying, it limited his quirk use. Usually duct tape would be no issue, but now he had to worry about destroying his hands.
The only other things in the room are a small table and a tall, thin man. He was fiddling with something that was blocked by his body. He must have been the person who pulled him off of the street. Swiftly the man turns around without finishing whatever he was doing, as if he had suddenly noticed Katsuki had woken up.
“That was a lot simpler than I had expected, though I suppose you are only 8 years old, aren’t you Katsuki?” His name sounded like a slur coming out of the man's mouth. Katsuki still refused to look at him, keeping his eyes on the floor. His head snapped to the side as the man smacked him across the face.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, brat.” Katsuki raised his head to glare at him. He was pale and his eyes were a sickly mix of green and yellow. He had the beginnings of a beard the same coppery color as the hair toppling down his shoulder in a loose ponytail. If Katsuki had seen this man in the supermarket his mom probably would have called him a ‘weak-ass hippie’.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki hissed, but he still listened. He couldn’t get a good idea of how strong this man was based on appearances alone. He probably had put effort into looking so harmless.
“Don’t sass me, you will regret it.” The cold edge in the man's voice convinces him to let it be. Kind of.
“Whatever,” He mumbles and his efforts are rewarded with another slap across his face, this one strong enough to cause tears to spring up behind the boy's eyes. He kept himself from making any sound. .
“Let’s just get this next part over with, alright? Just sit there and look upset. It shouldn’t be that hard.” The man turns back to fiddle with what he had been messing with before. Now Katsuki can see that it was a camera. The light turns red, signaling that it was recording.
“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou! At this point I’m sure you’ve noticed that your son is running a tad late. Nothing more than 15 minutes but I’m sure you’re at least somewhat worried.
Anyways, no need to panic, I’ve got him right here,” He steps aside to reveal Katsuki, “He is restrained, but it was just to ensure he didn’t hurt himself in his panic. He will remain perfectly unharmed as long as you follow my… recommendations.
His quirk is quite interesting. Nitroglycerin sweat is certainly useful, in many ways, though I’m sure you’ve noticed that. I intend on using that to my advantage. Now for my suggestions.
If you care about your son’s wellbeing you will not report this to the police. Even if they manage to find me you won’t get what you want. You see, I have this handy little tool here,” He lifts a pistol casually, as if he wasn’t threatening to kill him, “and if I hear any door in this building open it will be pointed at this kid's head, and I will not hesitate to pull the trigger. I also trust you to believe that the police will not find me.
You get 24 hours to prove to me you won’t and then it will begin. You will get a video call with him once a week for the first few months, you will probably want to move somewhere where people won’t ask questions, and he will continue his education online, after all we can't have him being a complete idiot, can we? Give me your reply by the end of the 24 hours. I trust you to choose wisely.” He walked over to the camera and shut it off. He left the pistol on the table.
He picked it up, tripod and all, and walked out of the room. He doesn’t say anything to Katsuki, no threats or ultimatums or anything. Just silence. Katsuki felt something he wasn’t used to feeling, fear. He was afraid. He didn’t know what his parents were going to do, he didn’t know what they could do.
Katsuki just stays still, trying desperately to figure out how to escape. He couldn’t count on the police or the heroes finding him. Any sound would alert the man which would result in the trigger being pulled. Katsuki tries to move from the chair, but the tape holds. He looked up at the pistol again, it sat there smugly, as if it knew how terrified Katsuki was of it.
“Alright Katsuki, sorry to keep you waiting all alone in here. Of course, I have no way of knowing what your parents will decide, so I’ll collect some nitroglycerin in advance. You don’t mind, do you?” The man was back, but now he was holding two long pieces of fabric that looked similar to the sweatbands sports player's wear.
“Fuck no! I’m not some dumbass machine to make you bombs and shit!” He struggled to get further away from the man. The pleasant smile that he had been wearing slowly melted off of his face.
“You are so frustrating, why does a child your age behave so feral? I will have to fix that.” He reached for the tape on Katsuki’s hands and the boy flinched back as far as he could. The man brings his hand sharply across the boy's face once again, this time it was so forceful Katsuki tasted blood.
“If you try anything, I swear you will suffer. You do realize that I have more than one bullet, don’t you? Bullet wounds don’t have to be fatal, I could easily shoot you in the leg without killing you.” Katsuki’s eyes snapped back towards the pistol. He wondered just how painful it would be for the bullet to wedge its way into his skin. He wondered how much blood he could lose before things started getting bad.
The man took off the tape, and Katsuki didn't try anything. He just sat there as his hands stung with the harsh removal, and as the man slid the sweatbands onto his arms. They cover his skin from his wrist to midway on his upper arm. It was a warm and clammy fabric, very thick. It felt a bit like polyester but worse. Like it was both trapping and doubling his sweat.
The man leaned against the table in the room and picked up the pistol. He held it lazily, like he wasn’t worried about using it. Like he already knew he wouldn’t need it.
He was right. No one came. Not in the entire 24 hours. Katsuki knew because he didn’t sleep. He didn’t so much as blink longer than absolutely necessary. The man had smiled sympathetically at him, but Katsuki knew it was an act. He didn’t care about him at all. For him, this was good news.
“Seems like we’ll be spending a lot of time together, Katsuki. How fun is that?” Katsuki didn’t answer. He felt weak. He felt like he had lost a game he didn’t know he had signed up for. He didn’t even feel better when the man set down the pistol.
“I guess I should tell you my name, it’d get awkward if you didn’t know it.” Katsuki looked up at that. The man was still smiling, a pleasant smile that didn’t belong in this situation. It made Katsuki feel sick. How could someone smile like that after destroying a kid's life?
“I’m Uda Masatoshi, and don’t worry, I’ll get you a new name for the fake papers soon enough. Can’t have you being a free loader in the future, you’ll be doing jobs for me when you're older. For now, get comfortable, you’ll be stuck in this room for a while.”