Work Text:
Izuku
The villain barely touched him.
One second, Izuku was moving through the chaos of the fight, tracking civilians, allies, and escape routes all at once. The next, a hand brushed against his shoulder, and a strange pulse shot through his body. There wasn't any pain. No explosion. No warning.
The world simply disappeared.
When consciousness returned, he didn't understand what was happening. Everything was cold. His body felt weightless, and something pressed against him from every direction, dragging at his costume and tangling in his hair. It took several long, terrifying seconds for his brain to catch up.
Water.
He was underwater.
His eyes flew open. Above him, sunlight shimmered through the ocean surface in fractured ribbons of silver. The sight should have been beautiful. Instead, panic seized his chest so hard it hurt.
The pier, the villain, the blackout.
He'd fallen.
Izuku immediately kicked upward, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced through his skull. His limbs felt sluggish, like they were responding half a second too late to every command, but he forced himself higher anyway, reaching toward the distant surface.
Nothing–the distance barely changed.
He kicked again. Then again. His lungs were already beginning to burn.
Come on.
He pushed harder, arms pulling desperately through the water while his legs strained beneath him. Every movement felt slow and weak, as though the ocean itself was fighting to keep him below.
The surface remained impossibly far away.
A horrible realization began to settle in.
Nobody saw.
The battle had been loud. Chaotic. Heroes and villains had been moving everywhere at once. Everyone had been focused on the fight.
Nobody saw him fall.
His chest spasmed.
Instinct screamed at him to breathe.
He clamped his mouth shut and kept swimming.
The effort became harder with every passing second. His body still hadn't recovered from the quirk-induced blackout, and now oxygen deprivation was beginning to take its toll. His vision blurred around the edges. The sunlight above him swayed and distorted, turning into a wavering patch of silver that seemed farther away every time he looked at it.
He kicked again.
Then again.
The progress was almost nonexistent.
Fear slowly began giving way to something worse.
Exhaustion.
His muscles burned. His lungs felt like they were being crushed. Every movement demanded more energy than he had left to give, and eventually, despite everything in him that wanted to keep fighting, his body began slowing.
The current caught him–not violently. Just enough to pull him sideways and down.
The ocean rocked around him with a strange gentleness that somehow made everything worse. The deeper he sank, the quieter the world became. The sounds of battle vanished completely, swallowed by the water until there was nothing left but silence.
No explosions. No shouting. No heroes.
Just him. Izuku had always imagined death would be loud. Painful. Terrifying. Instead, there was only sadness.
His thoughts drifted toward home. Toward his mother. Toward All Might. Toward Class A.
Then, inevitably, toward Kacchan.
The thought hit harder than anything else. Not because Kacchan would be angry, because he wouldn't. He would be devastated.
A lump formed in Izuku's throat as memories surfaced one after another. The movie they had been planning to watch tomorrow. The hoodie Kacchan had stolen weeks ago and absolutely refused to return. The argument they'd had that very morning about whether Izuku was taking enough breaks between patrols.
There had been so much time left.
Or at least he'd thought there was.
His chest convulsed again.
The urge to breathe was unbearable now.
The burning in his lungs was beginning to fade, replaced by a frightening numbness that made his limbs feel distant and unreal. The surface above him looked impossibly far away.
And for the first time, Izuku truly believed he wasn't going to make it.
Something moved. At first, he thought he was imagining it, a dark shape cutting through the water. Fast–much faster than he could move.
His vision had become blurry and unfocused, the world reduced to shifting colours and distorted light. He couldn't make out the details. Couldn't tell who it was.
Only that someone was there.
Someone had found him.
Strong arms wrapped around him.
The relief that flooded through him was almost overwhelming.
Not because he knew he would survive.
Because he wasn't alone.
He tried to open his eyes wider. Tried to identify the person holding him.
Everything remained a blur.
Then darkness swept over him again.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
Bakugou
The villain was finished.
One more explosion sent the bastard crashing into the concrete hard enough to crack it. Heroes immediately moved in to secure the arrest, while Bakugou stepped back, adrenaline slowly fading.
Somewhere during the fight, he'd seen Deku stumble near the edge of the pier.
He'd thought nothing of it.
The idiot was probably fine.
So Bakugou focused on cleanup.
He checked on the injured, exchanged reports with the other heroes, and helped secure the area. It was routine work. Normal work.
At first, nothing felt wrong.
Then ten minutes passed.
And Deku still hadn't shown up.
Bakugou frowned.
The feeling started as a minor irritation. A persistent sense that something wasn't where it was supposed to be. His eyes scanned the area automatically.
No green curls. No freckled face. No muttering nerd.
The irritation became unease.
"Deku?"
No answer. His stomach tightened. He found Uraraka near one of the ambulances.
"Where is he?"
She blinked.
"Midoriya?"
"Yeah."
"I thought he was with you." The words hit like a physical blow. Bakugou felt the blood drain from his face.
The villain. The blackout quirk. The stumble. The ocean. For one horrible second, every piece clicked into place.
No! No, no, no.
Without another word, he was running.
The water stretched endlessly beyond the pier. Empty. Bakugou's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Deku!"
Nothing answered. The panic that followed was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Not battle fear. Not the familiar rush of combat.
This was something colder. Something that made it hard to breathe.
Because for the first time, Bakugou wasn't imagining what would happen if Deku got hurt.
He was imagining what would happen if he never came back.
The thought was unbearable. Bakugou dove.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
The water swallowed Bakugou instantly.
He ignored the cold, the pressure building in his ears, and the burning beginning in his lungs. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was finding him.
The ocean grew darker as he descended, visibility worsening with every meter until the world narrowed into shifting blue shadows and dim sunlight filtering weakly from above. His eyes scanned frantically through the water as panic clawed at his chest.
Please.
The thought slipped through before he could stop it.
Please be okay.
Bakugou swam deeper, then deeper still, and finally—he saw him.
For a moment, Bakugou forgot how to move. Izuku wasn't swimming, struggling, or fighting. He was simply sinking. His body drifted through the dark water with terrifying stillness, arms hanging limply at his sides while the ocean pulled him farther away. The sight was so wrong that Bakugou's brain refused to process it. Deku was always moving, always fighting, always getting back up. Seeing him motionless felt impossible.
A sharp, ugly dread ripped through Bakugou's chest. Every future he'd imagined suddenly flashed through his mind and shattered—every movie night, every argument, every lazy morning, every stupid little thing they'd built together.
Gone. The possibility hit him hard enough to hurt.
"No."
The word escaped as a useless stream of bubbles. Bakugou kicked harder.
By the time he reached him, his lungs felt ready to burst. He grabbed Izuku's arm and immediately searched for any sign of movement.
There wasn't one. No response. Nothing. The complete absence of movement nearly broke him.
"Deku."
Another useless stream of bubbles.
Bakugou pulled him close and immediately turned upward, swimming with everything he had left. His muscles screamed from the effort, his chest burned, and his vision blurred.
He didn't care. The only thing that mattered was getting Izuku back, getting him breathing again, getting one more chance. Just one. Because Bakugou wasn't ready to lose him, and he wasn't sure he ever would be.
The surface exploded around them.
Bakugou barely had time to drag in a desperate breath before wrapping an arm around Izuku's chest and forcing them both toward shore. Heroes on the pier were shouting now. People were pointing. Someone had finally realized what was happening.
Too late. Far too late. Bakugou kicked harder. Every second felt stolen. Every second felt precious.
The rocky shoreline beside the pier came into view, and Bakugou practically dragged Izuku onto it, stumbling as his legs finally found solid ground. His entire body was shaking from exertion and fear.
Heroes were already running toward them. Someone was yelling for emergency medical personnel. Someone else was shouting for space.
Bakugou barely heard any of it.
All he could see was Izuku.
Pale. Still. Not breathing.
"Deku."
His voice came out rough and broken. Nothing. No response. No twitch. No movement. Just terrifying stillness. The world narrowed until there was only Izuku lying motionless beneath his hands.
"Move!"
Medical responders arrived seconds later, dropping to their knees beside them. One immediately checked for breathing while another reached for emergency equipment.
"Unconscious," one of them reported.
A second responder leaned closer.
"No effective respirations."
Bakugou's stomach dropped. No. No. No.
The rescuers immediately began working. Commands were exchanged rapidly between them as they moved with practiced efficiency, administering rescue breaths, airway support, and chest compressions.
Bakugou stared.
Someone was talking to him, telling him to move, but he barely registered it. Then a hand physically grabbed his shoulder and forced him backward.
Bakugou stumbled away. He hated it. Hated standing there. Hated being useless. Hated watching strangers fight for Izuku's life while he couldn't do anything except stare.
Minutes crawled by—the longest minutes of his life. Every second felt like an hour. His hands were still dripping seawater onto the sand, his lungs still hurt from the dive, and his muscles still burned.
None of it mattered. Because Deku wasn't waking up.
Around him, heroes were gathering. Uraraka had arrived. Iida wasn't far behind. Several rescue workers had gone silent, their attention fixed on the medical team.
Nobody seemed willing to speak or acknowledge what everyone was thinking.
Bakugou couldn't stop staring.
If he looked away—if he blinked–something terrible would happen.
Eventually, paramedics arrived with a stretcher and additional equipment. Oxygen was fitted into place. Monitors appeared, along with tubing and medical supplies.
Bakugou didn't understand most of it. He didn't care. One of the paramedics finally looked up.
"We have a pulse."
The words hit him like a physical force.
A pulse. Relief slammed into him so hard his knees nearly gave out. A pulse.
Not awake. Not okay. But alive.
Alive.
Bakugou grabbed onto that single fact and refused to let go.
The stretcher was loaded quickly while oxygen remained in place and paramedics continued monitoring him. Questions were asked. Reports were exchanged.
Bakugou heard none of it.
The ambulance doors opened, and he climbed inside before anyone could stop him. Nobody even tried. One look at his face was apparently enough.
The doors slammed shut behind him. The sirens started. And for the first time since diving into the ocean, Bakugou finally allowed himself to sit down.
His hands were trembling. His clothes were soaked. His chest still hurt. Across from him, Izuku lay motionless on the stretcher while monitors tracked every heartbeat.
Bakugou stared at the screen.
One beep. Then another. Then another. Steady.
Alive.
The paramedics continued working around them, checking vitals and adjusting equipment while their voices blended into the background noise.
Bakugou barely heard any of it. His eyes never left Izuku. Because every time he blinked, he saw it again.
Deku sinking. Alone. Motionless. Too far away. Too late.
The memory replayed endlessly behind his eyes, each time feeling worse and making him feel sick.
So he kept watching the monitor, kept listening to the steady beeping, and kept counting every breath.
Proof.
Proof that Izuku was still here. Proof that he hadn't lost him. Not yet.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
Izuku
Izuku drifted in darkness.
There was no sense of time or direction, only an endless black void that seemed to stretch on forever. Somewhere beyond it, voices came and went like distant echoes. Sometimes they sounded close enough to touch. Other times they faded so completely that he wondered if he'd imagined them.
Everything hurt.
His chest felt heavy, every breath an effort, even though he wasn't fully aware of taking them. His throat burned. His limbs felt disconnected from the rest of him, as though they belonged to someone else entirely.
There were people nearby. He knew that much. He could hear them, even if he couldn't understand what they were saying or find the strength to respond. Every attempt to reach the surface of consciousness felt like trying to swim through wet concrete.
Eventually, the darkness swallowed him again.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
Bakugou
The hospital was worse.
At least during the rescue, people had been doing something. Moving. Working. Trying.
Hospitals involved waiting. Bakugou hated waiting. Especially when every passing minute felt like torture.
The doctors explained everything: water in his lungs, oxygen deprivation, observation, monitoring, recovery, tests. Bakugou heard the words, but they all blurred together. The only thing he cared about was whether Izuku was going to wake up.
Nobody could give him a definite answer. So he stayed.
Hours passed. The afternoon faded into evening, and evening became night. The lights outside the hospital window slowly disappeared one by one as the city settled into darkness, but Bakugou never left the chair beside Izuku's bed.
He ignored the food Kirishima brought. Ignored the messages flooding his phone. Ignored everyone.
Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again.
Izuku sinking. Alone. Motionless. Too far away. Too late.
The image replayed endlessly in his mind, and every single time it made him feel sick.
The room remained quiet except for the steady beeping of the monitor beside the bed. Each sound reminded him that Izuku was still breathing. Still alive. Still here.
Bakugou found himself listening to it constantly, counting the seconds between beeps, checking the rise and fall of Izuku's chest, watching for the slightest sign of movement.
Anything. Hours passed like that. At some point, exhaustion began winning the fight. His body ached from the rescue, his eyes burned, and his head felt heavy.
Still, he refused to leave.
Eventually, he folded his arms on the edge of the mattress and rested his head there. Just for a minute. Just long enough to close his eyes.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
A soft sound woke him.
Bakugou's eyes snapped open immediately. Years of hero training and instinct had him alert before he was fully awake.
His head jerked upward.
Green eyes were staring back at him.
Confused. Sleepy. Alive.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Neither seemed capable of it.
Then Izuku blinked.
"Kacchan?"
The relief was so intense it physically hurt.
For one horrible day, Bakugou had imagined this moment never happening. He'd imagined an empty hospital room. Imagine doctors delivering condolences. Imagine going home alone.
Now Izuku was looking at him. Actually looking at him.
Alive.
The realization nearly shattered something inside him.
"Don't."
The word escaped before he could stop it.
Izuku frowned slightly.
"What?"
Bakugou swallowed hard.
"Don't ever do that again."
His voice cracked, just slightly.
But Izuku heard it.
The confusion immediately vanished from his expression, replaced by understanding.
"Oh."
Yeah.
Oh.
Because now Izuku knew exactly how terrified he'd been.
"I'm sorry."
Bakugou let out a short, exhausted laugh that barely sounded like a laugh at all.
"Sorry?"
"I didn't exactly plan it."
"No kidding."
Izuku winced immediately after speaking. The movement alone looked painful.
Without thinking, Bakugou leaned forward.
"Hey."
His voice softened automatically.
"Don't move."
The concern slipped out before he could stop it.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
Really stared.
Izuku's gaze drifted over the dark circles beneath Bakugou's eyes, the wrinkled clothes, the exhaustion written across every line of his face.
The realization hit him almost instantly.
"You stayed."
Bakugou rolled his eyes.
"Duh."
But the answer came too quickly.
Too honestly.
Too automatically.
A small smile tugged at Izuku's lips.
Weak, tired, but real.
And Bakugou suddenly felt like crying from relief–which was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
"You look awful."
Bakugou glared.
"You almost drowned."
"You still look awful."
"I haven't slept."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Immediately, guilt flashed across Izuku's face.
Bakugou regretted saying it.
Not because it wasn't true.
Because seeing that look hurt.
"Kacchan..."
"Stop."
"But—"
"Stop apologizing."
Bakugou leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
His jaw tightened.
"I know you didn't do it on purpose."
Silence settled between them. Comfortable. Fragile. Real.
Then Izuku slowly lifted his hand.
The gesture was small and tentative, almost hesitant, like he wasn't entirely sure Bakugou would take it.
Idiot.
Bakugou grabbed it immediately. Their fingers intertwined.
Warm. Solid. Real.
The moment their hands connected, something inside Bakugou finally relaxed. Not completely, but enough.
Enough to breathe. Enough to believe this wasn't some horrible dream. Izuku squeezed his hand weakly.
"That bad?"
Bakugou stared at their joined hands, at the IV taped to Izuku's wrist, at proof that he was still here.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.
"I thought you were dead."
The confession settled heavily between them.
It was raw, honest, and painfully vulnerable. Bakugou never admitted things like that. Never. But he couldn't take it back–didn't want to, because it was true.
Izuku's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"Kacchan..."
"I saw you sinking."
Bakugou's throat tightened.
"I couldn't get to you fast enough."
The memory slammed into him all over again.
Dark water. Motionless body. Panic. Fear. Helplessness.
His hand tightened around Izuku's.
"I thought I lost you."
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then Izuku carefully shifted. Pain flashed across his face, but he kept moving anyway.
"Kacchan."
"What?"
"Come here."
Bakugou frowned.
"What?"
"Please."
The request was so quiet that Bakugou found himself standing before he'd even realized he'd moved.
Idiot.
He stepped closer to the bed. Izuku reached toward him, and suddenly Bakugou understood. Carefully, very carefully, he leaned down. Izuku immediately wrapped weak arms around him. Holding on, not tightly–wholly enough. As though he needed reassurance that Bakugou was really there.
Bakugou froze for exactly two seconds before wrapping his own arms around him. Much tighter. The hug lasted far longer than either of them would ever admit. Neither seemed interested in letting go.
Bakugou rested his forehead against Izuku's shoulder, feeling him breathe, feeling his heartbeat, feeling proof that he was alive. Every ounce of fear he'd been carrying since the pier slowly began melting away–not disappearing.
"I love you."
The words came quietly, muffled against Bakugou's shoulder.
Bakugou closed his eyes.
His chest hurt, the good kind, the awful kind, the kind that came from loving someone too much.
"Yeah."
Very eloquent.
Izuku laughed softly. The sound was weak but genuine. Bakugou would listen to that laugh for the rest of his life if he could.
"I love you too, idiot."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Immediately, Izuku's smile widened. Bright and warm.
Alive.
Something inside Bakugou settled completely for the first time since he'd looked into the ocean and realized Deku was missing.
Because Deku was here. Breathing, talking, laughing.
Still his, and as the first rays of morning sunlight crept through the hospital window, Bakugou sat on the edge of the bed with his arms around him and made a silent promise to himself.
He wasn't letting go anytime soon–not when he'd spent an entire day terrified he would never get the chance again.