Work Text:
There is a noisiness to his soul, like the pitter patter of the rain as its droplets of water hit all that they can reach. Katsuki stands, inside his mind, amidst the thunderous emotions filling him up. Each droplet of water that sits on his skin—perfectly formed, perfectly cold—represents the feelings that he so desperately tries to hide. Perhaps, once, he could have sought shelter or warmth. Now, there is a coziness to his suffering, in the chill in his blood. There is pain, one he can sleep through night after night, but never truly goes away.
There is a mask, placed carefully over his face. Katsuki knows, in a bizarre way, what it’s made off. Wood and metal mixing together in a beautiful craftsmanship. The surface is simple in a rugged way, small intricate patterns adorning it here and there. There are no gaudy adornments, or mosaics, as that’s not who Katsuki is. It’s painted white, with ornate orange; swirls upon daub swirls decorate it, rough in its brushing.
It is mystical in a way, as if it has a life of its own. It doesn’t surprise Katsuki when it’s once lustrous garnish becomes ash smoke. The slow and burning blaze eating away at the once brilliant colour, leaving traces of ebony behind. It loses its shine; dull and matt replacing its glow.
That’s who Katsuki is.
Or the person, as much as it pains him to admit, who he has become.
He hides.
Wide eyes, breaths ragged and harsh; hands trembling at his sides, fist clenched so tight that his nails dig into his skin; legs frozen in place.
Feelings.
/I’m scared. I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared of becoming a burden. I’m worried that I’m weak. I’m worried that try as I might, I will never achieve my goal. That I will never surpass anyone. That I will be left behind./
It has worked, to a certain point.
Anger masking everything he doesn’t want to show.
But nothing lasts forever, just as how anger is not the most effective coping mechanism, since most often than not his loud and foul mouth puts him at a disadvantage, giving him more trouble than it’s worth. He’s seen it happen again and again and still, it’s in his instinct, to block the impact with harsh words and harsher mannerisms.
He’s learning.
It’s taking time, and a lot more patience that Katsuki has ever been capable of, but it’s getting better.
Now, there are times it’s easier, to think about everything. Lay open all the cards on the table, look at them and discern all their little secrets. Thinking about his mistakes, admitting them in his own head and knowing he was wrong, that maybe he could have reacted differently, choose another path, another reaction.
It doesn’t mean it’s gotten easier to communicate his feelings to other people, as it still takes a toll on him. However, he’s working on it and he knows something’s changed.
A fundamental shift happened the night he confronted / him/ —Izuku.
———
There is freedom, if Katsuki really thinks about it, in being honest.
That’s the biggest problem with hiding. Shackles are tied around his ankles and wrists, chaining him to the solid walls he builds inside himself; every time he so much as shifts, the chains make echoing noises that seem to go on forever. It makes his skin prickly, his stomach churn.
Katsuki knows it’s all in his own mind. He can never outrun his own conscious thoughts, however; they haunt and yell, scream in the back of his mind, until they blur and mix; it makes him want to rip out his own hair, for a chance in relief.
It comes as a surprise, being vulnerable. Especially in front of the person he thought he hated the most.
And it hurts; more than he could have hoped for, but it also relieves him.
It’s suffocating, to stock up all these incessant notions; a scream wanting to be thrown out from his mouth but fizzling at the last moment, too weak and disappointing.
Now he sets it free.
/“WHY? How did I end up chasing the back of a shit-head who was always trailing behind me?”/
There is a rawness to his screams, wound wide open to the pain. He doesn’t have anything to support him in that moment, only his lonesome self. He looks at the pavement, making it easier for the words to stumble out from his mouth, like a dam that’s been broken.
/“Why is a shitty small fry like you getting stronger and being recognised by All Might?! WHY?? I was getting stronger too…..”/
The sobs are stifled at first as he makes one last attempt to hide his grief. It’s overcome by the wave of his emotions, though, and he breaks down entirely, all his defences washed away in those salty tears.
When he looks up, he knows what Izuku can see on his face.
Grief, loss, devastation.
It’s the first time he lets his mask slip from his face. The first time he decides to forgo it and leave his face bare open, let his emotions flow out; let the vulnerabilities show, let himself be free.
/“WHY DID I BECOME THE REASON FOR ALL MIGHT’S END?!?”/
For a moment, he refuses to look away—even as his lips tremble and his shoulders heave with emotion, unwilling to back down. But his crumbling feelings are too much. He looks down as his hands, the same hands that should have been stronger, that should have kept him away from all the trouble with the villains.
The hands that make him weak.
/“He couldn’t tell anybody, but even though I tried not to think about it… The slightest accident made it come flooding out!”/
Small crystal beads that trail down his face, moving from his desperate eyes down the slot of his flaring nose. Only to hit the harsh ground, making the floor wet and dark. Katsuki knows they don’t really make any sound, but he can almost hear the echo as each droplet melts on the earth, resonating inside is mind.
He hates them.
Which is why he fights.
The reason why his sanity is still intact, that he hasn’t broken down completely.
It’s Izuku—who’s always been following him around, despite the beatings and everything Katsuki’s thrown at him—that stands right now in front of him.
It always seems to be /him/ .
The one that takes his mask away.
———
Katsuki never realised what true friendship means.
He understands, after everything he’s had to go through, that he’s never truly had real friends.
Back in middle school, he had underlings. If he can even call them that. Kids who trailed behind him, doing his bidding, never going against his ways, his views, his words. They never called him out if they thought he was doing something bad, or ever opposed him in any way. Katsuki understands that they were wearing masks, much like his own, hiding behind them so they didn’t need to feel Katsuki’s wrath.
They hide for a different reason than his own, but he knows masks are masks no matter how you wear them or what you try to hide behind them.
As he stands in the middle of his high school classmates, he’s aware that they aren’t putting on false niceties to appease him; that they genuinely are his friends, despite how adamant Katsuki’s become at trying to keep everyone at arm's length.
Look how well that’s working out.
They all got under his skin; ones more than the others.
———
Kaminari walks beside him towards the dorms, an arm slung around Katsuki’s shoulder while he goes on and on about the new move he’s perfecting for their oncoming class the next morning.
Once upon a time, Katsuki would have grabbed his arm, flung it away from him and maybe even throw an explosion right in his face, just to state a point. But in this moment, it doesn’t bother Katsuki. Kaminari has managed to wear him down enough for him to not care about such casual touches.
“Hey Bakugou,” Kaminari says suddenly, an edge to his voice that Katsuki knows all too well.
He hums nonchalantly, not quite paying attention to whatever he’s about to say.
“Let’s do something this weekend. Being in the dorms is so / boring/ . We can go somewhere fun with everyone,” Kaminari continues, excitement colouring his words, body vibrating in eagerness.
It’s not that Katsuki hates spending time with them. They’ve been together through enough shit to be comfortable being his own usual foul self and know that neither of his friends bat an eye anymore, or take him too seriously for that matter.
That doesn’t make it easy, either.
“I already have things to do this weekend, dunce face.” Katsuki replies, frowning slightly when Kaminari suddenly tightens his arm around him. He’s shaking him slightly, and once Katsuki takes a good look at his face he understands Kaminari’s just pouting.
“Oh come on, you always say the same,” He says, “And what exactly does this grandpa need to do that he can’t spend some quality time with his friends, hm?” Kaminari continues, teasing him.
Kaminari’s antics doesn’t incite any reaction out of Katsuki other than a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to train,” He says simply.
Kaminari groans, “You’re seriously no fun.”
Katsuki smirks.
(He’s not sure whether he’s surprised later that weekend when first thing in the morning he’s got Kaminari and Asido pounding at his door, identical matching grins adorning their faces when he opens said door, and ready to wrestle with him so he can go on what they called “an adventure”.
Stranger things have happened, he guesses.)
———
Katsuki’s never understood why anyone would call round face weak. It had bugged him at the sports festival, and if he’s honest with himself, it still bothers him sometimes when he sees just how much effort she’s putting into becoming a better hero.
He’d had known that, in a way, she was putting on a show at first, when they first started their year. It was easy to see she was hiding behind her mask of cheerfulness. Not to say that she’s not that type of person, but every time there seemed to be an air of tension around her that itched something inside Katsuki.
It had seemed hypocritical to call her out on it, however, seeing as he was doing the exact same thing.
If felt too much like he would be calling himself out.
He had meant it when he had said Uraraka wasn’t fragile.
He can see it now as she trains behind everyone’s back.
“What are you doing?” Katsuki hears himself say before he can think better of it.
Round face startles out of her concentration, looking at him as if he had caught her doing something illegal. Katsuki scoffs at the imagination.
She laughs, and he notes how fake it sounds, “Nothing much, just wanted to try something new.” Katsuki looks at her impassively for a moment, letting the tension rise until he sees Uraraka fidgeting under his gaze.
“You know,” He starts casually, “you’ve been improving quite a lot lately.”
At another point in his life, these words would have been far harder to say. Complimenting someone else had always been a topic that made Katsuki blanch, but he’s come a long way and has acknowledge the fact that sometimes it’s not so bad to boost someone else’s confidence.
Uraraka seems flustered at his words, probably not quite believing that they come from him, but she calms down soon after, a different look in her eyes.
“Thank you,” She says, and it sounds dissimilar—in a good way.
“By the way, you should search ‘epley maneuver’ sometime,” He says finally, stepping back from the door and moving towards the corridor. “Oh, and maybe search for some psychical therapy too, I’ve heard it helps.” He throws over his shoulder, glancing behind one last time to see her reaction.
Uraraka seems confused for a second before a smile breaks on her face—genuine.
He knows she’s not faking it this time.
Katsuki smirks at the ‘thank you’ she throws his way again, this time between laughter.
———
Hope is a bright star in a hopelessly dark universe; not only an emotion, but a promise.
When the fighter has been laid on the canvas by a well placed right to the jaw, hope is there saying, "Get up. Take a nine count if you must, but be ready to stand, and have your opponent dust off your gloves. You're going to win this match." Hope is drawn to the person who sees beyond the present defeat, beyond the moment of being cast down, and beyond the negative words of a hopeless voice—your own.
Katsuki had never been a big believer. Hope wasn’t part of his vocabulary because he was at the top.
Then, he fell.
It hasn’t been easy to stand back up.
Except, he’s made it.
And this time, he has a hunch he’s going to be the one who may be bringing hope to someone else; a person who he still believes to be one of his greatest rivals, save who may or may not become another to call a friend.
The tentative relationship they have so far has been maintained, nevertheless, he knows a time will come when they clash heads, and Katsuki awaits that day with bated breath.
Todoroki is just another mask to be uncovered, and Katsuki has observed him enough to know that they—as different as they can be—are still alike in the worst aspects.
The future has never looked more appealing to Katsuki.
———
/Pre-/
A bright child.
/Peri-/
A tumultuous teenager.
/Post-/
A confident man.