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INCOMING CALL : Aizawa Sensei
Katsuki groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake off the sleep.
It’s 1:30 AM. What the hell does he need? he thought, already irritated.
“Oi, Sensei, do you know what time it is?” he growled, barely able to hide his annoyance.
“It’s Midoriya.” Aizawa’s voice immediately cut through the fog of sleep, snapping Katsuki awake
“What did the damn nerd do this time?” he shot back, irritated. Of course, Deku would cause trouble on patrol.
Each student from Class 1-A had been required to spend a night shadowing Aizawa, something about it being good for “practical training.” Katsuki had always found it dull. Nothing major ever happened where they went, so what could’ve possibly gone wrong this time?
“We ran into some issues. Midoriya’s in bad shape,” Aizawa’s words made Katsuki sit up. “I need to finish my shift, but I can’t leave him alone right now.”
“Why don’t you just call Recovery Girl? I’ve got training early tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about your classes. I’ll excuse you. Meet me in the common room. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.
Katsuki stared at the blank screen of his phone.
T hat was weird…
Katsuki paced back and forth in the common room, trying to kill time. He was about to call Aizawa again when the elevator doors dinged open.
Aizawa stepped out, looking just as tired as usual—but it was the sight of Izuku that made him freeze.
“What the hell happened to you, Deku?” Katsuki’s voice caught in his throat as he took in the state of his friend. Izuku’s hands were caked in blood, dark and dried, though Katsuki couldn’t tell where it was from. His costume was in tatters—ripped, burnt, and stained with dark streaks. What had once been a bright green fabric was now a dull, filthy mess.
Izuku didn’t meet his eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Katsuki’s voice raised in frustration as he looked at Aizawa. Why the hell would you bring him back here like this? Shouldn’t he be in the infirmary?
Izuku flinched at his raised voice, but Aizawa raised a hand, cutting him off. “He’s fine,” he assured Katsuki.
“I don’t know what your definition of ‘fine’ is, but that”—Katsuki gestured at his battered friend—“is not fine.”
“It’s not my blood, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Hah?”
“It’s not my blood,” Izuku repeated, his eyes now trained on the floor. “I’m tired... I’m going to bed.” With that, he turned and walked off, not sparing them another glance.
Aizawa sighed softly, his gaze following Izuku’s retreating figure. He turned back to Katsuki. “I need to finish my report. Please keep an eye on him tonight. He’s not well enough to be alone right now.”
Katsuki hesitated. “Is he injured?”
Aizawa paused, then answered quietly, “No. Not physically. He just needs rest.”
“What the hell happened?” he pressed on.
Aizawa sighed, “Midoryia experienced the ugly side of the job tonight. Being a hero means you deal with the good and the bad. You can’t save them all.”
At a loss for words, all Katsuki could say was, “Alright, I’ll watch the damn nerd.”
Under normal circumstances, the sight of Izuku’s room—cluttered with ridiculous All Might posters and cheesy hero memorabilia—would’ve been perfect material for Katsuki’s sharp tongue. But tonight? He couldn’t even bring himself to muster a jab.
Instead, he slumped on Izuku’s bed, scrolling through news feeds, hoping for some update from tonight’s patrol. His heart stopped when he stumbled across the first headline.
ROGUE NOMU WREAKS HAVOC ON RESIDENTIAL NEIGHBORHOOD: 4 DEAD, 10 MISSING, DOZENS INJURED
His fingers trembled as he clicked on the article, but he exited nearly as quickly as he’d entered. The first image was enough to make his stomach twist in revolt. He’d only glimpsed it for a second, but it was enough to turn his insides to stone.
Front and center was Izuku, holding the mangled body of a woman—or what was left of her. She was so… broken. No wonder Izuku looked as haunted as he did.
Katsuki chucked his phone across his room, his mind returning to Izuku. How long does a shower take, anyway? he thought.
After what felt like an eternity, he stood up. The silence was too heavy, and something felt off. Izuku had been in the shower for a while, and the water had been running non-stop.
“Deku?”
Nothing.
“Deku!” He knocked again, louder this time. “Listen, nerd, if you don’t answer, I’m coming in.”
Still no response.
“Alright, I’m coming in!” He twisted the doorknob and stepped inside..
The sight before him made his stomach drop.
Izuku was sitting in the tub, still in his torn hero costume, staring blankly at the floor. Scalding water poured over him, but he didn’t move, didn’t react. The tub was filled with dark, murky water—blood oozing from his clothes.
Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat, and he rushed to the faucet, turning it off. Only then did Izuku seem to notice he was there.
“What are you doing, Kacchan?” His voice was hoarse, skin red from the heat of the water.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Katsuki snapped, panic rising in his chest. “Are you trying to boil yourself alive?”
Izuku barely seemed to hear him. “I can’t get clean,” he said, his voice empty. “The blood won’t come off.”
Katsuki stared at him, incredulous. “Well, no shit. You’re still wearing your damn costume!”
“Oh…” Izuku looked down at himself, almost surprised to see the torn fabric clinging to his skin. “I didn’t know this was still on.”
Katsuki shook his head in disbelief. “ Jesus , Deku.” He grabbed Izuku’s arm and gently began pulling the drenched costume off.
As the fabric came off, blood and mud pooled in the tub, mixing with the water, turning it a grim shade of pink.
“It won’t come off.” Izuku’s voice cracked, and he started shaking, splashing the water around as he clawed at his sleeves. “It needs to come off. It has to come off…”
“Deku…”
“Why won’t it come off?!” Izuku started crying, his sobs low and broken.
“IZUKU!” Katuski’s voice shot out, but it only seemed to make Izuku cry harder.
Shit, Bakugou thought. I can’t do tears.
“It’s my fault,” he gasped between sobs, breathing growing more erratic.
Katsuki reached for Izuku’s hand, the boy’s skin burning from the scalding water. “Listen to me,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a scared animal. “I need you to breathe with me.” He placed Izuku’s hand on his own chest, exaggerating each breath.
“C-can't,” he shuddered.
“Yes you can, just follow my lead,” Katsuki pressed, continuing the exaggerated breaths.
Minutes passed. Slowly, Izuku began to regain control, matching his breathing to Katsuki’s. The tension in the room eased, and Katsuki pulled the drain, letting the bloody water swirl away.
“Alright,” Katsuki said. “I need you to close your eyes.”
“But—” Izuku started to protest.
“Close them. No peeking.” Katsuki ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He began to carefully strip Izuku out of the remaining parts of his costume.
“Kacchan…” Izuku hissed, embarrassed.
“Deku, we’ve bathed together since we were kids,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is nothing. Deal with it, or I’ll knock you out.”
Izuku sighed, allowing Katsuki to continue stripping him of his ruined costume.
Once the soaked fabric was discarded, Katsuki threw it into the laundry bin and turned the water on to the coldest setting.
Izuku yelped as the cold water hit his skin. “Sorry, nerd, it’s your own fault for trying to boil yourself. I’ll warm it up in a sec.”
He carefully rinsed the blood from Izuku’s body, one arm at a time, scrubbing away the remnants of the night’s ordeal. As he worked, his thoughts lingered on Izuku’s hands, scarred from so much injury in so little time. This is what the power of All Might does to you, huh?
He scrubbed under Izuku’s fingernails, working quietly as Izuku stared at him with wide, tired eyes.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Izuku whispered, his voice fragile.
Katsuki didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why. Part of him would rather be in bed right now, but something in him wasn’t bothered by the situation.
“I said close your eyes,” Katsuki replied gruffly.
Izuku obeyed, shutting his eyes.
Katsuki moved on to his hair, massaging shampoo into the green locks, then conditioner, as the tension seemed to drain from Izuku’s body. The panic was gone, replaced with something quieter, more at peace.
He gently traced Izuku's face, wiping away the dirt, blood, and tears. It's the closest he’s ever been to the nerd’s face. It’s splashed with freckles, and there is a small white scar crossing through his right eyebrow. His expression is content, a stark contrast to the earlier panic.
Izuku’s relaxation is interrupted with a soft towel thrown at his face.
“You can open your eyes, nerd,” Katsuki grumbles, “now get dressed, you need to get some rest.”
Midoryia stands up with the towel wrapped around his waist. “Thank you, Kacchan…I don’t know how to make it up to you.”
“Tch, don’t worry about it.” He dismisses “now bed.”
Katsuki watched in silence as Izuku began preparing for bed, sluggishly pulling on his pajamas before climbing under the covers. It was nearly 3 a.m. now, and fatigue weighed heavy on his shoulders, but he wasn’t ready to leave Izuku alone—not just yet.
For now, he sat in the corner on the bean bag chair, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes never left the other boy. The quiet of the room was thick, and Katsuki's gaze lingered, sharp and calculating.
He didn’t realize he was staring until Izuku cleared his throat, the sound awkward, breaking the stillness.
“Uh… I’m fine, Kacchan. Trust me, you can go back to bed.” Izuku’s voice was soft, laced with the familiar hesitance that Katsuki could never quite ignore.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained rough, dismissive. “Like hell I will.” His words were sharp, meant to cut off any protest before it could form, though underneath the tough exterior, something else churned. Fear , maybe. Or something close to it. "Sensei said I’m staying with you, and that's exactly what I'm doing."
Izuku flushed, looking away as if embarrassed by the fact that Katsuki cared enough to stay. He didn’t argue, though. He knew better.
“Okay…” Izuku murmured, his voice small, vulnerable. “I-I’m going to sleep now.”
He turned over, drawing the blankets up around his shoulders, but the room didn’t feel quiet anymore. Katsuki stayed put, scrolling through his phone, his thumb tapping with a restless energy he couldn’t shake.
A few minutes passed. Then Izuku’s voice, soft and hesitant, broke through again. “Kacchan?”
Katsuki barely glanced up, but he heard the concern there, heard the question beneath it. “You should try to sleep too.”
Katsuki grunted, the words grating on him more than they should have. Sleep? He couldn’t, not after everything that had happened tonight, not with the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. His mind was too sharp, too unsettled. He was supposed to keep watch, to make sure Izuku was alright, and no amount of exhaustion would get him to let his guard down.
"Go to sleep, nerd." His tone was harsher than he intended, but it was the only way he knew to mask the strange, gnawing sensation in his chest.
Izuku hesitated, but slowly, reluctantly, he settled back down into his blankets, pulling them up over his head. Katsuki didn’t let his eyes leave him. Not yet.
He couldn’t sleep. Not until he knew Izuku was okay. Not until he was sure no one else would hurt him.
Katsuki didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a soft, pitiful whimper pierced the silence. His body snapped awake, instinctively alert to the sound coming from the lumpy shape on the bed.
"Deku?" He called out cautiously, edging closer to the figure.
As he approached, the dim light revealed something that made his stomach drop: Izuku was awake, though not in any way Katsuki had hoped. The boy’s shoulders trembled with stifled sobs, his hand pressed over his mouth in a desperate, failed attempt to stay quiet. Izuku didn’t seem to notice him, lost in his own grief.
Katsuki, unwilling to startle him, spoke softly, cutting through the thick silence. "Izuku?"
The boy jerked his head toward the sound of his name, and his face crumpled in anguish. Katsuki’s heart twisted. Of course, the shower hadn’t fixed things. He’d barely said a word about the horrors he'd witnessed. Not yet.
"Kacchan..." Izuku gasped, breath ragged, his eyes wide with panic.
For a moment, Katsuki was transported back to a time when they were little—maybe four or five years old—just after Izuku’s father had left. It was shortly after the doctors had declared Izuku quirkless, and Hisashi had walked out without a word.
Izuku’s family had moved in with him and his mom for a while, Inko struggling to keep it all together as she tried to make a life on her own. Katsuki and Izuku had shared a room during that time. One night, Katsuki had been woken by gasps coming from the boy lying on the mat beside his bed. The realization had hit Izuku hard—his father wasn’t coming back.
At five years old, Katsuki hadn’t known what to say, but he knew what to do. He’d pulled the duvet back, inviting Izuku into his bed, and held him until the sobs quieted, until the boy’s breath evened out, and he fell into an exhausted sleep.
Now, looking down at the broken boy before him, it was hard to ignore how much Izuku looked like that child from all those years ago. The memory felt like a punch to the gut. Katsuki shook it off quickly, forcing himself to stay present.
"Scoot over," he grumbled, his voice rough. Izuku complied, shifting to give him room.
Katsuki settled beside him, pulling the smaller boy close, wrapping him in the comfort of his arms. He told himself it was so Izuku would feel safe. But, deep down, Katsuki knew it was as much for his own peace of mind. Holding Izuku close meant no one could hurt him. Not tonight.
"Shh..." Katsuki murmured, rubbing Izuku's back, his voice low and steady. "You’re okay. It’s over. You’re safe."
"But she’s not," Izuku choked, his voice breaking as the memory of the woman he couldn’t save weighed heavily on him.
Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost unbearable. "I know," he whispered. "I know."
“K-kacchan?" The boy’s voice cracked, small and fragile.
"Yeah, Deku?" Katsuki responded softly.
Izuku buried his face into Katsuki’s chest, and the strangled sobs that followed made Katsuki’s heart ache. "Can I still be a hero?" he asked, his voice barely audible through the tears.
Katsuki took a long breath, his mind racing for the right words. His friend needed more than reassurance right now—he needed truth. Katsuki sat up, gently pulling Izuku with him, their faces close.
"Izuku," Katsuki said, his voice firm but kind. "Look at me."
Izuku shook his head, refusing. But after a moment of Katsuki’s gentle persistence, the boy finally raised his eyes to meet his.
"I know this isn’t what you want to hear," Katsuki began slowly, his voice steady despite the weight of what he was about to say, "but this is part of the job you’ll have to learn to live with. You want to be the greatest hero? Believe me, I want that too, and I’m still trying to beat you to it," he added with a half-hearted chuckle, trying to ease the tension.
Izuku didn’t smile. Katsuki sighed and continued.
"But you can’t save everyone," he said quietly.
Izuku shook his head in disbelief. "I could’ve saved her."
"But you didn’t," Katsuki replied firmly. "And that means you couldn’t have. You can’t dwell on the 'what-ifs.' How many people did you save tonight?"
Izuku’s gaze dropped, and Katsuki gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"How many?" he repeated, his voice soft but insistent.
"Twenty," Izuku muttered.
"Twenty," Katsuki echoed, his voice thick with the weight of it. "Twenty more people are alive because of you. Back home with their families. That’s what matters." He swallowed hard. "All Might has lost people. Aizawa has lost people. Even Jeanist has lost people. Your heroes—they make mistakes, but they keep going. They show up every day because they made a promise. The day we took that entrance exam, we made a promise to ourselves. To do our best, and show up every damn day."
Izuku was quiet, but his eyes never left Katsuki’s.
"You can’t give up. Not now. Not when you’re this close." Katsuki punched Izuku lightly on the arm, trying to push a little humor into the moment. "I’ve got a title to take from you, so get your act together, alright?"
Izuku managed a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
"You’re still in training. You weren’t supposed to be there. But you were. And you saved twenty people. That’s more than most could ever dream of." Katsuki’s tone softened. "Use this as motivation. Get better. You will get better. But for now..." He nudged Izuku back onto the mattress. "You need to sleep."
Izuku hesitated, then curled up beside him with a quiet sigh. "Thank you, Kacchan."
Katsuki tightened his hold around him, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. For a moment, he wondered how much of it was for Izuku and how much of it was for himself. But he didn’t question it. Instead, he mumbled gruffly, "I’m trying to sleep. Shut up, Deku."
Izuku chuckled softly, his breath finally steadying as he drifted into sleep.
Katsuki stayed awake a little longer, watching over him, the quiet weight of the promise they'd made to each other settling deep in his bones. He wasn’t going to let Izuku give up—not now, not ever.