Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

****Disclaimer: neither Boku no Hero Academia / My Hero Academia nor its characters belong to me. All rights belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

This is the sequel to "A Ghost of What Was Once Mine!!!!!"

Pilot story is a very long slow burn.

If you haven't read the first story yet, be aware that there are manga and fanfiction spoilers ahead! This story diverges from the original, My Hero Academia Storyline. This is a BakuDeku story.

Thank you all for patiently waiting for this continuation. Your support and enthusiasm mean the world to me, and I can't wait for you guys to read my work. I'm not sure yet if it's going to be a weekly or biweekly release but we'll see.

Enjoy the ride!

Trigger Warning: Gore, Angst, Depression, PTSD, Dissociative identity disorder (DID), Sexual content, mature themes, and torture.

Most Chapters will be From Katsuki's POV

Please enjoy 💕

Chapter Text

Katsuki Bakugo stood alone among the gravestones, the wind whipping through the trees and carrying the faint scent of spring flowers. His eyes, usually burning with fierce intensity, now held a somber reflection as he stared at the grave before him.

The headstone before him reads Inko Midoriya.

A year ago, in this very spot, Katsuki had made a wish. It had been his twentieth birthday, and all he wanted was one more chance with that damn nerd, Izuku. His heart felt like it was about to explode with how much he wanted it... how much he needed it. Standing there with his eyes shut tight, he begged whatever the hell might be out there listening. He wanted to see those stupid green eyes open again, hear that voice that he'd forgotten long ago, and feel the presence of the one person who'd always been more than just his rival, but a pillar in his life.

To think that a year ago he'd been a completely different person.

The air was still, the sky a dull gray that matched the heaviness in Katsuki's chest. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the fresh bouquet of Japanese Camellia flowers, their yellow petals standing out against the somber backdrop.

His fingers traced the delicate petals, their softness a sharp contrast to the rough calluses on his hands. Every damn week for years, he'd brought these flowers to Izuku's hospital room. It had become a ritual, a small but important gesture that carried so much meaning in his life. Their bright color was like a slap in the face to those sterile walls and the constant beeping of the machines keeping Izuku alive. Katsuki knew the symbolism behind those delicate flowers—longing and perseverance. That's why he'd chosen them. They were his silent way of saying what he could never really put into words, much less fully admit at the time.

He knelt down, fingers trembling as they brushed away the debris and dirt that had gathered on the grave, a ritual he had repeated countless times in Izuku's place since Inko had died. But today, he worked almost reverently, as if cleaning the grave could somehow make up for the guilt that was slowly destroying him.

"Hey, Auntie," he muttered, barely above a whisper, setting the flowers at the base of the headstone. Talking to a gravestone felt weird as hell. All those times he came here in Izuku's place, he'd never once thought of speaking to her. But now... it felt like it was all he had left. The only thing that hadn't gone to shit. When he finished, he sat back on his heels, staring at the neat, clean stone.

As he sat there, Katsuki's mind drifted back to his freshman year, remembering how Izuku used to be. Damn nerd, always so innocent, so free, even with the war on the horizon. His laugh had been so genuine, his eyes bright with that annoyingly unbreakable hope. But that was before everything went to hell. Before the coma. Before the last few months tore their world apart. Their trauma had not only ripped them apart, but brought them so much closer, opening up a part of Katsuki he never thought he'd been capable of showing, but like all good things... it was never meant to last. The person Izuku had become, the darkness that seeped into his soul, was a far fucking cry from the boy Katsuki once knew. Now, his absence was a gaping wound, a constant shitty reminder of what they'd lost, what they could've had. What he had failed time and time again to protect.

Katsuki's thoughts spiraled into the dark pit of his mind. He felt like a failure—damn it, he was a failure. He'd always been nothing more than some angry, stupid-ass kid who thought he was hot shit. But the truth was he couldn't even protect the only thing he ever truly loved, the only person who mattered. Every promise he made to himself, every vow to keep Izuku safe, had shattered like glass under the league's footsteps, under that freak Odd Eye. He wasn't strong enough, realizing he had never been. He let Izuku get kidnapped and tortured, twisting him into someone so unrecognizable. The guilt of the last few months was like lead weights wrapped around his neck, dragging him down, trying to pull him under as he so desperately tried to keep his head above that endless sea of his own regrets.

What the hell does he do now? The question ate at him, a relentless fucking whisper that wouldn't shut the hell up. Every day was a battle just to keep swimming, to not let those lead weights pull him under, into the depths where he knew he wouldn't surface again. All the strength he prided himself on, all the power he worked so hard to hone, had meant jack shit in the end. It all felt like some cruel pathetic fucking joke. What was the point of all his power if he couldn't win the battles that mattered most?

Katsuki clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. "I'm sorry," he choked out, voice breaking. "I'm so fucking sorry, Auntie. I wasn't good enough for him. I failed him... I failed—" His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, a confession to the silent grave.

He stopped mid-sentence, feeling the tears burn at the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't cry. He didn't deserve to cry. Tears were for the people who had done everything they could, for the ones who had given their all and still come up short. But him? He felt like he hadn't done enough. Taking a deep breath, he stared off into the distance, trying to shut off the torrent of emotions threatening to drown him. Crying wouldn't change a damn thing. It wouldn't bring Izuku back. It wouldn't undo the damage or erase the fucking pain. "I wanted to be stronger for him," he murmured, voice low and fierce. "I wanted to protect him, to be the one he could count on... But I—I couldn't be what he needed me to be."

His voice trailed off, and for a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Katsuki closed his eyes, letting the breeze wash over him, trying to find some small semblance of peace in the never ending chaos that had become his life.

Slowly, Katsuki reached up, pulling out the chain around his neck. The cool metal slid through his fingers until the ring at the end dangled before him, catching the faint light of the overcast sky. It was a simple band with a delicate pattern woven on it, but the emerald set into it glowed with a rhythmic pulsating light, like a heartbeat. Izuku's heartbeat.

He traced the intricate pattern on the ring with his thumb, feeling the familiar grooves and edges. It was a small comfort, a reminder of the connection they still shared, even if it was just a shadow of what it had once been.

Katsuki stood, tucking the ring back under his shirt, its calming pulse now pressed against his chest, close to his own heart. He surveyed the cemetery, eyes scanning for any signs of life. The place was empty, just as he wanted it. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

Satisfied that no one was around, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, his hands trembling slightly. He turned it over in his fingers, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. The same quirk user who had infused Izuku's essence into his ring had crafted what lay inside the box.

After weeks of tracking down that quirk, he had finally had a lead. At first, he thought he could use that jeweler to track Izuku down, hoping that she might be able to track down Izuku using her quirk. But it turned out to be just another fucking dead end. That's how it had been nothing but dead ends and false leads, Katsuki had been pissed, feeling the familiar burn of frustration and helplessness that constantly clung to him. As he stormed out, though, an idea had stopped him dead in his tracks.

It was the reason he was standing here now, in front of Inko's grave, with this velvet box.

Slowly, he opened the box, revealing another chained ring inside, identical to the one around his neck, but instead of an emerald, it sparkled with a dark orange sapphire. The ring pulsed with that same otherworldly glow, almost matching the rhythm of the one he already wore.

Katsuki stared at the ring, his mind swirling with thoughts. This cemetery, this place where Inko rested, was a place he knew Izuku was bound to come to sooner or later. Every version, every part of Izuku was bound to this place.

He was banking on it.

Katsuki's grip tightened around the velvet box as he lifted the chain, letting the orange sapphire catch the dim light filtering through the gray sky. Even though Izuku had turned into this angry, hate-filled mess, Katsuki knew deep down the old Izuku was still in there somewhere. Why the hell else would he have gone so out of his fucking way to put the quirk on his ring? And If Izuku had gone through all that trouble of leaving this little piece of himself, then Katsuki owed it to him to do the same. The thought rooted itself deep in his mind, unshakable and resolute.

With a deliberate motion, he pulled the chain from the box and crouched down, setting it carefully at the base of Inko's headstone. The orange sapphire seemed to pulse with a life of its own, resonating with a rhythm that mirrored his racing heartbeat. It was a part of him now, a piece of his soul, left here for Izuku to find.

He stayed there, crouched by the grave, his eyes fixed on the pulsing gem. The weight of his broken promises bore down on him, each one a reminder of his failures. He knew his words didn't mean anything anymore; he had made too many empty vows, let Izuku down too many times. But despite that, something in him refused to give up.

"I know my words don't mean shit," Katsuki said, his voice rough and low, as if speaking them aloud made them real. "But I swear, I'll find you, Izuku. I'll guide you back, even if it's the last thing I do."

Katsuki rose, turning to leave before looking back at the grave, his eyes hardening with resolve. He would find Izuku. He would bring him back. And this time, he wouldn't let anything stand in his way.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Dead Man Walking

The city skyline blurred beneath Katsuki's rapid descent, his new gauntlets igniting with crackling explosions as he executed another flawless aerial maneuver. In a flash of sparks, he landed with explosive precision, a human comet on a mission.

But today wasn't just any day for Katsuki. It was one of those days—a shitty day. Damn it, why do these nobodies always pick the worst fucking days to stir up trouble? This was his second shift of overtime, the weariness settling into his bones. His temper, always a hair-trigger away from exploding, was now even shorter. The catastrophe the League of Villains had caused months ago had nearly turned Japan into no man's land again, leaving heroes like Katsuki scrambling to pick up the pieces.

The alley erupted into chaos as the villain was left scrambling to react, not expecting someone as terrifying as Japan's number one hero, Dynmight to show up. Katsuki's movements were a blur of controlled fury, a masterpiece of blasts that echoed against the narrow walls of the alleyway. Each calculated explosion rippled through the air, rattling the villain's confidence.

Six months. Six fucking months had passed since that horrible day Izuku abandoned him, leaving a void so deep that Katsuki resorted to filling it with the relentless pursuit of honing his newfound power. That day, without even realizing it, Katsuki experienced a quirk awakening—a transformative effect that granted him newfound control over his explosive abilities. No longer confined to his palms, he could now ignite his nitroglycerin sweat from any part of his body, turning him into a walking arsenal of controlled chaos.

"You picked the wrong damn day to cross paths with me," Katsuki growled, his ruby eyes narrowing as he closed in on his opponent. The villain, a wiry figure with a gleam of arrogance in his eyes, gripped his knockoff support item tightly, desperately trying to regain control.

The villain attempted a feeble counterattack, but Katsuki anticipated every move, his combat instincts honed through countless battles. Compared to Izuku or Odd Eye this guy was a walk in the fucking park. With a swift and calculated strike, he disarmed the villain, sending the weapon clattering across the pavement.

"Start talking, scumbag," Katsuki demanded, his voice a menacing snarl. "How many of you losers are there? Are you working for the League of Villains? Spit it out!"

The villain, gasping for breath, looked up with a mixture of fear and defiance. "It's just me, man! I wouldn't dare get involved with the League. I'm not crazy!" Yeah, sure. And he was the Queen of fucking England.

Katsuki glared at him, explosions crackling up his arm as if the very air around him responded to his short temper. "You expect me to believe that? I've heard that line too many damn times." The crimson fury in his eyes burned brighter, the alley seemed to shrink as Katsuki pressed on, the intensity of his stare demanding more than mere words.

Pinned beneath the weight of Katsuki's aggression, the villain started to crack as he stammered in fear. "N-no, I swear! I'm just trying to make a living, man! It's rough out here!"

Katsuki's scowl deepened; skepticism plastered across his features. He considered the possibility of a bluff but decided to trust his instincts. With a swift motion, he grabbed the collar of the villain's tattered costume, yanking him up to eye level.

"If I find out you're lying, I'll beat you into a fucking pulp. Got it?" Katsuki said through gritted teeth, his threat electrifying the air like a volatile charge.

Terrified, the villain nodded vigorously. With a menacing grip, Katsuki dragged the idiot through the alley towards the wailing sirens in the distance. The orange glow of his dancing explosive stars dimmed, but the intensity in Katsuki's eyes remained unwavering. With the gaps in public authority, these weaklings thought they could take advantage of whatever they wanted and get away with it. Pathetic.

As they emerged from the dark alley into the pulsating glow of the city, Katsuki's gauntlets crackled with latent energy. The villain, now subdued and thoroughly shaken, cast wary glances at the hero who seemed like a tempest on the verge of eruption. Because that's exactly how he felt these days, mere moments away from erupting.

Katsuki's mind drifted momentarily to the recent shitshow that had flipped his life upside down. After publicly quitting the Hero Association, Katsuki had been dead set on going after Izuku, whether it was to stop him or to join him... hell if he knew. But, before he could go after him, the Hero Association had come crawling back to him, practically begging on their knees for his return, claiming that the people needed their number one hero, despite all the shit that happened. With society in disarray and everyone still scared shitless from the League of Villains' attacks, it honestly didn't surprise him.

But Katsuki was not one to be easily swayed. The filth of the association, the same conniving idiots who had screwed over both him and Izuku, weren't worth crawling back to. Fuck those assholes. The memories of being belittled and the stifling bureaucracy had left more than a bitter taste in his mouth. It was only after the association agreed to some of Katsuki's terms that he reluctantly agreed to come back.

His terms had been non-negotiable. First, he demanded that the heroes wouldn't be belittled. Their opinions would be taken seriously, and their words should matter. Why the hell would a hero be put on display as a public figure of justice and authority if they were going to be treated like crap?

Second, and most importantly, he set conditions regarding Izuku's case. Katsuki demanded that the association treat Izuku with the respect he deserved. Regardless of the path Izuku had chosen, he was the victim, not the crazed villain the association made him out to be. Multiple factors backed Izuku into a damn corner and that had included them. Katsuki had felt the need to make one more thing crystal fucking clear to the association.

"Listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. Izuku Midoriya is not to be killed. If I find out that Deku was assassinated or touched in any way by the association, there ain't a damn thing in this world that can stop me. I'll blast through every barrier, every hero, and every protocol you've got. You'll feel my wrath, and it'll be a reckoning you won't forget. Got it?" Katsuki had made sure his simmering glare bore into each and every piece of trash present in that room, making it clear that he wasn't making idle fucking threats. The intensity in his glowing eyes carried a malevolence, an almost malicious determination that set him apart from the usual demeanor of a hero. Just like Izuku, they had backed him into a corner as well, and he'd be damned if he didn't fight back like some wild animal.

They knew damn well he wasn't someone to mess with, especially when it came to protecting Izuku.

But Katsuki wasn't finished. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the tension like a blade. "If anything, and I mean anything happens to him, I'll hunt down every last one of you. I'll make sure you regret the day you even considered crossing him because fucking with Deku means your fucking with me."

Katsuki was willing to unleash hell itself on the world, because Izuku had been willing to become a monster to do the same for him. "I would burn the world if it meant saving you, Kacchan." Those words often echoed in the back of his mind. At the time, Katsuki had been too caught up in his own rage, grief, and confusion to really grasp how serious those words were. Burn the world if it meant saving you? It had sounded like the desperate rant of someone who had completely lost it, who was drowning with rage. But now, after everything they'd been through, Katsuki understood.

It wasn't just about the destruction. It was about the willingness to go to any lengths, to tear down any barrier, to protect what mattered most. In that moment, Izuku had been ready to turn the world to ash if it meant saving Katsuki, if it meant keeping him breathing. It was a promise of absolute, unyielding dedication. And Katsuki, in his own way, felt that same fierce protectiveness now. He'd go to any lengths, tear down anyone in his way if it meant it would keep Izuku safe.

The association, realizing that he'd leave without hesitation if they didn't agree, reluctantly accepted Katsuki's terms. It hadn't hurt that Shoto Todoroki and Ochako Uraraka had backed Katsuki's decision to leave the association in protest of how Izuku had been treated, how they had twisted his actions and motives into something monstrous. They understood why Katsuki had stormed out, why he had to take a stand against the very system that had betrayed him in everything he stood for. When the association started bargaining with Katsuki to return, Shoto and Ochako made it clear they were willing to leave as well. Losing Katsuki, the number one hero, had been a blow they could barely afford. But the thought of also losing Uravity, the number nine hero, and Shoto, the number two hero, was a risk they couldn't take. The stakes had been too damn high, and the association knew it.

With these conditions met, Katsuki blasted back into the role of the number one hero. The association practically threw the reins at him, knowing they needed his raw power and unyielding determination to help society rebuild its trust in heroes. Even when a large majority of those assholes were skeptical because of his ties to Izuku.

Lost in thought, Katsuki was brought back to the present by the sound of footsteps. Some hero he didn't recognize was approaching him. "Dynamight," she called out, her voice steady but edged with a hint of nervousness.

Katsuki turned to face her, grunting in acknowledgment as he sized her up with his usual scowl. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped, not in the mood for mindless chit-chat, especially with all these new faces filling the vacant spots... spots that once belonged to people closest to him.

The hero shifted uncomfortably but maintained her composure. "Sorry, I lost him back there. Thanks for handling it," she said, her tone a mix of apology and gratitude.

Katsuki's response was a nonchalant huff as he practically threw the subdued villain at her. "Don't be so damn sloppy next time," he retorted, his tone sharp and dismissive.

She caught the villain, looking surprised but quickly pulling herself together. "Uh, sorry—I mean understood. I'll do better next time, Dynamight," she replied, somewhat nervously.

He grunted again, acknowledging her words without much enthusiasm. As she led the villain away, Katsuki couldn't help but notice the new hero's uncertainty. It was common these days, with all the new heroes trying to find their footing in the mess left by the LOV's attacks. The hero society was still reeling, and his intense presence didn't make things easier for the newcomers. Especially after what happened with Izuku.

In the public eye, Katsuki still stood tall, a symbol of strength and resilience. However, behind closed doors and in the solitude of his thoughts, he was almost always miserable and pissed off. The burden of being the number one hero was slowly crushing him, made worse by the constant reminders of what had happened with Izuku.

His interactions with other heroes became clipped and short-tempered. The once fiery companionship he shared with others had dulled, replaced by a brooding silence... for the most part. Katsuki's explosive nature wasn't just for villains anymore; it erupted unpredictably, directed at anyone who crossed his path. The new heroes, clueless about the dynamics of Katsuki's inner problems, often found themselves on the receiving end of his more than volatile temper. The wounds from Izuku's abandonment were festering, and each outburst was a cathartic release of the anger and frustration that seemed to condense inside him.

Why did Izuku have to leave him? Why couldn't he trust Katsuki? Why did he have to go and become a monster to save him? He'd asked himself these questions a thousand times, each time coming up empty. Katsuki's thoughts would always whirl, replaying every moment, every conversation, searching for answers that never came, surrounded only by the echo of his own useless thoughts.

Someone shouted and Katsuki blinked once. Twice, remembering where he was. He stood there watching the scene unfold with a bored expression, his thoughts drifting to the countless other encounters he'd had like this one. Another hero, another villain arrested—but not a single shitty lead on the LOV.

It had been damn well near a month since he'd seen or heard shit about the League... about Izuku. It's been quiet... too fucking quiet. Katsuki didn't like the way that made him feel, because he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something big was brewing in the shadows, despite the apparent drop in villain activity. He had heard whispers, read intel of Izuku's relentless hunt for the League of Villains, and even now he had gone silent.

Katsuki's fingers instinctively reached up to grasp the chain around his neck, pulling out the ring that hung there. He watched the ring intently, the soft glow of the emerald catching his attention. It flickered lightly, casting a dim light in the darkness of his thoughts. The rhythmic pulsing of its heartbeat seemed to echo in his hand, silent proof that Izuku was still alive, still out there, somewhere, raising hell.

Unlike their previous run-in with the group, Izuku was more determined, more ruthless this time around. He targeted and tore apart every League hideout he could find, leaving a trail of destruction and sometimes shredded viscera in his wake.

For the last six months, Katsuki used every damn scrap of Intel and opportunity available at his disposal to try and intercept Izuku. And it absolutely frustrated him to no fucking end, knowing that Izuku was out there, risking everything, destroying everything to protect Katsuki from the League... from that motherfucker called Odd Eye.

Even with Katsuki scouring through the piles of intel of Izuku's and the League of Villains' patterns, he was always a step short, always too late to stop and find Izuku. It fucking drove him up the wall. Each missed opportunity felt like a personal failure, a reminder of his inability to protect what was his. Because that was what had happened last year, he had failed over and over and over and over again. Breaking every damned promise he made to Izuku.

He poured over every report, every fucking lead, desperate to try and predict Izuku's next move, to finally catch up to him and confront him face to face. But no matter how hard he fucking tried, Izuku remained elusive, a ghost slipping through his fingers time and time again.

That sense of being powerless was suffocating Katsuki, amplifying his already volatile temper and driving him to the brink of his sanity, standing there on that edge, knowing all he had to do was take one step and he'd be freefalling. He couldn't help but feel like he was running in circles, trapped in a never-ending fucking cycle of chasing shad—stop it.

Katsuki once again tried to swat those thoughts away, feeling the weight of both physical and mental exhaustion settling in. No matter how hard he tried to bury those thoughts, they always drifted back to him, to Izuku. He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing his eyes as he sighed heavily through his nose.

He didn't want to do this right now; he was tired as hell and really wanted to just go home and collapse into bed. He was about to turn to leave when he felt a familiar presence.

Katsuki's exhausted gaze shifted to the familiar figure beside him, Shoto whose bi-color eyes swept over him, regarding him with a concerned expression. "Long shift?" Shoto asked, his eyes lingering on the ring around Katsuki's neck.

Katsuki grumbled in response, clearly irritated, as he quickly tucked the ring beneath his shirt, away from prying eyes. Despite his gruff demeanor, he sometimes appreciated Shoto's concern, even if he didn't always show it.

"Yeah, something like that," Katsuki muttered dismissively, brushing off Shoto's question with a wave of his hand. Despite his outward attitude, Shoto was one of the few people Katsuki could tolerate... most of the time. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared history that went beyond the usual bullshit. He was one of the only people who understood Katsuki's pain and didn't fucking pity him.

And if there was one thing Katsuki hated most, it was pity.

Shoto nodded, understanding Katsuki's reluctance to dive into his feelings. He knew better than to push that issue further, instead choosing to stand by Katsuki silently.

The day Izuku had abandoned him, the day Katsuki's quirk had re-awakened, it had nearly destroyed him.

The reality that Izuku was truly gone had hit him like a freight train, a hollow ache that settled deep in his chest. Pain and grief took hold of the emptiness, overwhelming him and he had lost control, letting his power run rampant. As he free fell, his body plummeting through the air, his chest began to glow and pulse with an intense, almost blinding light from the intensity of his emotions igniting his quirk in a way he never thought possible. His heart had felt like it was on fire as his power condensed around it, each beat sending waves of heat through his veins. The glow grew brighter, a searing light that seemed to radiate from his very core. The pulsing was erratic, a wild, uncontrollable rhythm fueled by his rage, sorrow, and desperation... and that's when he exploded.

That explosion was unlike anything he had ever experienced, it was a cataclysmic release of power that tore through the sky. High above the city, the force of the blast was enough to send shockwaves through the air but caused minimal damage to the area below. The energy dissipated mostly in the atmosphere, sparing the city from widespread destruction.

Caught in the epicenter, Katsuki's body was a ragdoll tossed by the force of his own power. He passed out from the sheer intensity of the explosion, the world fading to black as he felt himself falling. When he came to, the world was a blur of pain and a blurred face. Shoto's arms were wrapped around him, holding him up with an unusual gentleness, terror etched across his face. Katsuki's chest burned with an agony that stole his breath, and as his vision cleared, he saw the severe burns marring his skin, the aftermath of the explosion.

Blood poured from his ears and nose, his body screaming in agony. Shoto had been there at just the right moment. Katsuki had ditched him at the hospital, figuring Izuku was going back for his old hero costume. But Shoto, being the persistent bastard he was, had pieced together somehow that Katsuki had run back home. He had caught him with his ice moments before impact, the icy grip halting his descent just in time. It was a miracle he had survived. But he had. Because he was Katsuki Bakugo, and he wasn't about to let some stupid emotional breakdown be the end of him.

He'd been grateful to Shoto, more than he could express, but today of all days Katsuki was tired and just wanted to be left the hell alone. He turned to leave, stretching his arms and rolling his neck, trying to ease the tension that had built up throughout the day. He shot a sidelong glance at Shoto, who had fallen into step beside him.

"The hell you want half-and-half?" he asked bluntly, really not in the mood for conversation.

"So, the dinner reunion for Class 1-A is tonight. Everyone would really appreciate seeing you th—"

Katsuki's steps faltered slightly; his exhaustion momentarily overlooked as his irritation flared. Damn it, he had already declined twice, and for good reasons, painful reasons.

Attending that reunion meant facing the absence of his old squad. The thought of walking into that room and not seeing Kirishima's wide grin, Denki's playful banter, or Ashido's infectious energy—it was too much.

"I already told you; I don't have time for that crap," he cut Shoto off. "And I sure as hell don't care about some stupid dinner reunion. I've got more important shit to deal with."

Ignoring Katsuki's snarl, Shoto kept at it, wiping a speck of lint from his costume. "I know you've been busy, but it would mean a lot to everyone if you could make it," he pressed, trying to appeal to Katsuki's sense of camaraderie, which at this point was practically nonexistent.

Katsuki clicked his tongue irritably, cutting Shoto off once again. "I said no, dammit, and I fucking mean it," he growled, not bothering to hide his frustration. "I don't have time for meaningless bullshit."

He started to storm off, feeling Shoto's disappointed gaze on his back, but he didn't care in the slightest. All he wanted was to go home, collapse into bed, and forget about everything for a while. The idea of sitting around with his old classmates, pretending everything was fine, was almost laughable. How could he face them when he felt like he was barely holding himself together? How could he look them in the eye when every reminder of the past felt like a stab to the heart?

As he marched away, Katsuki heard an exaggerated sigh from Shoto behind him. "So, you won't go... even if I have, per se, a file on the recent info on the League of Villains' movements?"

Those words immediately caught his attention, he stopped dead in his tracks, his exhaustion thrown on the back burner. Katsuki whipped his head around abruptly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he sized Shoto up.

Bull-fucking-shit.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice sharp with skepticism. "You're lying. There's no way you have information on the League."

No one had found a single scrap of information on the League these last few weeks, much less on Izuku. No one had been investigating harder than himself. He had scrubbed through every report, chased down every lead, desperate for any scrap of information on the League, on Izuku. And yet, he had come up empty-handed every single dam day, again and again. So how the hell did Shoto miraculously have that kind of intel?

Shoto met Katsuki's gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "I'm not lying, Kat," he insisted calmly, his tone steady. "You of all people know I have my resources, and I thought you might find it useful."

Shoto's expression only fueled Katsuki's frustration. That prick always managed to stay annoyingly composed, and it grated on Katsuki's every last nerve. Sure, Shoto had his sources—without him, Katsuki would have never found the Red Lotus, would have never found Izuku—but the idea of him having intel on the League still felt like a stretch.

Katsuki closed the distance between them, his eyes burning with anintensity that would send most people running in the other direction. Unfortunately,that wasn't the fucking case with Shoto.  "If you're not bullshitting me, then fucking prove it," he snarled in challenge, voice low and dangerous. "Give me that damn intel."

Shoto didn't flinch. The prick had ice in his veins, literally and figuratively. He met Katsuki's glare head-on, his expression unyielding. "Show up to the dinner tonight, Kat," he replied, his tone firm. "And I'll give you the information you're looking for."

Katsuki's fists clenched at his sides, his hands crackling with the intensity of his emotions. He didn't have time for this shit. "I said give it to me," he repeated through clenched teeth, barely keeping his temper in check. "I need it. I need to find Deku." The desperation to find Izuku was burning in his chest, hotter than any explosion his hands could muster, and it felt like it was suffocating him.

Before Katsuki could push further, Shoto cut him off. "What you need is a break. You need to understand that you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're going to burn yourself out. Working yourself to death isn't going to help you, or Izuku."

Oh, that pissed him the fuck off. Katsuki erupted like a volcano, his voice a thunderous roar as he got in Shoto's face. "Don't you dare tell me what I fucking need, Ice Prick!"

The outburst drew the attention of nearby civilians, cops, and even a few other heroes. Shoto simply shrugged in response, still unfazed. "Just be at the dinner tonight, that's all I'm asking."

Fuming, Katsuki jerked away as Shoto tried to pat him on the shoulder, the touch feeling like acid on his skin. "Don't touch me," he snarled, his glowing with that blazing fury. When Katsuki's anger burned hot, his eyes now glowed a molten red, and his irises distorted as if reflecting the immense power inside him.

"Uh, Shoto, sir?" Someone called out behind Katsuki. Shoto nodded in acknowledgment, turning his attention to the sidekick. "I'll be right there. Give me a moment."

Katsuki's glare shifted to the sidekick as well, despite his frustration with Shoto, his anger was now turned towards the sudden interruption. The sidekick's eyes widened, and he paled as he caught sight of Katsuki's intimidating expression.

Katsuki didn't say a word, but the intensity of his glare combined with the ruby glow of irises, spoke volumes. Thanks to that subtle detail of his quirk awakening, Katsuki's intimidation factor was five times more terrifying to the average person. Unfortunately, that shit hadn't worked on anyone who knew him personally.

With a subtle, but noticeable, tremor in his voice, the sidekick continued, "It's... it's urgent, sir. We should go."

As Shoto began to follow the sidekick, Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. But before they could disappear from view, he bit back his pride and called out, "Wait!" Shoto paused, turning back to face him curiously. Fucking hell.

"I..." Katsuki hesitated, pride warring with desperation. "You're not lying, are you? About having the intel?"

Shoto met Katsuki's gaze evenly, his expression softening slightly. "No, I'm not. You're not the only one who's worried about him."

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki ran a hand down his face, tension easing just a bit. He hated feeling so out of control, so powerless. And as much as he hated to admit it, Shoto was right. Running himself into the ground wouldn't bring finding Izuku any closer, and it certainly wasn't helping him either.

"I'll be there," Katsuki finally conceded. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."

So much for peace and fucking quiet.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fractured

Katsuki trudged through the bustling streets, his mind still burning from his earlier confrontation with Shoto. That fucking bastard. No matter how much he tried to shake it off, his thoughts kept spiraling back. And now he was heading towards some damn restaurant, his pride clawing at him for even considering it. Honestly, what other choice did he have?

Katsuki glanced up from his phone, the address highlighted in his old group chat guiding his steps. Every step closer made him want to turn the fuck around and just go home. He kicked a stray rock, venting a fraction of his frustration.

The neon sign of Kagurazaka Nikuyorozu pierced through the dusk, its blue glow cutting through the fog in his head. The place was a haven for heroes—an exclusive sanctuary to hide from the vultures that called themselves the media. You had to know someone to get in, and they didn't just let anyone waltz through the door. Even heroes had to show their licenses, proving their credentials before being granted access to the sanctuary within. At least those idiots were smart enough to take that into consideration.

But that small sense of relief was fleeting. The thought of facing his former classmates, reliving memories that were both sweet and bitter, twisted something deep inside him. Nostalgia mixed with resentment. But if this dinner got him closer to the damn intel on the League of Villains, he'd endure it, even if it felt like swallowing fucking glass.

He took a moment to steel himself when his gaze swept over the street, catching sight of the media pack gathered like scavengers. Cameras flashed, and Katsuki's jaw tightened. Memories of the garbage they'd spewed about Izuku, their prying questions, crashed into him like a wave. God, he wished people like them didn't exist. Parasites, feeding off the misery of others, twisting stories to fit their bullshit narratives. The urge to blast them all to hell flared in his chest, a primal need to shut them up permanently. But he knew he couldn't. Not without consequences. Not without turning into the very thing they were trying to paint him to be. He gritted his teeth before stepping into view and all the cameras zeroed in on him. Rage simmered beneath his skin, but he kept his expression neutral. They wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing him crack, not if he could help it.

"Hey, Dynamight! Can you comment on the rumors about your involvement with the League of Villains?"

"Are you meeting with other heroes to plan your next attack?"

"Is it true that you and Midoriya were dating? What went wrong?"

The questions flew at him like poisoned arrows, each one hitting a raw nerve. He could handle the bullshit, but one remark sliced deeper than the rest, that sent fire coursing through his veins.

"Hey, Dynamight! Saw your little buddy, Deku, turned out to be a villain. Guess he couldn't handle the pressure, huh? Should've let All for One finish him off."

Katsuki's steps halted, the world around him dissolving into a haze. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms, grounding him in the here and now. For a heartbeat, everything—the bustling street, the flashing cameras, the gawking faces—vanished. All that remained was a searing fury and a familiar, aching pain.

Goddamn it, Izuku. Why does everything always circle back to you?

That fucking bastard. He had no idea what he was talking about. None of them did. They didn't know the sacrifices, the pain, the sleepless nights. They didn't know the lengths Izuku had gone to, the hell he'd endured. The media saw only what they wanted to see, their words cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could. This felts so much like déjà vu. He squared his shoulders, muscles coiling with tension as he finally gave the crowd the attention they thought they wanted. Katsuki's eyes glowed with that menacing iridescence, his body thrumming with the promise of violence.

He was ready to tear apart whoever the fuck dared to say such words in front of him. HIM OF ALL PEOPLE. He was going to kill the bastard. The noise of the crowd died down, all eyes on him, their faces a mix of anticipation and fear.

"Who the hell said that?" Each word was clipped, edged with his unbridled wrath.

His words hit like a thunderclap, demanding attention, demanding someone own up. The crowd stayed silent, their eyes darting away from his piercing glare.

But Katsuki wasn't about to let them off the hook so easily. With a determined stride, he pushed through the sea of reporters, practically feeling their terror as they parted for him like water. Whoever dared to slander Izuku's name would answer to him, consequences be damned.

"ANSWER ME!"

A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned towards the source of the venomous remark. The coward stayed silent, trying to hide behind the crowd from Katsuki's wrath. Katsuki stormed through, fury driving him forward as he zeroed in on the scumbag who talked shit about Izuku. The iridescence in his eyes grew molten, the intensity causing his irises to ripple like they were made of flames. The air around him seemed to heat up, rage radiating off him. He spotted the bastard—a smug, self-satisfied prick who clearly thought he was untouchable behind his microphone and camera.

Katsuki stalked towards him, each step deliberate, the crowd practically jumping out of his way. His gaze never wavered, locked onto the man who had dared to say something so stupid, feeling the rage inside him burn hotter. He welcomed it. He fed off it, because it was better than the agonizing pain that lurked beneath.

Katsuki came to a stop, invading the paparazzo's personal space as he towered over him. The man's bravado melted away, replaced by sheer terror. The difference between them was stark—Katsuki, all raw power and fury, and the reporter, a trembling, cowering figure.

Katsuki's eyes bore into the man, the molten glow almost unbearable to look at. "You got something to say?" Katsuki's breath came in harsh bursts, his voice was low, a dangerous rumble, hands twitching ready to lash out.

The man stammered, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. He was terrified, completely unable to speak under the weight of Katsuki's gaze. With a swift, violent motion, he grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Every fiber of his being screamed with the desire to unleash his fury upon this piece of shit who dared to drag Izuku's name through the dirt. The crowd gasped collectively, but no one dared to intervene.

A familiar voice cut through his rage like a beacon of reason. Though he didn't turn, Katsuki could discern the distinct tones of Ochako and Tenya Iida just beyond the crowd. He heard Tenya's measured voice telling him to let go of his anger, to rise above the petty provocations of the media. It would be so easy, so fucking easy to let go, to let the fire destroy him and turn this pathetic excuse for a person into a lesson for anyone else who thought they could mess with him. The silence stretched on for a few heartbeats between the paparazzo and Katsuki, broken only by the sound of their uneven breaths.

But before he could even decide what the fuck he was going to do to the pathetic waste of space in front of him, Ochako stepped up, her hand landing on his shoulder with a comforting weight.

"They're not worth it, Kat," her voice was calm but firm, her gaze steady as she met the fury in Katsuki's eyes. And fuck, he hated that she was right. That making a scene would make shit so much worse than things already fucking were.

Katsuki side-eyed Ochako, his anger roiling inside him. Out of all the people around, she was one of the few he'd come to respect. She stuck by him when others might've turned away, especially after his catastrophic meltdown.

The weeks after his breakdown were a blur of pain, frustration, and stubborn refusal to accept help. He pushed everyone away, snarling and snapping at anyone who dared to get close. But Ochako and Shoto? They were relentless, refusing to let him spiral into self-destruction, refusing to let Katsuki take that final step off the edge.

Every attempt to shut them out, to bury the pain under anger and bravado, only left him feeling more hollow and broken. It was easier to lash out, to drive people away, than to face the raw, aching emptiness inside him. And still, for some damn reason, Ochako and Shoto stood by him, taking his fury without flinching. They took the brunt of his wrath, his despair, and gave him space to break down, to be vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be with anyone other than Izuku. They saw him at his worst and never turned away.

He knew, deep down, that without them, he wouldn't have been able to come back. They had dragged him back from the edge, piece by piece, day by day. And even though the thought of thanking anyone, even Ochako and Shoto, had felt foreign and uncomfortable... he was fucking grateful to them, because he owed them more than he could ever express.

Katsuki's jaw feathered as he repeated what Ochako had said in his mind, over and over again, like a mantra. They're not worth it. This idiot wasn't worth his time, his energy. He had bigger issues to fight, more important things to focus on.

Katsuki's lip curled in a snarl of disgust as he leaned in close to the trembling paparazzo, his voice a low growl that dripped with venom. "If I ever see or hear from you again," he whispered, his words laced with a lethal promise, "I will make sure you regret ever opening your pathetic fucking mouth again."

The paparazzo's eyes widened in terror, breath catching in his throat as he stared up at Katsuki, paralyzed by the intensity of his fury. "Get the fuck out of my sight," Katsuki snarled, his voice like a whip crack. He nodded frantically; his words choked by fear as he scrambled to back away from the bomb he'd nearly set off.

With one final glare, Katsuki straightened to his full height, his glowing eyes sweeping over the crowd with a warning. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the rapid clicking of cameras as the paparazzi hurriedly retreated, tails between their legs.

Ochako let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension of the moment began to dissipate. She exchanged a glance with Tenya, who approached them, sliding an arm around Ochako.

"I cannot believe the media would stoop so low," Tenya said, readjusting his glasses with a gesture of frustration. He glanced over at Katsuki, "Hello, Bakugo. I see you're as explosive as ever."

Katsuki, still simmering with residual anger, dipped his head in acknowledgment of Tenya's presence. "Glasses," he grunted before turning to Ochako, "Round-face."

Ochako, always trying to keep the peace, gave him a reassuring smile and placed a hand on his arm. "Come on, let's head inside and sit down. I'm sure everyone is waiting," she suggested.

Inside Kagurazaka Nikuyorozu, the atmosphere shifted, the noise of the faded, replaced by the low hum of fellow heroes unwinding. Katsuki felt a small measure of relief as he stepped into the familiar ambiance, the tension of the outside world melting away. But the anger, the fucking rage, still simmered beneath his skin.

Katsuki trailed behind Ochako and Tenya as the waiter led them to a spacious booth in the back. The restaurant was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The scent of grilled meat and spices filled the air, momentarily distracting him from his brooding thoughts. He watched Ochako and Tenya exchange a glance, their fingers intertwining naturally, and Ochako's face lit up with a soft smile. It was a simple gesture, but it twisted something deep inside him. It wasn't that he had anything against Ochako. Good for them, they deserved it. But seeing them like that, it just brought everything back, reminding him of what he'd lost, what he'd probably never have again.

He quickly averted his eyes, the sight too close to when Izuku used to look at him with that same warmth. Those stupid, expressive eyes that always seemed to brim with a thousand emotions. He swallowed hard, trying to push the memories back down where they belonged.

As they reached the booth, familiar faces greeted them with smiles and waves. Momo Yaoyorozu, her long, jet-black hair simply styled, was deep in conversation with Mashirao Ojiro, whose muscular frame and tail were hard to miss. He listened intently, nodding along to her latest idea.

Toru Hagakure, always cheerful despite being invisible, was marked by her floating clothes and bubbly laughter. She animatedly recounted a funny story from a recent mission.

Mezo Shoji, had one of his many arms draped behind one of the seats, sat quietly, observing the group. He occasionally added a thoughtful comment, his tall figure giving him an imposing yet gentle presence.

Tsuyu Asui, was talking with Tenya and Ochako. Her froglike features and green hair tied back in a ponytail made her easily recognizable. Katsuki leaned back, watching everyone settle into their seats with an almost bored expression. The mix of conversations and laughter filled the air, creating a familiar sense of camaraderie.

His gaze swept over the group, noting the subtle changes in each of them since their time at U.A. High. They all looked a bit older, a bit wiser, but the bonds they shared were still stupidly strong as ever. Katsuki's eyes finally landed on Shoto, who was seated at the end of the booth. Without a word, he plopped down next to him, the seat creaking slightly under his weight.

Shoto leaned back in his seat, casting a sideways glance at Katsuki with a faint, amused smile playing on his lips. "Looks like you actually showed up," he remarked, his tone light but carrying an undertone of genuine surprise.

Katsuki shot him a sharp glare. "Cut the crap, half-and-half. How long do I have to be here before you give me that file?"

Before Shoto could respond, Tsuyu's voice cut through the ambient chatter. "Ribbit. Well, well, if it isn't Bakugo! Nice to see you actually come to a get-together for once," she said, her tone a blend of surprise and gentle teasing.

Katsuki's glare intensified, now directed at Shoto. He didn't respond to Tsuyu, his jaw clenching as he resisted the urge to snap. Instead, he waited, his eyes fixed on Shoto, silently demanding the information he came for.

Shoto only loosed a breath before taking a swig from his drink, unfazed by Katsuki's reaction. "Patience, Kat. Enjoy the evening first. Then we'll talk about the file." He leaned back, taking a sip of his drink, clearly not in a hurry.

Katsuki's fists tightened on the table, the wood creaking under the pressure. "You better not be fucking screwing with me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Shoto met his gaze evenly. "I'm not. Just relax, okay?" Katsuki barely had time to fire back before Yaoyorozu's voice cut through the tension. "It's really good to see you, Bakugo. We've missed you lately."

Katsuki caught the tone in her voice, that almost invisible thread of pity that made his blood boil. His posture went rigid, glare snapping from Shoto to Yaoyorozu. Pity was the last thing he wanted or needed; the very idea of it made him bristle. This was another reason he didn't want to be here—because someone was bound to pity him for everything that had happened.

Ochako shot Yaoyorozu a quick look, her eyes screaming a silent warning: Don't. Yaoyorozu's expression shifted, the unspoken rebuke landing, and she offered Katsuki a small, apologetic smile.

Katsuki was having none of it. "Yeah, whatever," he spat, irritation bubbling up, raw and hot. He turned back to Shoto with renewed intensity. "How long do I have to be here?" he demanded, voice sharp and unwavering.

Shoto sighed, knowing Katsuki wouldn't let this drop. "An hour, Bakugo. Just stay for an hour. Then we'll talk."

An hour. Just one shitty hour. He could withstand this for that long, couldn't he? He'd faced worse. He'd endured hellish training, brutal battles, and gut-wrenching loss. He could handle sitting here with these people for sixty damn minutes.

Katsuki leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest forcing himself to relax, if only slightly. "Fine. One hour. Then you better deliver."

The conversations around the table resumed, with everyone slipping back into their usual dynamics. Katsuki sat awkwardly; his mind only half-engaged with the chatter around him. Conversations ebbed and flowed around the table as everyone settled in and began to order food. Katsuki remained mostly quiet, eyes darting, restless. His attention kept drifting back to Ochako and Tenya. He couldn't help but notice the way they lightly touched each other, the small, intimate gestures. The way Tenya's hand would brush against Ochako's, or how she would lean in slightly when he spoke. Their eyes met frequently, filled with an undeniable warmth and love. Katsuki tried hard not to let it get to him, but each loving glance they shared was a brutal reminder of Izuku.

He tried hard to focus on anything else, anything but the affectionate glances they were not so subtly throwing around. But each shared look, each subtle touch, felt like someone was slowly squeezing his heart. It was a brutal reminder of what he'd lost, what he'd give everything to have that back... or to forget it altogether. Memories of Izuku, with his bright, stupidly hopeful eyes and that unyielding faith he once had in everyone, especially in Katsuki, clawed their way to the forefront of his mind.

Desperate for a distraction, Katsuki's gaze swept over the table, seeking anything to anchor his thoughts elsewhere. He tried to focus on the small conversations, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, but nothing seemed to stick. Then, almost unconsciously, his eyes started searching for Eijiro... but Eijiro wasn't here.

Katsuki almost flinched at the realization, at the absence of not just Eijiro but of Ashido and Denki as well. They used to light up the room, their laughter and energy commanding attention. The void left by their absence seemed to grow impossibly deeper, the numbing emptiness inside him expanding, slowly seeping into his limbs. The silence where their voices should have been was deafening, each missing presence a painful reminder of his pathetic failures.

Katsuki's breath hitched, and he clenched his fists under the table, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety. He needed to get through this. Just an hour. But the weight of everything—the memories, the loss, the relentless media bullshit—pressed down on him, suffocating.

As the conversations continued around him, someone turned to Katsuki, their voice cutting through the fog in his mind. "So, Bakugo, how have you been holding up since the League of Villains attack?"

The question hit him much harder than it should have. His throat tightened, sweat beading on his forehead as panic clawed at his insides. Images flashed in his mind—Eijiro's neck being snapped by Vortex, the way he crumpled to the ground, Ashido crying over his body only to be crushed in a collapse not more than a week later, the fact that there was nothing left of Denki to even recover... and Izuku's bloodied and broken body after the blast. The memories were like a vice around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. He couldn't fucking do this. Not now. Not here. His vision blurred, and he struggled to breathe. His heart roared in his ears, each beat echoing the scenes of carnage that haunted him.

Desperately, Katsuki grabbed his drink, but his damn hand wouldn't stop shaking. The glass slipped, crashing onto the table and spilling everywhere. Fuck. The room was startling to wobble, and he could barely focus on anything other than the suffocating weight of his anxiety.

Without thinking, he abruptly stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I need some air," he muttered, barely keeping his voice steady as he made a beeline for the exit. Shoto reached for him, but Katsuki shoved past, ignoring the concerned looks and murmurs from his old classmates. He just needed out. Away from the questions, the pity, the goddamn memories. The cool night air hit him like a splash of water, momentarily grounding him. Forty-five minutes. He'd barely lasted forty-five fucking minutes. Katsuki leaned against the brick wall in the alley, breaths coming in ragged gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the images away, but they only got worse.

"Damn it," he whispered, voice trembling. He punched the wall, the pain grounding him for a second. But the pain wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Katsuki slid down the wall, legs giving out as grief and anxiety crushed him. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to shut out the fucking screams, the blood, their last moments. The memories were relentless, trapping him in a loop of their final moments.

"Stop it," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just... stop."

His hands shook as they reached for the ring around his neck. The emerald glow pulsed in his palm, a small, steady light in the dark mess of his mind. He pressed it to his forehead, the warm metal seeping into his cold skin, grounding him, the gentle throb of Izuku's heartbeat a lifeline.

Izuku was still alive. Shit, he had to remember that. Izuku was still breathing, still fucking fighting. It wasn't over. It couldn't be over. Not while Izuku's heart still beat, a constant reminder that there was still something worth fighting for.

Katsuki gripped the ring tightly, feeling Izuku's heartbeat. It grounded him, pulling him back from the edge. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, back against the rough brick, eyes closed as he focused on Izuku's heartbeat, letting it drown out the chaos in his head.

A faint sound at the alley's entrance made him open his eyes. Shoto appeared, his silhouette framed by dim streetlights, his mismatched eyes scanning the shadows until they settled on Katsuki.

Shoto walked up, his expression neutral but his eyes reflecting a hint of concern. "Kat," he started, voice careful, "Are you okay?"

A year ago, if Shoto had even dared to ask him that question, Katsuki would have blown his fucking top, probably thrown a punch or two just to make a point. The suggestion alone would have lit a fuse that took hours to burn out. But now, Shoto had asked him that damn question so many times these last few months it barely registered.

Katsuki just brushed it off, eyes snapping up to meet Shoto's, burning away the remnants of his panic. "This," he spat, gesturing wildly, "this is exactly why I didn't wanna go to that fucking dinner in the first place, prick!" He growled, voice rough and edged with lingering panic. He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall for a moment before standing on his own. "I don't need this shit. I don't need their pity, their questions, or their bullshit."

Didn't he get it? he couldn't deal with their Goddamn pity. Katsuki didn't need anyone looking at him like he was some broken thing that needed fixing.

Shoto's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't flinch. He was used to Katsuki's outbursts, the anger that masked a thousand other emotions. He started, clearly trying to find the right words to diffuse the situation. "Katsuki, I—"

"Fuck you and fuck the file!" Katsuki snapped, his voice rising. He tried to storm past Shoto, his mind set on getting the hell out of there, away from everything and everyone, before he lost his shit completely.

But Shoto's hand shot out, gripping Katsuki's shoulder. Instantly, Katsuki whirled on him, his quirk crackling up his arm, sparks flying as he glared at Shoto. "Get your damn hand off me before I—"

Shoto's grip tightened, his eyes meeting Katsuki's with a calm intensity. "I'll give you the file like I promised," he said, his voice steady and unyielding.

For a moment, they stood locked in a tense standoff, the air around them thick with the potential for violence. Katsuki's anger and frustration warred with his desperate need for that stupid fucking information Shoto promised. Slowly, the sparks on his arm began to subside, his eyes still blazing with unspent fury. Damn it, he needed that file.

Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance, the sound sharp in the stillness of the alley. "Fine," he muttered, still glaring at Shoto. He crossed his arms, waiting impatiently as Shoto pulled out his phone.

"Give me your phone," Shoto said, his tone calm but insistent.

Katsuki reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it over. Shoto quickly tapped on his screen, transferring the file. "This better be an actual damn lead or I swear to fucking God—" Katsuki grumbled, his eyes never leaving Shoto's face.

"It is," Shoto replied, handing the phone back to Katsuki. "I've had a private investigator tailing leads on the League of Villains for some time now. This is everything we've got so far." Damn it, he should have thought of that.

Katsuki snatched the phone, immediately opening the file, yes scanning the contents with a fierce intensity. his eyes burning with intensity as he tore through the contents. Reports, maps, blueprints, and a series of photos showing villain activity in and out of a rundown koi fish nursery. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging as he flipped through the images. This could be it. This could be the break he needed.

Shoto watched him closely, his expression unreadable. "Those photos were taken in Toei," he said, his voice low. "It's a small town, not too far from here, about twenty kilometers or so West. We think the League has set up a temporary base there under the above-ground pounds."

As Katsuki continued to scroll through the images, his breath caught when he saw a familiar face. Izuku. There he was, captured in one of the photos, his figure blurred but unmistakable. Katsuki's heart twisted, a mix of relief and anger surging through him. Proof that Shoto wasn't bluffing.

Katsuki stopped and just stared at the photo. His thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the outline of Izuku's figure. Damn it, Izuku, what the hell are you doing?

Katsuki's voice was tight as he asked, "When?"

Shoto understood the question immediately. "This was taken this morning, but he's been there a few days already. Based on his MO, Midoriya usually scopes the place out for a week or so. He'll gather as much intel as he can before making his move."

Katsuki's jaw tightened, the muscles working as he processed this information. A week. That meant he had a few days, at most, to get his shit together and intercept Izuku. He couldn't afford to waste any time. Tomorrow, he would head out tomorrow.

He pocketed his phone, mind already racing with plans and contingencies. But before he could turn to leave, Shoto spoke up, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm going with you."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, his temper flaring. "Like hell you are! I don't need anyone slowing me down."

Shoto's gaze didn't waver. "I'm not asking for your permission, Katsuki. I can handle myself, and you know it. Extra help means a better chance of success."

Katsuki's fists clenched at his sides, the idea of having someone else to worry about didn't sit well with him, he didn't want another death on his conscience, didn't want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt. "I don't need another death on my hands, IcyHot. I can do this alone." He stated bluntly.

Shoto started, "If this is about Kirishima and the others—"

Katsuki's glare could have melted steel, his eyes glowing red with a dangerous warning. "Don't. You. Dare." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Shoto stopped mid-sentence, recognizing the sheer fury and pain in Katsuki's eyes. He changed his approach, his tone softening but his resolve remaining firm. "I can handle myself, Kat. I wasn't made the number two hero for nothing. You know I can hold my own, and you know I can be an asset in this mission."

Fuck, he knew Shoto was right, knew that having him along could make all the difference. But the fear of losing another friend, of failing someone else...

For a moment, they stood in tense silence while Katsuki quickly weighed the pros and cons. Finally, Katsuki let out a frustrated growl, his shoulders slumping slightly in reluctant acceptance.

Finally, with a growl of frustration, Katsuki relented. "Fine. But you follow my lead, got it? We do this my way."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fury and Frost

Katsuki wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing under his breath. Early September heat was no joke, even for someone like him. You'd think he'd be used to it, right? His quirk makes him sweat like a damn faucet on a good day, but this? This was fucking unbearable. It was around one in the afternoon, and they'd already been there for more than a few damn hours. They'd gotten there earlier that morning and set up at the spot they were currently at, their surveillance dragging on as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The koi nursery stretched out before them, its ponds eerily still, reflecting the late afternoon sun. 

The place had seen better days. The above-ground ponds, arranged haphazardly around a small, dilapidated service building, were lined with algae and chipped paint. The large pond before them was murky, the water a dull green that made it hard to see any fish. They set up camp just on the other side of the pond, taking in the sorry state of the nursery.

Of all the places to choose, they always seemed to inhabit the most obvious spots. It's like they wanted to be found. Yet, every single damn time, they had the most intricate entrances you'd never even see unless you were actively looking for them. Katsuki's eyes scanned the area, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. It pissed him off to no end—how they managed to stay hidden in plain sight, blending into these rundown locations. If there was a hidden entrance, he'd find it. No way in hell was he going fuck up again, not when he was finally ahead.

The rustle of leaves caught his attention. Katsuki turned sharply, eyes narrowing as Shoto stepped into the tent, the flap falling back into place behind him. Their tent was made from this special material by Hatsume Industries, the kind of shit that made you invisible to the outside but clear as day inside. He never thought someone he graduated with would be the pinnacle of hero and spy tech. Who would've thought that Hatsume, the scatter-brained weirdo who used to blow up half the damn workshop with her wild inventions, would be the one creating the best gear for heroes? He sure didn't.

"Took you long enough," Katsuki grumbled, giving Shoto a once-over. He sneered, noting the lack of sweat on Shoto's brow. Of course, the IcyHot bastard didn't look fazed one fucking bit by the blistering heat. Must be nice having an ice quirk. 

Shoto made sure the tent was closed up securely before turning his attention to Katsuki, who was fanning himself with his hand. Shoto's lips twitched into a rare, teasing smirk. "You look like you're about to melt. Want me to use my ice to make you some popsicles or something?"

Katsuki leveled him with a glare that could scorch the sun. "Fuck off, IcyHot. I'm not in the mood for your shitty jokes." It was too fucking hot for his bullshit.

Speaking of shitty jokes, this prick had showed up at the most ungodly fucking hour. The moment Shoto had shown up at four a.m. on his doorstep with his reconnaissance gear, was the moment Katsuki knew he was in for a day of regret. He had half a mind to slam the door in his face and go back to bed. 

Originally he'd planned to leave without him, figuring it'd be easier to handle things solo. No distractions, no ice prick, just him and his explosive power. But, of course, Shoto had anticipated his every move. That bastard showed up extra early, probably knowing Katsuki's tendencies all too well. There was no way he was going to shake him off. Why the hell did he even agree to let Shoto tag along? Damn it, he should've known better.

Shoto huffed in amusement, shaking his head. "Fair enough. Have you seen any movement?" He handed Katsuki a water bottle, chilling it with a touch before offering it over. Katsuki snatched it, gulping down the ice-cold water greedily.

"Not a damn thing," Katsuki muttered, crushing the now-empty bottle in his hand. "You better have something for me since you were gone so long."

Shoto sighed, scrubbing at his face, looking as frustrated as Katsuki felt. "I wrapped around the property. Haven't seen anything either." Katsuki leaned against the tent pole; eyes trained on the empty nursery. This made no sense. They should've seen someone by now—anyone near the ponds, even if it was just some lazy-ass employee doing maintenance. The silence was fucking with his head. Even when they were setting up, there hadn't been a soul in sight for miles.

The longer they waited, the more his gut churned. Shoto's intel seemed solid enough—photos, blueprints, detailed reports—but something was starting to feel off. Something was telling Katsuki they were missing something big.

He turned to Shoto, voice sharp. "You sure about this info, IcyHot? We've been here for fucking hours, and not a single fucking piece of trash has shown up." What if the League had already moved on? What if the photos were outdated and they were wasting their damn time here? 

Shoto met his gaze, calm but serious. "I trust my source. He's never given me or anyone I know that uses him bad intel before. The photos, the blueprints—they all point to this location. But I get it. Something does feel off."

Shoto pulled out his phone, swiping through images and documents. "Look," he said, showing Katsuki a series of photos. "These are the other sites Midoriya's raided."

Katsuki glanced at the images, each one showing the aftermath of Izuku's brutal efficiency. He'd seen them before, reminding him of what Izuku had become, what he was more than capable of. Hideouts left in craters, blood spattered everywhere, the ground scorched and torn apart. Villains lay scattered, some dead, others barely clinging to life. It was usually a goddamn bloodbath, with most villains not making it out alive.

Izuku rarely, if ever, left witnesses. And the people who did manage to survive? They were so fucking scared of him that they refused to talk, no matter how hard Katsuki tried to get them to spill. Those that lived through Izuku's assaults were broken shells, their eyes wide with terror, their voices trembling or altogether silent. A shadow of death, one had once said. A Shinigami another whispered.

It still hurt him that the nerd who used to stutter and stumble through sentences was now a ruthless force of nature, leaving trails of blood and bodies behind him. It was seriously fucked up, plain and simple. But deep down, Katsuki is some fucked up way understood why Izuku was doing this... and some small part of him hated that he couldn't bring himself to completely hate Izuku's motives. It wasn't just about some petty fucking revenge. It was about making the world around him pay for the shit it had put them through after everything he had sacrificed for it, to protect Katsuki and the hand full of people he cared about.

But that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Every time Katsuki saw the aftermath of one of Izuku's raids, it felt like someone was slowly pulling him apart. This was the same idiot who used to cry over injured animals, who wanted to save everyone. Now he was a walking natural disaster, tearing through villains like they were nothing more than paper.

And it killed Katsuki to see it. To see what Izuku had become. To see what the world had turned him into.

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen these images a hundred damn times before," Katsuki said indifferently, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. "Doesn't change the fact that we ain't seen shit here. I'm getting real tired of this waiting game."

"See the pattern?" Shoto continued, ignoring him. "Midoriya absolutely destroys these hideouts. Leaves nothing but wreckage and corpses. But look at this place." He gestured to the quiet nursery around them. "Nothing's been touched yet. Based on the layout here, nothing's been disturbed."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed as he studied the photos. Shit. He had a point. The other sites were a mess—clear signs of Izuku's handiwork. But this place was untouched, almost eerily pristine. His gut twisted with a mix of frustration and a flicker of hope. He had to remind himself they were in the right place, just too damn early.

"Alright," Katsuki muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So, we wait a bit longer. But if nothing happens soon, we go in and tear this place apart."

Shoto nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about it. If Izuku's out here, we don't want to tip him off, we shouldn't rush in blind."

They settled back into the tent, the minutes dragging on like hours. Shoto had chilled the tent with his quirk, making it bearable despite the blistering heat outside, but it did nothing to cool Katsuki's growing annoyance. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on Katsuki, his impatience growing with every tick of the clock. He hated waiting. Always had. It went against his nature to sit still when there was action to be taken. It was usually why he wouldn't bother taking on recon missions. 

By the time he checked his phone again, it was six p.m., and still, nobody. Katsuki growled in frustration, the sound low and dangerous. Fuck this. He pushed himself up from his spot and made his way to the tent flap.

"Where are you going?" Shoto asked, glancing up from his phone. Katsuki didn't break stride. "Gonna get a closer look at those above-ground ponds. Sitting here is getting us nowhere."

Shoto stood up, blocking his path. "Kat, we agreed to wait. We can't just charge in and risk blowing our cover."

Katsuki glared at him, eyes blazing. "And I'm telling you, if we don't move now, we'll miss our damn shot. This silence... it ain't right, and it's pissing me off!"

Shoto made to sidestep him, "There should have been someone by now," Katsuki insisted, his voice a low growl. "A worker, a maintenance guy, anyone. But there's nothing. I'm done sitting around. If we blow our cover, then that's on me."

Shoto grabbed Katsuki by the arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Dynamight, wait," he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. "Give it more time."

Katsuki leveled him with a glare. "Let go of me, IcyHot," he seethed, yanking his arm free. He didn't give a shit about caution right now; all he could feel was the burning frustration boiling over inside him. "Patience ain't my thing, IcyHot. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and if I have to tear this place apart to do it, then so be it." He stormed out of the tent, the flap flapping behind him, leaving Shoto to either follow or stay behind. Katsuki didn't care. He was set on uncovering whatever the hell was going on. 

The air outside was thick and stifling, but he barely noticed it, his focus sharp as he moved through the property. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows that he used to his advantage, keeping close to the trees and undergrowth. Every step was measured, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. He approached the cluster of ponds, their murky water reflecting the fading light of the afternoon.

Rustling to his left made his head snap in that direction, scowling as he spotted Shoto flanking him. Shoto's expression was one of thinly veiled annoyance, and Katsuki couldn't help but smirk, knowing he'd managed to get under Shoto's skin enough to make him follow.

"Couldn't stay behind, huh?" Katsuki whispered; his tone laced with a hint of amusement. Shoto leveled him with an irritated look, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. "You're reckless, you know that?"

Katsuki snorted, the smirk widening slightly despite the situation. Shoto stared at Katsuki, noting the hint of amusement in his smirk. "Yeah, and you've got a stick up your ass, IcyHot." With a subtle roll of his eyes, he sighed, knowing better than to argue further, because whatever he was going to shoot back was surely going to piss Katsuki off.

"Fine," Shoto muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation. "How do you want to go about this? The blueprints didn't mention any security systems, but that doesn't mean there aren't traps or cameras."

Katsuki's eyes glinted with determination as he scanned the surroundings again, taking in the structure. "Let's start with that beat-up old building. It's small, so we can clear it fast. If there's anything worth looking at, it'll be there. We move fast and quiet."

Shoto was quiet for a moment assessing before he nodded, "Understood."

They made their way toward the dilapidated building, keeping low and using the thick underbrush for cover. The air was thick with the scent of algae and decaying wood, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. As they approached, Katsuki gestured for Shoto to take the right side while he took the left. They moved in tandem, Katsuki's explosive energy barely contained, Shoto's calm and calculated approach providing a stark contrast.

Katsuki reached the door first, pressing his ear against the weathered wood, listening for any signs of movement inside. Hearing nothing, he signaled to Shoto, who nodded and positioned himself at the opposite corner, ready to back Katsuki up.

With a firm push, Katsuki eased the door open, its hinges creaking loudly in the silence. He stepped inside, muscles tensed and ready for anything. The interior was a mess, filled with broken tools and dusty shelves, but there was a distinct lack of anything that screamed "trap."

Shoto followed, closing the door softly behind him. "Clear so far. I don't see any surveillance," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Katsuki moved deeper into the room, eyes scanning every corner. "Yeah but stay sharp. They might've rigged this place up in ways we can't see yet."

They continued their sweep, checking behind every piece of equipment and inside every cabinet. As they worked, the tension between them eased slightly, their movements becoming more synchronized.

Katsuki and Shoto spread out, each of them taking different parts of the building to search for anything related to the League of Villains. Shoto moved into an adjacent room, scanning for anything that might give them a lead.  While Katsuki rifled through crates filled with old aquarium equipment, grumbling under his breath about the waste of time. He shoved aside broken nets and rusted pumps, his frustration mounting with every empty find. It was quiet, save for their hushed movements and the occasional creak of the old floorboards.

Katsuki was rummaging through a yet another stack of crates, tossing aside useless bits of plastic and rusted metal. So far it was just a bunch of useless shit.

"Find anything?" Shoto asked quietly from directly behind him.

"Shit!" Katsuki nearly yelped, spinning around and swinging instinctively. Shoto, dodged the wild punch with ease.

"Whoa, easy there, Dynamight," Shoto said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Katsuki's eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Asshole!"

"Didn't think I'd scare you that badly."

"Shut up," Katsuki snapped, feeling his face heat up—whether from the heat or his own mortification, he wasn't sure. "You find anything, or are you just here to give me a heart attack?"

Shoto shook his head, his eyes scanning the shelves for anything of interest. Katsuki felt a knot tighten in the pit of his stomach, an instinctual sense that was screaming something was undeniably off. And fuck, his instinct was never wrong when it came to shit like this. Screw the stealth, he was ready to poke the hornets' nest to get some damn answers.

"What the hell are you doing? " Shoto's voice cut through the still air, his footsteps following close behind. 

Katsuki whirled around, fire in his eyes. "Looking for the goddamn entrance, what does it look like?"

Shoto's control over his emotions started slipping, and he could feel it. He had been more than patient with Katsuki, understanding why he was so desperate, but the relentless charging in was going to jeopardize their entire operation. They were not only at risk of tipping off the League of Villains but also Izuku. And if Izuku caught wind of them, saw them standing here, that was it. He would disappear.

Katsuki's foot caught on a loose board, and he stumbled, barely catching himself before he went sprawling. The impact sent a jolt of anger through him, his teeth grinding together as he shoved himself upright.

"Shit!" he spat, kicking the offending board aside.

"You're going to blow our cover," Shoto snapped, his patience finally fraying. "Calm the fuck down! Charging around like a bull isn't going—"

Katsuki fucking lost it. his eyes nearly narrowing into slits as small, crackling explosions rippled up one of his arms. "Don't fucking tell me to calm down, IcyHot!" he nearly yelled, the heat of his anger almost visible in the stale air. He grabbed Shoto by the front of his shirt, yanking him close. "You think I don't know the risks? I'm sick of this sneaking around crap! I need answers, and I need them now!"

Shoto's mask cracked, his calm facade splintering under the pressure. The cold began to creep down Katsuki's arm, a stark contrast to the fiery explosions sparking from his skin. But Katsuki didn't give a shit as Shoto's eyes blazed with a fury that matched Katsuki's own.

This was why they never did team ups, because at the end of the day they were as different as fire and ice.

"You think I don't understand your desperation?" Shoto's voice was icy, his breath visible in the air between them. "We're all searching for answers, Bakugo. But your recklessness is going to get us killed!" The anger in Shoto's eyes was raw, unfiltered, a mirror to his own.

Wrong choice of words. His grip on Shoto's shirt tightened, knuckles white, as the pain twisted deep inside him. But anger—familiar, all-consuming anger—quickly rose to drown it out. He flashed his teeth, a snarl ripping from his throat.

"Get us killed?" Katsuki said through his teeth, the heat in his voice scorching the air between them. "You wanna talk about getting people killed? Don't you dare throw that shit in my face!" His voice wavered, just a fraction, but enough for him to notice and hated himself for it.

The cold seeped deeper into Katsuki's arm, trying to stifle the heat of his quirk. He could feel the numbness setting in, making his skin tingle. Shoto's eyes widened, realizing the weight of his words. "Bakugo, I didn't mean—"

"Shut the hell up!" Katsuki cut him off, his voice a roar that echoed through the empty building. Damn it all. He didn't fucking have time for this useless bullshit.

"Then what the hell do you suggest, huh?" Katsuki spat, invading Shoto's space. "We sit around and wait for something to happen? I'm not built for patience, Todoroki. I need to do something!"

Shoto actually flinched at the venom, but he stood his ground. The cold continued to creep down Katsuki's arm, the chill biting into his skin, but he didn't care in the slightest. Pain had been a constant fucking companion these last few months, he could handle it.

Shoto's eyes flicked past him for a moment, and then he did a double take, his eyes widening. The flicker of alarm in Shoto's gaze made Katsuki pause. He turned his head to follow Shoto's line of sight, his grip still tight on Shoto's shirt. His eyes fell on the dark, rusty stains splattered across the concrete under one of the platforms that connected two of the above-ground ponds.

Blood. Old, but unmistakable.

Katsuki's jaw ticked as he stared at the blood before letting go of Shoto. His boot scraped against the rough concrete, the sound carrying. The blood splatter trailed inwards, leading towards the tank's base, a clear sign of a struggle or worse.

He crouched beside the stains, running a calloused finger over the dried blood. It flaked off under his touch, it definitely wasn't fresh, but it wasn't too old either. It had to be a few days old if that. Katsuki's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning rapidly. The tank itself was clean, untouched by the crimson spray. The blood should have been all over the tank's base, meaning that the source had been standing under the tank, not on it... meaning the hidden entrance had to be here.

Shoto's eyes scanned the structure, taking in every detail. Up close, the above-ground ponds loomed like massive, industrial giants, their steel sides towering up to chest height. Platforms crisscrossed the expanse, creating a network of walkways that connected each pond, giving maintenance workers a clear path without descending to the ground.

Each pond had monstrous filtration systems that whirred and hummed, designed to keep the water clear and flowing. Pipes and wires snaked out from each unit, disappearing into the shadows where the power sources and control panels were hidden. The air was thick with the smell of metal and a faint, lingering scent of algae and chemical treatment.

Still crouched, Katsuki's eyes flicked from the blood to the filtration systems, noting how the pipes seemed to disappear beneath the concrete flooring in places. "Under," he muttered, barely audible, but the certainty in his voice was undeniable.

"What?" Shoto questioned.  Katsuki stood, his expression grim and resolute. "Under, " he repeated, louder this time, not bothering to look at him. "The entrance has gotta be under here. The blood splatter doesn't add up—there should be blood on the tank, not just the floor. That means whatever happened went down right here, underneath the tank."

He dropped to one knee, fingers probing the edges of the platform, following the network of pipes. Damn it, why does this always have to be so complicated? "Check the control panels," Katsuki ordered, there had to be a latch, a hidden mechanism. Something.

"C'mon, c'mon..." he growled, frustration mounting. If they couldn't find the damn hidden entryway Katsuki would just blast a hole in the floor.

Katsuki's fingers scraped along the rough, corroded edges of the platform, a faint, almost imperceptible seam ran along the base of the concrete. This had to be the fucking entrance. His eyes, fiery and determined, darted over every inch, searching for any sign of a switch or loose panel. "Where the hell is it?" he said, as if by sheer force of will it would open. 

 Shoto moved towards the pumps, his eyes narrowing as he scanned for anything out of place. The air around him cooled slightly as he activated his quirk, just enough to keep his focus sharp without freezing anything. His fingers traced the pipes and conduits, searching for any inconsistency. As he reached behind one of the pumps, his fingers brushed against something that didn't quite belong. A section of the pump's back panel was slightly loose, a subtle deviation from the rest of the machinery. His heart raced as he glanced over at Katsuki, who was still muttering curses under his breath.

"Gotcha," he muttered under his breath, gripping the loose section and giving it a firm tug. The panel shifted, revealing a hidden lever tucked away behind the machinery. The lever was sturdy and industrial-looking, a stark contrast to the sleek lines of the filtration system. It was clear this wasn't part of the original design.

"Bakugo, over here," Shoto called out, "I think I found a lever." Katsuki's head snapped up. Finally, some fucking progress. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Pull it!" Shoto gripped the levee firmly and with a quick, decisive pull, the lever clicked, and a deep clunk sounded.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a low, mechanical whirring sound filled the air, reverberating through the steel and concrete. The water in the tank Katsuki had been searching began to churn, bubbles rising to the surface as it slowly started to drain. The noise grew louder, more intense, as the water level dropped, revealing the bottom of the tank inch by inch.

Katsuki cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as his arms hung loose at his sides, preparing for anything. His eyes were fixed on the draining tank, every muscle in his body coiled and ready. Shoto flanked him, his quirk subtly lowering the temperature around them, a calm contrast to Katsuki's simmering heat.

The low whirring sound grew louder, punctuated by a series of metallic clicks. The water in the tank churned violently before a hissing sound filled the air. Katsuki's eyes narrowed, watching intently as a section of the tank's base began to shift.

With a final, loud hiss, a third of the tank's bottom detached and slowly started to lift upwards. The heavy steel creaked and groaned, revealing a dark, gaping tunnel beneath.

He didn't know what the hell to expect down that tunnel. What if this lead turned out to be another fucking dead end? What if, after all this, he was no closer to finding Izuku? He hoped—no, he needed—this to lead him to Izuku or at the very least Odd Eye.

"Stay sharp, IcyHot. We don't know what the hell we're walking into."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Into The Depths

Katsuki made to start down the stairs when the smell hit him. It was putrid, like someone left a pile of rotting meat in the sun for a week and then dunked it in raw sewage. It was so rancid, so fucking vile he could almost taste it. He gagged, jerking back instinctively. "What the actual fuck?" he growled, spitting to get the taste out of his mouth. Shoto brought his palm up to cover his face, eyes watering slightly. Katsuki had smelled a lot of things in his life—burning rubber, singed flesh, the acrid stench of a battlefield—but this was on a whole different level... actually it smelled like death itself had decided to camp out here and keel over.

Katsuki forced himself to breathe through his mouth, trying to filter out the God-awful stench. He took another step, but the smell was so overwhelming it felt like it was seeping into his very pores. He gagged again, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up. "Shit," Katsuki cursed, his voice muffled by the back of his hand.

He glanced at Shoto, who was still covering his face, eyes wide with shock. "It smells... like something died down there," he said, his voice tight with disgust. "And it's been there for a while."

No shit, Sherlock. The smell was fucking unbearable, like a festering wound that had been left to rot. He felt his mouth water as his stomach churned but forced it down. No way he was going to puke now.

He watched as Shoto pulled out a flashlight and moved past him, the beam cutting through the darkness of the tunnel. Katsuki followed, each step feeling heavier as the smell grew stronger. He shined it down the tunnel, and what they saw made Katsuki's blood run cold. Holy. Shit.

They were too late.

There was blood everywhere. Bodies—or what was left of them—had been eviscerated, torn apart like ragdolls. Blood splattered the walls and pooled on the floor, viscera painting the railings and dripping from the ceiling. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Parallels to the massacre under the Red Lotus.

Katsuki's mind went numb, a ringing in his ears as he stared at the carnage. Flashes of their fight under the club strobed through his vision. He knew deep down something felt off, something was wrong. The silence, the stillness, the complete fucking absence of any signs of life—it had all screamed at him that he was too late. And damn it, he had been right. Izuku had played him. Again.

Small explosions rippled down Katsuki's arm, his anger and frustration manifesting in volatile bursts of heat and light. The air crackled with tension, the sound sharp and menacing.

Shoto's voice broke the silence, shaky and hesitant. "Kat—" Katsuki waved his hand aggressively, cutting Shoto off before he could even start. "Shut. Up," he articulated through clenched teeth, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort to keep his emotions in check. He ran his hands over his face, taking a step back, trying to push down the rising tide of anger and frustration.

He didn't need Shoto's words right now. Inside, he was boiling and was moments away from losing his shit. He needed to focus, to channel his rage into something productive, something that could get him closer to finding Izuku, a new game plan.

How many times had he been in this exact situation, always one step behind Izuku, always chasing shadows? Fuck. He placed a hand at the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp as he paced back and forth.

Why did Izuku have to turn into this? Katsuki hesitated, the word "monster" lingering on the edge of his thoughts but never quite forming. No, he needed to shut that shit down. This mess isn't Izuku's fault, it wasn't his fault he ended up this way. How could he even think that? He loved Izuku down to his core, a truth that burned as fiercely as his explosions. But seeing this, the way it made him feel...

Katsuki stopped pacing; his eyes unfocused as he stared at the ground. Every time he tried to justify the violence, tried to rationalize Izuku's reasons for turning into this cold, ruthless person, it was like a knife twisting in his gut. He knew Izuku had been through hell, seen and been through shit no one should have to ever deal with, but why the hell did he have to shut him out? Why did he have to turn into such a violent, closed-off vigilante? He knew what the dissociative identity disorder was doing to Izuku, knew Izuku was beyond mentally fucked up, each piece of his shattered soul twisted in completely different ways by the weight of the world and the expectations placed on him.

He knew that among the different personalities from Izuku's DID, the dominating one right now was the vengeful and wrathful one. That part of Izuku had taken control, driven by an unyielding need to achieve his goal. This version of Izuku was ruthless, unrelenting, and willing to do whatever it took, no matter the cost to destroy the LOV and more importantly Odd Eye. Katsuki knew the other sides were still there—the scared, frail Izuku who had suffered after the war but had learned that he would always have Katsuki and the hero who would put himself in harm's way if it meant protecting someone who couldn't protect themselves. But those sides were buried deep, suffocated by the rage and determination that now fueled Izuku's every move. Katsuki understood that this was the result of the months of torture, extensive trauma, pain, and constant judgment of the world forced upon him.

But knowing that didn't make it any fucking easier— 

Shit, he needed to stop. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him now. Because if he did, he was going to start fucking spiraling and now wasn't the goddamn time. Izuku had outmaneuvered him again, and it sure as fuck pissed him the hell off to no end, but he wasn't going to give up. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

Again, he needed to think, needed a plan. This hideout might be a dead end, but there had to be something here—some clue, some piece of evidence that would point him in the right direction.

He heard a scuffing sound and glanced over to see Shoto nearing the entrance, the flashlight in his hand casting long shadows. Katsuki's eyes followed the beam of light, watching as it flickered across the walls of the tunnel.

"Oi," Katsuki barked, his voice hoarse but commanding. Shoto paused, turning to meet Katsuki's intense gaze. "We're going in. I'm not leaving until I get some damn answers."

Shoto nodded, pulling out his phone to call this in. But Katsuki's hand shot out, stopping him. "No," Katsuki growled. "We have no idea what kinda craps down there. We do a full sweep first, then drag in the crime scene crew."

Shoto just stared at him, trying to read Katsuki's fiery eyes, the unwavering determination in them. Really it was just against protocol, it also wasn't they're jurisdiction. So once this was sectioned off essentially they were going to be boxed out. Shoto sighed, resigning, knowing that's exactly what was going through Katsuki's head. "Alright," he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Shoto gestured to the tunnel, scrunching his nose. "After you," he said, mockingly polite.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. "Damn right, after me." Asshole. He took a steadying breath, trying to breathe through his mouth, trying not to think about how absolutely fucking horrible it smelled and how this painfully reminded him of another set of stairwells as they started their descent. The stench of decay and blood assaulted his senses, making him glad he hadn't eaten anything in the last few hours.

As they descended, Katsuki's eyes took in all the gore. Bodies littered the ground, twisted in unnatural angles, their lifeless eyes staring into the void. He tried to step around the worst of it, but the sheer number of corpses made it impossible. Blood slicked the steps, and he could feel it sticking to the soles of his boots, it was as disgusting as it sounded.

The blueprints had only shown one way in and one way out of this hellhole. Katsuki's mind raced, connecting the dots. The way the bodies were strewn across the stairs meant these people had been running for their lives, trying to get out... And they hadn't stood a chance. He could almost hear their screams muffled in the cold, damp air. He knew what those screams sounded like... the raw, visceral cries of fear and agony, echoing off the cavern walls as Izuku unflinchingly tore through everyone in his path. Panic and desperation, all leading to the same brutal end.

Goosebumps flecked Katsuki's arms as he came to the nauseating realization that Izuku, whether or not these people had been fighting or running, had slaughtered every single one of them without an ounce of mercy.

And Katsuki couldn't help but flash back to that moment months ago when Izuku had seemed almost savage and wild. The raw, unrestrained fury in Izuku's eyes as he managed to not only slam Katsuki to the ground but pin him, feeling Black Whip constricting around his body, watching in horror as Izuku cocked back his fist to deal a killing blow.

If All Might hadn't been there to pull Izuku from that burning rage, Katsuki probably would have died. The memory of All Might's voice, booming through the forest, dragging Izuku back from that eroding edge, was seared into his mind. All Might had been their anchor, their guiding light in the shitstorm that had been their more than shitty life.

But thinking of All Might only brought worse memories. All Might's death still made Katsuki's knees weak, a visceral pain that struck deep in his chest. He immediately shoved those thoughts down, knowing that dwelling on them now would only cloud his focus.

The sweep of Shoto's flashlight brought Katsuki back to the present. Before he knew it, his foot scuffed against the floor of the first sub-level. Even in the limited light from Shoto, he could see there were more bodies, but it wasn't as densely packed as it had been on the stairs. The air was still thick with the stench of death, but the open space gave them a little more room to maneuver.

Shoto crouched down next to a body of what looked like a shark heteromorph, examining it closely. Katsuki brought out a flare of light from his palms, quickly sweeping the dark room, his eyes scanning the shadows, the corners he could manage, looking for any signs of movement. The last thing they needed was an ambush. The walls here were also stained not just with blood, but some sort of black substance, the floor slick with thick puddles of it. The scene was gruesome, but unfortunately, Katsuki had seen worse.

Turning back to Shoto, Katsuki's annoyance flared. "Tch, What the hell are you doing?" he snapped.

Shoto looked up, his expression grim. "These bodies are at least a few days old," he said, his face the perfect mask of indifference despite the gruesome surroundings. "The blood is dried in places and with the heat in here, it's why it smells so terrible. Whatever happened here, it didn't happen recently."

Thanks, Captain Obvious. Katsuki's eyes narrowed as he noticed something off about this place. This wasn't just your average run-of-the-mill hideout. At the end of the corridor, what looked like some sort of high-tech security checkpoint. "Stop eating shit and let's go before I leave your ass," he said irritably at Shoto, his patience less than nonexistent. He needs to figure out what his next move was.

As they moved closer, the true nature of the place became apparent. Destroyed retinal and fingerprint scanners adorned the walls to their left, but it looked like something had torn through the thick metal doors into the space beyond. And Katsuki would bet his life savings that that something was probably Izuku.

Mounted machine guns flanked the entrance, their barrels twisted and mangled, reduced to useless scraps of metal. Katsuki raised his hand, letting the glow of his quirk illuminate the scene. The flickering light cast eerie shadows on the walls, highlighting the destruction. It was clear that even the heavy artillery hadn't been enough to stop Izuku's rampage.

What the hell was this place, and what was so damn important that they needed such high-tech equipment to guard it. Even some of the bodies here looked like they had quirks specially made for defense.  Surveillance cameras, or what was left of them, covered every angle, and Katsuki couldn't help but wonder if there were backups of the recorded footage.

"This place is fortified like a damn fortress," Katsuki muttered, more to himself than Shoto. "Whatever they were protecting, it was serious." It was probably why Izuku hit this place as fast as he did. There was something here that probably meant life or death.

Shoto's hand touched the doors, fingers tracing the twisted metal as if in shock that they had been blown wide open. "Midoriya didn't just destroy this place. He annihilated it." Shoto muttered, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene.

The muscle in Katsuki's feathered. "Yeah, and I bet there's something here that'll tell us why." He motioned towards the cameras. "Let's find out if those things are still working. Maybe they caught something useful."

They moved towards the control room, adjacent to the checkpoint. The nerve center of the hideout was cluttered with high-tech equipment, monitors that probably displayed feed from all levels, and control panels for security doors and lockdown procedures. The door to the control room had been ripped off its hinges, the twisted metal embedded in the wall across from the entrance. Jesus. The room was a mess, the aftermath of Izuku's rampage evident in the scattered debris and broken equipment. It looked like a tornado had swept through here.

Katsuki and Shoto began sifting through the wreckage, looking for the panel that controlled the cameras. He could at the very least try to see how long ago Izuku had been here. Katsuki's fingers brushed against a cracked screen, and he pushed the debris off. "Found it," he grunted, plugging some hanging wires back in, praying it still worked.

Shoto joined him, eyes scanning the various buttons and switches. "We need to pull up the feed and rewind. Look for anything that shows what happened here."

They both started trying to pull up the camera feed, fingers moving quickly over the controls. The screen flickered to life, showing static and fragmented images from the various cameras around the hideout. Most of the feeds were dark, the cameras were either destroyed or malfunctioning due to the carnage.

"C'mon, c'mon," Katsuki muttered, more than frustrated. The feed kept cutting in and out, static lines distorting the images. Katsuki's patience snapped. He slammed his fist against the panel, the force of his blow causing the equipment to rattle. "Work you piece of shit!"

Shoto glanced at him, raising his eyebrow but knowing better than to make some snide remark. "Uh," he began, "I don't think that's going—" but before he could finish, the screen flickered, and the feed for the first and second floors suddenly appeared.

Katsuki shot Shoto a look that screamed keep yapping dickhead, daring him to continue questioning him, but Shoto only shrugged. Katsuki huffed, that's what he thought. Shoto pressed a few buttons and before they knew it the feed of the fight started rewinding.

"There," Katsuki said after a minute or two, his voice low and intense. "That's where it started." Shoto cut the rewind and let the video play.

Both of them froze, eyes locked on the monitor. The image was grainy and sporadic, but they could make out Izuku as he came down the stairs, barreling through the high-tech security checkpoint, his movements a blur of raw power and unrestrained fury. In the blink of an eye the heavily armed guards were in pieces and the mounted machine guns began firing at him, but he moved with such speed and power that they were rendered useless almost immediately. Metal twisted and sparked as he ripped through the defenses, his Black Whip lashing out and destroying everything in his path.

A name Katsuki's heard before surfaced from the shadows of his mind... Shinigami. The harbinger of death, the grim reaper.

Izuku stopped just long enough to catch his breath, his chest heaving, fists glowing ruby red with Fajin and green electricity. His eyes burned with that raw power that made Katsuki's stomach shrivel up. Izuku didn't even hesitate as he barreled into the door, fist pounding with a force that had made the entire room shake, causing soot to rain down. Each blow was accompanied by a crackle of blinding electricity, the metal warping under the onslaught. Finally, with a resounding crash, the doors gave out, crumpling inward under the sheer power of Izuku's attack.

The moment he was inside, Smoke Screen shrouded parts of the hallway in thick, dark plumes, making it difficult to track his movements clearly. The cameras struggled to keep up, capturing only fragmented glimpses of his rampage. He vanished for a second until the control room door flew off its hinges and he stalked through the door. Monitors exploded in showers of sparks, panels were ripped apart as if they were made of paper, and the only remaining camera captured a final glimpse of his rampage before being obliterated by Black Whip. Katsuki's eyes flicked to see what looked like claw marks on that same wall as if to make sure this was real.

Katsuki's jaw tightened as the feed played out in front of him. He couldn't take his eyes off the screen, couldn't tear his gaze away from the raw, unbridled power that was Izuku Midoriya. The way he moved, the sheer efficiency of his attacks, it was all so... ruthless.

The Izuku he remembered, the one who'd been a mess of emotions in the caverns, all blind fury and chaotic energy, was gone. This Izuku was different—honed, controlled, lethal. His eyes... they were different. Harder, fiercer. The same fire that had driven him in his prime before the comma was still there, but now with an edge that made Katsuki's heart clench. 

He had to remind himself—this was the DID. The other Izuku, the one he knew, the one he loved, was still in there somewhere. This wasn't the only part of him left. It couldn't be.

Watching Izuku now, it was no wonder Katsuki could never fucking catch him before he reached these hideouts. Izuku was in and out before anyone knew what even hit them. One moment, he was there, a walking natural disaster; the next, the screen would cut to static.

"Shit," Katsuki muttered under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He remembered the days when the nerd's power was more of a hazard to himself than anyone else. Those days were sure as hell long gone. Now, Izuku was a finely tuned weapon, each calculated movement evidence of his growth and ruthless resolve to take down Odd Eye.

Shoto's voice cut through Katsuki's thoughts, quiet and probing. "Is that what he looked like when you were fighting under the Red Lotus?" It was a bit of a loaded question and Katsuki hesitated, his gaze shifting to meet Shoto's eyes. Months later, the memories of that fight were still so fresh in his mind.

He looked back at the screen, watching as Izuku disappeared down the stairs making his way to the second sublevel. The sheer intensity of Izuku's movements replayed in his mind, an echo of those dark days.

He nodded once, a short, sharp movement. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough with the weight of the past. "But this... this is different. The nerd... he's sharper now. More in control."

Katsuki drew a deep breath, changing the subject. "How long ago was this?"

Shoto paused the feed as Izuku rampaged through what looked like a research lab on the second floor. Flipping through the file log, he scanned the timestamps. "Four days ago," he finally said, his voice grim.

They fast-forwarded through the feed, scanning the fragmented footage for any additional clues. But once Izuku descended to the third sublevel, all the cameras were blank. "Wait," Shoto said, his brow furrowing. "There's something about the lower-level cameras. They might require a special access code."

Katsuki's frustration flared. "Are you kidding me? Where the hell are we supposed to find that?" Shoto's eyes scanned the control panel. "There must be a way to override it. Or maybe there's a log with the codes somewhere in this mess."

Katsuki began rifling through the scattered papers and broken equipment, his movements sharp and angry. "We don't have time for this crap," he complained, and sure enough after a few minutes, they couldn't find jack shit, they would just have to be alert when they made their way to that floor, ready for anything.

Eventually, they fast-forwarded through thirty minutes of feed, eyes glued to the screen, waiting for Izuku to start making his way out when suddenly, the lights cut out, causing the feed to switch to night vision as people start running through what cameras were still working on the second sublevel. The fuck are all those people doing down there? Katsuki's heart raced as he realized that most of them looked like prisoners, like test subjects. He let the video play at regular speed, the ground seeming to shake as the prisoners ran down the level to get to the other stairwell. 

Katsuki leaned in, trying to figure out what the hell was happening when Izuku suddenly bolted through the third sublevel stairwell, blood streaming down his right arm hanging limp at his side, leaving a dark, glistening trail on the floor. He turned, hunched over in a defensive position.

The scene was chaotic, the flashing lights of alarms and people seemed to be screaming and scrambling, but all he could focus on was Izuku. Where they running form Izuku or something else?

"What the hell is he doing?" Katsuki muttered; his eyes still glued to the screen. Izuku's stance was tight, every muscle coiled and ready. He was preparing for something, something big. The hair on Katsuki's neck stood on end, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through him.

And when four black Nomu seemingly emerged from the shadows of the stairwell his blood turned to ice, their grotesque forms hulking and menacing. These weren't just any Nomu; they were near high-end, if not that, each a walking death machine. Taking on one in a confined space was already suicidal, but four? That was a death sentence.

Izuku didn't flinch. He launched himself at the Nomu with a quick bicep reload, flicking his blood as his arms blazed with renewed power. Katsuki's breath caught in his throat as he watched the battle unfold. Izuku's fists glowed with the eerie light of his quirks, his movements a blur of brutal precision as he tore into them. The Nomu responded in kind, their attacks savage and relentless. 

Claws slashed through the air, teeth snapping as they tried to overwhelm Izuku with their combined might and quirks. The only surviving camera captured every moment in stark, horrifying detail. Black blood spattered the walls, the floor, limbs being ripped from their joints. The fight was so intense, so brutally raw, that the camera struggled to keep up. It was an all-out brawl.

And Anyone still unfortunate enough to be on that sublevel and within range of the fight became collateral. 

Izuku eyes flashed with green energy, each impact of his fist seemed to iginite the air, sending shockwaves through the Nomu. Every punch, every strike, was a calculated blow meant to cripple or kill. Katsuki knew that if any ordinary hero tried to intervene, they'd be torn apart in seconds. Izuku was fighting on a level that defied human limits. 

And katsuki wasn't bluffing if he said that a fight like this was something only a person like Izuku could handle, someone with the power and the will to face such overwhelming odds and come out on top.

One of the Nomu managed to break past Izuku's guard, lunging toward the second sublevel's stairwell after one of the last people alive on that floor. Black Whip shot out, slicing into the Nomu's back before grabbing it by one of its legs, trying to pull it back towards Izuku. But the creature managed to break free with a savage jerk, its momentum carrying it into the stairwell.

Katsuki's eyes darted to another monitor where the mob of people, prisoners and test subjects, were flooding through the shredded doors on the first level, piling into the tunnel in a desperate attempt to escape. His heart nearly stopped in his chest as realization dawned on him with chilling clarity. The blood, the bodies—he had just assumed.

"It wasn't Izuku who killed all those people in the tunnel," Shoto said more to himself than Katsuki. The Nomu barreled into the crowd tearing into them without mercy, blood spraying as chaos erupted.

Izuku had been trying to save them.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Power of a Jinx

Katsuki breathed in and out of his mouth, trying to stay as quiet as fucking possible. The darkness was oppressive, the chittering still echoing in his ears. Shoto's whisper cut through the silence, his voice steady but strained. "Even if there are supposedly two Nomu in this facility, there's only one here in this room with us."

Katsuki could only pray that it wasn't Project Phazewave. He had been skimming, thinking he had more time, that he could just focus on the big stuff. He had seen that the project was labeled a success—but skipped over the detailed quirks and enhancements, hadn't read the specifics. Damn it, he hadn't read them!

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The mere thought of facing that thing again sent a cold chill down his spine. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising tide of panic. They needed a plan, something to tip the scales in their favor, and they needed it now. "Alright," he muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. "First, we need to figure out where it is. We can't just start blasting without knowing where that thing is."

They were cornered, outgunned, and blind. Not exactly a winning combination, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight. His thoughts flicked through his options, each one feeling more desperate than the last. They couldn't see the Nomu—hell, they didn't even know which one was with them.

Blasting away blindly was a sure fucking way to get them both killed, but doing nothing was just as bad. They needed to level the playing field, disrupt the Nomu's advantage. If only they could disorient it, just for a moment, long enough to get a clean hit...

Another crash echoed through the room, the sound of debris clattering to the ground. The Nomu was getting closer, the chittering noise growing louder, more agitated. Katsuki's heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm of fear and determination. And then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck him.

Of course, his heart. He can fucking blind it. Throw the bastard off balance. The Nomu relied on its enhanced senses to track them in the dark. Take those away, and they'd have a chance to gain the edge they needed—a slim one, but a chance nonetheless.

There was no time to explain. He could feel the familiar heat building in his chest, condensing the pressure, focusing it into a single point, forcing it to build rapidly. The air around him started to hum, a low, vibrating sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Katsuki could feel the energy pulsing under his skin, threatening to explode. His breath came in sharp, controlled bursts as he held it back, waiting for the right moment.

"IcyHot," he hissed, his voice strained as he struggled to control the growing power inside him. "Cover your fucking eyes and ears—now!"

The noise caught the Nomu's attention. The chittering stopped, replaced by a low, guttural growl as the creature turned toward the source of the sound. For a split second, Katsuki could sense its confusion, its hesitation—then it locked onto them. The ground trembled beneath them as the Nomu's massive hands slammed down, sending a shockwave through the debris-strewn room. It was a challenge, a taunt—a declaration of intent. The creature started toward them, its intent clear—obliterate anything in its path. And the bastard wasn't just moving; it was charging—a full-on sprint, barreling toward them with a speed that sent a jolt of terror down Katsuki's spine. The ground trembled under its weight, the sound of its footsteps growing louder, closer, faster.

Perfect, a fierce grin splitting his face as he covered his ears despite the tension.

And then, with a forceful exhale, he let it go.

Flashbang Pulse detonated from his chest, the explosion of light and sound tearing through the darkness like a thunderclap. The boom was deafening, a concussive blast that rattled the very foundations of the room. The flash was blinding, a searing burst of white-hot light that overwhelmed everything else.

Katsuki's ears rang from the intensity, but he knew the Nomu had it worse. It let out an enraged, pained roar, stumbling back into an overturned table as the flash disoriented it, its enhanced senses overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. It thrashed wildly, claws swiping at the air as it tried to regain its bearings.

He could still feel the residual energy crackling in his chest, but the adrenaline pushed him forward. "IcyHot!" Katsuki yelled, knowing Shoto would already be on the move, flames and ice at the ready. But they needed more than just a brief distraction—they needed to see what the hell they were up against.

Katsuki shot his hand forward, sending out a cluster of tiny explosions—his stars of light. They burst into the air, scattering like a shotgun blast and sticking to the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Each one pulsed with a bright, steady glow, cutting through the darkness that had once swallowed them whole and now illuminating the room in harsh, orange light.

Katsuki's breath caught for a moment as the details of their opponent came into focus. The Nomu was massive, a hulking brute with twisted limbs and bulging muscles, but as Katsuki's eyes locked onto it, a wave of fucking relief washed over him. It wasn't Project Phazewave. This one was still dangerous, still a grotesque lump of flesh and power, but it wasn't the one that haunted his memories. It was just a monster—and monsters could be beaten.

"That's right, you ugly piece of shit," Katsuki growled, his confidence surging back. "You're fucking going down." Power pulsed under Katsuki's skin as the air shimmered and crackled with his explosions. Katsuki didn't waste another damn second. "Let's burn this bastard down!" he roared, his voice raw with adrenaline.

He didn't need to say more. Shoto was already in motion, his dual quirks coming to life in a blaze of fire and ice, his left hand engulfed in flames as he raised it high. The heat was intense, radiating off him in waves as he unleashed a torrent of fire, the flames roaring to life and washing over the Nomu. The creature screeched, a horrific sound as the fire consumed its flesh, the heat searing through its defenses.

Katsuki didn't bother waiting for a signal, he propelled himself forward, explosions sparking in his palms as he closed the distance in an instant. The Nomu was still trying to shake off the flames, but Katsuki wasn't going to give it the chance. He charged in, aiming straight for the creature's center of mass.

"Take this, you fucking freak!" he roared, blasting the Nomu with Detonation Shield. Knocking it back before Katsuki summersaulted and blasted it with AP-Shot Auto Cannon, each hit landed with a thunderous boom, the force of the blasts driving the creature back, further into Shoto's wall of flames.

The Nomu roared again, the sound so loud it felt like it was meant disorient its prey, but its movements were slower, more erratic, the combined assault taking its toll. Katsuki kept up the pressure, his explosions relentless, the heat of Shoto's fire scorching the air around them.

The room was a battlefield of light and heat, the once suffocating darkness now ablaze with their combined power. The air around him was scorching, each breath searing his throat as the heat of Shoto's flames intensified, filling the room with blistering waves of energy.

Katsuki could feel the strain in his muscles, the energy he was pouring into every blast. His throat was dry, each breath he took feeling like he was inhaling fire.

Damn... it's hot as hell down here. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face, stinging his eyes as he squinted through the haze of heat and smoke making it hard for him to focus

And then it hit him—the power outage. The entire facility had no power when they got here. Without it, there was no ventilation, no circulation. The flames and explosions were eating up what little oxygen was left in the room. Every breath they took was taking them closer to suffocation,but he wasn't about to let up. Not until this thing was nothing more than a charred heap on the floor. They couldn't keep this up much longer. The longer they fought, the more the oxygen was running out, and if they didn't end it soon, they'd both be too weak to finish the job—if they didn't pass out first.

"We're burning through the air, IcyHot!" he barked, his voice cutting through the crackling flames and the Nomu's guttural roars. "We need to end this fast, or we're both gonna fucking suffocate!"

Shoto's eyes flickered toward Katsuki, the realization dawning on him as well, "We're finishing this now!" he yelled, launching himself higher into the air, before spiraling back at the nomu with another Dentoantion Shield. Shoto moved with deadly precision, his eyes narrowing as he saw the opening Katsuki had created. With a swift motion, he slammed his right hand down, a wave of ice exploding from the ground and racing toward the Nomu. The frigid force struck the creature's legs, encasing them in a thick, glistening sheath of ice, snuffing out the flames. The Nomu howled, its movements jerky and desperate as it struggled against the freezing grip, a haggard leg broke free but was mangled from the frost bite, but the ice held the rest of it firm, locking it in place.

As the Nomu struggled against the ice, Katsuki shot higher into the room, eyes locked onto the creature's head, the perfect target. With a fierce grin, he flipped in midair, his body twisting with controlled precision as he somersaulted toward the Nomu.

Every muscle in his body coiled, the explosive energy building up with each passing second. The air around him hummed with the intensity of his quirk, and as he descended, he channeled it all into one devastating move, a killing blow. His leg shot out, his foot blazing with the power of a contained explosion, aimed directly at the Nomu's skull.

The impact was explosive, a deafening crack that shook the room as Katsuki's blast hit dead center. The Nomu's skull caved under the pressure, the ice that held its limbs cracking from the force, but not enough to release the creature from its frozen prison.

The flames from Shoto's earlier assault flared up, feeding off the explosion, creating a blinding inferno around the Nomu's head. The creature's roars turned into garbled, choking sounds as the fire and shockwaves tore through its body consuming what was left.

Katsuki landed in a crouch, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins as the Nomu's charred remains lay smoldering in the center of the room, twitching. The room was filled with smoke, making it hard to breath, the acrid smell of burnt flesh thick in the air. He glanced over at Shoto, who was already extinguishing his flames, his expression grim but focused. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Katsuki felt like someone had dunked him in a vat of his own sweat.

But there was no time to rest. Not with the possibility of another Nomu lurking somewhere in the facility.

Without a word, Katsuki blasted himself backward, propelling off the ground to land beside Shoto. His hand glowed faintly with residual energy, ready to unleash another attack at a moment's notice. He turned his sharp gaze toward the dark stairwell leading down to the third sublevel. The shadows seemed to stretch endlessly, the depths of the stairwell hiding the nightmare that might be lurking below. He could almost see the dead, soulless eyes materializing from the shadows.

Reminding him of the hands that had materialized out of the darkness all those months ago.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, every muscle in his body tense, waiting for something—anything—to emerge. He'd be fucking damned to be caught off guard.

The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The only sounds were the hiss of singed flesh and their heavy breathing, but no movement came from the stairwell. The oppressive silence only added to the tension, making Katsuki's skin prickle with unease. Some of the starlight Katsuki had scattered earlier were still burning, casting an eerie, flickering glow over the room. The light barely penetrated the darkness of the stairwell, but it was enough to see that nothing was coming—at least, not yet.

Katsuki exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the journal he'd found earlier. The pages were worn, the ink slightly smudged from the sweat on his hands, but the information inside was clear enough to set his nerves on edge.

Shoto, glanced over and caught sight of the symbol on the cover. His eyes widened in recognition. "Is that—"

"Yeah," Katsuki cut him off before he could say more, his tone clipped as he flipped open the journal to the last few entries. There wasn't time to go into details—they needed to stay focused. "Stay alert," Katsuki snapped point at the darkness, the command slicing through the silence like a blade. He quickly skimmed over the list of quirks, his eyes darting across the page as he absorbed the details. Enhanced Durability and Regeneration. Shadow Manipulation. Energy Deflection... and then there was the one that made his stomach twist: Permeation. He sat there for a moment. Why did that sound so fucking familiar?

Katsuki forced himself to keep flipping through the pages, as much as he wanted to dig into the specifics, to understand exactly what they were up against, there was no time.

"What's in there?" Shoto asked cautiously, concerned as he watched Katsuki's expression darken. But Katsuki didn't respond, too focused on what he was reading.

"Shut up and give me a second," Katsuki hissed, not bothering to look up. His fingers gripped the edges of the pages tightly as he turned to the final entry. Something felt off—Izuku hadn't fought Phazewave at least not on footage, and if it was still here alive, the fighting would have been like ringing the dinner bell... where was this bastard?

The last entry was dated four days before Izuku's raid on this facility. Katsuki's eyes widened as he read the notes, his stomach twisting. The Nomu had been transferred from the hideout to another classified location, marked only by a series of numbers and letters—no specifics, just cold, cryptic code.

Lnvtz Vxlb rh rm srl uzmzo hlfvh lu nvgznlklihrzrh, kszevdzev hzxv ylmwvmg gl Szplmv rm kviuzkgzrm uli rgv uzmzo zmzorkrh ylfiviv yvzhvmglwmgl gl hsyrfzb uli gvhgirmt lu Svkovkzm 10gs

For a brief moment, as the realization sank in, Katsuki felt a wave of relief wash over him. His grip on the journal loosened slightly, easing the  tension in his muscles. That bastard's not here. The thought was like a weight lifting off his shoulders, even if just for an instant.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, they weren't about to face that impossible fight. "Looks like were not walking into our graves just yet," Katsuki deadpanned.

But it also meant that the League had been prepared, one step ahead, securing their deadliest weapon before death incarnate could get to it. And now, somewhere out there, that monstrosity was still waiting, still ready to be unleashed. He looked at Shoto, who was watching him with a mix of concern and expectation, waiting for Katsuki to explain what he'd found. And so he did, briefly going over everything he found catching him up to speed.

"This thing," Katsuki continued, holding up the journal, his voice tense and serious, "isn't just a log book, and It's more than just notes on Phazewave—it's a fucking blueprint for how to create a God level threat. Everything they did to make that thing nearly unstoppable is in here—every quirk, every modification, every twisted experiment. And that makes this journal almost as dangerous as the Nomu itself." He gestured to the pages of hypotheses and theories.

Katsuki emphasized, his voice low and deadly serious. "This is a goddamn cookbook to making one of the deadliest weapons on the planet. Everything the League did to turn that Nomu into the perfect predator is laid out in this damn book. And we can't let anyone else get their hands on it. Not the Hero Association, not the police, and sure as hell not the League." That's if they didn't have another copy lying around.

Shoto nodded, the gravity of the situation reflected in his expression. "So what's the plan?" he asked, his tone as serious as Katsuki's.

"We take the important shit—what we need to know to deal with this thing if it ever shows up again. And the code on the last page. After that, we burn this entire damn journal, and every piece of research in this lab goes with it. No one can use this to create another monster. Not the League, not anyone."

Katsuki began tearing out the critical pages from the journal, ones that detailed Phazewave's quirks, its enhancements, and the horrifying experiments that had created it. He snapped a photo of it with his phone, just in case and handed the first page to Shoto, wanting to make sure they only kept the bare minimum—the essential information they couldn't afford to lose.

"Once we've got what we need, we torch the rest," Katsuki said, his voice firm. "And then we make sure this lab is nothing but ashes. The authorities can search the upper level but anything past that should be taken out."

Shoto's brow furrowed, his usual calm giving way to a flicker of unease. Shoto didn't like it—Katsuki could see the hesitation in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw—but he nodded all the same. He knew what needed to be done, even if the idea of erasing all this information made him uneasy. They were both well aware of the implications, of the danger that came with destroying evidence, but they couldn't take any chances. Not with something this dangerous.

Shoto took the page, carefully tucking the pages into a manilla envelope he found on a table to his left.

Katsuki wasted no time, his fingers digging into the journal's spine as he began ripping out the critical pages, each tear of the paper echoing in the oppressive silence of the lab. The sound was sharp, almost angry, as if the paper itself resisted being separated from its deadly secrets.

Katsuki's hands moved on autopilot, tearing page after page from the journal and snapping photos, the sound of ripping paper barely registering in his mind. Each tear was a little too aggressive, a little too desperate, like he was trying to rip apart the thoughts, the insidious shadow, that had begun to worm their way into his brain. The image of that damn Nomu kept creeping into his thoughts, twisting his gut into knots.

Fuck, what if Izuku ends up running into this thing?

The thought was like a cold hand clenching around his heart, squeezing tighter with every second. Izuku, that stupid, reckless fucking idiot, would throw himself into the fight without a second thought, because that's just what he did. Especially after the person history between them. Going head-to-head with something as terrifying as Phazewave alone—it was enough to make his heart slam against his ribs in pure, unfiltered fear.

This wasn't just any other extra. This wasn't just another fight. Phazewave wasn't the same Nomu they'd faced on that field on New Years—it was stronger now, more dangerous, its quirks cranked up to levels that shouldn't even be fucking possible. And if Izuku went up against it alone...

Katsuki's hands started to shake, the pages he tore out coming out in jagged, uneven strips.

This thing would kill him. It's too fucking strong. Even for Izuku. Especially for Izuku. The shadow of his anxiety was there, seeping into his thoughts, making his chest feel tight, making it hard to breathe. His mind kept spiraling, refusing to let go. The panic was suffocating, threatening to drown him in the fear of what could happen if Izuku ever stood against Phazewave.

Damn it, his hands were trembling as he tore out another page, this one nearly ripping in half from the force. Get a fucking grip.

He forced himself to stop, to take a deep, steadying breath. The thin air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh and smoke, making it even harder to breathe, but he pushed through it. He had to.

Katsuki looked down at the page in his hand—the one with the code, the one that might lead them to where that Nomu was being held. His fingers were shaking, but he tried to ignore it as snapped a photo before handing the page to Shoto, who stared at him for a heartbeat before taking it, tucking it away. And then he felt it—a subtle, almost imperceptible hiccup against his chest. It wasn't his own heartbeat.

Katsuki's mind went dead silent, his own heart stuttering in response as he realized what it meant.

The ring.

The ring's heartbeat stuttered again before picking up speed, galloping like a wild horse, each pulse vibrating against his skin with an urgency that made his skin prickle. And Katsuki knew—he knew what that fucking meant. He knew what it always meant when the ring's pulse started to pick up like that.

Izuku was about to get into a fight.

The cold, creeping dread that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind suddenly sharpened into a blade of pure panic. And then, as if the universe was mocking his fear, the shrill sound of an emergency alert blared from their phones, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife. Katsuki didn't even need to look. He knew what it meant deep down. He knew where it was coming from, who it was for, goosebumps surged down his neck and arms in response.

Izuku was about to face Phazewave. Alone.

The emergency alert blared again, the shrill sound cutting through the silence of the lab, but it was drowned out by the thunderous pounding of his own heart. He knew—he fucking knew—what was happening, what that sound meant.

Beside him, Shoto pulled out his phone, his movements sharp and quick as he swiped to the alert. Katsuki didn't dare look at the screen, didn't want to see the confirmation of what he already knew deep in his bones. But he didn't have to. Shoto's sharp intake of breath, the way his eyes widened in alarm, said everything.

"Bakugo..." Shoto's voice was tense, his usual calm shattered by the gravity of what he was reading. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to Katsuki, who stood frozen in place, every muscle in his body coiled tight. "There's a Nomu rampaging through Hakone. They're calling for backup, but..."

Katsuki didn't move, didn't blink, his entire focus locked on the next words out of Shoto's mouth. The ones that would confirm his worst fears, the ones that would inject that icy chill into his veins.

"The alert says a vigilante is already there," Shoto finished, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder would make it worse. But it was already bad. It was worse than bad—it was a fucking nightmare.

Without a second thought, Katsuki ripped the chain from beneath his shirt, the ring swinging wildly against his chest. The emerald stone embedded in it flickered with a frantic, almost desperate glow, pulsing in time with the heartbeat he could feel thrumming through the metal. The pulse was strong, relentless, like a damn warning siren of its own blaring in his mind. Katsuki's fingers tightened around the ring, his grip almost crushing as Izuku's heartbeat grew faster, more urgent, matching the dread that was tightening around his throat. He didn't need to see it to know—he fucking knew—Izuku was about to throw himself into that fight.

His gaze snapped to Shoto, who was already pulling up the news app on his phone, his movements just as sharp as Katsuki's fraying nerves. The screen lit up with a breaking news report, and the headline hit Katsuki like a punch to the gut:

"Massive Battle Erupts in Hakone—Wartime Vigilante Fighting High-End Nomu."

Katsuki's heart slammed against his ribs as he watched the chaotic live feed. The camera struggled to keep up, the scene a blur of destruction and chaos. But amidst the wreckage, Katsuki could just make out the tattered remains of Izuku's costume—rocketing in and out of the frame. It was like watching the shadow of his vigilante days. The ground was torn to shreds, a massive crater scarring the earth, like the battle had started underground and had torn its way to the surface.

And then the camera zoomed in on the Nomu, and any semblance of hope Katsuki's had died. It was without a doubt Phazewave, but it looked even worse than before—more monstrous, more lethal. The damn thing had evolved, its body twisted into something even more grotesque, like its physical appearance had evolved alongside its quirks.

Katsuki only had three words... holy fucking shit. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. This wasn't the same beast they'd fought before—it was smarter, deadlier. The Nomu's eyes, once blank and empty, now glowed with a cold, malevolent intelligence. Every move it made was calculated, its attacks precise as it went after Izuku, who was trying like hell to tear into it.

Screams erupted from the live feed as the camera cut out, the sudden silence in the room making Katsuki's heart lurch. Shoto cursed under his breath, frantically switching to another news station. Katsuki could barely breathe, his eyes glued to the screen as the new feed came into focus, showing the battle from a different angle.

Last time they fought, the memory burning fresh in his mind, Izuku wiped the floor with that thing. It had been like watching a force of nature—like there was something to prove, like he was trying to show the world, to show Katsuki, that he was stronger, faster, damn near unstoppable when it came to protecting what mattered most. Hell, Katsuki knew it—Izuku had proven it. He'd been a damn beast, tearing through that Nomu like it was nothing.

But now...

As Katsuki stared at the screen as the feed came back on, his throat felt like it was closing. Every passing second made it more and more clear—the tables were turning. The Nomu wasn't just another obstacle for Izuku to smash through. This bastard, Katsuki realized with growing horror, it was dominating the fight. Phazewave was faster, stronger, more vicious, like it had been waiting for this moment to unleash its full potential. And Izuku...

Izuku was holding his own—of course he was, because Izuku never knew when to quit. But Katsuki could see it, the strain in every move, the way the Nomu was beating him back, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Each blow from Phazewave sent Izuku staggering, each hit more brutal than the last. The camera feed shook violently before it cut out again, plunging them into darkness.

It was a demon made to fight a reaper.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Void Flare

Fuck... fuck, fuck, FUCK. Katsuki was becoming frantic, thoughts erratic as he tried to calculate the time it would take to get to Hakone. Even if he raced out of here and blasted off at top speed, it'd take him at least an hour. An hour Izuku might not have. Still, he couldn't just stand here while Izuku was out there, fighting for his life against that goddamn hellspawn.

Katsuki turned sharply, his eyes blazing with a desperate urgency. "I have to get to him," he growled, his voice low and fierce, every fiber of his being screaming at him to move, to do something—anything—to reach Izuku in time. Shoto could handle the rest of the bullshit here. He stepped toward the stairwell, ready to blast off without a second thought, but Shoto's hand shot out, gripping his arm tightly.

"Bakugo, stop!" Shoto's voice was firm, but there was a crack in it, a hint of desperation that mirrored Katsuki's own. "You won't make it in time. Not without something like a teleportation quirk. You know that."

Katsuki jerked his arm, trying to wrench free, but Shoto's grip held fast. The frustration, the helplessness, boiled over in an instant, white-hot and searing. "Damn it, IcyHot! I can't just stand here and do nothing!"

Shoto's grip remained firm, his eyes pleading with Katsuki to stay rational. "I get it, Bakugo. I do. But rushing off blindly won't help him. We need a plan. We can call in backup for him. There has to be a hero in the area with some kind of warp quirk."

Before Katsuki could lash out, Shoto's phone blared to life, the screen flickering back on as the live feed resumed. The sound of the Nomu's menacing roar filled the room, followed by the terrified screams of civilians caught in the crossfire.

"Fuck!" Katsuki spat, his eyes wide and wild with panic and fury. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the adrenaline coursing through him, urging him to act, to do something, to save Izuku. "We don't have time for this! He needs us, he needs me now!" He clenched a fistful of his hair, his frustration and fear bubbling over into a sense of powerlessness that made his skin crawl.

Powerless. It was a feeling he despised more than anything, a feeling that had been haunting him ever since Izuku had gone of the deep end. Katsuki had always prided himself on being strong, and capable, on never backing down from anything. But here he was, miles away from the person who needed him most, unable to do a goddamn thing. All he could do was stand there and watch as the person he cared about most was thrown into the jaws of a battle he might not survive.

The live feed flickered, showing Izuku fighting with everything he had, every ounce of strength and determination poured into each move. But Phazewave was relentless, a brutal force of nature, meeting each of Izuku's strikes with a vicious counterattack. The Nomu's movements were eerily precise, efficient in a way that made his skin prickle from the anxiety pouring into his veins.

Everything was getting torn to shreds. The streets, the buildings—everything in their path was getting annihilated like it was nothing. Fucking nothing.

A Building crumbled like a sandcastle under the blast of a punch reinforced with Fajin, debris raining down in deadly torrents as the Nomu tore through it like it was nothing more than paper. .

The ground around them was littered with debris, the aftermath of their destructive clash—a battlefield that was slowly wearing Izuku down, bit by bit.

And all Katsuki could do was fucking watch.

Izuku twisted through the air, narrowly dodging another bone-crushing swipe from the Nomu. Izuku's movements were sharp, precise, but Katsuki could see the fatigue setting in, the way his muscles strained, the slight lag in his reflexes. He was running out of steam, and that goddamn demon wasn't slowing down.

Izuku's Black Chain—a deadly fusion of Fa Jin and Blackwhip—snapped out like a tendril of pure energy, twisting and coiling with incredible force as it zeroed in on the Nomu's throat.

Come on, Deku... land it, fucking land it...but Katsuki's eyes widened in horror as the Nomu finally activated one of its quirks—it fucking phased through Izuk attack. One second, the bastard was solid, right there in the line of fire, and the next, it was slipping through Izuku's moves like it was nothing. And then, just as quickly, the thing solidified again, using that split second of intangibility to launch a brutal counterstrike that sent Izuku staggering back. For a moment, Izuku froze—confusion flickering across his posture like a shadow, as if the world had suddenly tilted off its axis.

That wasn't just any phasing quirk—there was something about the way it worked... most people with a phasing type quirk could only phase parts of their body, like a hand or an arm, something small and manageable.

A cold dread started to creep through him as he watched the Nomu effortlessly phase through yet another one of Izuku's attacks. It wasn't just the usual intangible shit he'd seen before—it was too damn precise, too calculated. The way it slipped through Izuku's fists and then solidified to land a strike, it was as if the Nomu was using only certain portions of its body to turn intangible, leaving the rest for a full counter.

And that's when it hit him, the pieces clicking together with a horrible, sinking certainty.
Permeation.

Not phasing—permeation. The word from the journal snapped into focus, from when he had skimmed over fucking bastard's abilities.

That's Mirio Togata's quirk.

The chill that ran through him was like ice water poured straight down his back. Mirio—one of the strongest, one of the damn best. A guy who could move through anything, who could take down anyone because they couldn't lay a hand on him. Mirio had been a beast, a damn powerhouse on the battlefield, and that quirk had made him nearly unstoppable. But he'd died in the initial bombings, gone in the chaos, one of the many heroes who never even saw it coming. They never found his body. And now... now that fucking quirk was in the hands of one of the deadliest Nomu to walk the fucking planet.

How the fuck did they...? He didn't want to finish the thought, didn't want to think about what that meant, how they got their hands on something that should have died with Mirio, and what other quirks they got their slimy hands on. How the hell are you supposed to land a hit on something that can phase through literally anything?

Izuku was struggling now, and Katsuki could see it plain as day. The Nomu's claws extended, dripping with some kind of corrosive shit that hissed and smoked when it touched the ground. It slashed at Izuku with those deadly claws, and even though Izuku managed to dodge most of the attack, a glancing blow from a back hand sent him stumbling back, his costume sizzling where the claws had just grazed him. He rips at his shirt dropping it to the ground as it continued to dissolve eating into the concrete.

Izuku tried to pull back, to have a second to breath, to assess, but the Nomu wasn't letting up. Not for a damn second. It started manipulating the shadows around it, twisting them into tendrils that lashed out at Izuku like a dark, twisted imitation of Blackwhip. The battlefield grew darker, more chaotic, the shadows giving the Nomu an eerie advantage that made Katsuki's stomach churn.

Katsuki's heart threatening to break through his chest as he watched Izuku fight back with everything he had. He saw Black Whip ripple as it wrapped around his body, cloaking him like it did under the Red Lotus, fingers extending into pointed claws, each swipe powered by the explosive speed of Fa Jin. Izuku was a blur of motion, moving so fast it was almost impossible for the camera to keep track, using every ounce of his power to keep up with the Nomu. But it was like fighting a goddamn ghost. Every attack Izuku threw either went right through the bastard, got deflected, or was met with a brutal counterattack.

And any hit Izuku managed to land—any damage he inflicted—was healed almost instantly, like it didn't even matter. No lasting impact, no sign that the Nomu was wearing down. It just kept coming, relentless and vicious, and Katsuki could feel the helplessness clawing into him, choking him as he watched.

Izuku was starting to tire and Katsuki could see it—Izuku was pushing past his limit, but it wasn't enough. Not against this thing.

And then a loud boom echoed through the live feed, jolting Katsuki. The camera switched to the massive crater in the ground, and Katsuki's throat closed up when he saw what was coming. Vortex—looking pissed as all hell—was barreling for Izuku, his arms glowing blue with raw power as his quirk distorted the air around him.

Katsuki's heart nearly stopped. Vortex. That bastard's presence meant things were far worse than he'd initially thought. This wasn't just a Nomu he was dealing with—it was a full-scale attack from the league.

Izuku turned to face the new threat, but the feed cut out again, plunging Katsuki into a fresh wave of panic. No, no, no... Katsuki's mind screamed as his hand clawed at his chest, ripping the ring from its chain, his fingers trembling as he focused on it. The pulse was going wild, the emerald glow growing brighter, turning into a frantic, strobing light.

The pulsing rhythm was his salvation, something he could cling to as he felt the rise of anxiety, but it was also a cruel reminder of how little control he had. Each frantic beat of the light mirrored Izuku's desperate struggle, and Katsuki could feel the absolute panic bubbling up inside him, threatening to pull what little hold he had under, months of treading just above the waterline.

"Get the stream back on!" Katsuki screamed at Shoto, his voice raw, almost breaking with the sheer desperation that ripped through him. "Get it back on now!"

Shoto fumbled with the phone, his own hands shaking as he tried to find another live feed. "I'm trying, Bakugo, I'm trying!" Shoto's voice was tight with urgency, but it wasn't fast enough.

The ring's pulse pounded against Katsuki's palm, each frantic throb feeling like it was going to tear him apart from the inside. Izuku's out there, his mind kept screaming. He's fighting, and Katsuki couldn't see—he couldn't fucking do anything! The fear was choking him, his heart hammering like a war drum as the strobing emerald light flickered faster, each pulse echoing the panic that was slowly pulling him under that line. He couldn't tread any longer.

Katsuki stumbled grabbing onto Shoto's shoulder. All he could focus on was the damn ring in his hand. The way it seemed to be going wild, the pulse beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Everything around him blurred as the ring's light grew brighter and brighter, turning into a blinding strobe. He stared at the ring, the light flashing like a warning, like a scream, like everything Katsuki feared most coming to life in his hands. The room around him faded away, consumed by the intensity of the ring's light. The pulse quickened, each beat pounding into his hand until it was the only thing he could feel. Then, suddenly, the light erupted from the ring in a blinding flash.

For a moment, everything stopped. The light was all-consuming, a searing beacon that blotted out everything else. Katsuki felt a surge of something—energy, emotion, he couldn't tell—before the light cut off, plunging them into darkness.

The heartbeat, the glow were... gone.

And Katsuki could only remember what Izuku had said when he had put the chain around his neck, "This ring, it carries a part of me, a part of my soul. It'll always glow as long as I'm alive."

Katsuki's entire world shattered the moment he registered what happened. Alive. It was like someone had added that last weight around his neck, leaving him to be pulled under into an endless void. The pulse that had been so strong, so frantic, was gone—snuffed out like a candle blown out by the league.

"No..." Katsuki's voice was barely a whisper, trembling and broken, as if saying it aloud would make it more real. "No, no, no..." Katsuki's legs buckled beneath him, the overwhelming panic crashing over him like a tidal wave, finally drowning him. He fell to the floor, the impact barely registering as the ring slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, his fingers clawed at his chest, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The ring was dark, lifeless. His heart seized in his chest, a raw, aching void swallowing him as the realization began to set in.

Shoto was yelling, but Katsuki could barely register it. His vision blurred; the pulse was gone. Katsuki's mind was reeling.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe.

Shoto's voice was trying to cut through the haze, sharp and urgent, but it was like Katsuki was underwater, the world muffled and distant. The edges of his vision darkening as the pulse he'd relied on—clung to—disappeared, leaving him adrift in a sea of endless unaltered emotions.

His chest felt like it was going to explode, like it was being crushed under the pressure of the pain drowning him. He tried to pull in air, but it came in short, ragged bursts, each one more painful than the last. The air was already so fucking thin that it truly felt like he was drowning.

"Katsuki, get up!" Shoto's voice was closer now, more desperate, as he dropped his phone and grabbed Katsuki by the shirt, yanking him up. "Look at me, you need to get up! Listen to me!"

He's... he's not gone, Katsuki tried to convince himself, his voice trembling. He can't be...

But Katsuki couldn't focus, the words felt hollow, empty, like he was trying to convince himself of something that wasn't true. His damn mind was sinking, the panic attack crashing over him with a force he couldn't fight. Every nerve in his body was on fire, the prickle of energy running under his skin like a live wire, too much to contain, too much to control.

The prickle under his skin intensified, turning into a full-on firestorm that raged inside him, searing through his nerves, making his muscles twitch and convulse as the panic attack took hold. His hands shook violently, his entire body trembling as he fought to stay grounded, to stay conscious, but the fear, the pain was too much, too overwhelming. The room around him started to spin, stars dancing across his vision as the realization that he was too late, that Izuku was gone, finally registered in full.

"Bakugo, look at me!" Shoto yelled again, and goddamn it he was trying, trying so fucking hard but could barely hear him through the roaring in his ears. "Bakugo! Snap out of it! We don't know anything for sure yet." Tachycardia set in before his heart went full on arrhythmic, his quirk starting to flare uncontrollably. Sparks danced across his skin, tiny explosions crackling at his fingertips. The pain in his chest grew sharper, a searing heat that spread outward. Fuck, it was happening, and he couldn't stop it. He could feel the power condensing around his erratic heart, each beat sending a rush of energy through his limbs down to his fingertips. The pressure was starting to build until it felt like his rib cage would shatter under the strain.

Katsuki's hands were glowing now, the heat radiating from his palms so intense that the air around him shimmered with it. The papers scattered around him began to smolder, tiny embers sparking to life where his fingers brushed against them. The flames crawled across the pages, igniting them in seconds, the heat from Katsuki's hands fanning the fire until it roared to life, devouring everything in its path. The journal—filled with the secrets of the Nomu, the horrors they had uncovered—began to burn, the edges curling and blackening as the flames consumed it, erasing the words, the diagrams, everything.

"Katsuki, stop!" Shoto shouted, his voice laced with panic as he saw the fire spreading rapidly. Without hesitation, Shoto threw out a wave of ice, hoping to douse the flames before they could get any worse. But as the ice collided with the fire, a stack of nearby chemical compounds toppled to the floor, the containers shattering on impact.

The fire erupted around them, the chemicals reacting violently with the flames. A deafening roar filled the room as the fire surged, spreading like wildfire, the heat intensifying to an unbearable degree. Shoto cursed under his breath, his eyes widening as he realized just how quickly things were spiraling out of control.

Shoto didn't waste any more time. He could see the fire spreading too quickly, the chemicals reacting violently, making the flames rage even hotter and faster. The room was turning into a furnace, and if they didn't act fast, they'd both be consumed by it. Only one of them was fireproof.

Drawing in a deep breath, Shoto focused all his power, his body surging with cold energy. "Great Glacial Aegir!" he roared, slamming his hands into the ground. A wave of intense cold erupted from him, spreading across the room in an instant. The fire hissed and sputtered as the cold collided with the heat, steam filling the air as the flames were smothered under a blanket of frost. The ice surged, spreading across every surface, encasing the entire lab in a thick sheet of glistening frost.

The room was plunged into darkness, the fire extinguished, leaving only the faint crackle of freezing ice and the hiss of cooling metal. The temperature dropped sharply, the intense heat from before replaced by an almost unbearable cold.

But even in the darkness, one glimmer of light remained.

It was faint at first, beginning to flicker in Katsuki's chest, growing brighter with each beat of his erratic heart. It was a strange, almost ethereal glow, illuminating the bones in Katsuki's ribcage like a lantern shining from within. The light pulsed in rhythm with his frantic heartbeat, casting eerie shadows across his face, and Shoto paled.

Shoto knelt beside Katsuki, trying to support him as he attempted to stand, but Katsuki's legs gave out, sending him stumbling to the ground. His hand clutched at his chest like he could somehow keep the pressure from ripping him apart. Every inch of him was trembling violently, heat radiating off him in waves so intense it felt like he was starting to come apart at the seams. It was like staring into the heart of a reactor on the verge of a meltdown, the energy condensing with terrifying precision, building and building until the inevitable detonation.

Void Flare

"Shit." Shoto's voice was frantic, trying to break through. "You have to control it! Breathe!"

Breathe? Katsuki couldn't even get air into his lungs, couldn't think past the searing agony in his chest, couldn't focus on anything but the crushing loss that was burning like fuel through him. It was like his heart really was turning in a fucking supernova, burning him alive from the inside out. The heat, the light—it was all too much, all too intense, and he couldn't make it stop.

Shoto's face was inches from his, desperate and steady all at once. "Bakugo, look at me," he repeated, voice tight with urgency. "You're having a panic attack. You're about to detonate Void Flare. You need to breathe. In and out. Focus on my voice. I'm right here!"

Fuck—Katsuki's vision was tunneling, the world around him narrowing to nothing but a blur of light and pain. It felt like he truly was drowning now, like every breath was a battle he was losing, the pressure in his chest squeezing the life out of him. The glow pouring from his body was blinding, the energy inside him circulating out of control. He was right on the edge of another meltdown, and he couldn't pull himself together.

The power surged again, brighter, hotter, a fucking beacon of destruction building stronger. Katsuki tensed, squeezing his eyes shut as each one of his breaths felt like he was dragging shards of glass into his lungs. The energy was condensing now into a single point, like a bomb ticking down to zero. Last time this happened, he'd been in the sky, far enough away that when he blew, no one got caught in the blast.

But now—shit, now he was underground, in a densely populated area. If he lost control here, the entire area would be obliterated.

And Shoto—Shoto was standing right at Ground Zero.

If he loses it here, he was gonna take out everything, Katsuki's mind screamed, the panic swirling, squeezing tighter. Damn it, he'd kill innocent people—he'd kill Shoto. The fear was choking him, the power surging through his veins like a nuclear reactor he couldn't control, and all he could think was that if he let go now, if he let this power explode out of him, he'd destroy everything.

The light pouring out of Katsuki shifted, flickering from its searing white-hot to a cyan that burned through the darkness like a flash from a nuclear reactor. Cyan—the kind that burns into your retinas and leaves a ghostly imprint even after you shut your eyes. The fucking color of death. The glow seared through the darkness, turning his vision into nothing but a blur of blue light and pain.

"Get... get away!" Katsuki gasped, his voice a broken rasp as he tried to shove Shoto off, tried to push him back, but his hands were shaking too violently, the energy too chaotic for him to control. "Run, you idiot!" He couldn't let Shoto die here, couldn't let him get caught in the blast that was building inside him.

Shoto gripped onto Katsuki's shoulders, his eyes locked on his friend's face with a mix of determination and fear. "No way in hell!" Shoto snapped back, his voice fierce, refusing to back down. "I'm not leaving you to die, not like this! You're number one for a reason, Katsuki. You fight more fiercely than anyone else! You've always been stronger than this—control it!"

Fuck, he was trying, he was fucking trying damnit. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't, he was going to blow, he was gonna—

Suddenly, Katsuki felt a different kind of pain, a searing cold that burned through the haze of panic. His shoulders felt like they were on fire, but not with heat—with ice. Phosphor was a roaring flame on Shoto's chest. The intense cold was a shock to his system, jolting him out of the spiraling chaos. His mind latched onto the sensation, using it to inch back from the edge of destruction.

"You have to take control! Breathe! In and out, dammit!" Katsuki's eyes locked onto Shoto's, and he could see the fear in his eyes at what was about to happen. He was just as terrified as he was. The cold flames from Shoto's Phosphor were encasing Katsuki, battling the searing heat radiating from his body. The pain was almost unbearable, but it was grounding, pulling Katsuki back from the brink.

"I won't let you give up," Shoto growled, his voice steady despite the chaos. "You're stronger than this. Focus on me. Breathe." Katsuki's breaths were still ragged, but he forced himself to follow Shoto's lead. In and out. The cold flames intensified, spreading across his skin and battling the chaotic energy within him. He could feel the power roiling inside fighting to be released like some rabid animal, but he wasn't going to let it win.

Slowly, painfully, he started to dissipate the energy that had built up inside him. Sparks crackled across his skin, tiny explosions sizzling as the power found an outlet. It was like he was a damn sparkler on the Fourth of July, the energy burning off in bright, searing trails of cyan and orange. Each spark drained a bit of the pressure, each explosion a release of the power that had been threatening to tear him apart.

"That's it," Shoto urged, his voice steady, unshakable. "Keep going. Let it out, slowly. You're in control."

Katsuki zeroed in on the sparks crackling across his skin, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of the energy leaving his body. Each spark that shot off him was like a needle being dragged across raw nerves, but it was working. The light in his chest dimmed just a bit, the crushing pressure easing as he kept releasing the power in those controlled bursts. It was fucking agonizing, like every spark was ripping him apart from the inside out, but the chaos was starting to settle. The supernova inside him was cooling down to something he could handle, something he could keep from exploding.

His breaths started coming easier, each one less ragged, less like he was about to choke on his own panic. The cold flames from Shoto's Phosphor were still there, still keeping the worst of the heat in check, but they weren't as intense, weren't fighting against him as much. He was in control now. He was winning this fight against himself.

Katsuki took a deep breath, the air cool and grounding as he wrestled back control over his quirk. The blazing light that had filled the room, the once blinding glow from his chest now just a faint flicker, more manageable.

With a final, controlled exhale, Katsuki shut off his quirk, letting the last of the energy dissipate into the dark. The room was plunged into a more subdued darkness, the only light coming from the soft, turquoise hue of Shoto's flames still rippling off his chest. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of what had almost gone down.

Shoto, pale and clearly strained, cut off his power too, letting the flames extinguish. He was trembling, still on edge from the effort of keeping Katsuki's explosive power in check, and it was clear the whole thing had taken a lot out of him. Katsuki's breathing had evened out, but he felt drained—physically, emotionally, completely spent.

With a shuddering exhale, Katsuki pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face in the crook of his elbow. His fingers dug into his skin, clutching so tightly it hurt, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness that had hollowed him out. The adrenaline that had kept him going was gone, leaving him with nothing but numbness, a void were the supernova was, swallowed everything else. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He was fucking exhausted. Beyond exhausted. His body felt like it had been dragged through hell, his muscles trembling with overexertion and fatigue. But it was the emotional toll that hit the hardest, weighing him down until he felt like he could sink right into the ground.

As he sat there, curled in on himself, the urge to just shut down, to give in to the numbing void, grew stronger with every breath. The pain was too damn much, and the thought of Izuku being gone—actually gone—was a wound too deep, too raw to bear.

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, trailing down his cheek and dripping onto his arm. He didn't try to stop it, didn't try to fight it. What was the point? He was done—drained, spent, nothing left to give. The tear was just a small release, a drop in the ocean of everything he'd been holding in, but it was enough to break something inside him.

With that single tear, Katsuki let go, let the numbness take over completely. He shut down, letting the black hole in his heart swallow him, everything he was, letting it drown out the unbearable weight of his grief and exhaustion. There was nothing left—just the darkness, just the void—and for now, that was all he could handle.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Katsuki woke up feeling like shit. The shrill blare of an alarm clock ripped through the silence, dragging Katsuki out of his dreamless empty state. He clenched his teeth, a growl rumbling low in his throat as the sound drilled into his brain, refusing to be ignored.

With a snarl, he slammed his hand down on the clock, silencing the obnoxious ringing in an instant. The impact sent a sharp pain shooting up his arm, but it barely registered. Pain was better than the emptiness, at least.

His head was throbbing, and everything around him felt off, distant, like he was trapped in some kind of fog he couldn't shake off. He blinked blearily at the ceiling above him, trying to piece together how he'd even ended up in bed. The last thing he remembered—no, that wasn't right. He didn't want to remember. Not now.

He shifted slightly, muscles aching like he'd gone ten rounds with All Might. He felt numb, and not just in the physical sense. There was a hollowness inside him, an emptiness that was worse than any pain he'd ever felt. It was like someone had held him down and using a sloyd knife, slowly carved out vital pieces of his soul, leaving nothing behind.

Katsuki looked around, his vision still blurry, trying to make sense of his surroundings. For a moment, a deep confusion set in—nothing seemed familiar. The walls, the dim light filtering through the drawn curtains, the sparse furniture. Where the hell was he?

Then it clicked. This was his shitty apartment. The small, dull space he'd moved into five months ago. A month after everything had fallen apart. The thought of it made a lump form in his throat, and he slumped back against the bed, the breath rushing out of him in a harsh exhale.

He sold the house, got rid of it. The one they'd... The one filled with memories he couldn't bear to face. He couldn't even bring himself to think of his name, to let it cross his mind without feeling like his chest would fucking cave in. Selling the house was the only way he'd been able to survive those first few weeks. The walls had been suffocating, every corner haunted by reminders of what he'd lost—what he was never strong enough to protect.

Katsuki closed his eyes, grateful in a twisted way that he was here, in this cold, lifeless apartment. There was nothing here to remind him of what was gone, nothing to drag him back into that endless pit of despair that had would destroy him.

This place was a fucking hole in the wall, it was bland, dull, nothing like the home he'd left behind, and right now, that was the only reason he could breathe. If he'd woken up in that house, surrounded by all those memories, it would have killed him. Would have ripped him apart from the inside out.

Katsuki turned over onto his side, staring blankly at the wall. The white paint was chipped in places, exposing the dull, gray plaster underneath. He focused on that, letting his eyes trace the cracks and imperfections, anything to keep his mind from wandering too far.

How the hell did he even end up in bed? Did someone bring him? Did he walk on his own? He couldn't tell. The details were all fuzzy. He didn't remember leaving the hideout, didn't remember getting into the car, or the ride back. Everything was a blur, like his brain had shut off at some point, refusing to process whatever had gone down. Probably for the best, too. His mind was doing him a favor by keeping those memories locked away, even if it made everything else feel wrong.

It was easier not to remember, not to think about what had happened, what he'd almost done. What he'd lost. The numbness was a shield, a way to keep the pain at bay, to keep from breaking apart completely.

The low, persistent hum of his phone vibrating on the nightstand broke through the thick silence of the apartment, pulling Katsuki's attention away from the wall. For a moment, he just stared at it. It took a few seconds for him to process that the noise was coming from his phone.

He sighs into the pillow, before slowly reaching over and grabbing it. The screen lit up, casting a faint glow in the dim room. The time blinked at him: 6:18 AM.

He swiped his thumb across the screen, unlocking the phone and revealing a handful of missed messages. He scrolled through them mechanically, not really wanting to engage but feeling compelled to at least see what they were about.

The first message was from Ochako. She was checking in, her concern bleeding through the screen.

Hey, Kat. Tenya and I are going to swing by later to check on you. We're bringing lunch, so don't worry about that. Just... hang in there, okay? We'll see you soon.

Katsuki let out a slow breath, the tightness in his chest constricting a little more. They meant well, but the last thing he wanted was company. The idea of seeing them, of having to act like he was okay when he was so far from it, made him feel even more exhausted.

He scrolled down to the next message, this one from Shoto.

Don't worry about work today. I talked to your agency, told them we had a covert mission that went off the rails. They're giving you the next week off. Focus on resting. I'll handle the investigation from the fight in Hakone... there's still—

Katsuki's eyes skimmed over the message, not really absorbing the words. It was just noise, more background static in his head. But then he hit the line about Hakone, and suddenly, everything snapped into sharp focus.

Izuku's face flashed through his mind, clear and vivid, like a lightning strike in the darkness. It wasn't the image of him beaten and bloodied that haunted Katsuki. No, what seared into Katsuki's memory was the moment just before the camera panned away—when Izuku, usually so damn determined, slowly realized he was being pushed into a corner.

That look. The doubt that crossed Izuku's face, the brief flicker of fear in his eyes as he realized just how dire the situation was. The sight of his stupid, stubborn Deku, the one who never knew when to give up, who always fought like he had something to prove, looking like he finally realized he wasn't going to walk out of this fight.

Fuck. Katsuki's breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening painfully as the memory burned through him, too vivid, too real. The way Izuku's face had changed in that moment, the way his resolve had wavered—it was like a dull knife twisting in Katsuki's gut, reopening the wound he'd tried so hard to seal shut.

The phone slipped from his trembling fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Katsuki recoiled as if it had burned him, his body curling in on itself as the raw, searing pain of everything he'd tried to bury clawed its way to the surface.

His mind was fracturing, slipping into that dark place he fought so hard to avoid, but had given into. He needed something—anything—to ground him, to keep him from falling apart. Instinctively, he reached for the ring around his neck, the one he'd worn every day since...

His fingers closed around nothing but air. The familiar weight that usually rested against his chest was gone, and for a moment, his entire world seemed to freeze.

Katsuki's heart stopped, then slammed into his ribs as panic flooded his system. The ring—it was gone. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the sheer terror that gripped him. That ring was the only thing left. The only fucking thing that connected him to...

He couldn't finish the thought. Shit, where the hell is it?

He sat there, motionless, paralyzed by the sudden, crushing fear that he'd lost it. The only thing he had left of... of him.

Slowly, his mind kicked back into gear, but it was frantic, chaotic. He jerked upright, like a car suddenly being thrown into gear without the clutch. The sudden movement sending a sharp, agonizing pain through his already aching body, he grimaced but tried to ignored it. His eyes darted around the bed, scanning the sheets, the pillow, the blanket—anywhere the ring might have fallen. It's gotta be here. It has to be.

But there was nothing. Just emptiness.

Katsuki ran a hand over his face, the roughness of his palm scraping against his skin. The motion was almost robotic, like he was trying to wipe away the emotions that clung to him like a second skin, trying to suppress the rising panic. He pushed it down, burying it deep where it couldn't reach him. He couldn't let himself break down. Not when he needed to find that damn ring. The panic had receded, leaving behind a cold, empty void that he welcomed like an old cruel friend.

Without a word, he pushed himself up from the bed and his legs nearly gave out beneath him. His body protested with every movement, his muscles screaming from the strain, but he forced himself to stand, to stay upright, to breathe, to drag air into his lungs. Katsuki rummaged through the bedroom like a machine, his movements sharp and mechanical. He checked under his bed, shoved aside piles of clothes, opened drawers, but the ring was nowhere to be found. The numbness in his chest was starting to crack again, a creeping dread slithering through the gaps.

When the ring wasn't in the bedroom, he dragged himself to the bathroom. He caught the faintest glimpse of himself in the mirror—a ghost of who he used to be. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his sharp features dulled by exhaustion and grief. Hell. He barely recognized the hollow-eyed reflection staring back at him, and he quickly looked away. Years ago, if he'd seen himself like this—crouched on the floor, eyes wild with desperation, hands trembling as they tore through his belongings—he would've called himself weak. Pathetic. A fucking disgrace. The old him would've spat on this sorry excuse of a person, sneering at the pitiful sight of someone so wrecked, so vulnerable, all because of a damn ring. A part of him still wanted to.

Back then, showing even the faintest hint of emotion was a weakness, something to be crushed underfoot. He'd built walls, fortified them with anger, arrogance, and the relentless pursuit of power. There was no room for softness, for feelings. There was only the grind, the battle, the need to be the best—to win, no matter the cost.

But now... now he couldn't deny that those damn words had been true. He was weak. He was pathetic. But not because he was showing emotion—no, that would've been easy to swallow, so much simpler to accept. The real reason was much worse. He was weak because he had failed. Not just as a hero, but as everything he was supposed to be. He had failed as a lover, as a protector, as a hero, as a friend. He had failed to keep those damned promises he swore he'd never break.

He could still hear the echoes of those promises, made with such confidence, such certainty. "I'll protect you. I won't let anything happen." Words that felt so sure when they left his mouth, like they could bend reality to his will. He had believed in them—believed in himself. But when it mattered most, those damn words had shattered like glass, leaving him with nothing but the sharp edges to cut himself on. What a fucking joke he was.

He checked the sink, tore through the shower, and even dug through the cluttered drawers, but it wasn't there. After what felt like hours, Katsuki found himself standing in the middle of his messy bedroom, the panic in his chest tightened, constricting his breath, but his mind was still numb, as if the full weight of what he was doing hadn't hit him yet. Where the hell was it?

And with that as much as he didn't want to remember, the shitty memories forced their way to the surface, dragging him back to the moment when everything had gone to absolute hell. He didn't want to relive it, didn't want to go over the details of how he'd lost control, but he couldn't stop it.

The way the energy had felt—like it was burning through him from the inside, condensing with terrifying precision until it was almost too much to hold in. The fear, not only in his eyes but Shoto's, making it impossible to breathe, to think straight. He could see the Cherenkov-like light radiating from his chest, like he'd truly been a reactor on the verge of a meltdown, the sparks crackling across his skin as he fought to keep it contained.

The room going up in flames, the heat suffocating, the fire consuming everything in its path.

Shit. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, the fuzzy fragments snapping into place. He'd dropped the ring. It had fallen from his hand, hitting the floor right before the whole room went up in fucking flames.

For a moment, Katsuki just stood there, frozen, staring blankly at the mess around him, his mind caught in a loop of not knowing what to do with himself. But then, the numbness cracked wide open, and all that pent-up anger came roaring in, a desperate need to do something, to fight off the helplessness that was strangling him again. His breaths came out in harsh, ragged bursts, each one tighter than the last, his chest fucking heaving with the effort to keep it all contained—but it was too much. It was too fucking much.

Without thinking, he started throwing shit—whatever he could get his hands on. Clothes, books, anything within reach went flying across the room, his rage and frustration exploding like shrapnel in a storm of destruction. Each crash, each impact, felt like a release, a way to vent the fury that was ripping him apart from the inside. Fuck this, fuck everything. He couldn't control it, couldn't stop it; he just needed to break something, needed to make the world feel as shattered as he did.

But it wasn't enough. The rage was a double-edged sword, cutting deeper with every object he hurled, every piece of furniture he overturned. The anger only made the loss more real, more raw. Each crash was a brutal reminder of what had been ripped away from him, of the future that had been stolen, leaving him with nothing but the shattered pieces. God-fucking-dammit.

Every time something smashed against the wall, it echoed the shattering inside him, the way his heart felt like it was splintering apart. The room was a disaster, but all Katsuki could see was the life he'd lost—the life that was never coming back, no matter how hard he tried to smash the pain away.

The rage boiled over, white-hot and uncontrollable, until it exploded out of him in a scream that tore through the air like a blade. It was a scream full of pain, frustration, and a desperation that was carving into him, down to the marrow of his bones.

He screamed until his throat felt like it was tearing apart, raw and bleeding, the sound reverberating off the walls, trapped by the soundproof windows. No one would hear him. No one would know. It was just him and the mess he'd made, and it still wasn't enough to dull the pain.

Fuck, FUCK! Katsuki ripped open a drawer, reaching in blindly to grab something else, anything else to throw, to smash, to break—but then a sparkle caught his eye. The glint of light refracted off the glass display case he wrenched from the drawer, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

It was the case with the signed matching limited edition All Might cards. He stared at the case in his hands, his rage momentarily frozen by the sight of something so small, so significant, that it almost didn't fit in with the chaos around him. The pristine one had been his, a symbol of his determination, his ambition, and the strength he'd always believed he had. It was a fucking lie, that card. It was what he used to be—unbreakable, indomitable, like nothing could touch him.

But the other card... Goddammit, the other card was a fucking mess. The edges were frayed, the surface scratched and marred. Bloodstains had seeped into the card, dark and unforgiving, almost unrecognizable, like everything he had fought for was being erased. They were opposites in so many ways—the pristine card a reflection of what he used to be, and the bloodied one a mirror of what he'd become. But they were still the same card... back when everything was still simple—before the war, before the sacrifices, before the fucking world fell apart.

His eyes flicked to the drawer, the rage still prickling his veins, but something else started to work its way up—something that made his hands tremble as he reached back in. The drawer was full of photos, keepsakes, little bits of a life he'd tried so hard to hold onto until it he couldn't, throwing it all in a drawer because he was to scared to get rid of it. Katsuki's fingers closed around something cool and smooth, the metal of a keychain, and he pulled it out to see a tiny whale shark dangling from the chain. It was one of those stupid souvenirs he'd helped pick out in the aquarium, a small, insignificant thing that somehow carried so much weight. He put it back to grab the small stack of photos underneath.

He pulled the photos out, his hands shaking so badly that they nearly slipped from his grasp. But he held on, staring down at the images of moments that felt like a lifetime ago—he let out a shuddering breath, his back hit the cold wall as he slid to the floor, his eyes fixed on the photos as he started flipping through them, one by one.

The first few were from his time at U.A., back when things were still... simple, in a way. Pictures of him with the Bakusquad, those idiots laughing and smiling, all so damn happy while Katsuki stood there with his usual scowl, looking like he couldn't give less of a shit. What a fucking joke, he thought bitterly, staring at the group and candid shots. He could practically hear Eijiro's dumbass laugh, Ashido's nonstop chatter, Hanta's constant teasing, and Denki's ridiculous antics. They were all there, so full of life, while he stood off to the side, too damn proud to let himself enjoy any of it.

He hated how much he'd taken it all for granted. Hated that he never really appreciated any of them, that he'd kept his distance, too focused on being the best, on the comma, too wrapped up in his own bullshit to realize how much they truly meant to him.  He could've done more, said more, been more for them. But now... most of them were gone, just like him.

He flipped through the photos faster, the pain gnawing at him with every image. And then he got to the newer ones—the ones of... Izuku in the penthouse. God, he'd forgotten how bad it actually was, how Izuku looked so frail, so damn fragile in these photos. Seeing it now, in these photos—his arms and legs so thin they looked like they could snap, his skin pale and stretched tight over bone. The way he looked back then... it was a goddamn miracle he'd recovered at all, not just physically, but mentally.

Katsuki's lip trembled as he held the photos, because the worst part wasn't even the physical damage. No, it was the look in Izuku's eyes—the hollowness, the way he seemed to stare right through the camera, like he was looking at something far away, something that wasn't there. How the hell did he survive this? In the photos, he could see it—the emptiness, the dead look in Izuku's eyes, the way the light had been snuffed out of him, like staring into the eyes of someone who had already given up on the world, who had been crushed so completely that there was nothing left but a shell. Katsuki could see the depression that had nearly killed him, see how close Izuku had come to losing himself completely.

And it was all because he'd not only lost all his memories of U.A. and Katsuki, but his mom, someone who'd been ripped away from him by this cruel, unforgiving world. Izuku had thought he had no one left, that he was alone, completely and utterly fucking alone, and it had nearly destroyed him, leaving nothing but emptiness behind—a soul-crushing void inside him that had almost taken him from Katsuki.

Damn it, Izuku, Katsuki's heart was breaking all over again as he stared down at the photos, his vision blurring with tears. Is this what he felt? Is this what he went through? The emptiness, the crushing sense of loss, the feeling that you had nothing left to live for, no one to lean on, no one who could understand what he was going through. The thought of Izuku suffering like this, feeling this same crushing despair... knowing that he had it so much worse than this, made Katsuki feel like the air was being pulled from his lungs. Is this the fucking void that haunted you? Katsuki could feel that same void inside him, the same yawning emptiness that had been eating away at him since he lost not only his friends, but now Izuku. It was the same void that had pulled him in, the same darkness that Izuku had fought so hard to climb out of.

Katsuki kept flipping through the photos, tears falling as he went through the last year's worth of memories, each one more painful than the last. His breath hitched when he came across a photo of him and Izuku at the gift shop, their first unofficial date. The two of them were standing in front of a souvenir shelf, Izuku with a smile on his face as he held up the whale shark keychain, his eyes sparkling with a light that had been absent for so long. And there was Katsuki, leaning down to ruffle Izuku's hair, a rare, soft smile on his own face as he watched Izuku's eyes light up. It was a simple, quiet moment—one of those rare instances where they'd found some semblance of peace after everything.

But now, staring at that photo, Katsuki's hands began to shake more violently, his vision blurring as the rage started to build again. It wasn't fucking fair. None of it was. How the hell could this world be so cruel, so unforgiving? Why did the people who brought light into this godforsaken world always get snuffed out? Why did they have to lose everything, again and again, until there was nothing left but darkness?

The more he looked at that photo, the more the anger took hold, tightening its grip around his chest. And then, as if it had been waiting to strike, a single, searing thought burned through the haze of pain and despair, sharper than any blade.

This was all his fault. Odd Eye. That sick, twisted motherfucker. He was the one who'd set all of this in motion, who'd ripped their lives apart. He was the reason Izuku was gone, why everyone who had ever mattered was dead. The Bakusquad, his friends—every single one of them, gone because of that monster.

Katsuki's grip on the photo tightened until the edges crumpled under the pressure, his knuckles turning white. The rage inside him exploded, raw and uncontrollable. He didn't just want revenge—he fucking needed it. He wanted retribution, to tear Odd Eye apart, to make him suffer for every single life he'd taken, for every moment of pain he'd caused. He was going to hunt him down, no matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do.

If it's the last thing he ever did, he was going to fucking destroy him, Katsuki swore to himself, his mind locking onto that singular goal with an intensity that consumed him. The rage was a wildfire, burning away everything else, leaving only a cold, unyielding need for vengeance. He would find Odd Eye. He would make him pay. And he wouldn't stop until that bastard was nothing but a smear in the void of his mind.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Shattered Walls

Katsuki sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, glaring at the fucking dorayaki on the table like it had personally offended him. The sweet, fluffy pancake mocked him from its stupid little plate. He wished he could make it explode, watch it burn and crumble to ashes—just something to match the fire, the absolute fucking hatred churning inside him.

He'd wanted to be alone today. Hell, he needed to be alone, needed to be left to the black pit of his thoughts, to drown in the emptiness that was spreading through him like a goddamn disease. He needed to mourn in peace, needed the quiet to let the reality of everything settle in. But more than that, he needed to dig, to rip apart every last bit of information on the League, to find Odd Eye and burn the bastard until there was nothing left.

His apartment was quiet, except for the faint sounds of Ochako and Tenya fumbling around in his cramped kitchen. He could hear the clattering of pots, the muted murmurs of their voices, talking softly like he wasn't sitting right fucking there.

Ignoring the fact that he'd already, mind you as politely as someone like him could possibly manage, told them to leave him the fuck alone. Katsuki had half a mind to kick them out, but he didn't have the energy to move, let alone start a fight.

When he'd answered the door—after almost not bothering—they'd barged in, bags of groceries in hand, faces painted with that annoying look of concern, like he was some fragile thing that needed fixing, determined to "help" whether he wanted it or not. And, hell, he didn't. Katsuki hadn't been planning on answering the damn door when Ochako knocked. He'd just sat there, staring at the ceiling, willing her to give up and leave him alone. He should've known she'd go for the nuclear option—threatening to call Aizawa, and that had yanked him out of his haze real quick.

If there was one thing Katsuki couldn't deal with right now, it was Aizawa showing up at his doorstep, ready to lecture him into the ground. Aizawa had been busy most days with U.A. business, but when it came to talking sense into Katsuki, that bastard would drop everything in a heartbeat. He'd show up, all stern and brooding, and give him that look—the one that made Katsuki feel like a first-year all over again. And Katsuki didn't need that. Not now. Not when his head was already a mess, spinning with too many thoughts and not enough answers.

He'd tried to tell them to get lost, but Ochako just gave him that soft smile, the one that made it impossible to yell at her without feeling like an absolute dick, and Tenya had greeted him like he was a goddamn army instead of one pissed-off guy in his pajamas. It was all so fucking stupid. Stupid that they were here, stupid that they thought they could help.

So, he'd just sunk back onto the couch, too tired to fight, too angry to care, too numb and useless. His muscles were aching like they'd been wrung out and left to dry. His body still sore from the over-exertion and strain of the day before, every movement sending a dull throb of pain through his limbs, could still feel the phantom heat of his quirk pulsing under his skin, a constant reminder of just how close he'd come to losing it completely. Again.

Ochako being here wasn't anything new. She'd been doing this for a while now with Shoto, ever since... well, since everything went to shit. They were stubborn as hell when it came to making sure Katsuki didn't spiral further, always showing up uninvited, always hovering like they just wanted to help him get back on his feet. At first, just having them around had been fucking awkward—hell, downright unbearable. He wasn't used to people sticking around when he pushed them away, wasn't used to anyone giving a damn if he drowned or not, not after he had lost the Bakusquad. Originally, he'd yelled at her, threatened to blow her up more times than he could count, but she never took the hint. Stupid round-faced idiot.

But as the months dragged on, he'd come to—All Might help him—appreciate the distraction. Just a little. Not that he'd ever actually tell them that. Having them there meant he wasn't alone with his thoughts, and maybe that was the only reason he hadn't completely lost his shit yet. Maybe it was because it was easier to breathe when there was someone else in the room, even if he wanted to tear his hair out half the time.

But after yesterday... after this morning.

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a small metal puzzle, twisting the pieces absentmindedly—a little tradition Ochako started without really saying anything. She said it would help occupy him while she was around, a way to keep his hands busy so his mind didn't have a chance to wander too far into the darkness if he didn't feel like talking.

Katsuki's fingers tightened around the puzzle, metal edges of the intricate parts clicked together, biting into his skin as his thoughts turned sharper, darker. The stupid little gadget was just a distraction—a weak, flimsy thing trying to cage the storm inside him. And it wasn't working. Not anymore.

His mind kept circling back to Odd Eye, that piece of shit who'd taken his friends, his mentor, his everything. This was a rage that couldn't be satisfied with smashing things or screaming until his throat bled. No, the only thing that would suffice was finding Odd Eye and making him fucking suffer, making him pay for every goddamn life he'd destroyed.

Katsuki didn't even notice someone coming out of the kitchen until Ochako set the plate of curry and tea in front of him. She placed it down like it was some kind of peace offering, but Katsuki could see the emotions swirling in her eyes. See how they had turned from being bright and optimism, to a shadowy flicker, filled with something fragile she was desperately trying to keep together. Tenya stood beside her, his face set in that stern expression that was supposed to be reassuring but only pissed Katsuki off more. They were both here, trying so damn hard to hold themselves together for him, for each other, because they had no idea what else to do.

He had meant something to them too. And they were all mourning. But that didn't matter to him. Not now.

Katsuki hated it—hated seeing her like this, hated that she was here, hated that she felt the need to be here at all. But he also knew why she was doing it, why she couldn't just leave him to the silence and the emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Red eyes flicked down to the steaming bowl, the smell of the curry wafting up, but he felt nothing. He wasn't fucking hungry. He wasn't anything. He was just here, existing, and even that felt like too much damn effort.

Katsuki snorted internally, a bitter, humorless noise that barely made it past his lips. This was exactly how he must have felt during his recovery. How many times had Katsuki hovered over him, pushing him to eat, to stay positive, to keep moving forward? And now here he was, in the same damn position. It was sick, really. The irony of it all.

Fate really has a fucked-up sense of humor.

"You can go, you know," he muttered, his voice raw, barely controlled. "I don't need you here."

Ochako's eyes flickered—hurt, maybe, or just tired. He couldn't really tell but right now he didn't care. "I'm fine," she replied, but the crack in her voice betrayed her, and Katsuki caught it, latched onto it like a lifeline for his own drowning misery.

"Don't," he spat, his voice sharpening. "Don't fucking lie to me, Uraraka. I don't want your pity. I don't need you falling apart in front of me. I can't fucking handle that right now. I just want to be left the hell alone."

He saw the way she flinched, like his words had struck her, and he almost regretted it. Almost. On any given day his words wouldn't affect her but after the news, those who knew was hurting. Let the words hurt. Maybe then she'd get it, get that he didn't want her here, didn't need her pity. He was a mess, a broken, hateful mess, and he didn't want to be fixed. Not this time.

The darkness inside him didn't let him stop, didn't let him ease up. He was too far gone for that. If he had to watch her break apart, too, he'd lose it. Completely.

Tenya, bristled at the tone and stepped forward, his jaw tight, ready to defend her, to give Katsuki the verbal lashing he probably deserved. "Bakugo, you don't get to talk to her like that. We're here because we care about you, because—"

But Ochako stopped him with a hand on his chest, shaking her head, keeping her eyes on Katsuki. "I know you're hurting," she whispered, so soft it made his blood roar. "But we're not leaving you alone in this."

Katsuki could see the glassiness in her eyes, saw Tenya wrap his arm around her, pulling her close in some desperate bid to comfort her. The affection, the tenderness in that touch, was the final straw. The anger flashed, a hot, bitter wave crashing over him, filling the void.

It was too much. Too fucking much. It reminded him of Izuku. Of how Izuku used to be—soft, caring, a fucking idiot who never gave up on anyone, not even on a bastard like him. The way he'd hold Katsuki's hand, the way he'd smile that stupid, goofy smile that always seemed to make everything better. And now... now he was never going to be able to love him like that again. Never going to hear his laugh, feel his touch, see the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his stupid hero dreams or hobbies.

Now that was all gone.

"Get the fuck out," he snarled, his voice low, deadly. He was on his feet before he realized it, his hands clenched into fists, the puzzle clattering to the floor. "I said, get out! I don't need your pity. I don't need any of this bullshit!"

Ochako flinched again, her eyes widening, but Tenya's grip tightened around her. "Kat—"

"No!" Katsuki roared, his voice breaking, vision blurring with unshed tears. "I don't want to see you two pretending like everything's fine! It's not! He's gone! He's fucking gone, and nothing you do is going to change that!"

He was shaking, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps, his vision swimming with tears he refused to let fall. He was so fucking tired. Tired of this room, of their faces, of the hope and pity in their eyes.

He couldn't handle it, couldn't stand the sight of them being... happy. Normal. Because he wasn't normal. He wasn't happy. He was tired of pretending he was anything other than a hollow shell filled with rage and hate and nothing else, and watching them knowing that they had each other, made him want to scream until his lungs gave out.

"Just... just go," he whispered, his voice breaking, his shoulders slumping with the weight of everything he couldn't say. "Please... just leave."

And again  he hated it. Hated how weak he sounded, how broken. He was practically begging now, his voice cracking, the tears he didn't want to shed threatening to spill over. When did he become this? When did he start crumbling like this, falling apart at the seams over and over again?

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't hold it together. Not since the day Odd Eye took Izuku from him in that clearing during New Years.

Katsuki was barely hanging on by a thread, and the thread was fraying, snapping with every breath he took.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice muffled by his hands, his shoulders shaking with barely restrained agony. "Just... leave me alone."

Without another word, he stormed past Ochako and Tenya, pushing the sliding door open with more force than necessary and stepping out onto the small balcony. The cold rain hit him like a slap in the face, sharp and biting, but he welcomed it. The downpour drenched him instantly, soaking through his clothes, but he didn't care. He needed the sting, anything to feel something other than the hollow ache in his chest.

Katsuki pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, grinding them in hard enough to see stars. He wanted to block it all out—the cramped apartment, Ochako's eyes that wouldn't stop fucking pitying him, Tenya's futile, infuriating frustration, the despair. He could feel it eating away at whatever scraps of sanity he had left.

The rain pounded down around him, a relentless, rhythmic assault that matched the chaos inside his mind. He stood there, breathing hard, as he tried—tried so damn hard—to steady the storm inside him. The wind whipped the rain into his face, stinging his skin, and all he could do was just... breathe. Focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the way the cold air filled his lungs, tried to use it to steady himself.

He let the water wash over him, let it soak into his skin, drenching him to the bone. The cold was a shock to his system, and he welcomed it. It was real, tangible—something he could feel outside of the numbness that had settled over him like a heavy fog.

He wanted to rebuild the walls—those goddamn walls he'd kept around himself for years, the ones that made him untouchable, unbreakable. The walls that kept everything out, kept him safe from feeling like this, from feeling like he was unraveling, piece by piece. He'd been an idiot to ever let them crumble, to let them down, for him, for Izuku. He'd torn them apart, brick by brick, letting Izuku in, letting himself be something other than a weapon, letting himself be soft, be vulnerable. For what? For this?

He'd let those walls fall for Izuku, let him see inside the fortress of rage and pride and broken pieces that made up who he was. And now...he was fucking gone. Katsuki pressed his palms harder against his eyes, trying to will the tears away, trying to force himself to get a grip. He wasn't supposed to break like this.

Fuck, he needed to rebuild. Needed to put every goddamn brick back in place, needed to feel that cold, hard shell encase him again, to shield him from the agony that felt like it was going to consume him. He wanted to be the Katsuki Bakugo who didn't need anyone, who didn't let anyone in, who didn't have to feel this fucking weak. The one who could handle anything. The one who wouldn't be here, standing in the rain, falling apart because he'd been stupid enough to let himself care.

But he couldn't. The walls were gone, torn down by his own damn hands, and he didn't know how to build them back up again. Didn't know if he even could. And maybe that was the worst part: the knowing. Knowing he'd torn them down for Izuku, let him see all the parts he kept buried, all the ugliness he kept hidden. And for what?

He felt a fresh wave of anger surge through him, hot and fierce, and he welcomed it, let it burn through him like a wildfire. Anger was easier to deal with. It was something he knew, something he could control. Grief, though? Grief was a fucking shadow with no rules, no logic. It was relentless, ripping at him from the inside out, and he didn't know how to fight it. Didn't know how to make it stop.

So he just stood there, letting the rain beat down on him, trying to pretend the cold could numb the pain, trying to pretend that he wasn't already broken beyond repair.

He didn't know how long he stood there, minutes, hours? At some point, Katsuki's tears had fallen, hot and unbidden, but he refused to acknowledge them. He kept his back to the apartment, staring out at the city, the tangled mess of anger and pain and grief in his mind slowly dissipated. The fire inside him dimmed to a simmer, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease just a little. Enough that he could breathe again, at least. Enough that he could think without feeling like he was going to tear himself apart.

When he finally turned back, shoving the door open and stepping inside, the apartment felt hollow, empty. Water dripped off his wet clothes as he just stood there. He hadn't heard Ochako and Tenya leave. Hadn't noticed, didn't care. He'd been too wrapped up in his own misery to pay attention to anything else. But their absence was obvious—the cold, untouched plate of curry still sat on the table, untouched, a bitter reminder of his own damn stubbornness. All the other dishes were gone, cleaned up and put away, like they'd never been there at all.

Katsuki's stomach twisted, a sharp, biting guilt cutting through the haze of his anger. He'd been a fucking asshole, and he knew it. He'd pushed them away, snapped at them when all they wanted to do was help, and for what? It was who he was—how he was wired. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe this was how it was always supposed to be. He fucking hated it—hated that he couldn't just let people in, let them be there for him without feeling like he was suffocating, without feeling like every breath was a battle. But maybe he was right to hate it. Maybe it was a fucking blessing. Letting someone in meant letting them have the power to hurt him. And everyone he'd let in, everyone he dared to care about, always ended up slipping through his goddamn fingers. They died, they disappeared, they were taken away from him, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake. And it was easier to push people away than to feel that loss again, to watch them slip away and know he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

Letting himself trust, letting himself be something other than the sharp, jagged edges he'd wrapped around his heart, had destroyed him. Left him trying to pick up the pieces of a life he didn't even recognize anymore.

With a heavy sigh, he walked back to the couch and sat down, his clothes still soaked, the water dripping onto the floor around him.

Katsuki still wasn't hungry. Not even a little. The sight of the curry, now cold and congealed, just made his stomach twist even more. The thought of eating, of trying to force something down was laughable. He picked up the plate, his hands still trembling slightly, and carried it to the kitchen.

Just fucking eat later, he told himself. Maybe later he'd find the will to choke down a few bites. Maybe when the knot in his stomach loosened, when the ache in his chest wasn't so suffocating. Maybe then he could pretend to be okay, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He stepped into the kitchen, the familiar pater of his feet echoing off the walls but stopped dead when he saw Ochako standing there. She was at the sink, her back to him. He grimaced, a flare of irritation sparking through him. Of course, she was still here. Of course, she couldn't just fucking leave when he asked.

He ran a hand down his face, wiping away the rain and sweat and frustration in one rough, exasperated motion. He didn't have the energy for this—not for another round of pity and concerned looks, not for any more soft words or sympathetic smiles. "What are you still doing here?" he snapped, his voice low and edged with annoyance. "Dammit, I told you to leave."

Ochako turned from the sink, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes met his, and for once, there wasn't that softness, that gentle concern that usually made him feel like a cornered animal. Instead, there was a firmness, a resolve that made him pause.

"I'm not going anywhere, Katsuki," she insisted. No shaking, no wavering. "We need to talk."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What the hell is there to talk about? I don't need your pity, and I don't need you here, how many times do I fucking have to say it."

Ochako's grip tightened on the towel. "This isn't about pity. And it's not about you needing us here. It's about us needing to be here—for Izuku."

The mention of Izuku's name was like a spark to gasoline, igniting a fresh wave of anger and grief. Bakugou's fists clenched tight, his nails digging into his palms "Don't," he warned. "Don't fucking bring him into this."

But she didn't back down, didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, eyes locked onto his, her voice gaining a sharp edge. "I am bringing him into this, Katsuki, because this is about him. About all of us. About what's been happening since he disappeared."

Katsuki glared at her, the fury in his eyes barely contained. He wanted to shout, to tell her to shut the hell up and leave, but something in her expression made him hesitate. She wasn't here to coddle him or to offer empty comfort. She was obviously still here for something else.

"What are you talking about?" he finally asked, his voice gruff, defensive.

Ochako placed the towel down, crossing her arms. "Shoto and I—we've been trying to track down Izuku these last few months. That's how Shoto found the lab. We've been following leads, gathering information, trying to piece together what the League is up to."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, Shoto said something about an investigator but there was probably way more going on. She and Shoto had been searching for Izuku this whole time—without him? Without telling him? Why?

"If you knew I was looking for him—if you knew I've been tearing this city apart for months—why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because we knew how you'd react," she replied bluntly. "You weren't... you weren't in a good place. Every time we tried to bring it up, every time we thought about telling you, we saw how much you were struggling just to keep it together. You're barely holding it together as it is. We didn't want to push you over the edge."

Katsuki shot Ochako a sharp look, his red eyes literally glowing now with indignation. "I'm not some weakling," he spat, his voice low, simmering with barely controlled fury. "I don't need you to treat me like I'm made of fucking glass."

Ochako didn't flinch. She stared right back at him, her expression firm, unyielding. "I know you're not weak, Katsuki," she said, her tone calm but insistent. "I know you're strong, probably the strongest of us. But that's not the point. It's about what you're going to do next. You've got too much history with the League. This isn't just some fight for you, it's personal. And that kind of anger... that kind of anger is going to get you killed."

"You think I care about that?" he growled. "I'm not scared of them. I'll take every last one of those bastards—"

Ochako held up a hand to stop him, practically shutting him up as she reached into her pocket, hesitating for a moment, her fingers curling around something he couldn't see. She pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, eyes dropped to the ground, before she unfolded it and held it out to him.

"What's that?" Katsuki asked suspiciously, but something in the way she looked at the paper—almost like it was a lifeline—made him reach for it.

Katsuki snatched the paper from Ochako's hand, his movements rough, almost frantic. His eyes immediately fell on the handwriting—familiar, painfully so. His breath caught in his throat. It was Izuku's. That messy scrawl, the way he looped his letters—it was all there, staring back at him like a ghost.

His grip on the letter tightened as his eyes darted across the page, taking in every word, each one hitting him like a punch to the gut. Ochako watched him carefully, her expression a mixture of worry and something else—something like resignation.

"This... this is Deku's," Katsuki muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it aloud. "Where did you get this?"

Ochako took a breath, steadying herself. "Shoto found it on his counter," she said quietly. "Right before the League went silent. We think Izuku left it there for him—like he knew something was coming."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed as he continued to read, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. The words blurred for a moment, and he blinked furiously, refusing to let his vision betray him. He wasn't gonna break—especially not now, not over some damn letter. But every word Izuku had scrawled across the page felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"I've been gathering information... There's something big coming, something dangerous. I don't have all the pieces yet, but I'm getting closer. This thumb drive had some of the stuff I've found out. I don't have much time, so I've only included the essentials. Keep it safe. And please... keep Kacchan out of this. If something happens to me, promise you'll protect him. He'll try to dive in headfirst, but he can't. Not this time. Not for me.

"Keep me out of it?" Katsuki's voice was a low growl, his anger bubbling to the surface, his body trembling with the effort of holding it back. "Damn nerd thought he could protect me? He fucking abandoned me for what, all so he could march to his fucking death."

Ochako shifted on her feet, but Katsuki barely registered her movement. His thoughts were consumed with Izuku—Deku—that stupid, self-sacrificing smile the night he left and his relentless drive to keep Katsuki safe, even if it meant taking on the whole damn world. A part of Katsuki wanted to tear the letter to shreds, burn it and forget it ever existed. But another part—deeper, sharper—wanted to know. Needed to know.

"Where's the thumb drive?" Katsuki demanded, his voice louder now, edged with desperation. His eyes locked onto Ochako's, blazing with an intensity that made her take a small step back. He could feel the scorching need in his chest, like a furnace that had been cranked up to eleven. Retribution. Not for honor, not for some noble fucking cause, but for himself. He was going to finished what the league had dragged him into. Going to rip them apart for destroying Izuku from the inside out and then taking him from Katsuki.

"You think I'm just gonna sit around here? No way in hell!" That goddamn nerd. Always trying to take everything on himself, always trying to keep Katsuki out of the line of fire like he was some fragile thing that needed protection. And now he was gone. Dead. Because he thought he could shield Katsuki, even from himself.

"Katsuki, he didn't want you involved—"

"I don't fucking care what he wanted!" Katsuki cut her off, his voice a harsh snarl. "He's dead, Ochako," he spat out, his voice harsh, jagged. "And don't you dare stand there and tell me he isn't. I know it. I fucking know it."

Ochako's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes searching his face for something—anything—to cling to, to hold onto hope. "Katsuki," she began, her voice soft, almost pleading, "we don't know that for sure. There's still a chance—"

"Don't!" Katsuki cut her off, his voice rising an octave, slamming a hand on the counter. "Yes, we do! You know what happened. I felt it, damn it!" His other hand clenched into a fist around the letter, crumpling it further, his knuckles turning white. "I felt it when it happened, saw the light fucking go out." His voice dropped lower, more menacing, but there was a tremor in it, like he was barely holding on. "It went dark. You know what that means. You know."

Ochako didn't say anything. She couldn't. What could she possibly say to that? What could she offer that would make any of this hurt less, that would bring Izuku back? Nothing.

"Where is it?" Katsuki demanded again, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. "The thumb drive, Uraraka. I'm not asking a third time."

Ochako stared up at Katsuki, taking in the sight of him—his entire body tense, coiled like a spring about to snap. He towered over her, his presence radiating raw, unchecked fury. His irises glowed a deep, angry red, his quirk sparking off his arms like a volcano on the brink of eruption. She could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, could see the way his muscles tightened with every breath, every second she delayed giving him what he wanted. He looked like he could tear the world apart with his bare hands if it meant getting what he wanted.

She swallowed hard, steadying herself as she met his gaze, trying not to flinch under the sheer force of it. "Katsuki," she began, her voice trembling slightly but still firm, "I'll give you the thumb drive. But you have to promise me something first."

His eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "I'm not in the mood for games, Uraraka. Just give it to me," he said through clenched teeth, but he didn't move. He just stood there, waiting, impatient, a force of nature barely held in check.

"I'm not playing games, not even Todoroki knows I made this copy," she said quietly, but there was steel in her voice now. "I know what you're gonna do when you get your hands on this information. You're gonna bulldoze through Japan and find Odd Eye. And when you do... I need you to promise me that you'll let us help. That you'll let us take him down together."

Katsuki's scowl twisted into something darker, teeth bared in a feral snarl. His anger crackled in the air around him, flaring like a fuse about to ignite. "Why the hell should I do that? This is my fight."

Ochako's eyes flashed with a fire of their own, a fury that cut through the space between them, jabbing a finger at Katsuki. "No, it's not just yours. Izuku was my friend too, Katsuki!" Her voice wavered, thick with emotion, but she caught herself, steadied by a determination that mirrored his own. He saw it then—the hatred blazing in her gaze, a reflection of the rage he felt every damn day. It wasn't just his war. It was hers. It was all of theirs. A hatred not just for the League, but for what they'd taken—Izuku, their dreams, their friends. They were all scarred, all marked by loss.

"And I'm not gonna stand by and watch you self-destruct over this. We all lost Kiri... Mina, Denki, Jiro, Sato... Izuku. We all have a right to make those assholes pay," she asserted, voice low but unyielding, her words striking him harder than any blow.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of Katsuki's heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling as if he were holding back a scream. He hated how right she sounded. It wasn't just his war, wasn't just his vendetta to settle. The League had taken something from all of them. From her. From Shoto. From everyone they cared about. But damn it, it was hard to think past the rage, the burning need to just do something selfish. To make them pay.

Ochako didn't break eye contact, stood her ground, chin raised, eyes steady despite the tears she was holding back. "Katsuki, promise me," she said again, smoother now but no less resolute. "Promise me you'll let us help. I know you. I know you'll find him. And I know what you'll do when you do. But if we all go in together, we stand a better chance. We can make sure none of us end up like... like the others."

Katsuki's jaw tightened, every muscle in his body screaming at him to ignore her, to just take the thumb drive and storm out, to hunt Odd Eye down himself and blast him to hell. But he couldn't ignore the weight of her words, the truth in them. He wasn't stupid. He knew charging in alone was practically suicide.

A part of him didn't mind the idea of charging in alone, of taking on Odd Eye and the entire League by himself, letting the fury and the need for revenge burn him alive if it came down to it. That part of him didn't care if he got hurt, didn't care if he died in the process—hell, maybe he even welcomed it. At least then it'd all be over, the pain, the emptiness, the gnawing ache that never left his chest since Izuku had been taken. He could burn it all away in one final, explosive blaze, a fitting end for someone like him.

But another part, buried deep beneath the rage and the grief, wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not until he'd had his revenge. Not until Odd Eye and every last one of those bastards were nothing but ash. He had to see it through. He had to make sure they felt every ounce of pain they'd caused, every life they'd taken.

He let out a low, frustrated growl, his eyes still blazing with anger. "Fine," he snapped, the word like a gunshot. "But don't expect me to wait for you when shit hits the fan, I will not lose my chance to put that fucker in the ground. Got that?"

She nodded, then reached into her pocket, fingers trembling slightly as she pulled out the thumb drive. Her hand hovered for a moment before extending it to him. But she didn't just give him the drive.

Katsuki could see the tension in her eyes, the way her throat bobbed like she was struggling to say something else, something more. But she didn't speak. Instead, she just dropped the contents into his open palm.

Katsuki's eyes flickered down, and his heart seemed to stop in his chest for a split second. There, lying against the rough skin of his palm, was the thumb drive—small, insignificant, but heavy with the weight of whatever secrets it contained. But beside it, catching the dim light of the room in a soft, almost mocking glint, was something that he hadn't expected.

A ring.

His ring.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Twilight and Shadows

Katsuki stood rigid, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat, staring out across the sea of people at the Shibuya Crossing. The massive intersection buzzed with life as hundreds of bodies moved like clockwork, weaving through one another in a chaotic but orderly rhythm. Neon lights flashed from every direction, casting the entire area in an almost surreal glow. It was so goddamn loud—voices, car engines, the constant click of camera shutters. Everything about this place grated on his nerves.

He ground his teeth, his eyes darting over the crowd, scanning every face, every corner, every shadow. Tokoyami had told him to meet at the entrance of the JR station at 7:30 p.m., but it was already 7:45, and the bird-brained asshole was nowhere to be seen. Katsuki had been itching to get started, ready to tear through Shibuya to find the Twilight Market and rip answers out of anyone who might know something. He reached out asking for information on the networks around here, cautious not to mention the market. But Tokoyami, being his usual cautious self, insisted they meet over coffee first. Coffee? Like this was some kind of casual chat.

But Katsuki understood the caution, there was a reason why Tokoyami was so adamant about moving carefully. The guy had been working the underworld for years, balancing his role as a hero with the dangerous game of being a double agent. He was Hawks' shadow, operating in the darkest corners of society where most heroes wouldn't last a minute.

Tokoyami didn't just know the underworld; he was part of it—at least, that's how the criminals saw him. And if they even got a whiff that he wasn't who he claimed to be, his cover would be blown, and years of deep infiltration would go up in flames. That was why he didn't want Katsuki to go in guns blazing. One reckless move, and the entire house of cards would collapse.

Katsuki leaned against a wall, his gaze sharp but now more calculating. It made sense, even if Katsuki hated how slow things had to move. Tokoyami had more to lose here than just some scumbag broker. The bird-brain had built these connections, and those ties were the only reason they even had a shot at finding the Twilight Market, it was partially how they'd managed to infiltrate the underground night club all those months ago.

That was the reason why Katsuki had reluctantly agreed to dye his damn hair and wear those stupid brown contact lenses, even though the idea of changing anything about himself disgusted him. Tokoyami had insisted on it, saying Katsuki's usual spiky blond hair and fierce red eyes were far too recognizable. He was the number one hero after all.

Now his hair was a dull shade of black, flat and unassuming, his red eyes masked by the brown lenses that shifted in the city's lights. And for the first time in years, Katsuki wasn't the center of attention. No whispers of "Dynamight," no gawking idiots pulling out their phones for a photo. He was just another face in the crowd, anonymous in a sea of strangers. It was almost... nice. If only it was always like this, had always been like this.

Still, he wasn't about to get comfortable in this disguise. He felt like he was walking around in someone else's skin, and that pissed him off. But for now, it served its purpose. He didn't need people recognizing him, not when he was about to dive into the heart of Shibuya's underworld.

Just as he let his gaze drift over the crowd again, Katsuki felt the faint shift of air beside him—someone was standing too close. His eyes snapped to his right, his instincts flaring to life.

Tokoyami.

He had appeared out of nowhere, blending into the shadows like he was part of the night itself. His dark cloak barely caught the glow of the surrounding lights, and his sharp black eyes met Katsuki's with calm precision.

"Good evening, Bakugo," Tokoyami said in his usual low tone.  A small ripple of movement beneath his cloak caught Katsuki's attention. Dark Shadow peeked out cautiously from the folds of the black fabric. The shadow's glowing eyes glimmered faintly in the neon haze, giving a subtle nod in Katsuki's direction. "Let's not waste any more time." His counterpart continued.

Without another word, Tokoyami turned and began walking through the crowd, his movements fluid and unhurried. Katsuki pushed off the wall, his scowl deepening as he fell into step behind him. Damn bird-brain was always so dramatic. But at least he was finally getting things moving.

They weaved through the streets, Tokoyami leading the way with practiced ease. Despite his impatience, Katsuki had to admit the guy knew how to move in this environment. Every step Tokoyami took was deliberate, slipping between the streams of people like a shadow, never drawing attention to himself. It was no wonder the underground hadn't figured out who he really was.

After a few minutes, they reached a small, tucked-away café. It was the kind of place you'd walk right past if you didn't know what you were looking for—quiet, unassuming, with a single dim light glowing in the window.

Tokoyami opened the door without a word, and Katsuki followed him inside. The warm scent of coffee filled the air, but the place was nearly empty. Just a few scattered tables, soft music playing in the background, and the low hum of conversation from some customers near the back.

How the hell were they supposed to talk about something this serious in public? There were two other customers, sure, but still. This wasn't exactly a place for discussing the Twilight Market or what he'd found on Izuku's thumb drive. His brows scrunched together as he watched Tokoyami glide past the booths without a second glance.

To Katsuki's surprise, Tokoyami didn't sit down. Instead, he walked straight up to the counter, casting a glance over his shoulder, eyes briefly flicking toward Katsuki. "Do you want anything?"

Katsuki's jaw tightened. "Tch, no. Let's get this over with."

Tokoyami nodded, turning back to the barista. "An American black coffee, no sugar," he ordered in his low voice. Katsuki's gaze drifted over the room as he waited, but when Tokoyami spoke again, it snapped back to him instantly.

"Where walls listen, doors appear," Tokoyami said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet there was a weight to the words. It was a weird phrase, and Katsuki's eyes narrowed—clearly a passcode, some kind of hidden meaning only the right people would catch.

The barista, a middle-aged guy with a few too many wrinkles for the average café worker, didn't blink. His hands moved smoothly as he prepared the coffee, and then, just as subtly, Tokoyami slipped some folded bills—twenty thousand yen—across the counter.

The barista pocketed the money in one fluid motion, his gaze drifted briefly to Katsuki, giving him a slow, assessing look—probably trying to figure out if he should recognize the guy who was usually plastered across billboards and news channels.

Katsuki kept his face impassive, resisting the urge to tell the barista to get lost. It didn't matter what he thought right now. This was Tokoyami's show, and he'd have to deal with it.

After a tense few seconds, the barista gave a slow nod, giving Tokoyami his order then gestured for them to follow him. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Tokoyami before they both trailed after the man. He led them toward the back of the café, past the rows of empty tables and toward a small, almost hidden door at the far end.

The barista pushed it open, revealing a narrow hallway that led into a private room—no windows, just a single table and two chairs. A low hum of energy pulsed through the air, so faint it was almost unnoticeable, but Katsuki felt it instantly. A dampening field like the one in his office. Clever bastards.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Katsuki felt the prickling sensation across his skin—subtle, but undeniable. The air was charged, like static electricity before a storm. The hum of conversation from the café disappeared completely, swallowed by the dampening field that cut off all outside eyes, ears, and quirks.

"No eyes, no ears," Tokoyami said quietly, his black eyes gleaming in the low light. "And no quirks. We can talk freely here."

Katsuki grunted, rolling his shoulders as the energy wrapped around the room. "Convenient," he muttered, glancing around. "How the hell did you set this up?"

"Connections," Tokoyami replied, his tone calm as ever. He sat down at the table, his cloak shifting as he got comfortable. "This isn't my first time here."

Katsuki wasted no time, dropping into the chair across from Tokoyami, his eyes sharp and focused. "Let's cut the crap. I need to get into the Twilight Market."

Tokoyami, calm as ever, sipped his coffee, his gaze unreadable as he studied Katsuki for a moment. Dark Shadow slowly unfurled from the cloak, slipping out like a wisp of smoke. It hovered near Tokoyami's side, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim room. With a low, rumbling voice, Dark Shadow interjected, "Bakugo, always so impatient. But that's why you get things done, right?"

Katsuki clicks his tongue, crossing his arms. "Tch, Damn right."

"I assumed this wasn't just a social call. Does this have to do with the League of Villains? Midoriya? Or perhaps Odd Eye?" Tokoyami asks sparing a knowing glance at Dark Shadow, who let out a soft chuckle, shifting its form slightly as it hovered closer to the table.

Katsuki's jaw clenched at the mention of Izuku but ignored it, instead focusing on Odd Eye. "Yeah. It's always about those fucking assholes in the League, ain't it? But it's bigger than that. They're gearing up for something. And I need access to figure out what exactly that bullshit is." He leaned forward, his voice low and full of tension. "What do you know about Project ZENITH?"

Tokoyami's usually calm expression faltered for a moment, his brows furrowing at the mention of ZENITH. He placed his coffee cup down slowly, the faint clink of porcelain against wood the only sound in the room. His black eyes narrowed in thought as he leaned back, processing what Katsuki had just said.

Dark Shadow's eyes flickered with a sharper glow, curiosity evident in its voice as it asked, "How do you even know about ZENITH?"

Before Katsuki could respond, Tokoyami raised a hand, silencing Dark Shadow with a measured calm. The room seemed to grow even quieter as Tokoyami leaned forward slightly, his gaze now sharp with suspicion. His voice, though still low and even, carried a weight that hadn't been there before.

"All I've managed to gather is a name—nothing more," Tokoyami said quietly. "It's been nearly impossible to get any concrete intel on it. Not even my most trusted contacts know what Project ZENITH truly is. So how, Bakugo, do you know?"

Katsuki clicked his tongue, leaning back in his own chair and folding his arms over his chest. "I figured as much. No one from what I've figured out, knows shit, and they've been keeping it that way for a reason. But I've got something you don't." He let the words hang for a moment, watching Tokoyami's reaction before continuing.

"Izuku... left behind a thumb drive. Didn't tell me about it directly, but he left it to someone in case something happened to him. It has everything he was investigating on Odd Eye, the League, and whatever the hell Project ZENITH is. He was close, real fucking close, to figuring it all out." Katsuki's voice lowered, the usual anger replaced by a steely resolve.

Tokoyami blinked, his black eyes sharp with surprise. "Midoriya... left a thumb drive?"

Katsuki's gaze drifted to the side as he nodded, a rare hint of something deeper than his usual anger flickering in his expression. "Yeah... the damn nerd was running himself into the ground for it. His DID—" Katsuki's voice tightened, frustration creeping in, "—it was clearly tearing him apart? Pulling him in a thousand directions."

He rubbed the back of his neck, his mind replaying the days in the hospital after the Red Lotus incident, before everything truly went to hell. "Even then, he was chasing every lead. I could tell he was staying up for days, tracking down contacts, putting pieces together. Like some obsessed maniac."

Tokoyami watched Katsuki in silence, the faint hum of the dampening field wrapping them in a suffocating quiet. The tension in Katsuki's posture was undeniable—he was teetering on the edge, the weight of Izuku's tragic situation pressing down hard. Tokoyami knew there was nothing he could say that would make any of this easier.

"Bakugo..." Tokoyami's voice was steady, a quiet gravity in his tone. "I could offer you words of advice or comfort, but we both know that nothing I say would change how you feel."

Katsuki's hands tightened into fists on the table, his eyes fixed on them as if the pressure building inside him was ready to snap. For a second, his mind seemed far away—distant, spiraling back into those last days with Izuku, watching him burn himself out before he completely fucking lost it.

The frustration, the helplessness, the way everything had fallen apart. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, and just as the anger was about to boil over, he snapped back to reality.

His gaze flicked up sharply, meeting Tokoyami's once again. "Tch. I don't need comfort," he growled, his voice low, dangerous. "What I need is to take out the LOV, more specifically that fucking bastard." The edge in Katsuki's voice made dark shadow shutter slightly as he swirled behind Tokoyami

The room was quiet again, the electric tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Both Tokoyami and Dark Shadow didn't push, knowing Katsuki was holding back a tidal wave of emotions. Instead, he shifted the conversation, his voice measured as he asked, "What was on the drive, Bakugo?"

Katsuki blinked, his red eyes—masked by the brown contacts—narrowing for a second as he stared at Tokoyami, suspicion creeping into his gaze. Without Shinsou, there was no way to know if anyone had been compromised by Odd Eye's influence. Not anymore. They didn't have that luxury—the ability to dive into someone's mind, check for signs of manipulation. Shinsou was gone, taken out during that fight in the Red Lotus, and that left Katsuki flying blind when it came to trust.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on Tokoyami and his shadow, weighing the risk. Could he be compromised? Could Odd Eye have gotten to him? There were too many unknowns. But right now, Katsuki didn't have a choice. Screw it. He needed Tokoyami's help, and even though he hated it, he had to take the risk.

Katsuki leaned forward, words coming out in a low, sharp growl as he told Tokoyami everything. No sugar-coating, no holding back. He laid it all out—about the thumb drive, the intel Izuku had been gathering on Odd Eye, the League, and that nightmare of a project, Phazewave. He talked about the shady materials, genetic samples, research from both the Humarise and LOV scientist, the gruesome experiments, and the materials being acquired through the Twilight Market.

He told him his theory about how Project Phazewave might have been the foundation for what Project ZENITH could possibly be.

By the time he got to EcksTerminus, the serum that he believed was used on Phazewave, Katsuki's voice was vibrating with barely-contained rage. Someone else needed to know what was going on, if this information stayed buried and he died fighting then no one else could stop the bastard before it was too late.

When he finally finished, the room was thick with silence. Tokoyami was sitting there, elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of his beak, just staring at the wood. Not saying a word. Katsuki could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the weight of it all finally sinking in.

Dark Shadow slowly emerged from Tokoyami's side, its form less playful now, more serious. It hovered just above Tokoyami's shoulder, its glowing eyes narrowing as it absorbed everything Katsuki had just said.

"This is worse than we originally anticipated," Dark Shadow muttered, its usual mischievous tone completely absent. It glanced down at Tokoyami, concern more than present.

For a long, tense minute, none of them said anything. Katsuki's heart was still pounding, but Tokoyami looked like he was trying to put together a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Processing.

Finally, Tokoyami exhaled, his voice quiet, but serious. "So... they're stockpiling resources. Trying to use the research they did on this Nomu called Phazewave to recreate the results for something more dangerous. If your hunch is right, this isn't just about making a stronger villain—it's about rewriting the rules of nature entirely. Creating perfected versions of known quirks."

Katsuki gave a sharp nod, his eyes blazing. "Yeah. And that freak Odd Eye's right in the middle of it. They're close, way too close if they already have a successful trial run."

Tokoyami stayed silent for a moment longer, still processing everything Katsuki had just unloaded. His black eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and understanding. Finally, he thumbed his beak in contemplation. "That Nomu... Phazewave... Is it the same one that fought Midoriya in Hakone?"

Katsuki's jaw tightened, a flash of something dark passing through his eyes. He didn't need to think about it. "Yeah," he muttered, voice thick with barely controlled rage. "Same damn one. That thing killed him."

Dark Shadow's glowing eyes widened, flickering with shock as it darted forward, its voice a panicked whisper, "What? Midoriya... he's dead? How? What happened?"

At the same time, Tokoyami's calm demeanor cracked, his usually composed voice rising slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes sharp with disbelief. "Bakugo, how do you know this? How did Midoriya fall? We've had no confirmation, no—"

Tokoyami's words trailed off as he finally took a closer look at Katsuki. The number one hero's usual fiery intensity was still there, but there was something else now, something worn and ragged beneath the surface. The bags under Katsuki's eyes were dark, and his frame—once robust and powerful—seemed slightly diminished. His clothes hung a little looser, and there was a weight in the way he sat, like he'd been carrying something too heavy for too long.

For a moment it felt like the ground had shifted beneath him, throwing everything off-balance. He had known Katsuki was struggling, had seen the anger simmering just beneath the meticulously controlled façade, but he had assumed it was because of Izuku's decision to go rogue, not because he'd... died. He'd thought the pain Katsuki carried was from Izuku walking away, from the fractured relationship, from the weight of betrayal. But this? Izuku was dead?

"Bakugo... I—" Tokoyami's voice faltered as the shock took hold. "I thought he'd gone underground. I thought... you were angry because of that." His sharp black eyes looked to Katsuki's, searching for something to hold onto in the storm of revelations. "Not because..."

Katsuki's lips curled in a bitter snarl, anger rising from deep inside, eyes flashing dangerously as Tokoyami's words trailed off. He could see the pity creeping into not only Tokoyami's gaze but Dark Shadows, and it only made the anger burn hotter inside him. Pity. That was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want to talk about Izuku—didn't want to hear the condolences or see the sympathy in anyone's eyes. It was like acid, eating away at his resolve, and he didn't have time for it.

"Don't," Katsuki snapped, his voice harsh, cutting through the thick tension in the room, making Dark Shadow flinch slightly. "I don't want your damn pity, bird brain. This isn't about that."

He wasn't here to unpack his feelings about Izuku or go down some emotional spiral. That part was done. Buried.

He was on the path to war.

Tokoyami opened his mouth to respond, but Katsuki cut him off, slamming his fist on the table, rattling the coffee cup. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear it. All I want is to get into the damn Twilight Market. That's it. I don't have time for anything else."

Katsuki's voice was a sharp, dangerous growl as he continued, he was sure if it wasn't for the dampener his quirk would be crackling up his arm. "I don't just want revenge for Deku, bird-brain. This is about everything Odd Eye's done. Everyone he's taken. Izuku was just the last straw. Before him, it was Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari, Shinsou."

At the mention of Shinsou, Tokoyami's calm demeanor cracked. His eyes darkened, and Katsuki could almost see that same anger, that same fire burning beneath the surface. The mention of Shinsou hit home. For a moment, Tokoyami didn't move, but his hands tightened, fingers gripping the edge of the table as if trying to steady himself.

Dark Shadow flared out suddenly, expanding and twisting in the dim room, its form almost feral as it bared jagged, shadowy teeth. Its eyes blazed with barely restrained fury, the usual playful demeanor long gone, replaced with something dark and primal. "Shinsou," Dark Shadow growled, the name dripping with venom. "They took him from us! We should've torn them apart then and there!"

The shadows in the room seemed to pulse with Dark Shadow's anger, the very air thick with an almost tangible energy. The walls seemed to close in as the tension skyrocketed, Katsuki's own rage mirrored in the furious swirl of shadow around him.

"Enough!" Tokoyami snapped, his voice sharp and commanding as he stood abruptly, his hand outstretched toward Dark Shadow. "Control yourself!"

Dark Shadow recoiled as if struck, but it still loomed large, its form bristling with residual anger. It turned its head toward Tokoyami, its eyes wild for a brief moment, before begrudgingly retreating. The room fell back into a tense, suffocating silence as Dark Shadow shrank back, folding itself into Tokoyami's cloak.

"Don't let it consume you," Tokoyami muttered to his shadow, his tone firm but laced with emotion. He took a breath to calm himself, but even as Dark Shadow obeyed, the tension didn't fully dissipate.

"Hitoshi..." Tokoyami met Katsuki's gaze, and for a moment, they were united in that shared rage, that need for vengeance, for justice for those they had lost.

"That bastard's destroyed everything he's touched. Shinsou, Deku... how many more? How many more before someone takes him down?"

Tokoyami's sharp eyes met Katsuki's, and for the first time, Katsuki saw something he didn't see often in him: wrath.

"Look," Katsuki seethed, "I don't need you to understand all of it. I don't need you to talk about what's fair or right, or give me some speech about the weight of responsibility. I just need to know one thing." His eyes glowing beneath the contacts with the intensity of his emotions, and he leaned forward, his voice sharp as a knife. "Are you gonna help me, or not?"

Tokoyami didn't break eye contact, the smoldering anger in his own gaze matching Katsuki's. His hands, still clenched around the edge of the table, slowly relaxed. He didn't answer right away, but Katsuki could see it—the resolve setting in. The decision being made.

"All I'm asking for is one thing," Katsuki continued, his voice rough but resolute. "Get me into the Twilight Market. That's it. I'll handle the rest."

Tokoyami exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. "And then what? You charge in there alone? Take them down by yourself?" There was a trace of skepticism in his tone.

"Are you planning to kill him? Odd Eye?"

The question hung in the air like a guillotine. Dark Shadow's eyes watched from the darkness of his companion's cloak. Katsuki's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer right away. For a moment, he wasn't sure how to respond—because deep down, he knew the answer. That raw, burning hatred that had been festering inside him ever since Deku's death, since Shinsou's—hell, since everything—wasn't going just to go away.

Would he kill Odd Eye? Wouldn't he?

The silence was almost unsettling, the electric hum of the dampening field buzzing in Katsuki's ears. He didn't say it out loud, but the truth was clear enough. Tokoyami saw it too. The rage, the unspoken answer. Katsuki wasn't going to stop. Not until Odd Eye was nothing but a stain, wiped out like the countless lives he'd destroyed, consequences be fucking damned.

Tokoyami leaned back slightly, assessing, but there was no judgment in his gaze. Just cold understanding. "If it comes to that..." Tokoyami said, his voice quieter now, "I won't stop you."

Katsuki looked away, the muscle in his jaw flexing as the weight of Tokoyami's words sank in. If it came down to it, he'd do it. He'd end Odd Eye without a second fucking thought. Make him suffer if he could.

Why shouldn't he?  He wasn't some saint, wasn't chasing redemption. He was chasing justice. Vengeance.

Izuku had once told him, that he would burn the whole damn world down if it meant protecting Katsuki. That stupid nerd had meant every fucking word of it, too. He'd pushed himself past the breaking point time and again, risking his own life, his own sanity, just to keep Katsuki safe...

So why the hell shouldn't Katsuki do the same for him? For the only person who had ever understood him, who loved him—unconditionally—in his own twisted, fuck-up way?

Katsuki blew out a sharp breath, the heat crawling up his spine, a dangerous crackle of energy that was pushed down, shoved back inside by the dampener. Izuku had believed in him. Had fought for him. Had died for him.

He would return the favor.

Katsuki straightened in his seat, steeling himself as the resolve settled deeper into his bones. He wasn't going to flinch or second-guess. Not now. He was done with hesitation, with playing the waiting game.

He looked down at Tokoyami, waiting—expecting—to see whether the bird-brain would help him or not.

Tokoyami assessed him with a quiet intensity that only came out when things had truly crossed a line. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but Tokoyami was always careful. Always calculated.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Tokoyami exhaled. "Death begets death," he murmured darkly, quoting one of the old proverbs Katsuki had heard from him a handful of times. "But in this world... there's no escaping that truth. Odd Eye has sown chaos, and he'll reap the consequences."

Dark Shadow slipped out from the folds of Tokoyami's cloak, "In Twilight, the shadows are always watching," it muttered, its form shimmering. "They wait—silently, patiently—for the first sign of weakness. The moment they see it, they strike. The market thrives on blood, betrayal, and survival. Anyone who enters walks a tightrope above the abyss."

Tokoyami, lost in thought, cleared his throat as he watched his shadow. "If vengeance is the path you've chosen, I won't stand in your way. I'll get you into the Twilight Market."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Thrum's of a Lost Soul

Katsuki's teeth ground together as Tokoyami explained the current situation. The Twilight Market—their best shot at getting closer to Odd Eye—wasn't where it was supposed to be. That underground cesspool had gone mobile, shifting locations like some goddamn carnival show, and it wouldn't be set up again until later tomorrow. Tokoyami had assured him that by the morning, he'd have the location locked down, but Katsuki hated waiting. Hated how every second felt like wasted time.

Fucking perfect. Every part of him itched to smash through walls, tear down the streets, and rip answers out of the first scumbag who crossed his path. But no. He had to sit here and play along with Tokoyami's careful, sneaky bullshit. The bird-brain was right—he knew that—but it didn't make the crawling impatience any easier to swallow.

"Do you have a place to stay in Shibuya tonight?" Tokoyami finally said.

Katsuki's scowl deepened, irritation flashing across his face. "Tch, I'm not staying in this shitty district any longer than I have to," he growled. "Once we're done here, I'm heading back."

Tokoyami tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing with quiet contemplation. "I wouldn't recommend that," he said, pushing his chair back and standing slowly. "There are eyes everywhere in Shibuya, especially in this district. The underworld operates on a constant flow of information. If you move now, you'll be watched before you even step outside the café."

Katsuki's fists clenched, the muscle in his jaw flexing. He hated the idea of being cornered, of having to rely on someone else to keep him off the radar. "I'm not some helpless rookie, bird-brain. I can handle a few lowlifes."

Dark shadow peaked out shaking its head, Tokoyami's cloak shifting with the motion. "It's not about handling them," he replied, Tokoyami nodded before continuing. "It's about keeping a low profile. The moment anyone recognizes you, we lose any advantage we have. The Twilight Market isn't just a place; it's an empire built on secrets. If they know you're looking for them, they'll vanish again, and we'll be back to square one."

Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at Tokoyami from across the table. "So what, you're offering me a place to crash?" he said laying on the sarcasm thick.

Tokoyami gave a small nod, his expression as composed as ever. "I have a safe house nearby. You can stay there tonight. It's discreet, and more importantly, secure. We'll regroup in the morning when I have the information on the market's new location."

Katsuki let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand through his newly dyed black hair, the unfamiliar feel of it only adding to his agitation. Damn it. He hated every part of this—hated the waiting, hated the sneaking around, and especially hated the idea of being cooped up somewhere with nothing to do but think about how much time they were wasting. But Tokoyami was right. The last thing he needed was to blow their shot because some sleazebag spotted him walking back to the number one hero's apartment.

"Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth. "But the second you've got something, we move."

"Agreed," Tokoyami affirmed. As he turned toward the door, he paused, glancing back at Katsuki. He Ruffled his feather before his voice took on a more serious edge, "How much do you know about the Yakuza that run the market?"

Katsuki's brow furrowed slightly. "Enough to know they're not just some street gang," he said with a snarl. "Yami no Gūru, right? Heard about 'em through some channels. They're organized, smart, and they don't make mistakes. That's how they've stayed under the radar for so long."

Tokoyami glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp with focus. "Correct. But there's more to it than that. Their leader, Akatsuki Fuyuki a.k.a The Soverign, isn't just a crime boss. He's built the Twilight Market into an empire—an ecosystem where power, secrets, and fear thrive. You can't just bulldoze through it like any other gang hideout."

Katsuki clicked his tongue, his irritation flaring again. "Tch. What else do I need to know? That he's untouchable?"

Tokoyami's gaze stayed fixed on Katsuki as he replied, "Not untouchable, but close. Odd Eye might have close ties to The Soverign."

About an hour later, Katsuki found himself walking into a small apartment, the door creaking shut behind him with a soft click. The place was modest—clean, unassuming, and just big enough for someone who needed to disappear without leaving any trace behind. Tokoyami had led him up a back alley, taking a route that wound through the darker corners of Shibuya. Both Katsuki and Dark Shadow had been on edge the entire time, their senses sharp for anyone tailing them. But no one did. Tokoyami had that part handled, at least.

Katsuki's eyes scanned the apartment, his instincts still buzzing even in the relative safety of the space. The main room was sparsely furnished—a small couch, a coffee table with nothing on it, and a kitchenette off to the side. There were no personal touches, no photos, no decorations. Just walls, furniture, and shadows clinging to the corners. Tch. Typical dark and brooding emo shit.

"This'll be your space for tonight," Tokoyami said as he walked past Katsuki, his voice as quiet as ever, like he was always trying to blend into the darkness. He pointed to a door on the right. "Bedroom's through there. There's a bathroom connected to it. The place is stocked with the basics—food, water, a first-aid kit."

Katsuki barely glanced in the direction of the bedroom, his attention more focused on making sure the windows were secure and noting how many exits there were. Just one door. Great, he thought sarcastically. If something went down, he'd have to fight his way out the same way he came in.

"I've got food if you need it," Tokoyami continued, gesturing to the kitchen. Dark Shadow drifted out of his cloak with a swift, almost playful movement, it glided toward the small kitchen like it owned the place. Katsuki watched, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. It hovered over to the shelves, grabbing a snack bar and a bottle of water without making a sound.

Dark Shadow floated back over, cradling a snack bar and the bottle of water in its large, clawed hands. Tokoyami nodded, as serious as ever, and patted the shadow's head. "Thanks," he said, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He looked back to Katsuki. "I doubt it'll be to your usual standards, but—"

"Don't need it," Katsuki cut him off, his tone clipped and sharp. He wasn't in the mood to sit around and have dinner like this was some kind of normal situation.

Tokoyami didn't press the issue. "I figured as much." He stood there for a moment, his dark eyes scanning Katsuki like he was still assessing the situation. "But if you change your mind, help yourself. I'll be back later tonight," he said after a pause. "I need to follow up on a few contacts. Make sure we're not walking into anything unexpected tomorrow."

Katsuki's scowl deepened, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "And what am I supposed to do until then?" he muttered, more to himself than to Tokoyami.

Dark Shadow looked amused but Tokoyami didn't respond to Katsuki's grumbling. Instead, he stepped over to the far wall of the apartment, his dark cloak sweeping behind him like the wings of a crow. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, watching as the bird-brain traced his fingers along the smooth surface, finding an almost invisible seam. Tokoyami tapped a precise sequence, and with a faint click, part of the wall lit up, revealing a hidden keypad.

"Seriously?" Katsuki muttered under his breath, folding his arms. He should've known. Tokoyami was always full of secret passages and dramatic entrances, always one step away from being a damn comic book villain.

His fingers flew across the pad, entering a fifteen-digit code faster than Katsuki could even process. The wall itself shifted, revealing a small, secure compartment—a hidden safe. He reached in and pulled out a sleek black laptop and a thumb drive. Dark Shadow took it and held them both out toward Katsuki without a word.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed as he snatched them from the shadow's hands, feeling the weight of the objects in his grip. "Great. Homework." His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he turned the laptop over in his hands. "Should've figured you'd have some Batcave-level bullshit like this hidden away."

To Katsuki's surprise, Tokoyami actually chuckled—a low, brief sound that somehow didn't feel out of place coming from the usually serious bird-brain. "This drive contains everything I've been able to gather on Yami no Gūru—on The Soverign, his Hand, his lieutenants, their assets, their operations, their networks, and how they operate within the Twilight Market. It's not comprehensive, but it's the best intel I have. It should be enough to get you started."

Katsuki gave a half-scoff, half-laugh, glancing between the laptop and the thumb drive. "Tch, enough to start blowin' things up, at least."

Tokoyami didn't linger after handing over the laptop and thumb drive. With one last glance at Katsuki, Tokoyami turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he headed for the door. "Seriously, don't blow up the apartment," he said over his shoulder, his voice dry, but even then Dark Shadow squawked a laugh.

Katsuki only rolled his eyes at the jab, sighing and rolling his shoulders before making his way to the bedroom. The room was as plain as the rest of the apartment—a simple bed, a nightstand, and a small lamp. Katsuki set the laptop and thumb drive down on the bed, eyeing them like they were a ticking time bomb. More intel, he thought again with a grimace. But this wasn't just any intel. This was his ticket to destroying the LOV, and more importantly Odd Eye.

With a grunt, he kicked off his slippers, not bothering to undress further, ruffling his hair before flopping down onto the bed. He plugged in the thumb drive and booted up the laptop, the screen flickering to life as the drive's contents loaded.

For the next two hours, Katsuki dove into the intel Tokoyami had meticulously collected over the years, cross-referencing it with the data from Izuku's thumb drive.

Yami no Gūru—Ghouls of the Dark. One of the biggest damn crime syndicates in Japan, and probably the most profitable. They weren't just your typical run of the mill Yakuza—these bastards had elevated it to a whole new level, running things like a corporation, only with more blood on their hands and none of the accountability. Fucking empire, built on other people's misery.

The Ghouls had been in the shadows for years, but their influence stretched everywhere. Drugs, weapons, stolen tech—they had their dirty fingers in all of it. Hell, they weren't even picky about what they dealt in, so long as it brought in cash. Human trafficking, black market quirk enhancers, even underground fight rings. They'd sell anything to anyone, and the worst part? No one could touch them. They were too smart, too damn organized.

Katsuki worked through the intel, quickly adding Tokoyami's detailed information on Yami no Gūru into the "League Associates" folder. Izuku's notes on the group had been vague at best, so Katsuki created a new subfile for the Ghouls, neatly organizing the names, ranks, and operations Tokoyami had uncovered. He didn't waste time, throwing in a quick Phazewave subfile under the USJ Nomu section, might as well since he was at it.

Fuyuki, the Sovereign, had built his organization on fear, control, and secrecy. No one crossed him and lived to talk about it. His lieutenants—each of them powerful, each of them running their own piece of the operation—kept the whole machine running like Seiko's clockwork.

Katsuki's eyes flicked over the profiles of the Soverign's inner circle, his mind absorbing every detail. Hoshiko Muraoka—enforcer, running the fight rings and breaking anyone who stepped out of line. Tsubasa Kurogane—tech genius, smuggling weapons and keeping their digital operations airtight. Makoto Tazawa—drug lord, pushing quirk enhancers and other illegal junk. Chieko Ogura—trafficker, moving people like they were cargo. And Goro Tanabe—the right hand, a wildcard jumping between operations... and then there was her.

Toga. He hadn't expected to see her tangled up in this mess, but at the same time, it didn't surprise him. The League of Villains had splintered when they went down, but not all of them had been caught. A few had vanished into the wind, leaving behind chaos, blood, and scars. Toga had been one of those few—slippery as hell, always managing to evade capture when everything fell apart.

When they'd taken down the League of Villains originally, most of them had been rounded up, either locked away in Tartarus, the Abyss or dead. Shigaraki, Dabi, Spinner—they'd all been accounted for, in one way or another. But Toga? She'd disappeared into the shadows, and the world had assumed she'd either died or gone underground. Katsuki hadn't cared back then; he had too much going on to even consider tying up every loose end.

Now, it looked like she'd resurfaced—embedded deep within Yami no Gūru as a personal assasin. Great. Katsuki scowled, his eyes lingering on Toga's name a little longer than he'd like. Of course, she'd wriggled her way into another pain in his ass syndicate. It was just his luck that the one loose end the Hero's Association hadn't bothered to chase down had slithered into something bigger—something messier.

Toga being involved was already a headache, but then there was the other name that stood out—The Hand. Tokoyami didn't have a ton of info on the guy, but what he did have was enough to make Katsuki uneasy.

The Hand wasn't just any thug. This bastard was the Sovereign's right-hand man, and from what Tokoyami had dug up, he was the one actually responsible for creating the Twilight Market in the first place. Katsuki had assumed the market was just another underground operation, constantly moving to avoid being found, but nah, this was on another level entirely. Fuckers were using a damn pocket dimension quirk.

That explained why no one had been able to pin the market down for long. Every time someone got close, it'd shift, vanishing like it never existed in the first place. Tch. He hadn't expected the Ghouls to be playing with something that tricky. No wonder they'd stayed hidden for so long.

What really set Katsuki on edge, though, was the way The Hand's quirk worked. This wasn't some typical hideout. It wasn't like Labyrinth, the bastard who had built and controlled the underground lair under the Red Lotus. Labyrinth's quirk allowed him to connect to the mazes he created. He could feel every turn, shift the walls at will, see through them like it was an extension of his own body.

But The Hand? He was playing a different game entirely. His pocket dimension wasn't some shifting maze or puzzle. It was more like a towering skyscraper—a singular, massive space that didn't change once it was set. And unlike Labyrinth, The Hand couldn't 'enter' his own creation or interact with it once it was made. He was just another asshole who resided inside. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

What made The Hand a real pain in the ass was his ability to create exits wherever he wanted. He didn't need to navigate his own space. He could just pop up an exit anywhere and step right through. You could think you had him cornered, and the next second he'd vanish through a door, leaving you in the dust. There was no way to predict where he'd go or how to follow.

And then there was the kicker—anything left inside that pocket dimension when The Hand closed it out? Gone. Instantly. Anything organic—people, animals, plants—it all died the moment the space collapsed. Katsuki had no idea how the fuck it all worked, but the thought of being trapped inside the space with no way out?  It set his teeth on edge. It wasn't just a quirk—it was a kill zone.

And to top it all off, apparently, people were renting spaces in The Hand's pocket dimension like it was some kind of fucking criminal Airbnb. Katsuki could almost laugh at the absurdity of it—if it didn't make him want to blow something up first.

Katsuki sighed deeply, rubbing a hand through his ruffled black hair as he clicked out of the files. His eyes flicked to the time displayed in the corner. 12:32 a.m.

"Tch," he muttered, stretching his arms above his head, feeling the tension in his muscles. The weight of the information he had absorbed hung in the back of his mind, but what frustrated him more was the slow crawl of time. Everything was practically in place now, but he had to wait till tomorrow and that's if Tokoyami had his intel.

Katsuki slammed the laptop shut with a satisfying click, tossing it onto the nightstand beside him. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

With a grunt, he stood and headed toward the bathroom. The shower was small and cramped, just like the rest of the apartment, but it didn't matter. He turned the faucet, letting the water run for a moment as steam filled the room.

After a quick shower to rinse some of the temporary black dye from his hair, Katsuki returned to bed, his usual spiky blond hair back in place. Katsuki settled under the covers, laying in the darkness, his sharp fixed on the ceiling. The faint hum of the city barely made it through the thick walls, leaving nothing but his own thoughts to churn inside him. His mind wouldn't shut up—almost obsessively going over every damn thing that'd happened in the last few days, everything he'd uncovered, and everything still left to do.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on what was to come tomorrow, his eyes kept drifting back to the nightstand, to that stupid thumb drive. It sat there, so small, but it was like the heaviest thing Katsuki had ever held. That tiny piece of tech held everything. Everything Izuku had worked for. Everything he had died for.

Katsuki gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening as he forced the thoughts away. He didn't want to go there, didn't want to think about what it all meant. Not now. Not in this empty, shitty apartment. But the more he tried to shove it down, the more it crept up on him, slipping through the cracks in his defenses.

He shifted under the covers, the cool sheets brushing against his skin, and for a second—just for one damned second—he let himself think about it. About him.

His hand moved almost unconsciously across the bed, fingers gliding over the empty space next to him. Goddamn it. He could almost feel it—the warmth that used to be there next to him, the steady rise and fall of Izuku's breathing.

It was always nice, after everything was done for the day, after the world finally shut the hell up for five minutes. Izuku would slip in next to him, always taking up more space than he should've, but Katsuki never complained. He'd grumble about it, sure, push him around a bit, but... he never really minded. It was the only time things ever felt... quiet. Like maybe, just for a second, they weren't a hero and a broken soul. Just two idiots who'd survived everything the world threw at them.

He could almost hear the soft sound of Izuku's breath, the way he'd mumble in his sleep, always too damn restless. Katsuki used to watch him sometimes—just lay there, feeling the warmth of his body, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling like maybe, maybe, it'd all be okay. That somehow this fucked up world would let someone like Katsuki... like Izuku finally be happy.

But now... that side of the bed was cold.

Empty.

His hand froze halfway across the mattress, the coldness of the sheets hitting him like ice to his fingers. He pulled his hand back, the weight of the emptiness sinking in.

Katsuki swallowed hard, his throat tight, and turned over, his back to the nightstand. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away. He didn't have time for this. Didn't have time to think about how much he missed Izuku, how much it hurt to sleep alone, how empty the world felt without that idiot at his side... the loneliness that had become so familiar it was almost a part of him now.

His mind was slowing down, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling him under, but even as sleep started to take him, the memories wouldn't stop. He could almost hear Izuku's soft laugh, the way he'd tease him, or the way he'd look at him with those stupid, determined eyes. It made Katsuki's chest feel too tight, like he couldn't breathe.

And just as he was about to finally give in to the pull of sleep, he felt it—a soft thump against his chest.

His eyes snapped open, his body going rigid. He didn't move, didn't dare react, just lay there in the stillness, wondering if he'd imagined it. There was no way. The room was deathly quiet, silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. His mind went blank, too tired to process anything, but that thump—it was real. Wasn't it?

He waited, not daring to move, not even to breathe. Seconds passed, stretching into what felt like forever, and he was just about to convince himself he'd imagined it, that it was just some leftover dream or memory when—

Ba-dum.

There it was again, a soft, almost imperceptible thump against his chest.

Katsuki again didn't dare to fucking move, didn't even blink, his entire body still frozen in place. His mind was trying to process what was happening, but there were no answers, just a crushing sense of disbelief. The thumping against his chest was real. It was faint, barely there, but it was real.

Then, slowly, almost painfully slow, the rhythm became stronger. Ba-dum... ba-dum. The gentle pulse of a heartbeat, so familiar, so impossible.

Katsuki's breath hitched in his throat, and before he could even process what was happening, tears started to fall as the sound resonated through him. Seconds later he felt the faint warmth like it—the heartbeat—had never really left.

And as if someone had breathed life back into it, the softest flicker of emerald light shone through the sheets.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Open Arms

Beams of morning light streamed onto the small table Katsuki sat at, casting long shadows across the worn surface. His elbows rested against the cool wood, fingers laced tightly together. His usual scowl was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a rare, unsettling stillness. He wasn't glaring, wasn't grinding his teeth in frustration like he usually did. There was no fire sparking in his red eyes—just silence.

It had been a week since Hakone. A week since he'd felt Izuku slip away. A week since the ring around his neck—the one that had always carried that faint, familiar warmth and hearbeat—had gone cold. Dark. Empty. Katsuki could still feel the weight of it now, pressing against his chest like a constant reminder of his failure. For those first few days, it had been unbearable, like carrying a piece of Izuku's soul that had snuffed out the second Phazewave and LOV struck.

Then there was the Void Flare. Katsuki clenched his fists unconsciously, the memory of the destructive energy still fresh in his mind. He had come dangerously close to losing control—his own power threatening to incinerate him. The way the lab had trembled as the heat built up inside him, the anger, the grief, the sheer rage spiraling into something unstoppable. He'd almost let it all go.

Almost detonated like a damn mini nuclear warhead.

The aftermath had left him hollow. For the past week, he'd been running on fumes, barely able to hold it together. He kept going, kept moving, because if he stopped—if he allowed himself to think—he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it. The anger had been his anchor, the one thing keeping him from being swallowed whole by the emptiness that had crept in after Izuku's heartbeat disappeared.

But last night... last night threw everything out of whack.

Katsuki's eyes drifted down to the ring hanging loosely around his neck. His thumb brushed against the warm metal, its weight feeling heavier than usual. After a week of silence, of nothing but cold emptiness, the heartbeat had returned.

Soft. Steady. Just like Izuku's used to be.

At first, he thought it was just a cruel fucking trick—his mind playing games with him, making him see, feel what he desperately wanted. But it hadn't gone away. The pulse was still there, faint but real... Katsuki didn't know how. Didn't understand why.

Izuku was alive.

Katsuki hadn't dared tell anyone about the ring.

Not a single damn soul knew. Not Shoto, not Ochako—no one. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, like the second he did, it'd disappear. Like the heartbeat would flicker and vanish, leaving nothing but that same suffocating silence in its place. He wasn't about to risk it, wasn't about to cling to some desperate hope only for it to get yanked away again.

The relief was almost worse than the grief.

Part of him—hell, most of him—was so damn relieved that Izuku was alive. That heartbeat, weak as it was, pulsed like a lifeline against his chest, but the relief made him angry, too. Terrified. Because if Izuku was alive, where the hell was he?

A sick feeling churned in Katsuki's gut. What if they had him? What if the League of Villains—Odd Eye—had gotten their hands on him? Or worse, his body? If they'd done something to him... changed him... and if he found him—no, when he found him—what then? What was he supposed to do if the person standing in front of him wasn't Izuku anymore?

The creak of a door snapped him out of his head. Katsuki's eyes flicked up, just in time to see Tokoyami stepping into the room. He didn't say anything at first—just walked over to the table and dropped something in front of him.

A mask. Sleek and dark, glinting under the faint light that filtered through the room Katsuki's eyes flicked down to it—a half mask, the lower half of a face, designed to look like a cyberpunk skull. Its sharp angles gleamed under the dim light, giving it an almost sinister, ghostly appearance. A couple of small vents on either side made it look like some sort of advanced breathing apparatus.

Katsuki blinked, then shot a glare up at Tokoyami. "The hell is this?"

"You'll need to wear it when we go into the Twilight Market. Even with the hair dye, it won't be enough. People will recognize you. This'll make sure they don't."

Katsuki scowled, his eyes darting between the mask and Tokoyami. "Tch, I already dyed my hair and put in those stupid lenses. You really think this mask is gonna make a difference?"

He ran a hand through his black hair—still hated how it felt. Flat. Boring. Wrong. But whatever, he'd deal with it. Still, the mask? This was getting ridiculous.

"Also ditch the other contacts, these will mask your identity to the retinal scanners as well." He said, placing them on the table. Katsuki just stared at it. Seriously?

Do you want to get in, or not?" he muttered, voice sharp and clipped, like he was talking to a kid who didn't know when to shut up.

Katsuki's mouth snapped shut, the retort he had ready dying before it could leave his throat. His jaw clenched, and he shot a glare at the mask again.

An hour later, Katsuki found himself trailing Tokoyami through the winding, labyrinthine underbelly of Shibuya Station. They'd entered through one of the smaller entrances to Shibuya Station, avoiding the crowded, more obvious paths.

His mind, however, wasn't on the mask—or the contacts or the hair gel plastering his spikes flat against his head. It was on where they were headed. The Twilight Market.

Shibuya. He couldn't help but wonder just what part of this massive, bustling district the Market had decided to set up in. The place was a labyrinth of subways, alleys, and hidden corners, and Katsuki knew that if you didn't know where you were going, many people got lost. It was just that fucking massive.

He'd expected them to head toward one of the less crowded train platforms, maybe head toward some grimy, forgotten corner of the district where the Twilight Market would be tucked away in a hidden basement or abandoned subway tunnel. That would've made sense—a simple, straightforward plan. But, as usual, things were never that easy. They never got on a train.

Instead, Tokoyami had led them deeper into the bowels of Shibuya Station, past the usual platforms and through a series of narrow corridors that Katsuki hadn't even known existed. Katsuki glanced up, eyes narrowing as they passed a pristine sign hanging from the ceiling. BF 5. They were five floors underground—a lot deeper than he had expected. The station was surprisingly clean, far from the grimy, abandoned place he'd expected. The smooth tiles gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and the walls, while worn from years of use, were free from graffiti or grime. It wasn't as packed as the floors above, but it still felt very much alive—just quieter, like it was hiding something beneath the surface.

The chime of the Fukutoshin Line echoed faintly in the background, drawing Katsuki's attention. He looked toward the nearby platform, where the display for F16 - Fukutoshin Line flashed, signaling the arrival of a train. People moved in and out, commuters minding their own business, completely unaware of the hidden world that probably lurked just beyond this platform.

Tokoyami paused for a moment, casting a glance back at Katsuki, as if making sure he was still following and, more importantly, still blending in with his disguise. Katsuki clicked his tongue in irritation but gave a subtle nod, keeping the mask secure over his face

The fact that they were this deep into the station, yet still in an active area, left an uneasy feeling gnawing at Katsuki's gut. He'd expected some grimy, out-of-the-way spot where people barely ventured, but no. The Twilight Market, it seemed, operated right under everyone's noses, hidden in plain sight. Fucking bastards.

Tokoyami didn't say a word as he turned on his heel and continued down the hallway. This time, though, he veered away from the station platforms and toward a smaller, less obvious corridor, his dark cloak swishing behind him. Katsuki followed silently, though his muscles were tense, his mind already running through all the possible scenarios that could go sideways.

Katsuki mentally ran over the details of his fake identity. Ryuji Hozumi. That was the name Tokoyami had prepped for him. A scumbag with a quirk that made him breathe out poison. The mask was supposed to filter out his own toxic fumes—a convenient excuse to keep him from having to take it off.

Good cover, actually, Katsuki admitted, though the thought irritated him. If anyone asked too many questions, he had a solid reason to tell them to back off. No one would want to be near someone who could accidentally choke out an entire room with a single breath.

After a few more turns, they finally arrived at a discreet maintenance door. It wasn't much to look at—just a plain, metal door with a small plaque that read "Authorized Personnel Only." To anyone else, it would've just been another random utility door in the station, but Katsuki knew better.

Tokoyami turned to Katsuki, his dark eyes glinting as Dark Shadow swirled around him. "Are you ready?" His voice was barely above a whisper, cutting through the stillness of the deserted corridor.

Ready? as if he had a damn choice. Katsuki just nodded in response, the soft hiss of his breath filtering through the vents of the skull mask. His red eyes, hidden behind the distortion lenses, narrowed in determination. No words were needed—he'd been ready from the moment he decided to take this risk. Tokoyami, as usual, didn't press for more. Instead, he glanced around, making sure they were alone before reaching for the door.

With a quick swipe of his hand, the metal door creaked open, and they both slipped inside. Katsuki expected something more elaborate, but to his surprise, the room looked like a regular maintenance closet. Plain, gray, boring as shit. To anyone who passed by, this was just another hidden nook in the endless maze of Shibuya Station's underbelly. It reeked of cleaning supplies, dust, and stale air—nothing special. But Katsuki wasn't stupid. Not after Red Lotus.

Tokoyami didn't waste time with explanations. He opened his cloak and Dark Shadow pulled from him, moving straight toward one of the shelves crammed with cleaning supplies—brooms, mops, and buckets—and started rearranging them. Katsuki watched with his usual scowl, arms crossed, not bothering to ask questions.

As Dark Shadow placed the final cleaning bottle back on the shelf, the room shuddered. Katsuki felt it beneath his feet, a low vibration like something deep beneath the ground was waking up. The door behind them clicked loudly, the lock sliding into place with a metallic thud.

"Tch. sneaky bastards," Katsuki muttered under his breath, glancing at the now-locked door. The entire room started to move, dropping downward like a slow, creaking elevator. The walls shook slightly, and the dim light flickered as the space descended deeper into the guts of Shibuya Station.

For a moment, it was silent, the faint hum of machinery the only sound as they continued to sink lower into the unknown. Katsuki was already on high alert. He could feel it—the tension, the shift in the air as they approached whatever lay at the bottom of this ride.

Finally, with a soft ding, the room stopped. There was a hiss of air, and one of the plain gray walls slid away, revealing a shimmering portal that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly glow. Katsuki's eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The Hand's entrance into the Twilight Market.

He remembered what Tokoyami had told him before. The first level of this pocket dimension was a security floor. They'd be walking right into enemy territory the moment they stepped through the portal. There'd be guards waiting on the other side—masked thugs doing security sweeps, making sure no one slipped through unnoticed.

Tokoyami glanced at him, his face calm as always. "Once we're through, stay close. The guards won't hesitate if something looks off."

Katsuki didn't need to be told twice. He rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his arms tensing in preparation. "Tch. Just get us through, bird-brain."

With that, Tokoyami stepped through the portal, Dark Shadow swirling protectively around him. Katsuki followed right behind, his heart pounding in anticipation as the shimmering energy swallowed him whole.

On the other side, Katsuki felt a slight shift in gravity—a weird, disorienting sensation like stepping into a new world. The air was cooler, and the space they entered looked like the first floor of a high-tech skyscraper. Sleek, metallic walls stretched up into the distance, and bright lights illuminated the wide open area. The floor was polished black marble, reflecting the eerie glow from the ceiling.

Katsuki's eyes darted around, taking in everything at once. Dozens of guards in ghoul masks roamed the area, each one heavily armed, scanning the people moving in and out. They were patrolling, checking for anything suspicious, their eyes sweeping over the crowd like hawks. Katsuki noticed that there were at least a dozen different portals scattered around the edges of the floor, each one leading to who knew where. People moved through them, coming and going like this was just another day in the office.

"Tch. Busy place for a black market," Katsuki muttered under his breath, keeping his voice low as he adjusted the skull mask on his face. His gaze flicked to the guards again. They weren't amateurs. These guys were well-trained, methodical in how they moved, their weapons always at the ready.

Tokoyami leaned slightly toward him, his voice barely a whisper. "Stay focused. We'll blend in for now, but once we move past this level, we'll need to be more careful. Don't draw attention."

Katsuki and Tokoyami moved in sync, slipping through the crowd like shadows themselves. Their steps echoed off the polished marble floor as they approached a set of sleek, metallic stairs spiraling upward. It was a stark contrast to the grimy subway they'd come from—a sharp reminder that this wasn't some low-level operation. This was the Twilight Market, and it was organized.

The stairs led them to a wide checkpoint at the top, a row of security stations lined up like at an airport. Each checkpoint had a set of armed guards wearing ghoul masks, their eyes scanning every person who approached. Above each checkpoint, glowing digital signs showed numbers ranging from one to six. Each checkpoint was clearly for different access levels, with higher numbers meaning more restricted areas.

Katsuki's eyes flicked to the glowing number five over a checkpoint to the far left. Without a word, Tokoyami drifted toward it, Dark Shadow swirling ominously behind him, like a living cloud of menace. Katsuki followed, keeping his skull mask firmly in place, his red eyes scanning the guards as they walked. He could feel the shift in Tokoyami's air—gone was the calm, quiet demeanor of his usual self. Now, he radiated an icy indifference, the kind of cold professionalism Katsuki knew all too well. It was the mask Tokoyami wore when he was fully undercover, when he needed to become someone else to blend into the shadows.

As they reached the checkpoint, Dark Shadow emerged fully, producing an ID with credentials that were anything but fake. Katsuki's eyes narrowed slightly as he caught a glimpse of the ID card flashing under the light—name, access code, credentials—all legitimate. He hadn't expected Tokoyami to have actual clearance for a place like this, but it made sense. Tokoyami had been working undercover for years, deep within the underworld. His access here wasn't forged; it was earned.

The ghoul-masked guard took the ID from Dark Shadow, their posture rigid, professional. They scanned the ID, and did his retinal scan, their eyes flicking between Tokoyami and whatever information appeared on their screen. After a tense few seconds, the guard nodded. But then their gaze shifted to Katsuki.

Katsuki could feel the guard's suspicion from behind the mask. He crossed his arms, trying to look as indifferent as possible. Tokoyami didn't blink, didn't react, simply spoke in that cold, detached tone. "He's with me."

The ghoul-masked guard's eyes flicked between the retinal scanner and Katsuki, suspicion clear in their posture. Tokoyami's credentials had been processed without issue, but Katsuki? He was still an unknown, a wild card in a place that didn't tolerate unpredictability.

"Retinal scan," the guard said, gesturing to the scanner. Katsuki stepped forward, his muscles tight under his skull mask, feeling the tension rise.

Katsuki lowered his head just enough for the scanner to line up with his eyes. The machine blinked and beeped as it processed his retinal data, and he could feel the coldness of the guard's gaze even through the ghoul mask. His red eyes were still a dead giveaway, but thanks to the clear contacts he was wearing, the system was being fed falsified data—something Tokoyami had prepped well in advance.

A few seconds ticked by, the scanner humming softly as it verified the results. Katsuki held his breath, waiting for the inevitable approval.

Finally, the machine beeped in confirmation, a green light flashing on the console.

"Take off your mask. We need to verify your face."

Katsuki's muscles tensed. Shit. This was where things could go south. The whole damn point of the skull mask was to keep his identity under wraps. The fake backstory Tokoyami had created—about him having a quirk that made him exhale toxic gas—was solid. But apparently, the guards weren't going to let it slide without making a fuss.

"That's not possible," Tokoyami said sharply, his voice taking on an edge Katsuki hadn't heard before. "His quirk produces toxic fumes. Removing the mask here would be a hazard."

The guard stiffened but didn't back down. "We still need visual confirmation. Regulations."

One of the armed guards fluttered closer watching the exchange. The whir of a camera moving caught Katsuki's attention as his fists clenched at his sides. He was about two seconds from ripping the checkpoint apart when he saw Dark Shadow shift. The usually calm, stoic creature suddenly flared, its massive claws twitching with barely concealed irritation. Katsuki caught the flash of its glowing eyes narrowing with barely restrained aggression. The air around them seemed to darken, the weight of Tokoyami's presence shifting into something colder, more dangerous. Dark Shadow wasn't just a passive observer anymore—it was fucking pissed.

Tokoyami remained calm, though Katsuki could sense the underlying tension. "If you force him to remove the mask, you'll be dealing with the consequences. I suggest you reconsider."

For a tense moment, no one moved. The guard's fingers twitched toward their weapon, their eyes flicking between Tokoyami and Katsuki. For a hot second, it looked like things were going to escalate—Dark Shadow's massive form loomed closer, its swirling darkness nearly touching the guard. Katsuki could feel his own pulse quicken, his fingers itching to blow something up.

But then, another guard—one wearing a slightly different uniform, likely a supervisor—came rushing over, leaning in to whisper something into the ear of the one holding them up. There was a brief, tense exchange—too quiet for Katsuki to hear—but whatever was said made the guard instantly straighten, their tone shifting.

"My apologies, sir," the guard said quickly, stepping aside. "His ID has been cleared. No further disturbance. Please proceed."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut as he followed Tokoyami past the checkpoint. Once they were through and out of earshot of the guards, Katsuki let out a low growl. "What the hell was that about? You got some special privileges or something?"

Tokoyami didn't break stride, his tone as cold as ever. "Years of work. It's not uncommon for certain people in the Market to have unique clearances. They've been briefed on who I am, but that doesn't mean they won't question anything that looks off."

Katsuki just scoffed, at this point he didn't care, whatever got him in. They quickly approached another set of elevators, sleek and metallic, built into the wall. Above the doors, a panel displayed various color-coded levels, each representing a different clearance tier.

Katsuki's eyes swept over the numbers—Thirty-seven floors in total—but the buttons for the last ten floors were conspicuously absent. The top levels were hidden, off-limits to anyone who hadn't been personally escorted by The Hand he assumed. Katsuki's gut told him those floors were where the real dangerous shit went down.

Tokoyami reached out and pressed the button for floor fifteen, his expression remaining cold and indifferent. Katsuki glanced at the panel, noticing the different colors lighting up, corresponding to the access level required for each floor. The lower levels were bathed in green, likely for more common visitors. As the numbers climbed, they shifted into orange and then red—an indication that the higher they went, the more restricted the area.

The elevator doors slid open with a faint hiss, and both men stepped inside. The interior was just as sleek and cold as the rest of the place, a minimalistic design that felt all business. The walls of the elevator shaft were made of glass, giving them a full view of the floors as they ascended.

As the doors closed with a soft whoosh, the elevator hummed to life, quickly shooting upward. Katsuki's eyes darted to the glass, and he found himself staring out as they ascended. The market spread out beneath them like some kind of twisted city, each floor a different world, a different layer of corruption.

The first few floors passed quickly, each one revealing a new piece of the underworld. There were massive markets stacked with illegal goods—quirk enhancers, black market weapons, and tech that made Katsuki's skin crawl. People moved about with a casual air, like they were walking through a damn shopping mall. The next few levels showed high-end restaurants, casinos, and lodging, places designed for those with enough money to spend on luxury even in the middle of this cesspool.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed as they passed a floor with a dimly lit arena. Inside, a fight ring was in full swing, surrounded by a crowd of people yelling and cheering for the bloodsport below. Fighters—some clearly using their quirks—clashed in brutal hand-to-hand combat, their bodies colliding with sickening force. No rules, no mercy. Just raw violence. His lip curled in disgust, but he kept quiet.

Further up, he caught glimpses of darker things. People being led in chains, faces hollow, eyes vacant. Trafficking. Katsuki felt his blood boil, but he forced himself to keep it together. Blowing their cover now would get them both killed. But for the briefest of moments, someone looked up at him.

Their broken eyes met his—a hollow, empty gaze filled with terror and pain. Their face was pale, gaunt, skin stretched tight over their bones, and their eyes... their eyes were filled with the kind of fear Katsuki knew all too well. A fear that spoke of desperation, of having lost everything. It was the look of someone trapped with no hope of escape.

For a split second, the world around him seemed to still. The memory hit him like a punch to the gut—the way he'd found Izuku all those months ago, bloodied and broken, terrified of what had become of him, barely clinging to life. Katsuki's chest tightened at the thought, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

And just like that, they were gone as they ascended to the next floor, his heart pounding in his chest. His jaw tightened, and a deep, seething anger burned in his veins. This place—it was more than just a black market. It was a breeding ground for suffering. People were being bought, sold, and discarded like trash, their lives worth nothing to the monsters that ran this empire.

A single thought seared through his mind, sharper than any of the rage he usually carried.

When he took out Odd Eye... when he destroyed the League of Villains... he was going to tear this place down. Every single one of these bastards was going to burn. The thought burned through him like a fire, but he swallowed it down for now. He couldn't act yet. He had to focus on the mission, on taking down the bigger threat. But one thing was certain: when the time came, the Twilight Market wouldn't survive Katsuki Bakugo.

The elevator hummed brought him back as it continued its ascent, passing level after level of organized chaos. By the time they hit the twenties, the floors looked even more exclusive—private rooms for meetings, VIP lounges for high-ranking clients, and more refined, but no less dangerous, markets.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open on level fifteen.

They stepped out into what could only be described as the heart of the Twilight Market. The space was massive, a sprawling network of stalls, shops, and private booths stretching out in every direction. It was like a twisted version of an upscale bazaar, where every dark desire and forbidden deal could be satisfied. The air buzzed with the low hum of negotiations, whispered conversations, and the occasional clink of money changing hands.

Tokoyami glanced at Katsuki from the corner of his eye, his voice low and controlled. "Welcome, to the Twilight Market."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Scars

Over the next few days, Katsuki made it a point to familiarize himself with the ins and outs of how the Twilight Market worked. It was an intricate web of corruption, greed, and power, where information was as valuable as the goods being sold. Each day he spent here, he peeled back another layer of the Market's twisted operations, studying how the criminals moved, how the deals were made, and most importantly, who held the power.

On the first day, after their unsettling introduction to the Market, Tokoyami had taken care of the essentials. They made a stop at a backroom tech shop on the fifteenth floor, where a man who clearly owed Tokoyami more than a favor had whipped up an ID with credentials for Katsuki. The ID listed him as "Ryuji Hozumi," matching his cover as the toxic-gas-quirk user with ties to low-level underworld operations.

Along with the ID, Tokoyami handed him a small black case. Inside was a portable quirk dampener, a sleek piece of tech the size of a credit card. Just like the one back in his office, it created a localized sound shield—a bubble of silence around him, masking any conversations or movements within a certain radius.

"You really won't need it unless you're meeting with reliable contacts," Tokoyami had said, his voice cool as he handed Katsuki the case. "This place is always listening."

Katsuki had snorted in response, tucking the dampener into his jacket. The sound shield made sense—there were eyes and ears everywhere in the Twilight Market, and the last thing they needed was someone overhearing something they shouldn't.

There was also a burner phone, a few other electronics for bypassing security measures, and parting words from Tokoyami that still echoed in his mind: "Be careful. There are eyes everywhere and nowhere."

That warning stuck with him. The Twilight Market had a way of making you feel like you were being watched, even when there was no one around. The walls, the cameras, the people—everything seemed designed to keep tabs on everyone's movements, and Katsuki had no intention of being caught off guard.

Tokoyami had also mentioned that he had contacts on some of the floors—people who could help Katsuki gather information or even hack into the sellers' databases if needed. But so far, Katsuki hadn't reached out to them. He preferred to operate alone, relying on his own instincts and skills to navigate the Market. Still, knowing the option was there gave him some comfort, even if he wasn't willing to admit it.

After Tokoyami had left him, Katsuki spent his first few days blending in, watching, listening, and learning. He tore through every floor he could access in the Twilight Market, trying to sniff out any trace of the League of Villains. He moved through the crowds with his head down, skulking like one of the scumbags he was pretending to be. His skull mask stayed on, and his eyes were sharp, but no matter how hard he looked, he kept hitting walls.

He was sure one of the League's lackeys would show up somewhere, maybe some loser buying quirk enhancers or sneaking around the black-market tech stalls. Katsuki had been staking out every shady deal, listening to every low conversation, but all he got was silence.

Nothing. Not even a whisper of the League, the serum, or ZENITH.

It pissed him off. There's no way these assholes weren't here.

They had to be working the Market somehow—maybe through buyers, maybe moving supplies. But they weren't showing their faces. And it wasn't for lack of effort. Katsuki stalked nearly every floor that was selling gear and chemicals, watching criminals barter over weapons, quirk enhancers, and black-market goods. Still, no League members, no familiar faces. Just a bunch of shady nobodies. And Katsuki was almost sure as hell they wouldn't be sending some random to collect supplies like it was a grocery run.

"Tch," Katsuki growled under his breath as he walked through yet another useless floor. He'd been at it for hours, scouring the Market like a damn bloodhound, but it was like they were ghosts.

One floor, though, had caught his attention. Floor eighteen. That's where the Market kept most of the high-grade chemicals and lab components. Shady stalls selling lab-grade quirk enhancers, dangerous tech, and everything in between. Katsuki had figured this was the spot—if the League was looking for chemicals to create the serum or anything related to ZENITH, they'd need this kind of gear for their experiments.

So, Katsuki had been staking it out for a while, hiding in the shadows, watching buyers come and go. He'd spent hours watching, waiting for someone to slip up.

But nothing. No one who looked like they were tied to the League. Just random dealers stocking up on supplies, selling quirk enhancers, chemicals, and sketchy equipment to whoever had the money.

Katsuki leaned against a dark corner, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as another group of buyers left a stall with bags full of dangerous-looking chemicals. It all screamed illegal as hell, but none of it was what he needed. No faces he recognized. No one worth his time.

Katsuki had already been heading out, more than frustrated as he weaved through the crowd, ready to call it a day. He'd had enough of watching dead-end deals for one day. That was until he passed by one of the stalls.

"How much for Azo-Stabilene and plutonium?"

He nearly stopped dead in his tracks. Plutonium? That wasn't something you heard being tossed around like it was a damn quirk enhancer, and It sure as hell wasn't something that came up in casual conversations in the Twilight Market. Plutonium was one of the chemicals on Izuku's list—the ones tied to the EcksTerminus serum.

Without turning too quickly, Katsuki adjusted his path, casually walking past the stall where the voice had come from, pretending to check out a display of quirk-enhancing serums. His ears were locked in, though, catching bits and pieces of the conversation between the buyer and seller.

The buyer—a tall man dressed in a sleek, dark coat—was leaning over the counter, voice low but laced with frustration. "I don't have time for this. I need both of them, don't make this harder than it needs to be."

The seller, a greasy-looking guy towered over the other man, was clearly uncomfortable. He didn't seem nervous though. If anything, he looked suspicious.

His voice was cautious, like he was measuring his words carefully. "Plutonium's not something you just pick up around here," he said, scanning the man in the coat with an uneasy glance. "And I don't exactly have Azo-Stab lying around either. Even in this market, you're asking for something... dangerous."

Katsuki kept his head down, pretending to inspect the vials in front of him, but every sense was on high alert.

The man in the coat slammed his hand on the counter, silencing the seller immediately. "Don't bullshit me, I know you've got access. I've heard about your sources." His tone was dark, threatening.

The seller frowned, folding his arms, more cautious than afraid. "Where'd you hear that from?" he asked, voice cold.

The buyer smirked, his demeanor shifting from impatient to smug. Without a word, he reached into his coat, and with a smooth motion, pulls out a small metallic cube, no bigger than a sugar cube. Katsuki watched as the buyer snapped his fingers. In a blink, a briefcase materialized, pixelating into existence. Some kind of pixelation quirk. Katsuki glanced over just in time to see the case snap open, revealing stacks of neatly bundled cash.

"Or better yet," the buyer said smoothly, "I've been looking for something else. Xenthium-47."

Another chemical of Izuku's notes. It was one of the more rare, synthetic elements that could amplify quirks beyond their natural limits. Combined with plutonium, it was a nasty mixture capable of causing unimaginable damage. The fact that this guy was casually asking for it meant he wasn't here for small-time deals.

At the mention of the rare compound, the seller's eyes narrowed, suspicion growing sharper. "Xenthium-47?" he repeated slowly, his voice dropping. "That's not something I deal in lightly."

The buyer chuckled softly, his confidence unwavering. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out another small metallic cube, holding it between his fingers as he toyed with it.

"You think just flashing some cash is going to get me to trust you?"

The buyer leaned back, unbothered by the seller's change in tone. "Let's just say a certain someone with a high standing in the League told me this is where he got it."

The seller's eyes flashed with a mix of interest and suspicion. "Who?" he asked, his voice edged with caution.

The buyer casually tossed out a name like it was nothing.

"Knives."

Katsuki's pulse quickened. Knives—he knew that fucking name. That bastard had been on his shit list for months. One of Odd Eye's top cronies—slimy, dangerous, and always ready to slice through anyone who got in his way. Katsuki had crossed paths with him more than once, and every time, that smug piece of crap had slipped through his fingers.

He'd been the one who had killed Shinsou.

If this guy was dropping Knives' name, he wasn't bluffing. The League was definitely involved in this, and that meant this deal was much bigger than just a simple chemical exchange.

The seller's expression hardened, his earlier hesitation giving way to something colder, more resolute. He leaned back in his chair, arms folding over his chest as his eyes flicked from the buyer to the briefcase and back again. "Knives, huh?" he muttered, a trace of skepticism creeping into his voice. "Even if you're dropping League names, it doesn't change the fact that you're asking for things I don't have right now."

The buyer's confident smirk faltered. "What the hell do you mean? I thought we had a deal."

The seller's gaze narrowed, unfazed. "Maybe under different circumstances. But most of the chemicals you're asking for? The League's already cleaned me out." He jerked his thumb toward the back of the stall, where the dim light barely revealed a vault.

"Azo-Stabilene, Xenthium-47, and plutonium—they're rare for a reason, and your pals from the League bought up most of what I had left. Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't."

The buyer's eyes flashed with anger. "Bullshit—"

Katsuki slipped away from the stall, keeping his movements casual as he melted into the crowd. His heart pounded with the familiar rush of adrenaline, but he forced himself to remain calm, blending into the sea of criminals, traders, and scumbags that filled the Twilight Market. He kept his head low, watching the buyer out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the conversation to wrap up, his fingers twitching in anticipation. This the fucking lead he'd been looking for.

The buyer cursed under his breath, slamming the briefcase shut and glaring at the seller. But he knew when he was beat. With one last look of disdain, he turned and stalked off into the crowd,

Katsuki waited just long enough for the buyer to gain some distance before pushing himself off the wall and following, his movements smooth and calculated. He wasn't about to lose this damn lead.

The buyer weaved through the bustling crowd, minding his own business like he was walking through a regular mall. Katsuki kept his distance, slipping through the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. The skull mask concealed his features, but his eyes were locked onto the buyer's every movement, never letting him out of his sight.

Eventually, the man reached one of the sleek elevators that lined the far side of the market floor. He stepped inside without hesitation, pressing the button for the lower floors. Katsuki followed, slipping into the elevator a few seconds later, his gaze flicking to the digital display above the doors.

The elevator hummed, the numbers flashing by as it descended. eleven, ten, nine... Katsuki's eyes narrowed when the elevator finally stopped on...

The second floor.

Katsuki's gaze swept over the scene as the elevator doors slid open. He stepped out onto a floor unlike the others below. This wasn't just for the scum who lurked in the shadows of the Twilight Market—no, this was a floor for outsiders—people from the surface world looking for a different kind of thrill. No IDs, no shady connections, just high-paying customers, eager to taste the forbidden.

But there was one key difference—security.

His eyes flicked to the checkpoint ahead, where armed guards stood behind reinforced barriers. If you didn't have the right ID, you weren't getting anywhere near the elevators. These outsiders, the ones coming here for clubbing and entertainment, they didn't have access to the deeper parts of the Twilight Market. They were allowed in through one heavily-monitored portal that entered and exited the same way. The guards weren't here to protect the clubbers from each other, but to keep them from wandering into places they shouldn't go.

Oncee past, the space was dominated by two large, high-end nightclubs that pulsed with neon lights and the low thrum of bass-heavy music. Each club was distinctly different, catering to different types of clientele. One, on the far left, was called Eclipse, its sleek exterior bathed in a deep blue glow, the doors guarded by bouncers wearing black suits and earpieces. It looked like the kind of place where underworld elites gathered to make quiet deals over expensive drinks.

The other nightclub, on the right, was called Afterlife, its exterior bathed in dark red neon. The line outside was long, filled with people who looked like they had more money than morals, all waiting to get inside. The bouncers at this club looked more like enforcers—bigger, meaner, and clearly ready to handle trouble if it came their way. Katsuki could hear the pounding music and see the flashes of light through the doors—this place was loud, chaotic, and exactly the kind of place where shady things could go unnoticed.

Katsuki's eyes flicked back to the buyer, who had stopped near the entrance to Afterlife. He was on his phone, speaking in low tones, but from the way his body language had shifted, Katsuki could tell he was in the middle of an important conversation. The buyer's eyes darted around, scanning the crowd as if making sure no one was watching him too closely.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, slipping into the shadows behind one of the nearby columns, watching the buyer closely. The man's voice was too low to make out the details of the conversation, but Katsuki didn't need to hear the words to know that this was a critical moment. The buyer finished the call quickly, his posture shifting from tense to relaxed, before slipping into Afterlife like he belonged there.

"Tch," Katsuki muttered under his breath. He had two choices—wait outside and hope the guy came back, or follow him inside and take a risk. He didn't need to think twice.

With a confident stride, Katsuki approached the entrance to Eclipse, his skull mask casting a faint shadow over his face. The bouncer at the door eyed him for a second, clearly sizing him up, but with a quick flash of his ID—the one Tokoyami had arranged—Katsuki was waved through without issue.

The moment Katsuki stepped inside Afterlife, it hit him like a freight train—an assault on the senses that almost made him want to turn around and blow the place to fucking hell. It was loud, chaotic, and filled with everything he hated about the underworld. The bass-heavy music thrummed through the floor, vibrating up his legs and into his chest, a constant reminder that this place was alive, and it fed on excess.

His sharp eyes scanned the room, instantly taking in the mess of bodies, dancing, drinking, and doing God-knows-what to keep themselves numb. Neon lights pulsed overhead, flashing red and blue in rhythm with the music, casting a distorted glow over the whole scene. It wasn't just chaos—it was excess in its rawest form. Half-naked dancers hung from platforms suspended from the ceiling, their movements almost hypnotic as they twisted and spun, lithe bodies slick with sweat and glitter. One of them, a woman with pale skin and neon-pink hair, was practically glowing, her body emanating some kind of gas as she moved. It poured off her in thick, hazy clouds, drifting through the air and enveloping the crowd below. Katsuki could tell by their glazed-over expressions that they were high as a kite, inhaling whatever mind-bending shit she was leaking.

He sneered beneath his mask. This place was a goddamn cesspool.

There were people everywhere, lounging on plush, oversized couches and dark corners, their faces flushed from a mix of alcohol, drugs, and whatever else they were indulging in. Some of them barely looked conscious, their heads lolling back as they took hits from vials, snorted powders, or just let the dancers' quirk-induced gases do the work for them.

"Tch, disgusting," Katsuki muttered under his breath, his jaw tight as he pushed his way through the crowd. He kept his eyes locked on the prize—the buyer. No way he was about to let that bastard get away now.

The buyer was easy enough to spot through the neon haze. He was at the bar, casually grabbing a drink like he didn't have a care in the world. Probably thought he was untouchable. The guy looked relaxed, completely at ease in this den of filth, which only made Katsuki want to grab him by the throat and start shaking him until he spilled everything he knew. But that would blow everything. He couldn't risk it—not yet.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed as the buyer finished his drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar and flashing a quick grin at the bartender before slipping away toward the back. Toward the VIP section.

Of course. Because it wasn't enough to just be in this damn cesspool—he had to be in the exclusive cesspool.

Katsuki's lips curled in disgust as he watched the man disappear past a set of velvet ropes guarded by two massive bouncers. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He couldn't just stroll past the bouncers and demand entry.

For a moment, he stood there, watching the bouncers and assessing his options. His eyes flicked up to the ceiling, where the platforms suspended above the dance floor swayed gently, lit by neon lights that cast an eerie glow over everything. There had to be another way into the back. Places like this always had more than one way in and out—especially for the scumbags who wanted to stay hidden.

His sharp gaze swept over the platforms until he spotted it—a dark, metal walkway suspended near the ceiling, leading toward the back of the club. Bingo. The walkway had to connect to somewhere past the VIP section.

Katsuki smirked beneath his skull mask. Time to get creative.

First things first, he made for the bar, the last thing he needed was to draw suspicion by making a beeline for the ladder he knew had to be hidden in the shadows somewhere. He needed to look like he belonged, just another guy indulging in the shit this place thrived on.

He had to push through the usual crowd of drunk idiots and half-conscious club-goers. A woman in a glittering, too-tight dress stumbled into him, her eyes glassy and unfocused, clearly fucking several drinks deep. She slurred something incoherent about wanting to dance and tried to lean against him, probably thinking he was just another easy target in this sea of bodies.

"Tch. Get lost," he growled under his breath, shoving her off him with barely any effort. What the hell was it with drunk people thinking they could latch onto him like some kind of support beam? Did he have 'free ride' tattooed on his forehead or something?

As he approached the bar, Katsuki signaled to the bartender. He didn't give a damn about the drink itself—just needed a reason to be standing there. The bartender handed him a glass of something that smelled strong, and Katsuki took it with a grunt, his eyes still scanning the room.

There. Off to the side, near the back of the club, was a narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms. He downed the drink and strode down the L-shaped hall, spotting a ladder at the end of the hidden bend, almost hidden by the shadows and neon lights, the kind of detail most people wouldn't notice unless they were looking for it.

Katsuki waited, leaning against the wall, his eyes darting between the hallway and the crowd, watching for a break in the foot traffic. A few more seconds. He could feel his muscles twitching, eager to move, but he had to play it cool. He bent down to tie his shoe, glaring at the people around him. The last thing he needed was to attract any more attention.

The moment the hallway cleared, Katsuki moved. He turned toward the hall, eyes scanning for anyone who might be watching.

No one.

Perfect.

With ease, Katsuki grabbed hold of the ladder and pulled himself up, climbing quickly and silently. The thrum of the music below masked any sound he might've made, but he didn't take chances. He climbed with precision, muscles tense and ready for anything.

Once he reached the top, he found himself on the metal walkway suspended above the chaos below. From this vantage point, the club looked even more twisted, like a hive of insects crawling over each other in the neon glow. Katsuki sneered. He'd never understand why people were drawn to shit like this.

Katsuki crouched low on the metal walkway, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos below as he moved silently along the darkened path. From up here, he had a perfect view of the writhing bodies on the dance floor, the neon lights casting twisted shadows that made everything look even more grotesque. People grinding up on each other, hands wandering where they shouldn't be, and half-conscious morons completely losing themselves in the drug-induced haze. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and something even fouler rose up to meet him, making his nose crinkle in disgust. Fucking animals.

Katsuki's lip curled as he spotted a group in one of the booths below, half-dressed and sprawled out on top of each other. One of them had a needle hanging from his arm, his eyes glazed over as a girl with glowing skin exhaled clouds of smoke directly into his face. Seriously, what the fuck.

He kept moving, keeping to the shadows as he looked for his target in the VIP section. The heavy bass of the music pulsed through the metal beneath him, but he didn't let it distract him. His focus was razor-sharp, his red eyes scanning each secluded booth below, waiting for the right moment.

As he peered over the edge of the walkway, he saw a booth draped in heavy black curtains. Inside, a couple of guys were engaged in what could only be described as a business deal, but it wasn't the kind you'd ever see in the daylight. Piles of cash were laid out on the table, alongside a case filled with vials of glowing liquid that made Katsuki's stomach turn. Quirk enhancers. The kind that turned weaklings into walking time bombs.

He moved on, crawling closer to the end of VIP section, his eyes darting from one booth to the next. It was all the same shit—dealers, buyers, and lowlifes making deals with lives they didn't care about. But none of them were the guy he was tailing. For a second, he thought he'd lost the guy.

Then, finally, he spotted him.

The buyer from earlier was sitting in a booth toward the far end, his back turned to the rest of the club. The guy was sitting alone, one leg crossed over the other, looking smug as he lit up a cigarette. The faint glow of the cherry illuminated his face just enough for Katsuki to see the cocky smirk plastered across it. Typical. The bastard probably thought he had the world at his feet, doing deals in some sleazy club like he was untouchable.

Katsuki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, keep puffing away, asshole. Not like your time isn't about to run out.

He settled into position, perched like a predator above the booth, blending into the metal rafters and the dark as the pounding bass from the club below drowned out everything else. The guy didn't seem like he was in a rush—just sitting there, smoking like he owned the place, completely unaware of the danger lurking just a few feet above him.

Ten minutes passed. Katsuki's patience, while usually thin, held strong. He was used to waiting for the right moment, even if he hated every second of it.

Finally, movement. A hooded figure glided into the booth, moving with a smoothness that made Katsuki's senses prickle. The person sat down across from the buyer, but the shadows were too thick, and the hood too low for him to catch any details other than some tuffs of white hair.

He strained to hear over the thrum of the music, but the club was too loud, the distorted bass reverberating through his skull. Still, something about the hooded figure wasn't sitting right with him. The height, the build—it didn't match anyone from the League. Too short for Knives, too muscular for GloomGazer, and definitely not Vortex... thank fuck. Maybe this was a new player, someone not yet on his radar? Either way, something was off.

He watched as the buyer leaned forward, talking low and fast, his cigarette dangling from his lips. Katsuki couldn't make out the words, but he could feel the tension in the air, crackling like a fuse about to reach its end. The hooded figure didn't react much, just sat there, still as a statue. Unreadable.

The buyer snapped his fingers, and that pixelated distortion rippled through the air again. The space in front of him flickered for a split second, and suddenly, a sleek black device materialized on the table. It looked like nothing more than an ordinary computer drive, but Katsuki's eyes sharpened at the sight. What the—

Before he could even process it fully, he faintly caught a few words through the noise.

"Was able to hack the server and data caches..."

Was this person someone else connected to the league? They had to be.

And as if to answer his question, the buyer's voice cut through again, this time laced with nervous energy. "You sure you wanna fuck with the League?"

Wait. So, this wasn't some League operation. Was he tailing a dead end. Fucking hell. Who the fuck was this. The hooded figure spoke. Their voice was low, cutting through the noise like a blade.

"Pixel," the figure said, the single word sharp, laced with warning.

Pixel froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. It was clear he hadn't expected the hooded figure to say his name. Katsuki smirked from his perch, watching as the buyer's bravado faltered for a second. It was always entertaining watching some cocky bastard realize he wasn't as in control as he thought he was.

Pixel stammered something, trying to regain his composure, but the hooded figure cut him off with a slow tilt of their head. It wasn't an aggressive move, but something about it made Katsuki's instincts buzz. It was a silent command, dripping with authority.

"Shut up," the hooded figure said, voice calm but firm, like they were giving an order that had been given a hundred times before. "I didn't pay you for your opinions."

The buyer raised his hands in a mock surrender, flashing that shit-eating grin again like he was backing off. Whoever this hooded figure was, they weren't messing around.

"Hey, you do you, Reaper. I'm just sayin'."

Katsuki's brows furrowed at the name—Reaper. He'd heard that somewhere before. The memory tugged at the back of his mind, flickering like a half-formed thought. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position in the dark, keeping his gaze locked on the hooded figure.

The realization hit Katsuki like a detonation going off inside his skull.

Reaper.

Just as the pieces began to click into place, the hooded figure reached out to grab the device sitting on the table. That's when Katsuki saw it.

His blood ran cold.

The sleeve of the cloak shifted as the figure extended their arm, and beneath the edge of the fabric, Katsuki caught a glimpse of something unmistakable. A jagged scar, thick and twisted, wrapped around the left arm, just below the elbow. It was old, healed but ugly. The kind of scar that could only come from reattaching a limb.

Katsuki's heart slammed against his ribs, his breath catching in his throat. He knew that scar. He knew that arm.

It was Izuku.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Through the Veil

Katsuki's mind spun in a thousand directions all at once, a storm of thoughts crashing into each other as he stared down at the hooded figure below.

No fucking way. No way that was him.

His eyes darted back to that scar on the left arm—the one he knew as well as his own damn reflection. But this... this didn't make any sense. It couldn't be him.

No. Fucking. Way.

Katsuki's throat worked, his instincts screaming at him to move, to jump down and rip that hood off, to see for himself if it was real or just some sick joke. But he couldn't move. He was frozen, his mind torn between disbelief and cold, hard fact. That was Izuku's arm. He'd recognize it anywhere. And not just the scar—the height, the build—it all lined up. More or less.

But why? Why the hell was he here? Why the hell was he going by the name Reaper? And how the fuck had he even gotten into the Twilight Market? This place was for the worst of the worst, people who crawled through the underbelly of society like rats, and here was Izuku, sitting in a booth like he belonged in this cesspool of criminals and killers. Not to mention the amount of fucking security that goes on here.

It's not him. It can't be him. This isn't fucking possible.

But then his eyes darted to the figure's other hand—the one resting on the table. Another scar, thinner but no less familiar, ran along the wrist and palm. A scar from what seemed another lifetime ago, back when they were nothing more than kids trying fighting in the Sports Festival.

There had to be one—some illusion, some trick. But deep down, he knew. His instincts, the same ones that had kept him alive through battle after battle, that were never wrong were telling at him.

It was him.

It was Izuku.

Pixel fidgeted, one hand nervously twisting one of the twists hanging down the side of his head, his earlier bravado all but gone. The tension between them was more than palpable now, thick like the neon haze that filled the air of the club. Katsuki watched from above, his breath coming in shallow bursts, fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms. He needed to hear every word of this.

After a few tense moments, Pixel finally reached into his coat and pulled out a slim, metallic USB an and small file. He slid it across the table toward Izuku, his voice a little shaky, trying to regain control of the conversation. "It's... it's getting more difficult," Pixel muttered, still playing with the twist. "Tracking what the League is buying here. They're moving things under the radar now. Their movements are tighter, more... deliberate."

Izuku—Reaper—didn't respond at first, his hood casting a shadow over his face as he picked up the file and began flipping through it, his movements smooth, deliberate. Even with the hood obscuring most of his face, Katsuki could tell Izuku was absorbing every word, every detail.

"Anything on the Nomu?" Izuku's voice cut through the pounding bass of the club like a knife, calm and steady, but there was an edge to it—something cold, something calculating.

A thought fluttered to the front of his mind. Wait, if this was him, did he manage to kill Phazewave? Had he finally figured out they were doing with the Nomu?

Pixel shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching again as he ran a hand through his twists, like the question made him uneasy. "No," he admitted, glancing around as if checking to make sure no one was listening. "No trace of them. They've gotten real good at hiding their tracks. Whatever the League's doing with them, the experiments, it's deeper than anything I can get to right now. If its even in this Yakuza's database."

Reaper didn't look up, still scanning the contents of the file. His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he considered the information, his posture tense but controlled. "Keep looking," he said quietly, flipping another page. "I need to know everything. If I can figure out where they're doing their research..."

Pixel's fingers twitched nervously, and he leaned forward, lowering his voice even more. "Listen, Reaper, I've been hacking the underground Network for years, and I've never seen anything like this. The League of Villains' digital footprint? It's all but gone. These new firewalls that have been placed recently... they've restructured everything." He rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves creeping into his tone. "It's not just a matter of them tightening security—the Network's practically reinvented their system. I think because of the accuracy of your hits these last few weeks they've noticed. It's nearly impossible to break into now without getting tracked."

As Pixel finished speaking, his eyes darted nervously to the side when a server approached their booth. She had a tray balanced on one hand, her eyes scanning the two men seated across from each other. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, her voice loud enough to cut through the pulsating bass of the club, but with an edge of wariness as she eyed both of them, clearly sensing the tension.

Pixel waved her off impatiently, extinguishing his cigarette. "We're good," he muttered, glancing back at the reaper. His eyes flicked back to the server for a split second, sizing her up as if worried she might overhear too much. She didn't push, turning to leave, but Katsuki noticed Izuku's reaction from his perch above.

Reaper had tensed the moment she arrived, his posture rigid, as if ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He didn't even glance in her direction, his eyes still locked on the file in front of him, but Katsuki could sense the shift in his demeanor, a predator poised just below the surface.

Once the server was out of earshot, Pixel leaned forward again, lowering his voice even further. "Like I said, man, it's nearly impossible to use the Network without getting tracked now. They've set up trace programs, bots that can latch onto your signal the second you try to breach their walls. Finding the League's hideouts? It's next to impossible unless we figure out a way to bypass those firewalls without raising any flags."

Izuku's fingers stopped tapping. His voice was low, a warning hidden beneath the calm. "I thought you were the best at what you do... I need that information regardless."

Pixel swallowed, his nervous energy practically radiating off him now. He knew better than to argue. "Yeah, I got it. I'll keep digging," he said quickly. "But I need more time to get past the firewall. The League's been keeping a low profile on the net."

Reaper's hand paused over one of the documents, and though his face was still obscured by the hood, Katsuki could almost feel the weight of his stare, even from above. "You don't want them to notice," he said, his voice was strained barely audible, but the threat in it was clear.

Reaper slid a phone across the table toward Pixel, his movements steady and deliberate. "I'll contact you in a week," he said, his voice low but carrying enough weight to silence any lingering objections. "Keep your eyes peeled and keep digging. I want everything, or we're done."

Pixel nodded quickly, his earlier bravado long gone, replaced by a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. "Yeah, sure. I'll—I'll keep looking."

Without another word, the person across from the buyer stood up, pulling the hood tighter over his head as he prepared to leave. Katsuki watched from his perch above, his mind racing, heart pounding in his chest. He felt frozen, torn between two paths. Shit. What does he do?

His thoughts began warring inside him. He wanted to move to confirm it was who he thought it was—before Izuku disappeared again. But there was Pixel, too, still sitting there, still a potential lead on the League's operations, on what they were planning with ZENITH. Katsuki's jaw clenched, the weight of the decision hitting him hard.

It's either chasing after the League... or going after him. Izuku.

Fuck!

For a split second, Katsuki was paralyzed by indecision, his body twitching with the need to act. He could tail Pixel, get more intel, maybe crack open the League's operations... or he could follow Izuku and get answers—answers he'd been desperate for since the day Izuku disappeared.

But what if it wasn't him?

Katsuki's body tensed, the decision tearing at him like a bomb about to go off. The League or Izuku? The fucking mission or—

Without thinking, he made his choice.

Katsuki launched himself down from the metal walkway, moving faster than he could process. His feet hit the ground with a thud, but the pounding bass of the club drowned out the sound, and no one even glanced his way.

Katsuki's eyes locked onto the hooded figure, now exiting the VIP section and strolling through the crowd like he hadn't just been making backroom deals with some Hacker scumbag. He weaved through the bodies, slipping between drunken clubgoers and drugged-up idiots without missing a beat.

The hooded figure was already moving toward the club's exit, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if he belonged there. Katsuki's sharp eyes stayed locked on him, tracking his every move as they both slipped through the throngs of drunk and high club-goers.

He was calm, deliberate, his movements smooth like he had no reason to hurry, no reason to believe anyone would follow him. Katsuki, on the other hand, was a storm barely contained, every muscle in his body itching to tear through the crowd and confront him, to demand answers. But he couldn't risk blowing his cover. He had to play it smart, even if every part of him was screaming to act.

Reaper approached one of the sleek exit portals, the shimmering energy pulsing faintly as people passed through to leave the Twilight Market and re-enter the real world. Katsuki kept his distance, watching as he moved effortlessly past the security guards, not even a second glance thrown his way. He vanished through the portal, the distortion of the energy field flickering behind him like a mirage.

"Shit," Katsuki muttered under his breath, his chest tightening as the seconds ticked by. He had to move fast, or he was going to get away.

He slipped toward the portal, doing his best to keep his head down, his heart racing as he felt the weight of what he was about to do. The security guards barely noticed him, distracted by the crowd as Katsuki briskly walked through the portal, the energy crackling against his skin as the world shifted around him.

The sensation of crossing the threshold between worlds was brief but disorienting—like stepping through a thick curtain of static electricity. And then, just like that, he was back outside, in the real world. The heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the Twilight Market was replaced by the damp, cold air of Shibuya.

The first thing that hit him was the rain. It was pouring, the water coming down in heavy sheets that splattered against the pavement, soaking through his clothes in seconds. Katsuki blinked, disoriented for just a moment as he found himself in a narrow alley, the faint glow of streetlights and neon signs casting long shadows over the wet concrete.

But the hooded figure was gone.

Katsuki's heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he frantically scanned the alley, his eyes darting from one shadowy corner to the next. "No, no, no, where the fuck—"

He didn't finish the thought. He caught a glimpse—a flash of a dark coat turning a corner just up ahead. Without a second thought, Katsuki bolted, his feet splashing through puddles as he tore down the alley, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

He skidded around the corner, the slick pavement nearly sending him sliding, but he caught his balance just in time. His eyes locked onto the figure ahead, the hood still pulled low, the rain pounding down on both of them. Katsuki's pulse quickened even more. That's him. That has to be fucking him.

He pushed harder, his legs burning as he chased after the guy, the rain coming down so hard now that it blurred his vision, the temporary hair dye seeping into his clothes. But he didn't care. He wasn't going to lose him again—

Suddenly, the figure stopped dead in his tracks. Katsuki's boots skidding on the wet ground as he forced himself to a halt about two dozen feet away. For a moment, they just stood there—two shadows in the rain-soaked alley, the only sound the steady thrum of the downpour and the distant hum of the city beyond.

Katsuki stared, his mind a mess, a storm that refused to settle. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. The ring around his neck thumped against his chest, and for a split second, the faint heartbeat that had returned to it flickered. It stuttered.

The person in front of him didn't move, didn't flinch. Just stood there, back still turned. Like he was waiting. Waiting for something.

What the hell was he waiting for?

Katsuki's hands hung loose at his sides, the tension in his muscles unbearable. He could feel the heat building in his palms, the familiar crackle of explosions itching to burst free. But he didn't move. He couldn't. He just stood there, staring, heart in his throat, barely breathing. The rain fell harder, drowning out his thoughts, his anger, his fear—everything.

And then, slowly, deliberately, they turned.

For a second, it felt like the whole world had gone quiet. No more rain, no more city noise. Just silence.

A gust of wind blew through the alley, whipping around Katsuki and pulling at the figure's hood. It slid back, and if only for a moment, Katsuki's mind rebelled against what his eyes were telling him.

Izuku's hair was white as snow, falling messily over his forehead and dripping with rain now that it was exposed. Not a single trace of the familiar green remained. Katsuki's mind flashed back to the aftermath of Izuku's brutal last moments with Vortex in the hideout, remembering how patches of green had faded then, as if One For All had drained the very color from him. But this was... this was complete, absolute, like the fight in Hakone truly had taken everything out of him. The vibrant hue that had always been a part of Izuku was gone, replaced by a ghostly pallor that made him look almost ethereal under the dim streetlights.

A jagged healing gash cut across the right side of Izuku's face, intersecting the older one from the collapse, marring the skin where freckles used to dance over his cheek. It was raw, angry-looking, a stark contrast against his pale complexion. Katsuki's gaze traced the line of the scar, a surge of anger bubbling up inside him. Who had done this to him? had it been Vortex... Phazewave?

Katsuki's gaze traveled up from the wound to the one thing that always used to define the person he loved—the vibrant green of his eyes.

But now, they were different. The once brilliant, fiery green that Katsuki had always known—always expressed more than he ever intended—was darker now. Subdued. Like the light in them had dimmed, snuffed out by the weight of everything Izuku had endured. There was no fire, no spark. Just something hollow and far away, a reflection of the horrors and trauma that had carved itself into him.

But beneath that dullness, behind the muted emerald, something else lurked. Something raw. Wild. Dangerous. A small flicker of emotion flashed through them—surprise, suspicion.

But despite the diffrences... this was undeniably the person Katsuki loved more than anything in this godforsaken world. His mind stopped. Completely. For a second, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. How long had it been? How long had it been since he'd seen him? Weeks... months.

The world had narrowed down to just this—just him, standing there, looking at the one person he never thought he'd ever fucking see again.

Deku.

The name rang through his head, over and over again, like some kind of cruel joke. But there he was. Standing there, looking at him, not a ghost, not some figment of his fucked-up mind. Izuku. His Izuku.

Without thinking, without even considering the consequences, Katsuki reached up and yanked off the skull mask that had been hiding his face, the cold air biting against his wet skin. The mask fell to the ground with a muted clatter, forgotten. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, the rain running down his face in rivulets, but he barely felt any of it. His whole world had funneled down to one moment.

For the span of a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Izuku's expression didn't change, his gaze flat, unreadable. A thousand questions surged to the surface, colliding and tangling until Katsuki couldn't tell one from the other. His red eyes locked on Izuku's, searching—begging—for any sign that this was real.

"Izuku..." The name slipped past his lips before he could stop it, barely audible over the rain but heavy with a mix of disbelief and raw emotion.

Izuku's eyes widened at the sound of his name, the recognition flashing in that across those wild eyes like a flicker of lightning in the dark. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. The distance between them feeling both immense and insignificant. For the briefest moment, Katsuki saw something—saw him—behind the mask, behind the DID, behind whatever the hell this "Reaper" was. It was Izuku.

Katsuki took a step forward, body trembling, his hand halfway outstretched like he could just grab him, pull him back into reality, demand answers. "Izuku—"

But then Izuku stepped back, his eyes hardening in an instant, the brief recognition swallowed by a cold, detached expression that made Katsuki's stomach churn.

"No—" Katsuki's voice cracked with something between frustration and desperation, but it was too late. Izuku turned on his heel and ran.

"Shit!" Katsuki's hands clenched into fists, the heat of his quirk sparking against his palms as he bolted after him. "DEKU!" His voice tore through the rain like a gunshot, raw and desperate, but Izuku didn't stop, didn't even look back.

The chase was on, and Katsuki's feet pounded against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as he tore after him. His breath came in sharp bursts, his muscles burning as he pushed himself faster, harder. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to catch up, to not let him get away.

"Deku!" he shouted again, the name tearing from his throat as he watched the figure slip further into the maze of alleyways, darting through the narrow, rain-slicked paths like a phantom.

Izuku turned sharply into a side alley, barely a blur in the downpour, and Katsuki skidded, almost losing his footing on the slick ground, but he caught himself. Izuku was fast—too fast. His movements were sharp, calculated, and Katsuki could barely keep up as he tore through the rain-soaked streets of Shibuya. But he would be damned if he loses him.

Up ahead, Izuku took another sharp turn, disappearing around a corner into a narrower alley. Katsuki's boots splashed through a deep puddle as he followed, firing a blast into the turn, teeth clenching as it drove him into the turn.

Suddenly, a thick wall of smoke exploded in front of him. Izuku had released a smokescreen, a familiar tactic Katsuki had seen him use during their battles, but it didn't slow him down for a second. With a growl of frustration, Katsuki raised his hand and sent a powerful blast forward, the heat of his quirk igniting in his palms as the explosion tore through the smokescreen, scattering it to the sides.

The blast cleared the air just enough for Katsuki to catch a fleeting glimpse of something—movement to his left. He whipped his head around just in time to see a door slam shut in the side of a rundown building, barely illuminated by a dim streetlight.

He changed direction on instinct, his boots skidding across the slick pavement as he made a sharp turn. His foot caught in a puddle, and he lost his balance, falling hard onto the ground, water splashing around him as he landed with a grunt. Pain shot up his side, but he gritted his teeth, shoving himself back to his feet in one quick motion.

Katsuki charged after him, his body crashing against the door as he barreled inside. His breath came in ragged gasps, the damp air hitting his lungs like knives. Inside, it was dark, musty, and dead quiet—no sound except the distant hum of rain and his breath.

He stood there for a moment, frozen, listening—waiting for something, anything. His breaths were harsh, desperate, and his whole body felt like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff. And then... footsteps.

Upstairs.

Katsuki's eyes snapped toward a rickety staircase leading up into the shadows, and before he could even think, he moved. He bolted up the stairs, taking two, three steps at a time, the creaking wood beneath him groaning under the strain. The building was barely holding itself together, but Katsuki didn't care. He had one mission now.

Find him.

He hit the second floor, his eyes scanning the empty, darkened hallway for any sign of movement, any clue as to where Izuku had gone. His breath came in ragged bursts, the exhaustion settling deep into his muscles, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

A creak above him.

Katsuki's eyes snapped up, and he spotted the narrow stairwell leading to the third and final floor. He raced toward it, his boots pounding against the old wood as he surged upward, his focus razor-sharp.

The third floor was as dilapidated as the rest of the building—windows shattered, debris littered across the floor, and old furniture scattered in disarray. The rain poured in through the cracks in the ceiling, the faint sound of it tapping against the floorboards the only sound Katsuki picked up on.

Katsuki stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving, breaths still coming in ragged bursts as he slicked back the wet strands of hair from his face. The long hallway stretched out before him, a dead end with a few doors on either side, leading to rooms that were likely just as decrepit as the rest of the building. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus.

"Deku..." he whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the relentless sound of the rain pounding against the roof. The pounding in his chest, the frantic desperation, was still there, but Katsuki was a hunter now—every sense was sharpened, every instinct telling him to be ready for anything.

His boots creaked against the worn floorboards as he stalked down the hallway, his eyes flicking from door to door, listening for any sign of movement. He took controlled breaths trying to calm the storm of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready to spring at the first sign of Izuku.

He started with the first room on his left. There was no door, just an empty doorway with splintered wood framing it, as if the door had been torn off long ago. Katsuki hesitated for a second, peering inside.

The room was small, barely lit by the flickers of lightning outside. It was a mess—overturned furniture, piles of debris, broken glass scattered across the floor. An old, sagging mattress lay in one corner, mold and grime covering its surface. The smell of damp rot hit him instantly, making his nose wrinkle in disgust.

But there was no sign of life.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed. He stepped back from the doorway, keeping his movements quiet and deliberate. Next room.

He moved to the second door on his right. This one was still on its hinges, though it hung crookedly, as if barely attached. Katsuki pushed it open with the back of his hand, the door creaking loudly as it swung inward. He tensed, ready for anything.

The room was darker than the first, the only light coming from a broken window high on the wall. Inside, he could make out the outlines of old furniture—dusty shelves, a shattered chair, and a desk that looked like it had been left to decay for years. Papers were strewn across the floor, their edges curling with age. Katsuki's eyes darted around the space, his ears straining for any sound.

Nothing. No movement, no sign of Izuku. Just more silence, more emptiness.

Katsuki's frustration flared. Damn it, Deku... where the hell are you?

As he neared the third room, he stopped, his hand hovering just over the knob. But then—a sound. A faint creak, like someone shifting their weight. Katsuki paused, his body going rigid. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a cold shiver snaked its way down his spine. He slowly turned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over his shoulder, scanning the darkened hallway behind him.

Nothing.

But Katsuki's gut told him something was wrong. There was a subtle shift in the air, the kind of sensation that was making his skin crawl. He could almost feel the shadows themselves shifting, closing in around him like something was watching, waiting.

From above, something creaked again—a soft, barely perceptible sound, like something moving overhead. Katsuki's eyes darted upward. In the darkness above him, something was perched on the wall.

For a moment, Katsuki could only make out the vague outline of the shape perched on the wall above him. It looked strange, hulking, like some kind of animal head mount, twisted and grotesque. The shadows obscured the details, but something about it felt off—really off. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the shape, trying to make sense of it.

The rain pounded against the roof above, the distant hum of thunder growing louder, but his focus was locked on the object. What the hell is that?

Then lightning flashed, illuminating the hall for the briefest moment. Hollow, lifeless eyes were staring down at him. The exposed brain, the jagged spine fins, the twisted beak-like mouth...

Katsuki's heart dropped into his stomach.

Phazewave's head.

The glow of its lifeless, red eyes cut through the brief flash of light like a twisted beacon.

But then, just as the room plunged back into darkness, he saw it—it moved.

Katsuki's blood ran cold as the head turned, its beaty eyes fixing on him with eerie precision. His chest tightened, air leaving his lungs as he realized... It wasn't a fucking mount.

A sharp, unnatural chittering sound filled the room, echoing in the suffocating silence. The sound was high-pitched, almost insect-like, and it crawled over Katsuki's skin like a swarm of spiders. His eyes widened in horror as Phazewave's head shifted again, its demonic, lifeless eyes locking onto him. The sound of the rain and distant thunder felt miles away now. All he could hear was the chittering, the twisted, insect-like hum that seemed to pulse from Phazewave's very being.

Then, with a low, rumbling growl, Phazewave moved.

The Nomu's massive body phased through, as if it was peeling itself off the wall with unnatural fluidity, limbs stretching out in ways that defied logic. The muscles in its monstrous, hulking form rippled as it dropped to the floor of the hallway with a sickening thud, standing to its full, towering height. The darkness clung to it, wrapping around its body like a second skin, and even in the faint light of the flickering storm outside, Katsuki could make out the twisted sinew of its form.

No fucking way. His knees nearly buckled as he instinctively staggered backward, his boots slipping slightly on the slick floor. Memories of the New Year's Festival came crashing back, vivid and brutal. He could feel the punches, the blood, the way it had nearly beaten him to death that night. Phazewave had been a force of nature, relentless and unstoppable back then, even before ZENITH. And now it was standing right in front of him, alive, terrifying and remade.

Phazewave's head tilted, slow and deliberate, like it was sizing him up, those glowing red eyes narrowing as if—shit—like it remembered him. Katsuki's palms sizzled, crackling with the familiar heat of his quirk, but his body—damn it—his body was shaking. Why was he shaking? Fear was crawling up his spine, squeezing his lungs tight, making his breath ragged. He could hear the tremble in his own breathing, feel it in his legs, which were supposed to move. But they didn't. They locked up like they were glued to the ground as the Nomu towered over him, an immovable wall of muscle and death. Move, goddamn it!

He stumbled back, feet tangling in themselves as Phazewave let out a guttural snarl. It was enjoying this. His panic. His fear. Katsuki swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribcage, brain screaming at his limbs to cooperate. But they wouldn't. Why the fuck won't you move?

Phazewave's eyes—too sharp, too aware—glinted with that predatory gleam, and Katsuki's chest seized. Fucking hell, It remembers. That thing fucking remembers. It remembers him. It remembers the way it almost ripped him apart. Katsuki could feel the scar on his side twinge, that old wound. Fuck, not again.

Then it lunged.

There was no thinking, no time. Just instinct. Katsuki blasted backward with a shout, the explosion barely clearing him from those claws. They tore through where he'd been standing like it was nothing. Shit, shit, shit! He hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor like some goddamn rookie, not a top hero. Legs scrambled under him, barely holding up his weight. Adrenaline pumped through him like fire in his veins as he launched himself into the nearest room, kicking the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

Plan. He had to fucking think of a plan. But all his brain gave him was static, fear clogging up his thoughts, overriding everything.

A second later the door splintered, wood cracking with a deafening snap, and Katsuki's blood ran cold. Phazewave phased through the wall, as if mocking the very idea of barriers. Those claws—corrosive, deadly—slashed toward him, cutting through furniture like it was tissue paper. Katsuki threw himself sideways, just dodging, blasting off an explosion to keep him rolling, palms flaring hot. The air smelled of burning, a mix of fabric and metal seared by that thing's touch.

"Fuck!" Katsuki snarled, gritting his teeth as another explosion sent him flying across the room, just in time to avoid the next swipe. The room flashed bright with the shockwave, but Phazewave barely flinched, staggering for a second before zeroing in on him again, more pissed off than ever, the chittering growl growing louder, more frenzied.

Katsuki didn't wait. Another explosion. He blasted himself through the door, flinging his body into the hallway. It roared behind him, the sound guttural, feral.

But Phazewave was done playing.

The wall behind him shattered. Katsuki felt it before he saw it—the entire building trembled, debris raining down as Phazewave tore through like it was nothing. Katsuki's heart jackhammered in his chest, each beat deafening in his ears. His breath was coming too fast, ragged. His mind screamed at him to move faster, faster, but everything felt sluggish, bogged down by the weight of panic pressing on him from all sides.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!" Katsuki yelled, blasting himself down the hall, feet hitting the stairs with a jarring impact. He didn't even think, just threw himself down the steps, crashing onto the landing. Bones jarred, muscles screamed, but he barely felt it. He was running on pure instinct, pure terror. He scrambled to his feet, legs shaking beneath him. He's never—

Katsuki's thoughts were spinning out of control, adrenaline choking his mind. He'd had moments of fear before, plenty of them—hell, he wasn't invincible. He'd faced shit that would make anyone freeze, faced villains that could turn cities to rubble, faced down death more times than he could count. But this? His mind was clawing at the edge of itself, terror pushing him closer to something he hadn't felt before, not this deep, this raw.

He's never felt it like this. His body wasn't listening, the way his fucking legs were shaking, barely keeping him upright, but it wasn't from exhaustion. It's from fear. Pure, unfiltered fear, destroying him from the inside out.

Was it following him? Had he lost it? He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath—just for a second. The stairs behind him were silent. Maybe it—

Movement. From the corner of his eye. Shadows shifted. Katsuki's stomach dropped, and for a split second, his heart stopped.

Phazewave materialized from the darkness, its massive body emerging like a nightmare made real. Katsuki barely had time to react before the Nomu's clawed hand shot out, its fingers locking around his throat. The force was brutal—he was slammed to the ground so hard it felt like his spine might snap in two.

The air rushed out of him in a choked gasp, his lungs burning for it to return, but nothing came. Stars exploded across his vision, the world blurring, spinning. His chest heaved, body instinctively trying to suck in oxygen that just wouldn't come. Katsuki's hands scrabbled at Phazewave's wrist, nails ripping at it's skin, but his grip was nothing compared to the Nomu's crushing strength. He could feel it—the heat, the sick sizzle of its corrosive nails searing his skin. The acrid, burning smell filled his nose, thick and suffocating.

The terror was paralyzing, His heart pounded so hard, it felt like it might rip through his ribs. Katsuki couldn't think straight, couldn't focus— He struggled to suck in a breath, his body shaking uncontrollably as full-blown panic set in.

Phazewave's glowing red eyes bore into him, pure death staring him down, ready to finish what it started at the New Year's Festival. The memories—all of it—came rushing back in a torrential downpour, overwhelming him. He was going to die here. This thing was going to kill him. Phazewave's claws were digging deeper, squeezing the life out of him, and Katsuki couldn't stop shaking. He needed to get up. get the hell up! But he couldn't. The panic had him in a chokehold almost as tight as the Nomu's.

His vision started to blur, dark spots creeping in at the edges. His lungs were screaming, and his thoughts were starting to slip.

Then, suddenly—the weight was gone.

Phazewave was ripped off him, the sudden release making Katsuki's body jerk violently as he gasped for air, his entire body shaking from the adrenaline and fear. His throat burned, each breath like swallowing glass. He coughed, choking, every muscle twitching, shaking. His vision swam, everything spinning, but through the haze, he forced himself to look up. His eyes struggled to focus, mind still reeling from the adrenaline, the panic, the terror that had him in its jaws just seconds ago.

And there, standing between him and Phazewave, was Izuku.

Katsuki blinked, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him, that maybe the lack of oxygen had done something to his brain. But no—it was him.

He stood there, soaked from the rain, hair dripping, back straight as a fucking rod, staring down Phazewave like it was just another fucking Tuesday. His snow-white hair clung to his face, those dark eyes narrowed with barely restrained furry, locked onto the Nomu like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Stop," Izuku growled, his voice low and dangerous, filled with an authority that sent a chill down Katsuki's spine.

It wasn't a request. It was a fucking command.

Phazewave snarled, still feral, still wild. The Nomu's jagged teeth gleamed in the flickering light, its claws flexing like it couldn't wait to tear through flesh again—his flesh. Katsuki's throat constricted, the raw panic still clinging to him like a second skin. But Izuku didn't flinch. Not even an inch.

In a blur of motion too fast for Katsuki's panicked brain to process, Izuku's hand shot out and caught Phazewave by one of its jagged teeth. He held it there, gripping the Nomu like it was nothing, forcing its head down to meet his glare. And Phazewave froze.

For a moment, the air went deathly still. Even the storm outside felt muted, like it was nothing compared to the tension crackling between Izuku and the beast.

"I said, stop," Izuku growled, voice cold as ice. His grip tightened on Phazewave's jaw, jaded eyes burning with barely contained fury. "Or we're going to have a problem."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Dancing with the Reaper

Phazewave's growl lingered in the air, low and furious, vibrating like it wanted to rip the space apart, but it stayed still. The tension between Izuku and the Nomu was thick enough to choke on, Katsuki felt it pressing down on him like a goddamn vice. Phazewave's glowing, murderous eyes flicked between him and Izuku, the beast barely holding itself back from another attack, its muscles coiled tight like a spring about to snap.

Katsuki lay there, heart still thundering in his chest, the haze of panic was starting to lift, and clarity creeped back in. Still, he had no idea what the hell was going on—no idea how Izuku was talking to it, why Phazewave was listening to him, any of it.

His eyes caught the blood first. Izuku's hand, tightening around those jagged teeth, deep gashes opening in his palm, and yet, Izuku didn't flinch. Didn't react. Just stood there, cold, focused, commanding. Blood dripped onto the floor in steady, dark red drops, the sound almost lost under the weight of the storm and Phazewave's rattling growl.

Izuku's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Don't make me tell you twice." It was low, dangerous, the kind of calm that sent a chill crawling down Katsuki's spine. Not the Izuku he knew—the one who was always jittery, always nervous. No, this voice was something else.

Phazewave snarled again, but it didn't attack. Katsuki watched, wide-eyed, as the Nomu trembled—actually trembled—like it was fighting an internal war, its body twitching, deciding whether to pounce or back off. But Izuku didn't budge, didn't flinch. His hand just gripped tighter, and the metallic groan of Phazewave's teeth grew louder, the pressure so intense Katsuki thought it might slice through Izuku's hand.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Phazewave let out a deep, guttural growl and backed down. It lowered its head, backing away, the glow of its eyes never leaving Katsuki. That gaze—it was still full of malice, of unrestrained violence, but it obeyed. It fucking obeyed Izuku.

Katsuki lay there, still gasping, chest heaving like he'd just sprinted a marathon. He still couldn't wrap his head around what the fuck just happened. His body buzzed with adrenaline, still shaking from the panic, but he was more or less himself.

Phazewave melted into the shadows, but Izuku didn't budge. He didn't even release his grip until the Nomu was far enough away, and when he finally did, his hand was slick with blood, the gashes deep enough to make Katsuki's stomach twist. The blood was staining the floor, but Izuku's expression didn't change—not even a wince. His eyes stayed locked on the retreating Nomu, cold and calculating, like a hunter watching its prey.

Izuku flexed his hand, the movement casual despite the deep gashes across his palm. His expression barely changed as he turned his gaze toward Katsuki, meeting his eyes for the first time since they'd come face-to-face in that alley.

Suddenly there was silence. Katsuki's mind started spinning for a different reason. Izuku. Alive.

The rain pounded against the windows, the sound mixing with the ringing in his ears. Everything felt distant, like he was underwater, like his brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that the person he thought he'd lost forever was standing right in front of him. He couldn't fucking believe it. He blinked hard, trying to clear the chaos in his head, trying to process the impossible. Izuku's alive... how the hell is he alive? He'd grieved. He'd fucking mourned. Spent the months before that ripping himself apart with guilt, rage, and now... something was off. Izuku didn't look like the person he used to know. He didn't even look like the person he'd mourned. There was no warmth, no spark. Like these last few months had reshaped him. He was just ust cold, empty eyes staring back at him. Watching him.

For a second, Katsuki didn't know what the hell he was feeling. Was it relief? Was it anger? It was like his brain couldn't settle on anything—every emotion hit him at once, full of confusion and disbelief. He stared up at Izuku, trying to make sense of it, but nothing was adding up.

And then—rage. A burning, searing rage that swallowed everything else. He let Katsuki think he was dead. Izuku abandoned him. He'd fucking left him.

Katsuki's breathing quickened, his hands trembling as he pushed himself off the floor. All those months—

The searching, the guilt, the fucking agony of thinking he'd never see him again. And now, he's here, standing there like nothing fucking happened.

Katsuki coughed, his throat still raw and burning from Phazewave's crushing grip. "You—" His voice cracked, coming out hoarse, barely more than a rasp, but the rage was boiling over, drowning out the pain. He lunged, grabbing Izuku by the front of his coat, yanking him up with all the strength he had left, his grip shaking. "You... fucking bastard!"

The words tore out of him, each syllable scratching against his throat, rough and broken. Izuku didn't move. He just stood there, like Katsuki's anger meant absolutely nothing to him. Katsuki's could feel the heat flushing his body, fists trembling as they gripped Izuku's coat tighter. Say something, dammit!

"You let me think you were dead!" Katsuki's voice was a snarl, raw with fury, his hands shaking with how hard he was holding on. "You fucking left me to rot, Deku!" He could barely see straight, everything swimming in his vision as months of bottled-up everything came spilling out all at once.

He didn't even care that the nickname had slipped out—Deku. That stupid name that felt like it didn't belong to this person, but it came out like a reflex, like muscle memory from years of fighting. But right now that didn't matter. What mattered was the months he'd spent chasing a ghost.

"I looked for you!" Katsuki's voice cracked, his words coming out in harsh, ragged bursts. He pulled Izuku closer, forcing him to look him in the eye. "I thought—fuck, I thought you were gone! I thought—" His hands were white-knuckled, every muscle in his body trembling from the sheer force of his rage, but Izuku didn't react. Didn't move. His face stayed calm, cold, like nothing Katsuki said fucking mattered.

And that—that made it worse.

"You fucking left me!" Katsuki was practically shouting now. His throat hurt, his body hurt, but none of it compared to the weight of suffering he'd carried. The pain, the guilt, the fucking endless waiting. And all for this—Izuku standing there, like a stranger, like he hadn't ripped Katsuki's world apart.

"How could you just leave? Let me fucking follow your shadow. How could you let me think you were fucking dead?!"

The silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating. Katsuki's voice echoed around them, bouncing off the walls, but Izuku's face stayed the same—detached, distant, like none of this was getting through. Katsuki couldn't stop as the rage was roiling inside.

And Izuku, for all his cold indifference, didn't say a goddamn word.

Katsuki's rage flared like a wildfire, hot and uncontrollable, burning him from the inside out. How could Izuku just stand there? So fucking calm, like none of it mattered? Like everything he'd put him through, the devastation—meant nothing. His lip twitched, curling back, baring his teeth in a snarl as he glared down at Izuku. His red eyes felt like they were burning, because now—now they were glowing.

Without thinking, he shoved Izuku hard, slamming him against the wall. The impact sent a crack through the old wood, the sound reverberating through the room like thunder. But Izuku—that bastard—didn't even flinch. Not a damn thing. Just those dark eyes narrowing, a flash of something dangerous behind them. Katsuki could see it—the flicker of darkness, the warning, but he didn't care.

"Answer me!" Katsuki snarled, voice breaking, rough from both rage and the damage to his throat. His irises warped as they glowed brighter, burning hotter with each second, teeth clenched, grip tight as he pressed Izuku harder against the wall. "Fucking answer me!"

For the first time, Izuku's face shifted. The cold indifference melted away, replaced by something darker—something more volatile. His lips twisted into a grimace, and Katsuki could feel the air change between them, the weight of Izuku's darker side creeping in like a shadow, like it was waking to watch. The tension was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. And Katsuki welcomed it. He wanted the fight, wanted to rip everything out in the open.

Izuku's hand shot out fast, grabbing Katsuki's collar, yanking him forward with a force that sent another surge of adrenaline through his veins. Izuku's voice, when it came, was low, seething, barely controlled. "Don't shove me, Kacchan." There was a warning in his tone, a deadly edge Katsuki hadn't heard since the cavern. "You don't know what you're asking for."

But Katsuki didn't give a shit. He didn't flinch, didn't pull back, didn't even think about backing down. He meet the challenge, fury crackling inside them like an explosion ready to go off. Izuku's warning, that darker side creeping closer, none of it meant a damn thing to him right now. He wasn't scared.

"You think I give a damn about that?" Katsuki's sneered, grabbing Izuku's collar even tighter, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart. "You think I care what happens to me—"

Izuku's face hardened, something dangerous sparking behind those wild eyes. He didn't respond with words this time—just action. In a sudden, sharp movement, Izuku shifted his stance, twisting away from the wall, and with a swift, brutal force, he grabbed Katsuki by the arm and shoulder-threw him to the floor.

Katsuki hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of him for a split second, but he barely had time to register the pain before his instincts kicked in. No fucking way was he getting away again.

Izuku turned to take off, but Katsuki was on him in an instant. He lunged, grabbing Izuku around the waist and dragging him down. They crashed onto the floor, a chaotic tangle of limbs and raw fury. Katsuki's teeth clacked as he hit the ground, grappling with Izuku, trying to pin him down. But Izuku wasn't making it easy—his strength was overwhelming, even more than Katsuki remembered.

"You're not fucking getting away this time!" Katsuki roared, voice hoarse and shredded as he fought to keep Izuku down. His fists clenched around Izuku's jacket, and for a moment, he thought he had the upper hand.

But Izuku flicked a hand at him, splattering blood across Katsuki's face, trying to disorient him. Izuku's fist came out of nowhere, a blur, and Katsuki felt the crack of knuckles against his face. Pain exploded through his skull as Izuku clocked him hard, sending a burst of stars across his vision. He reeled back, but his grip didn't falter. He wasn't letting go.

"Goddammit, I'm not letting you run!" Katsuki screamed, his voice raw with desperation and rage. The emotions that been building for so long—they all poured out of him in that moment. "Not again, you hear me?!"

Izuku's face curled into a snarl as they struggled on the floor. Face flickering with fury as he tried to twist out of Katsuki's grasp, painting them both with his blood. But Katsuki wasn't letting go. Not this time. He tightened his grip, the adrenaline coursing through him like a live wire, and with a sharp, forceful move, he swung his leg over, straddling Izuku's waist.

"You're not going anywhere," Katsuki snarled raggedly as he pressed down, his weight pinning Izuku beneath him. His glowing eyes blazed, flashing dangerously as he stared down at him, every ounce of his frustration and fury channeled into holding Izuku in place.

Izuku bucked hard against him, muscles straining, trying to throw him off, but Katsuki held on with everything he had, his fingers digging into Izuku's wrists. The two of them grappled, bodies twisting in a desperate, chaotic struggle. Katsuki could feel the raw power in Izuku's movements, the way he fought back with a strength that bordered on unnatural.

Suddenly, black tendrils shot out—Blackwhip—wrapping around Katsuki's body like iron chains. In one swift motion, Izuku ripped him off and tossed him aside.

Katsuki hit the ground again, hard, skidding across the floor. He scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his face, ready to launch himself at Izuku again, but something stopped him—Izuku's body.

It shimmered, flickering with a strange energy, almost like he was vibrating at a different frequency. Katsuki's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, recognizing the telltale sign of that quirk he'd used to get away from Katsuki the first time. Izuku's entire form pulsed with power, his movements already feeling faster, sharper.

He didn't know what the fuck that quirk was but he remembered the last time Izuku had gotten his hands on him—the way his whole body had felt like warm liquid was being poured into him. If Izuku grabbed him again—if that quirk took hold of him—he wouldn't stand a chance. It'd be over.

Suddenly, Katsuki kept his distance, instincts screaming at him to stay the hell back. His feet planted firmly on the ground, his hands raised, ready to strike. His quirk flared to life, crackling in his palms, sparking like fire ready to explode. He didn't take his eyes off Izuku for a second, his mind thrown into battle tactics, his heart beating out of rhythm. One touch, and he's done. One touch, and Izuku wins.

Izuku took a step forward, and Katsuki flinched, muscles tensing on pure instinct. A hand sprawled out, explosions lighting up his palm, a warning shot more than anything else. He was wound so tight, like a coil about to snap.

Izuku's eyes flashed as he saw Katsuki flinch, with a quick sidestep, he dodged Katsuki's warning shot, his movements smooth, deliberate. His gaze never left Katsuki's, and with a sharp, audible click, Izuku brought his hands together, "First Gear."

There was a faint metallic sound, like gears locking into place, as his body shimmered, the familiar flicker of an iridescent rainbow wrapping around him, amplifying his speed, his strength. Izuku lunged, moving faster than Katsuki's eyes could track. He was a blur, closing the distance between them in an instant.

But Katsuki was ready.

Just as Izuku closed in, there was another click—this time from Katsuki's side. Hidden in his other hand was the dampener, the same one Tokoyami had given him. In a split second, he activated it. The device's barrier shot out, whizzing past Izuku's charging form, expanded in an instant, creating a thirty-foot barrier around them.

The barrier hummed to life with a sharp, mechanical whir, its presence heavy in the air as it spread out. The effect was immediate. The shimmer that surrounded Izuku, that raw, pulsing energy, began to peel away like layers of paint stripped by a high-pressure hose. The flickering light around his body vanished, quirk dissolving as if it had never existed.

Katsuki felt it too—his own quirk snuffed out in an instant. The crackling heat that had been sparking in his palms disappeared, leaving only the weight of his fists. The familiar hum of power was gone, and for a brief, disorienting moment, both of them were left standing there—powerless.

Izuku staggered, his momentum halting as the dampener neutralized the quirk that had propelled him forward with such force. His eyes widened, the realization hitting him as he looked down at his hands, now completely void of that shimmering energy, of One For All.

Katsuki's breath hitched, but a savage grin twisted his face as he stood his ground. "Not so fast now, huh?" His voice was ragged, but there was a grim satisfaction in it. Without their quirks, it was a level playing field—a real fight. No superpowers. Just the two of them. Fists and fury.

Katsuki pocketed the dampener in one swift motion, never taking his eyes off Izuku. Without their quirks, it was all down to brute strength, and he wasn't about to give Izuku any room to breathe.

"Now it's just you and me, shitty nerd," Katsuki snarled, before he lunged at him, no hesitation in his movements. This time, there was no warning shot, no distance. He closed in, fists swinging, aiming to end this.

But now, Izuku fought back like a cornered animal. His movements were frantic, raw with desperation. He wasn't trying to win now—he was trying to escape. To break free. Katsuki felt the wild energy in every strike, every twist of Izuku's body as he fought to get out of his grip. It was messy, violent. Izuku's hands clawed at Katsuki's arms, nails digging into skin, his eyes wide and frantic. This almost felt like he was fighting the Izuku from after the torture, and it hurt to know that this wasn't his fault. That part had been almost innocent, pure in a world surrounded by evil.

Suddenly, Katsuki felt a sharp, searing pain in his shoulder. Izuku bit him. Hard.

"Fuck!" Katsuki grunted, the pain shooting through his body, but he didn't let go. "You think that's gonna stop me, huh?!"

Katsuki gritted his teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he shifted his weight, grappling with Izuku's flailing limbs. Izuku tries to scramble away but Katsuki yanked him back by his leg. He wrapped his legs around Izuku's waist, squeezing tight, locking Izuku's arms in place. Then, with a forceful twist, Katsuki got his arm around Izuku's neck, locking him into a chokehold. Izuku bucked, twisted, growling with frustration, but Katsuki wasn't letting go. His arms tightened like a vice, cutting off Izuku's air supply bit by bit.

"Stop it!" Katsuki hissed through clenched teeth. "Calm the hell down or I'll knock you out!"

But Izuku still wasn't done. He screamed, the sound raw and filled with frustration, trying to thrash out of Katsuki's hold, but Katsuki tightened his grip, feeling Izuku's breaths growing erratic against the strain.

Katsuki felt Izuku's pulse hammering beneath his arm, each beat echoing a primal panic he could feel even through the crushing hold. He knew Izuku was fighting back more than just him right now—he was fighting ghosts, memories of the times he'd felt caged, trapped, helpless. The Iron Maiden. The look of horror and aggressive fear he'd seen in Izuku's eyes that day flickered to the front of Katsuki's mind, reminding him just how deep that scar went.

He was putting Izuku through hell, knowing full well what it meant to him. But if letting up now meant losing him for good, Katsuki wasn't about to take that chance. And yet, he was all too aware of how this must feel to Izuku, how every fiber in him was probably screaming to escape, just like it had all those months ago.

Katsuki gritted his teeth, feeling Izuku's breathing grow more frantic now, each gasp more desperate than the last. He tightened his hold, willing Izuku to just listen, to stop fighting him, but the panic in Izuku's eyes only grew, wild and fucking terrified. Katsuki had seen that look before—the raw, cornered desperation, the kind that made people lash out without reason, without logic... because it had to him too. And now it was spilling out of Izuku, overflowing like a dam finally breaking.

"Goddamn it, calm down!"

But Izuku didn't calm down. Instead, he threw his head back and screamed, a sound so raw and desperate that it cut through the air, slicing straight into Katsuki. Izuku's voice broke in that scream, an edge of pure, unrestrained panic spilling out in a way Katsuki had never heard from him.

And then Katsuki saw it—the shadow.

It quivered in the corner of his eye, a dark, looming presence, rippling as if something was about to emerge. The Nomu. Phazewave.

Izuku was spiraling out of control, and that thing—the Nomu—was about ready to come back and finish what it had started.

"Damn it, Deku, stop fucking struggling and listen!" Katsuki barked, trying to get through to him, but it wasn't working. Izuku's wild eyes were locked on something else, fighting for his life. The tension between them grew more suffocating by the second.

"Reaper!" Katsuki growled out, his voice sharper, calling to the part of Izuku he knew—the darker side, the one that was buried beneath the surface. It was a desperate move, but he needed something to snap Izuku out of this frenzy before everything went to hell.

The moment Katsuki said it, Izuku froze. It was subtle at first, like a ripple in the air around them, but Katsuki could feel it as clear as day. It was like a switch had been flipped inside Izuku, something dark and dangerous taking over. Katsuki felt his heart settle in his stomach as he sensed it—the presence of that other side of Izuku, the one that wasn't afraid, the one that had ripped all those people the shreds.

Katsuki loosened his hold just enough for Izuku to breathe, his arm no longer squeezing so tight around his neck. His own breath was coming in rough, shallow bursts, heart hammering in his chest. But now that they were here—locked in this moment—Katsuki didn't know what the hell to do. He was holding Izuku down, but he was scared to let go, terrified of what might happen if he released him, of what might come next.

Izuku's breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in measured, controlled inhales, as if he were recalibrating, adjusting to the other personality. Slowly, through clenched teeth, he hissed, "Let me go, Kacchan."

Katsuki tensed, his grip tightening for a moment before his brain caught up with the command. There was no familiarity in his tone. Everything in Katsuki was telling him to stay in control, to not trust this shift, but the raw, frantic struggle had disappeared. Izuku wasn't thrashing anymore. There was no fight in his muscles—just stillness. Calculated stillness.

"I swear to God, if you try anything—" Katsuki's voice was low, harsh, filled with warning as he pressed his lips close to Izuku's ear. "I'll knock you the fuck out. I won't hesitate."

Izuku didn't move. His voice was calm, chillingly so, as he repeated, "Let me go."

For a second, he didn't want to let go of the one bit of control he had in this chaotic situation. But then, with a slow, reluctant exhale, he loosened his grip. His arms released the hold around Izuku's neck, and he unraveled his legs from Izuku's waist, muscles burning from the tension as he moved back.

Izuku sat up slowly, rolling his neck with an eerie calm, his movements deliberate and fluid, like the wild energy from before had never existed. He didn't look at Katsuki at first, just shifted his weight, putting a few inches of distance between them.

Katsuki shot to his feet immediately, ready for anything. He didn't trust this, didn't trust the quiet stillness that had overtaken Izuku. His palms itched, instinctively sparking with the ghost of his quirk, even though he knew the dampener was still in effect. But the tension in the air? It was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Izuku slowly lifted his gaze, his movements lethargic but purposeful. When their eyes finally met, Katsuki felt a chill run down his spine. Izuku's eyes were ice—deadly. He definitely recognized that look—this was the same thing that had spawned under the Red Lotus, back during that nightmare fight. The one where Izuku had lost himself completely and torn not just Jet Fuel, but through everything in his path like a beast unleashed. The memory of that massacre still clung to Katsuki like a shadow, the sight of blood and bodies littering the ground, the smell, Izuku charging through the center of it all, unfazed, like he wasn't even human.

But now... This wasn't the wild, uncontrollable frenzy of violence that had torn through people like nothing more than paper. No, this was more refined, more aware—like it had grown into something else. A person. Katsuki almost shivered. Izuku wasn't just slipping into a mindless rage anymore. He was staring at someone who truly had disassociated, split, and that terrifying side of him had become its own entity.

Izuku's detached eyes never left Katsuki's. He couldn't tear his gaze away, even if he wanted to—couldn't stop the way his pulse thrummed in his ears, quick and unsteady. So this was the shithead running the show.

"What do you want, Kacchan?"

Katsuki scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter, like something was crawling up the back of his throat. "What do I want?" he repeated, incredulous, his fists clenching at his sides. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at Izuku—no, not Izuku. This thing sitting in front of him. The calm was unnerving, the lack of guilt, the lack of anything resembling remorse for what he had done.

"You really don't give a damn, do you?" Katsuki muttered, more to himself than to Izuku, his voice laced with frustration. About leaving. He crouched down slowly, knees bending as he leveled himself with Izuku, keeping his distance, his sharp eyes scanning every movement, every twitch of this dangerous side.

Leaning closer, Katsuki's voice lowered, but the anger still more than present. "You're not leaving my sight again. You got that?" Izuku's expression didn't shift.

"But I don't want to deal with you," Katsuki added, his voice hard as steel. He stared directly into those icy green eyes, his own burning red irises glowing with barely contained rage.

Izuku's lips twitched, but it wasn't a smile—it was something darker, a flash of annoyance behind that cold stare. Katsuki's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, teeth clenched. "And you—whatever the hell you go by—Reaper or whatever—get the fuck out. I want to talk to the real Izuku. Not you. Bring him back."

The reaction was immediate. The shift in the atmosphere hit Katsuki like a physical blow even with the dampener. Izuku's face twisted into a snarl, his teeth bared, eyes flashing with sudden fury. The calm, controlled stillness shattered, replaced by something far more volatile.

"I am the real Izuku! I'm the one who keeps us alive." The words were spat out with venom, they were low and filled with a barely contained rage. His hands twitched at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to lash out. "You think you can talk to me like that? You think I'm some separate thing you can just get rid of?" His voice was shaking now, but not from fear—from anger. "I am Izuku. All of it. Every part. You don't get to decide what's real."

"You're full of shit," Katsuki spat, his tone biting. "I want to talk to him. The one who didn't throw everything away. The one who knew who he was."

Izuku leaned forward, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I am who I've always been. And you're too blind to see it."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Wounds That Bind

He had been here before—he'd seen this version of Izuku through the USB, through the actions of the last few months, and under the Red Lotus, he was the one who held the reins when everything else crumbled away. And when Reaper wanted control, he dominated the other parts of Izuku without hesitation. No matter how much Katsuki hated to admit it, there was no getting through to the other side of Izuku if Reaper didn't allow it.

Katsuki sucked in a sharp breath, forcing himself to swallow the urge to lash out. "Fine," he relented, unwilling to let go of his anger but knowing this was the only way.

Izuku's sharp gaze flickered at Katsuki's sudden shift in tone, his eyes raking over Katsuki like he was waiting for a trap. But Katsuki wasn't done yet.

"Uraraka," Katsuki started, eyes never leaving Izuku's, watching for any change in his expression. "She gave me the USB you left for IcyHot."

Izuku's eyes widened, just for a split second, a flash of surprise breaking through that cold mask. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a carefully neutral expression. Still, it was enough for Katsuki to know he'd hit something.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" Katsuki continued, his voice hard, but with an edge of something else—something closer to curiosity than rage. "She found it. And now I have it. I've been putting together the pieces—the pieces you left behind, the ones you were having trouble putting together."

Izuku stood suddenly, dusting himself off with a swift, almost dismissive motion, like the tension between them hadn't even touched him. He straightened, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Katsuki.

"Did you now?" Every time he spoke, every time Katsuki looked at him, it felt wrong—like he was talking to a stranger wearing Izuku's skin. And that's what it was, wasn't it?

He wanted to strangle Izuku. God, he wanted to punch him until his fists bled, until he could beat some fucking sense back into him, force him to snap out of this. To rip it out of him. But at the same time, buried deep under all that rage, was something else.

Katsuki wanted to hold him.

Even now, after everything, after the hell Izuku had put him through, Katsuki wanted nothing more than to reach out, to pull him close and cling to him like he had in the months after the coma—when Izuku was warm and alive and felt like home. He hated himself for it, for wanting something so damn desperately that he knew wasn't there anymore. Because this thing in front of him—it wasn't the Izuku he loved. It looked like him, talked like him, but it wasn't him.

His green eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something wild, like he knew exactly what was going through Katsuki's head, like he could see right through the anger and frustration. His lips twisted into a smile—but it wasn't a smile. It was a crazed grin, unsettling as fuck in its coldness, like it had been stretched too far. Almost as if he were not only enjoying what he could see but something Katsuki didn't yet understand.

"I already figured out what they're doing," Izuku said casually, but his voice had an edge to it, a dark undercurrent that made Katsuki tense. "More or less."

Katsuki felt his jaw tighten as he stared Izuku down, not entirely sure if he was bluffing or not.

"I know about Phazewave," Izuku continued, his voice soft but laced with a dangerous certainty. "I know that serum... EcksTerminus... it was used on Phazewave. Some kind of testing—experimenting with it. They're playing with fire trying to amp up the Nomu's."

Katsuki's thumbed at his split lip as he processed Izuku's words, realizing that, while Izuku was dangerously close to the truth, he didn't have the full scope yet.

He watched the madness flicker in Izuku's eyes—the sharp edge of someone who thought they had it all figured out.

But they didn't.

"That's not all I figured out."

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw the way Izuku's attention snapped back to him, the crazed grin faltering just slightly, the furrow in his brow. Reaper was listening now. Good.

"I've been combing through the files you left behind, and I've figured out more than you think," Katsuki said. "In exchange for the information, you're gonna let me join you on your little quest to hunt down the League."

Izuku snorted, the grin returning, but this time it was filled with disdain. "Join me?" He mocked. "You'll only slow me down, Kacchan. I don't need you. I'm more than enough to take them out. You've seen it—you of all people know what I'm capable of." His tone was dripping with the kind of self-assurance Katsuki recognized from the Reaper side of him.

God, it remind him of himself as an idiot teenager.

Katsuki didn't react. He just stood there, arms crossed. He was willing to bet that this part of Izuku—this overconfident, brutal side of him thought it was invincible. It would never admit it needed help. But Katsuki had a trump card, and he was about to play it.

"Oh?" Katsuki said almost casually, but with a dangerous edge to it. "So, you know about the other scientist then?"

Izuku's grin slipped.

For the first time in their conversation, there was a flash of genuine confusion in Izuku's expression. His lip twitched, the dangerous certainty wavering as he took a small, unconscious step back, as if recalculating everything he thought he knew.

"Other scientist?" Izuku repeated, his voice quieter, almost unsure.

And that's when it was Katsuki's turn to smile. A slow, deliberate grin spread across his face as he watched Izuku try to piece it together. "You've been running around with half the story, shit head. And you're not going to figure out the rest without me. Not when you're fighting amongst yourselves in here." He says tapping the side of his head.

There was no hint of amusement left in him now. "You think the League's experiments stop at Phazewave? You think EcksTerminus is the end of the line?" Katsuki scoffed, shaking his head. "There's more. A lot more. And that scientist you don't know about? He's the one holding the key to everything."

Izuku's hands twitched at his sides, Katsuki could see the battle happening behind those green eyes—the fight between Reaper and whatever remained of the other parts of Izuku.

"What scientist?" Izuku's voice was low, edged with frustration. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially by Katsuki.

And now Katsuki had him. He had him cornered, and they both knew it.

"You want answers? I'll give them to you," Katsuki said calmly but with an edge that let Izuku know he wasn't fucking around. "But we do this on my terms. You take me to wherever the hell you've been hiding out, then I'll start talking."

Izuku's eyes flashed with irritation, his lips curling into a snarl. He didn't like being told what to do he realized, especially not by Katsuki. Because Katsuki wasn't scared of him and Izuku knew that. For a moment, Katsuki thought he might refuse outright—thought Reaper would rear its ugly head and drag them into another fight. But instead, Izuku let out a low, frustrated growl, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to reign in the frustration.

"Fine," Izuku muttered, but the reluctance in his voice was palpable, like he was forcing himself to give in. "But you'd better not waste my time."

Katsuki wasn't fazed. He knew this game, had played it too many times to count. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the dampener he'd used earlier. His grip tightened around it as he pulled it out, his eyes never leaving Izuku's. For the briefest moment, he hesitated, watching the way Izuku's eyes flicked toward the exit, calculating the distance.

Katsuki's blood boiled. This motherfucker.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Katsuki snapped, stepping forward, livid at the fucking audacity. His eyes burned as he pointed the dampener at Izuku. "If you bolt, I'll burn that damn piece of shit hacker you were talking to at the club. I'll torch their contacts to the Ghouls, and then I'll hunt them down myself."

Izuku's head snapped back to him, his eyes wide with shock. The act fell and real surprise registered on his face, he'd had kept his operations secret, tight-lipped and careful. Yet somehow, Katsuki had slipped through those defenses. How?

"Yeah, that's right, asshole. I know about them. I know about everything you've been doing. You're not as invisible as you think, Deku."

"You're bluffing," Izuku muttered, but there was no conviction behind the words. He was testing the waters, looking for cracks. And shit Katsuki was bluffing now, partially.

"Try me. You've been meeting that Pixel fucker, at the club. He was stealing data from one of the sellers who had been selling to the League."

The mention of Pixel seemed to solidify the bluff, and the sharp edge of confidence in Katsuki's voice clearly had Izuku on edge. The intensity in Izuku's eyes burned hotter, but there was no denying the frustration that followed. Reaper or not, Izuku had just lost this round.

"Goddammit, Fine," Izuku growled, practically seething with anger. He finally gave in, the tension still rolling off him in waves. "But you're playing with fire, Kacchan."

Katsuki smirked, satisfied with the reaction. "I'm used to fire. Now, let's go."

The tension between them didn't break as they set off, and about twenty minutes later, Katsuki found himself following Izuku into a shrine. The faint buzz of adrenaline still hummed through his veins, his senses on high alert as they moved through the quiet area.

As they walked through the grounds, Katsuki's eyes the place, scanning their surroundings with suspicion. Izuku, without a word, headed straight for the back of the shrine, his movements sharp, precise. He didn't even bother to glance at Katsuki, as though leading him here was some sort of necessary evil.

Finally, they stopped at a manhole cover, hidden behind a thick patch of trees and debris. Izuku glanced around, making sure no one was watching before he crouched down and pulled it open. Katsuki crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"A manhole, really?" Katsuki muttered, but Izuku didn't respond. He just descended into the darkness below, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

Katsuki hesitated for a split second before following him, the old iron rungs of the ladder slick beneath his palms as he climbed down into the black void. The air down here was damp, musty, the faint scent of decay and old, forgotten places lingering in the back of his throat. He landed on his feet and looked around, squinting into the dark.

Katsuki's palms flared, casting the tunnel in a dim, crackling light. The soft pop of tiny explosions echoed around them, illuminating the rusted walls and slick concrete floor as they walked deeper into what looked like an old, abandoned subway tunnel. The light flickered, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the walls, but it was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

It didn't take long for him to realize where they were. The tunnel stretched out before them, long and winding, the air heavy with the scent of decay and rust. Katsuki's eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked into place.

"Wait... this is the old Ginza line," Katsuki muttered, more to himself than Izuku. "It's been out of service for years."

Izuku didn't respond. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the abandoned tunnel. Katsuki followed closely, his eyes flicking back and forth, the crackling light from his quirk illuminating the way.

They'd walked for a good distance when Katsuki suddenly heard the unmistakable chittering sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His palms flared instinctively, small explosions crackling at his fingertips, lighting the tunnel with a faint glow.

Standing just ahead of Izuku, bathed in the flickering light from Katsuki's palms, was the Nomu. Its massive form stood still, its glowing red eyes zeroed in on Katsuki, glaring with unbridled malice. Katsuki could feel as the warmth leeched from his body. It didn't move, didn't growl—it just stared, like it was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

But before Katsuki could act, Izuku stood taller, trying to seem intimidating as he ever so slightly to a defensive posture.

"Go away."

Katsuki blinked, taken aback by the harsh, defensive tone in Izuku's voice. He glanced at him, noting the sudden aggressive stance. The Nomu's head tilted slightly, the chittering growing softer, but its eyes stayed locked on Katsuki, as if waiting for an excuse to rip him apart. Izuku stepped forward, putting himself between Katsuki and the Nomu, his back to Katsuki as he faced down the creature. "I said go away," Izuku repeated, his tone sharper, more forceful.

For the second time that day, the Nomu let out a low growl, but it obeyed. It turned slowly, its heavy footsteps echoing in the silence as it slinked back into the shadows, disappearing down a side tunnel. Seriously, what the fuck?

"The hell was that?" Katsuki's voice came out harsher than he meant, but he didn't care. His heart was still hammering in his chest from the sight of that thing. His mind was buzzing, instincts flaring hot like they always did when he was around a threat that damn big. "Isn't that freak supposed to be the League's weapon? Why the hell does it act like it's protecting you?"

Izuku didn't stop walking, just kept moving forward, leading him deeper into the abandoned subway tunnel like he didn't just casually command a goddamn Nomu to back down.

Katsuki's scowl deepened as he followed, his boots echoing against the slick concrete floor, each step punctuated by the low crackle of the explosions still sparking in his palms.

"It is," Izuku said flatly, completely devoid of any emotion. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Katsuki's furious gaze with the same cold, calculating expression he'd had since they reunited. "That's exactly what it's doing."

Katsuki stared at him, disbelief and anger mixing in his chest. It is? What kind of bullshit—

"What?" Katsuki spat. "You telling me that thing's just decided to switch sides now, or some shit? That's not how those damn monsters work! They're made to kill us! You not remember the goddamn New Years Festival?" His voice was harsh, the words carrying the weight of everything he'd seen those things do—rip apart heroes, destroy entire city blocks, and nearly kill him too many goddamn times to count. And now  out of all the fucking Nomu, this one was... what, guarding Izuku? No way. No fucking way.

Izuku didn't respond immediately, just turned left into a smaller maintenance tunnel, the walls narrowing, the air growing heavier with the smell of rust and stagnant water. Katsuki growled in frustration, there was no universe where that thing just stopped being a threat, where it just... swapped sides to protected someone.

"The fight," Izuku finally said, voice quieter now, almost distant. "Back in Hakone, after Vortex..." His voice trailed off, and for a second, something flickered across his face—something sharp and dark, a memory that clearly cut deep. "After I killed him—"

Katsuki's thoughts screeched to a halt. Wait, wait, wait, hold the fuck on... did he just say killed Vortex? Izuku—Reaper—fuck, whoever, had managed to take him out? He barely had time to process that when Izuku's pace slowed, his steps halting suddenly. Katsuki, mid-step, was about to snap back, ask how the hell Izuku managed to kill one of the most dangerous members of the League, when Izuku stopped moving entirely.

Katsuki stopped just short of him. Izuku's head lowered slightly, and his shoulders hunched forward, his whole body giving off a weird, almost shaky vibe like he was struggling with something. His hand came up to his face, fingers trembling as they pressed against his temple. What was happening?

Izuku shook his head, almost violently, like he was trying to shake off a fog. His eyes darted around for a second, taking in the surroundings like he didn't recognize where he was. His breathing hitched, and then, slowly, he turned. When his eyes locked on Katsuki, something was different—subtle, but there.

Katsuki tensed slightly. Izuku's gaze wasn't cold and calculating anymore; it wasn't the Reaper staring at him. This was someone else. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a faint glimmer of the person Katsuki once knew, buried under all that darkness. For the first time since they'd run into each other, Izuku looked... out of place.

"He... he let you come here?" Izuku's voice was hoarse, softer than before, almost as if he was talking to himself. His hand twitched at his side, clenching and unclenching as though he was trying to ground himself. He looked around, like he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten here.

Katsuki stared at him, his brain working to catch up with the sudden shift. What the hell? Izuku seemed... completely different now, like he'd just been dropped back into his own body. Katsuki's eyes widened as it clicked. Reaper was gone. The thing that had been pulling the strings this whole time had stepped back, and the real Deku—Izuku—was standing in front of him.

It took a moment for the realization to fully sink in, but when it did, something like relief and caution hit Katsuki all at once.

"Deku?" Katsuki's voice was a low growl, but it wasn't filled with the same venom. It was more of a test, like he wasn't quite sure who he was talking to. He took a step forward, hands still crackling but less aggressive now, his red eyes locked onto Izuku's.

Izuku didn't respond right away, just blinked, his green eyes clouded with something—fatigue, pain, maybe.

Katsuki took another cautious step forward, the flickering light from his quirk casting long shadows across the tunnel walls. His breath was steady, but his heart pounded in his chest, the emotions crashing into him all at once. Rage. Confusion. And something rawer, something deeper he couldn't quite keep from surfacing.

He reached out, his hand trembling only slightly as his fingers brushed against Izuku's chin, firm but gentle, tilting his face up so that their eyes could meet. Katsuki could feel Izuku flinch at the touch, could see the way his body tensed up as if bracing for something, but Katsuki didn't let go. His grip was steady, anchoring.

"Deku," Katsuki's voice softened, the usual sharp edge gone, replaced by something quieter, almost pleading. "Is it you?"

Izuku blinked rapidly, his green eyes still foggy, disoriented. He didn't answer at first, his gaze darting around the tunnel like he was trying to remember where he was, like he was lost inside his own mind. Katsuki's grip tightened slightly, forcing Izuku to focus.

"Izuku," Katsuki said again, the words almost too quiet to hear. The name felt strange on his tongue after all the time spent calling him by anything else. But it was deliberate. He needed to know if it was really him—the real him.

Izuku's lips parted slightly, a shaky breath escaping. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, as if he were coming down from some overwhelming high, but after a beat, he slowly nodded. It was a barely-there movement, a faint, uncertain gesture, but it was enough for Katsuki to see.

This was when Katsuki realized who this was. The nervousness, the shyness... could it really be him?

"Why would he... let you come down here?" His words were almost frantic, muttered under his breath like he was trying to understand something that didn't quite make sense to him. "He never lets anyone—" Izuku's disjointed thoughts were spilling out, but Katsuki wasn't listening anymore—not to that.

The part of him that wanted to shout, to shake Izuku until he snapped back to himself, was losing the fight against something rawer, something he couldn't suppress any longer. The feelings he'd been trying to bury.

How long had it been, how long had it been since he thanked Katsuki for loving him? For thinking that they were never going to see each other again? How long had it been since he looked into those emerald eyes and seen the person who'd forgotten himselves only to find their path in Katsuki.

Katsuki closed the distance between them in one swift motion, his hand still holding onto Izuku's face as he pressed him back against the cold, damp wall of the tunnel. The motion was sharp, but not violent. Izuku's back hit the wall with a soft thud.

Izuku stilled. The frantic, muttering thoughts that had been spilling from his lips moments ago quieted, his eyes flicking up to Katsuki. He didn't resist. Katsuki's body hovered over his, their faces inches apart, the sudden proximity had a flood of warmth pooling inside him.

How long had it been since he'd seen the person who fell in love with every broken piece of him?

The crackle of Katsuki's quirk, still faint in his palms, flickered out for a moment, replaced by something softer. He raised his hand, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw out a series of tiny, glowing sparks—Starlight Detonation. Small, delicate, floating sparks of light that looked like distant stars filled the space around them, casting a soft, warm glow in the darkness of the tunnel. The light illuminated Izuku's face, casting soft shadows that made the raw emotion in his expression even more striking.

Katsuki's other hand slid behind Izuku's neck, the grip firm but gentle, grounding him, anchoring them both in the moment. His fingers brushed against the soft white hair at the nape of Izuku's neck, the touch intimate. He could feel the warmth of Izuku's skin beneath his palm, could feel the tension in his muscles as if Izuku didn't know whether to pull away or lean into him.

Izuku's eyes were darting between the floating sparks and Katsuki's face not sure what was happening. He didn't speak, didn't move.

And out of all the things Katsuki could have said in that moment, with all the shit they had been through, everything they needed to talk about, what spilled out of his mouth instead was:

"What happened to your freckles, nerd?"

The words hung there, soft and almost stupid, but Katsuki couldn't stop them. His thumb brushed over the angry skin of Izuku's cheek, where the familiar spray of freckles used to be. The sight of Izuku without them—it felt wrong. The new additions of scars felt so fucking wrong.

Izuku's lips wobbled, a tremor passing through him. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and his eyes—those damn glassy emerald eyes—began to fill with unshed tears. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Just the faintest, broken exhale, the kind that made Katsuki's heart clench in his chest. Before Katsuki could stop himself, he pulled Izuku into a hug. It wasn't planned, wasn't something Katsuki had thought through, but his body moved on its own, closing the space between them in an instant.

Izuku stiffened at first, as if the warmth and contact were something foreign to him now. But after a moment, the tension in his body melted away, and he leaned into Katsuki, trembling as he clung to him. Katsuki felt Izuku's hands slowly come up, wrapping around him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as though he was afraid Katsuki might disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough.

The first quiet sob escaping his lips like a broken gasp. Then another. And another. Until the dam broke, and Izuku was crying, his face buried against Katsuki's chest. His whole body shook with the weight of it, as though the pain and fear he'd been carrying for so long were breaking free all at once. He cried into Katsuki, his tears soaking into Katsuki's shirt, the sound of his muffled sobs filling the dark tunnel.

Katsuki could feel the pressure in his own chest tightening, the overwhelming flood of emotions hitting him like a wave. The ache in his throat, the heaviness behind his eyes—it was all there, threatening to break him down too. But he held it back. For now. Because Izuku needed him more than he needed to let his own tears fall.

Katsuki buried his face against the top of Izuku's head, his nose brushing through the soft strands of white hair. The faint smell of rain and peppermint—the scent that had always clung to Izuku, that he had known all too fucking well—was still there, even after all this time. It was a small, familiar comfort in the middle of everything that had gone wrong. Goddammit what happened to them?

"Why?" Katsuki's voice was low, rough, but filled with raw emotion. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep his voice steady, but he couldn't hide the edge of desperation. His grip tightened, pulling Izuku even closer as if that would force the truth out of him. "Why the hell did you let me think you were dead?"

Izuku's sobs quieted slightly at the question, but he didn't answer right away. Katsuki's chest heaved with the weight of everything he'd been holding back, the flood of grief and rage swirling inside him.

"You have any idea what that did to me?" Katsuki's voice wavered, and for the first time, he couldn't stop the tremor in his words. "I nearly ripped myself apart from the pain. From losing you."

Izuku's grip on Katsuki's shirt tightened, his fingers twisting into the fabric as if he were trying to anchor himself, but he didn't lift his head. He didn't look at Katsuki. He just cried harder, the weight of Katsuki's words clearly breaking him down further.

"Answer me!" Katsuki demanded, his voice louder now, cracking under the pressure of everything he was feeling. "Why did you do that? Why did you make me think you were gone?!"

Izuku hiccupped, his body still trembling as he tried to speak between the sobs, the words catching in his throat like they were too much to say aloud. "D-during the fight... in Hakone..." Izuku's voice cracked, barely more than a whisper as he forced himself to speak through the broken sobs. "We came across... a lab."

There was silence for a moment like he was trying to gather his already scattered thoughts.

"We were in the middle of... trying to steal what we could," he choked on the words, pressing his face deeper into Katsuki's chest as if trying to hide from the memory. "He thought it was going to be the usual in and out that we had been doing. Infiltrate, steal data, destroy the lab."

"He?"

"Reaper."

Katsuki stayed quiet for a moment, his hands still resting on Izuku's back and neck, holding him in place, keeping him grounded. He could feel the tension radiating from Izuku as he spoke, the weight of what he was saying pressing down on both of them.

"We didn't know..." Izuku's voice wavered, his fingers gripping Katsuki's shirt even tighter. "We didn't know they were already experimenting on Nomu. We didn't know... Phazewave was down there."

Katsuki felt his skin prickle at the mention of Phazewave. Memories of the lab in Toei bleed into Katsuki's thoughts, how he and Shoto had watched in horror before the camera's went out, before the ring died in Katsuki's palms.

"Vortex..." Izuku hiccupped again, the sound broken, like he could barely get the words out before he said the name again with so much hatred. "Vortex... the part of me that Odd Eye brought back wasn't thinking straight," Izuku choked, his voice strained, trembling with barely contained fury as he continued. His body was still shaking against Katsuki's chest, but now it wasn't just from the pain—it was from the hatred burning beneath the surface. "The moment he saw Vortex... everything went blank. Chaos. I couldn't think. Couldn't focus. All I could see—" Izuku's voice cracked, heavy with a rawness Katsuki hadn't heard before. "—all Reaper could see was him."

Katsuki stayed silent, heart thudding as he listened to Izuku unravel the truth, piece by piece.

"All they could think about was what he did. What he did to Kirishima. What he did to you in the park—" Izuku's voice broke again, barely holding together. "I remember it, Kacchan. They remember it. Every second. Every moment when I thought I was going to lose you. I remember the sound of your screams, after Odd Eye put his hands on you, how Vortex tried to drain you..."

...What was he talking about?

Izuku's fingers dug into Katsuki's shirt, shaking. "When the part of me from your past saw Vortex, Reaper lost it. He wasn't thinking anymore—and neither I or the other part couldn't... It was like everything we'd kept buried broke loose, and all I could see was red. The part from the past, and more so Reaper wanted to tear him apart. They wanted to make him feel what he made you feel."

Izuku's words were filled with pure, unrestrained hatred, a venom that Katsuki hadn't heard from him in since the day All Might died.

"He attacked him. Reaper didn't care about the lab, didn't care about anything else. He just wanted him dead." Izuku let out a choked sob, his body trembling as he relived the memory. "We destroyed everything. The lab—it was collapsing around us, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except killing him. He—he knew that we were coming for him. Vortex wanted it. He was toying with us, like it was all some sick game. And then..." Izuku's voice grew darker, a cold fury creeping in. "He unleashed Phazewave."

Flashes of how it pushed Izuku into a corner swept in, the look on his face when he realized he couldn't beat that thing out of sheer determination.

"He didn't fight Reaper directly," Izuku spat, his voice trembling with hatred. "He let that thing do it. Like we weren't even worth his time. Like he could just stand there and watch while Phazewave ripped Izuku Midoriya apart. He tried, Kacchan," Izuku whispered, his voice breaking again. "He tried to fight back, but we wasn't strong enough. He managed to use the second user's quirk..."

Izuku shifted in Katsuki's arms wincing.

"He used Gearshift," he rasped, "twice. You have no idea what that quirk does to you... how it feels like your body's been dragged through hell. It's like running ten miles at full speed without stopping... and we had to use it twice. Each time, my muscles screamed in pain, like they were tearing themselves apart from the inside. I could barely breathe as they kept fighting. My chest... it felt like it was caving in."

Katsuki's grip tightened on Izuku as he spoke, feeling the exhaustion in his voice, the toll Gearshift had taken on him. He could practically feel the aftereffects through Izuku's words—the way the quirk had drained him, left him gasping for breath, weak, on the brink of collapse.

"Reaper managed to damage Phazewave, finally..." Izuku's voice broke, his body trembling harder against Katsuki's. "But it wasn't enough. We were bleeding everywhere, barely able to stand, and I knew... I knew if he didn't get out of there, we was going to die. So some how I pushed to the surface past both of them, shoving them down as I ran. I ran like hell, with my whole body screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't..."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to pull away as if he was peeling himself away from something fragile. Katsuki blinked, caught off guard, his hand hovering for a moment as he watched Izuku take a few steps back into the dim light of the tunnel.

"What are you—?" Katsuki started, but Izuku cut him off with a shake of his head, his eyes distant, haunted. He continued walking, and Katsuki, confused but unwilling to leave him alone for even a second, followed.

"I was bleeding out by the time I made it to the hideout," Izuku muttered. He stopped, his back turned to Katsuki, hands trembling slightly as he reached for the collar of his coat. "I didn't even know if I'd make it. I could barely see straight. Phazewave had ripped into me... claw marks so deep I thought it had hit my arteries."

Izuku's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his coat, his breath shallow and uneven. Izuku shrugged off the coat, and it fell heavily to the ground. Katsuki paled at the sight. Bandages—haphazardly wrapped and bloodstained—covered Izuku's torso, wrapping around his chest and waist. The once-white fabric was soaked through with deep crimson in multiple places, stark against Izuku's pale skin. The jagged wounds he could see between the bandages stretched across his back and side, barely held together by the messy. The claw marks—the ones from Phazewave—looked brutal, deep gashes that seemed like they should've killed him on the spot.

Izuku slowly turned to face him, revealing more of the damage. His chest, too, was wrapped in bandages, the signs of recent struggle clear. Katsuki's eyes widened as he realized the fight they'd had earlier—the intensity of it—had probably ripped open those wounds again.

"Jesus Christ..." Katsuki muttered under his breath, his heart racing as he took in the sight before him. "You're still bleeding."

"I was trying to stitch myself up," Izuku continued, his voice steady but flat, as if he were merely recounting facts, "but by the time I was almost done... I passed out. I didn't even know if I'd wake up again." He laughed bitterly, a sound that sent a shiver down Katsuki's spine. "I didn't know how long I was out, but when one of us  finally woke up, Phazewave was standing over me."

Katsuki's stomach churned at the thought. Katsuki couldn't even begin to imagine it—the horror of waking up barely able to breathe, bleeding out, and seeing that thing standing over you. He's been through hell, yeah, but nothing like that. What the hell had kept that Nomu from finishing him off?

"I thought I was going to die, but it didn't attack me. It just... hovered around me, like it was protecting me, guarding me." Izuku's voice faltered, his hands shaking as he touched the edge of one of the blood-soaked bandages. "I don't know why, Kacchan. I don't know why it didn't kill me."

Katsuki was about to open his mouth, some half-formed thought about dominance clawing its way out—because maybe that's what it was, right? Izuku had fought Phazewave and, somehow, in that fight for his life, maybe he'd... asserted dominance. It sounded stupid, but what else could explain the Nomu hanging around like some freakish guard dog? None of it made any sense. And he hated that, hated not having an answer. He hated even more that Izuku was standing here, bleeding out, barely stitched together, while trying to piece together the same nightmare.

But just as Katsuki started to speak, something caught his eye. A soft glow—pulsing, faint but unmistakable—cut through the dim light of the tunnel. The words died in his throat, eyes locked onto Izuku's chest, just above the jagged, bloody mess of bandages, where the transplant scar started.

Around Izuku's neck was a thin, silver chain. And hanging from it—

Katsuki's heart stuttered in his chest and the glow echoed the movement. There, resting against the pale skin of Izuku's collarbone, was a ring. His ring. The one that echoed the rhythm of Katsuki's own heartbeat.

After everything, through all the blood and pain, the trauma and DID, Izuku had kept it. He'd held onto it, just as Katsuki had been holding onto his. The weight of that realization hit him so fucking hard.

All this time... even when Katsuki thought he'd lost Izuku, when he was torn apart by grief and rage, Izuku had never let him go. He'd kept Katsuki close. Maybe closer than Katsuki had even kept him.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Threading Shadows

Katsuki had learned two things real quick.

First, Reaper definitely held the reins, no fucking question about it. It wasn't just a theory anymore—it was fact. The shift had been immediate, like a damn light switch flipping back the second they'd crossed into Izuku's hideout. Katsuki had seen it in Izuku's eyes—the way the confusion, the fear, and the grief had drained from his face, replaced by the familiar, eerie calm. It was infuriating, but more than that, it was terrifying. It was almost like Reaper had allowed that one moment—a tiny sliver of time for Izuku to come up for air—just long enough for Katsuki to see him again, to hold him, to hear the broken part of him buried underneath all that goddamn mess.

Then, just as fast as he'd shown up, Izuku had slipped away again. And Reaper? That bastard had taken over without so much as a fight. Like he'd just been sitting there, waiting for the perfect moment to wrench control back. Izuku barely stood a chance.

Katsuki could see it in the way Izuku's posture shifted, shoulders squaring, head tilting slightly, like some predator assessing its prey. The softness, the hesitation, was gone. What was left was cold calculation, Reaper's ever-present smugness seeping back into every movement. And Katsuki fucking hated it.

But that was the thing that gnawed at Katsuki, the part that didn't sit right, no matter how many times he turned it over in his head. Why the hell had Reaper allowed it? He didn't like Katsuki, that much was clear. Hell, every look that side of Izuku shot his way was filled with cold detachment, if not outright disdain. Reaper had no reason to give him that, no reason to let Izuku surface for those few precious moments. It wasn't just a slip—it had been intentional.

Why?

Why the fuck would Reaper—this icy, unfeeling bastard who seemed dead set on keeping Izuku locked away—let that happen?

Honestly, Katsuki had no fucking clue.

The hideout was a mess, like everything else in Izuku's life right now. It looked like some makeshift command center buried deep in one of the old, forgotten maintenance tunnels. The air was damp and heavy with the scent of rust and stale water, the walls slick with age. The whole place felt suffocating, claustrophobic in a way that made Katsuki's skin itch. With having been kept in a cell and tortured for months, Katsuki didn't know how Izuku wasn't freaking the hell out in a space like this.

In one corner, crammed against the far wall, was a small, ratty bed. The mattress sagged in the middle, the sheets rumpled and barely hanging on. There were no personal touches, nothing that screamed Izuku about it—just a place to crash when the weight of the world got too heavy, or when Reaper decided to shut down for the night.

A desk sat at the opposite end of the room, cluttered with stacks of files, documents, and what looked like spy tech. Some of the gadgets were half-taken apart, wires and circuits exposed like they'd been tinkered with or modified recently. There were surveillance cameras, mini drones, tiny tracking devices—stuff Katsuki had seen used on covert ops but never in the hands of one person.

Then there was the laptop. A Dell Rugged sat open on the desk, the dim glow from the screen casting eerie shadows across the room. The screen showing lines of encrypted code and what looked like surveillance feeds from different locations—places Katsuki didn't recognize but would bet his damn life were connected to the League.

Katsuki's eyes flicked to the side as he caught movement from the corner of his vision. His body tensed instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with that familiar instinct of danger. Slowly, he turned his head just enough to see it lurking in the shadows.

It fizzed into view, like it had peeled itself straight out of the darkness. Its grotesque form shimmered into existence, muscles twitching unnaturally as it came to a stop in the far corner of the room. The thing didn't make a sound, didn't even growl—it just stood there, its glowing red eyes fixed on Katsuki. Staring. Watching. Like it had been the entire goddamn time.

Katsuki's lip curled, the faint crackle of explosions flickering to life in his palms. He had to fight the urge to blow that ugly bastard to hell right then and there. But he didn't. Because, despite everything screaming at him to blast it, he'd learned his second goddamn lesson real quick.

That Nomu wasn't just lurking around for shits and giggles. No, it was definitely protecting Izuku.

It didn't move much, didn't make a sound, but fuck if it wasn't keeping its eyes locked on him the entire time. For the most part, it just stood there, like some freakish gargoyle, parked in the corner of the room, never taking its eyes off him—never blinking, never shifting its gaze, just watching, like it was just waiting for Katsuki to make one wrong move. Not like it would be hard, anyway—everything about him screamed danger to that thing, and Katsuki was pretty damn sure it wanted to rip him apart. Every fiber of Katsuki's being screamed that Phazewave was a threat, that it should've charged him by now, ready to tear him apart limb by limb. But it didn't.

Katsuki had seen Nomu in action more times than he could count. Nomus weren't supposed to act like this. They were mindless, brutal, controlled things—their only purpose being to destroy. That's how it worked. That's what Katsuki had been taught, what he'd experienced firsthand when they'd torn through cities and people like they were made of fucking tissue paper.

Katsuki's mind churned, his thoughts a jagged mess as he kept one eye on the Nomu and the other on Izuku. There was no fucking way this thing wasn't a threat. Maybe Izuku—no, Reaper—shit, whoever, asserted his dominance over it. Hell, maybe the fight in Hakone had been more than just a battle for survival. Maybe it had been a battle for control. And now that Phazewave was self-aware enough to make its own decisions, maybe it had decided the League wasn't worth its time. The Nomu's cold, calculating gaze told Katsuki all he needed to know: this thing wasn't mindless anymore. It was watching. Shit, that's terrifying, Katsuki thought. It was aware enough to choose, to hold back, to think.

He dragged his eyes away from Phazewave, focusing instead on Izuku—who was now pulling himself away from the cluttered desk. Izuku had been going through the USB Katsuki had handed over—reluctantly, of course. The idea of trusting Reaper with any information left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn't have much choice. Not if he was going to help take down the League.

Izuku stood, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his face as he moved toward the far corner of the room. Without a word, he crouched by the bed, pulling out a duffle bag from underneath. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, his arms still crossed as he sat in a chair nearby. Izuku didn't say a damn thing to him. He was too busy digging through the bag, pulling out a small pill vial. His hands were shaking, Katsuki noticed. Barely noticeable at first, but there. Izuku popped a few pills, his breath coming out short and sharp. He looks like he's in pain, Katsuki realized, his eyes following Izuku's movements closely.

Katsuki sat up straighter in his chair, his jaw clenched as Izuku started to peel the bandages away. The stark white fabric had been stained with blood, dirt, and sweat—signs of a man who had been running on fumes for far too long. Izuku's movements were slow and methodical as he continued to unwrap the bandages around his torso, each strip of bloodstained fabric falling away like layers of armor he no longer needed. His breath hitched every now and then, barely perceptible, but again, Katsuki noticed. Every slight tremor, every faint wince that crossed Izuku's face didn't escape him.

As the last of the bandages came undone, Izuku paused. Just for a second.

His hands froze mid-motion, the strips of cloth dangling loosely from his fingers. He knew. He knew Katsuki was watching him. it was almost like a part of him wanted to hide, to cover up the damage, to protect himself from being seen. To pretend like it didn't hurt as much as it did.

But the other part? It didn't want to show an ounce of weakness.

That part squared his shoulders.

Katsuki's heart pounded against his ribs, his breath slowing as the last of the bandages came off, revealing what was underneath. At first, it looked like the aftermath of the fight they'd had earlier—bruises, cuts, scrapes—but then he saw them.

The claw marks.

They raked across Izuku's back and side, jagged, angry, and so fucking deep. Katsuki had known it was bad, but not this bad. The wounds looked fresh, like they hadn't even begun to heal properly, barely held together by messy, uneven stitches that seemed ready to pop at any second. Blood seeped through the broken seams, dark and viscous, staining Izuku's pale skin.

For once, Katsuki didn't say a word. No sarcastic remark, no angry outburst. He just... stared. He couldn't help it. The damage was so much worse than he'd thought, so much more than what Izuku had let on.

How the hell is he even standing?

Izuku tore at the last bit of gauze wrapped tight around his chest, the fabric clinging stubbornly to the blood-soaked wounds. He tugged harder, his fingers trembling as he pulled it free, the final strip falling to the floor with a soft, wet thud. Katsuki's eyes tracked every movement, heart pounding like a drum in his ears. It was like watching someone trying to hold themselves together with nothing but sheer force of will.

But Izuku wasn't holding it together. He was coming apart at the seams, and Katsuki could see every crack in the armor. Izuku reached into the duffle bag grabbing clean materials when a roll of gauze rolled off the bed onto the floor.

Katsuki pushed himself out of the chair, moving towards him before his brain even caught up. "You should probably sit down," Katsuki muttered, voice low but edged with concern. "You're still leaking everywhere."

Izuku didn't even look at him, just kept fumbling with the gauze, hands shaking as he tried to gather it all up. One hand gripped his side like he could somehow hold the pain in, but it was clear to anyone with half a brain that he was struggling. Katsuki bent down, picking up the roll of gauze from the floor, his fingers brushing the bloodstained strips of fabric as he straightened back up.

That's when Izuku tensed, his whole body going rigid like Katsuki had pressed a button that triggered some kind of invisible alarm.

"I don't need your help," Izuku spat, the words venomous and sharp, cutting through the thick air between them. He shot Katsuki a glare, eyes dark and guarded, like Katsuki's presence was the last thing he wanted. His voice was low and bitter, like the idea of accepting any help from Katsuki was some kind of betrayal.

Katsuki froze for a second, staring at him in disbelief. The fucking audacity. Standing there, barely held together, leaking blood all over the floor, and he had the balls to act like he was too tough to accept help. To have the damn nerve to act like he didn't need help when he was two steps away from collapsing?

"You're shitting me," Katsuki growled, pushing himself up to his full height, gauze in hand. He leveled Izuku with a hard look, the kind that should've been enough to shut him up. "I'm a certified EMT. I could patch you up, no problem."

Izuku's eyes darkened, his mouth twisting into a bitter sneer. "I don't need you to fix me, Kacchan," he bit back, defensive and angry, like the suggestion that he needed help was some kind of insult. "I can do it myself."

Katsuki's blood boiled. Of course, Reaper took it that way. Of course, he thought Katsuki was implying he was too weak to handle his own shit. Because that's what he does, Katsuki thought, gritting his teeth. He didn't see this for what it was—Katsuki trying to keep him from bleeding out, not trying to baby him. He was being stubborn as hell. Like always.

This—this goddamn attitude? Katsuki knew it all too well.

Hell, it was him. It was like staring into a mirror of his teenage self, and fuck, was it frustrating.

Katsuki stepped forward, his voice rising with frustration. "Did you forget who nursed your ass back to health after the coma?!" he snapped, eyes blazing with fury and something else—something deeper, buried under the rage. "Or did you block that out along with everything else, Reaper?"

Izuku stared him down for a long, painful moment like he was trying to read him, the tension stretching out like a rubber band ready to snap. Katsuki half-expected him to throw another verbal punch, to keep fighting him tooth and nail. He could see it in the way Izuku's lips tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was gearing up to argue, to push Katsuki away again.

But Izuku exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging, and just when Katsuki thought he was going to keep fighting, Izuku relented.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice low, the fight draining out of him. His gaze flicked away, the hard edge softening just enough for Katsuki to see the exhaustion underneath it all. He sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as his wounds pulled at the movement.

Katsuki knelt in front of Izuku, his gaze sweeping over the torn skin and ragged edges of the wounds that snaked across his side and back. Up close, it was worse than he'd thought. The claw marks from Phazewave's attack were still gaping, some of them barely holding together, the messy stitches already pulling apart. If Katsuki didn't act fast, these wounds weren't going to heal anytime soon. They needed to be restitched, and soon, or Izuku was going to risk infection—or worse.

With a muttered curse, Katsuki yanked the duffle bag towards him, digging through its contents. He pulled out the roll of cling gauze and a few non-stick pads—standard first-aid shit, but it wasn't enough. Not for something like this. He grimaced. There was no proper antiseptic, no sutures, nothing that could actually fix what Izuku needed fixing.

Katsuki sat back on his heels, chewing the inside of his cheek as he mulled over his options. He needed proper supplies. Hell, he was debating if he should risk leaving, just for a few minutes, to go hunt down a pharmacy or—shit, even a hospital supply closet—to get the right materials. He'd be quick, in and out, but leaving Izuku alone... Shit.

He was still debating with himself when the room suddenly shifted.

A shadow loomed behind him, stretching across the floor like something out of a nightmare. Katsuki's body went rigid. He didn't need to look to know who—or what—it was. Phazewave's familiar chittering filled the air, that distorted noise making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Before Katsuki could react, something heavy dropped onto the bed beside him. He turned, eyes narrowing as he stared down at what the Nomu had placed there. His brows furrowed in confusion.

A surgery pack.

Not just any surgery pack, either. It looked like something you'd find at a goddamn vet's office—complete with a sealed pouch of one ought sutures and gauze. Katsuki blinked, staring at the pack for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Where the fuck did Phazewave even get this? It even grabbed the pack with the sterile indicators. The questions popped into his head before he immediately pushed it aside. Nope. Not gonna think about it.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Nomu, it only glared at him, unblinking. The thing stood still, watching, like it was waiting for him to get on with it.

Katsuki didn't waste any more time. He grabbed the surgery pack, unsealing it with quick, practiced motions. The sterile contents were basic, but they'd do. His fingers brushed over the needle driver, the forceps, and the fresh sutures, his stomach tightening. It had been a long time since he'd handled anything like this. But there was no choice. Izuku was sitting there, half torn open, and no one else was going to fix him.

"Hold still, nerd," Katsuki muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind as he positioned himself beside Izuku. Izuku barely acknowledged him, his eyes unfocused, body sagging with what looked like exhaustion. He grabbed a small pair of scissors from the vet's kit and carefully cut away the ragged stitches holding Izuku's wounds together. They were barely doing their job at this point, hanging by a thread—literally.

Two hours. It took nearly two full hours to restitch the wounds. Katsuki's hands worked on autopilot, the prick of the needle through Izuku's torn skin, the soft, steady pull of the thread as it looped in and out—it all came back to him. Izuku hadn't say a word the entire time. He had just sat there, breathing shallowly, wincing every now and then, but otherwise staying quiet. Katsuki knew that this had to hurt like hell. Knew how much effort it took to stay that silent, that composed, when your body was screaming in pain.

When the last of the sutures were finally in place, Katsuki set the needle driver down and let out a long breath. His muscles were aching, shoulders tight from being hunched over for so long, but it was done. He picked up the non-stick pads, pressing them gently over the freshly stitched wounds, and secured them in place.

"Hold still," Katsuki said. He grabbed the cling gauze, unrolling it as he wrapped it carefully around Izuku's torso, starting at his ribs and working his way down to cover the bandages. The fabric was snug but not tight enough to restrict his breathing. The last thing Izuku needed was more discomfort piled onto everything else.

Katsuki's fingers worked quickly, securing the gauze in place with a final knot before he sat back, taking a moment to assess his work. It wasn't perfect—hell, it was far from the neat, precise work of a real doctor—but it would hold.

As soon as Katsuki finished, tying off the last bit of gauze, Izuku jerked back, pulling himself away with a sharp, almost reflexive motion. Katsuki felt a surge of irritation spike through him as Izuku practically tore himself from his grasp. Katsuki bit back a sarcastic "Jesus, you're fucking welcome," watching as Izuku turned to dig through the duffle bag with that same focused intensity.

Izuku's fingers brushed over a dark shirt, and he pulled it out, straightening it before slipping it over his head with a wince. Without looking at Katsuki, he muttered, "Now that you know where I'm staying, you can go home. Come back tomorrow." He paused, his gaze briefly meeting Katsuki's, waiting for him to leave. "I'm tired."

Katsuki's brows shot up, and he scoffed. "Tough shit. I'm not going anywhere. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, and I'm not letting you out of my sight."

He'd made up his mind the second he walked in here—he wasn't leaving. Not tonight, not until he was damn sure Izuku wouldn't bolt the second he turned his back.

Izuku's head snapped up, his expression hardening as irritation flashed across his face. He clenched his jaw, his voice sharp and low. "I'm not sleeping with you here, Kacchan. I don't need you babysitting me." He paused for a second before sensing why Katsuki was being like this. "I'm not going to make a run for it."

Yeah, sure.

Katsuki was afraid that if he left, if he gave Izuku even one inch, the guy would take it as an invitation to disappear. He'd vanish back into whatever other dark corner he'd been hiding in, where Katsuki wouldn't be able to find him again.

Katsuki snorted, not buying it for a second. "Yeah, right. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you'll ghost out of here faster than I can blink. You're not exactly known for sticking around these days."

"Goddammit I'm not running you walking tantrum. I just... I just want to sleep."

Katsuki sneered at the jab, the words hitting him like a slap he didn't see coming. Walking tantrum, huh? He clenched his jaw, forcing down the irritated retort bubbling up in his chest. Instead, he let out a sharp breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fine. I'll just sit in the chair, Reaper. Don't need to sleep." It was a bold-faced lie, and he knew it. He was running on fumes, barely holding himself together after everything, but he wasn't about to admit that to Izuku. If he had to stay up all night to make sure this idiot didn't make a run for it, then so be it. He wasn't going anywhere.

Izuku glared at him, frustration simmering. "You're impossible," he muttered, but he didn't argue further. With an irritated growl, he reached over to the switch by the bed and flicked it off, casting the room into shadows. The only light now came from the soft, eerie glow of the computer screen, illuminating the room in faint blues and greens.

Katsuki watched as Izuku climbed into bed, his movements slow and weary, each step betraying how tired he truly was. Izuku lay back, exhaling in quiet frustration as he tried to get comfortable. He pulled the thin, ratty blanket over himself, turning his back to Katsuki like he was blocking him out.

Katsuki smirked, unable to resist getting in one last word.

"Goodnight, shithead."

For the next few minutes he kept his eyes on Izuku, watching as his breathing slowed, the exhaustion finally settling over him like a heavy weight. Katsuki was just starting to settle into the uncomfortable chair, preparing himself for a long, sleepless night, when he caught a shift in the shadows.

His heart skipped a beat, but his expression stayed steady as stone, his fists tightening reflexively. That oversized, hulking nightmare was suddenly right there, moving between him and Izuku, its form blocking his line of sight. Katsuki's stomach twisted, but he kept his face blank, his posture unchanged, staring up at it like he didn't have a single fuck to give about the monstrosity looming over him. Instead, he locked eyes with it, raising his chin slightly as he settled deeper into the chair.

"What the fuck do you want, you overgrown sack of shit?" he growled, even as his mind was shouting at him that this was a horrible fucking idea.

The Nomu tilted its head, that unsettling chittering sound echoing softly through the silence. It lowered its face just slightly, getting close enough that Katsuki could feel the heat radiating off it, could see every twitch and ripple in its body. For a terrifying heartbeat, he thought it might actually attack him, might finally make good on all that hostility it seemed to radiate every time it so much as looked his way.

Phazewave let out a low, menacing growl, a sound that rumbled through the air like distant thunder, vibrating through Katsuki's bones. And then, in an instant, it was gone, slipping back into the darkness like a wraith, vanishing without a trace.

With the room quiet now, the adrenaline from earlier was fading, leaving him with the dull ache of every punch, every strain, every damn moment he'd been forcing himself forward on fumes alone. His shoulders ached, his head throbbed, and each time he blinked, his eyelids felt heavier, as if they were weighed down by lead. Still, he stubbornly shook himself awake each time, refusing to give in to the pull of sleep.

Stay awake. Don't give him a chance to disappear. Stay awake.

But his body wasn't listening. Minutes passed, and his head began to dip forward. The sounds in the room—the soft hum of the computer, the faint rustle of Izuku shifting in his sleep—blurred together, lulling him into a state of reluctant relaxation. He blinked hard, his vision blurring slightly, his thoughts drifting, becoming foggy.

Just... a few minutes won't hurt, he reasoned, though he knew it was a lie. His head nodded forward again, his body relaxing as he finally gave in, his consciousness slipping, the edges of sleep creeping in, dragging him down... and before he knew it, he was out.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A Sad Excuse for A Katsu Sandwich

Katsuki jolted awake, the world snapping into focus in a sudden, disorienting blur. For a second, he couldn't place himself—the dark room, the faint hum of the computer, the worn chair under him—until his mind cleared, grounding him in reality. He looked down, blinking at the blanket draped over him. His eyes darted around the dim room, muscles tensing instinctively. The Nomu—Phazewave—was nowhere in sight. Instead, he found Izuku at the desk, his face partially illuminated by the pale glow of the computer screen. Fingers tapping away on the keyboard, brows drawn in that familiar intensity he always got when he was focused.

He shifted, the blanket slipping off his shoulders which sagged with the weight of too little sleep, the tension in his muscles reminding him of everything that'd happened just hours ago. He yawned, reaching into his pocket for his phone. The screen lit up and he grimaced at the "6:00 AM" glaring back at him. A mountain of missed calls and texts from Shoto and Ochako flooded the notification bar, undoubtedly wondering where the hell he'd been these last few days. It had been almost a week since he up and left.

He'd been out for hours. So much for keeping watch, damn it. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He glanced back at Izuku, who seemed oblivious to his awakening. He was engrossed in whatever was on the screen, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Katsuki watched Izuku, eyes sparking as he took in the details he'd missed in the bleary seconds after waking. Something was... different. The posture, the tension, the way Izuku's shoulders hunched slightly as he worked, his movements steady but lacking the cold precision he'd come to associate with Reaper. This version of Izuku looked worn down, almost weary, his fingers drifting over the keyboard with the methodical focus of someone lost in thought rather than intensity.

Katsuki squinted, mind churning as he pieced it together. Izuku was there, sitting right in front of him, but there was a distinct lack of that hard edge, that ruthless intensity Reaper usually exuded. He leaned forward, unable to resist the taunt bubbling up, needing to confirm his suspicion.

"So, what's the flavor of the hour?" he asked, voice a low drawl that pulled Izuku's attention immediately.

Izuku nearly jumped, fingers freezing mid-type as his head whipped around. The movement sent a wince across his face, a slight tightening of his eyes and a twitch in his mouth as he pressed his hand subtly to his side where Katsuki had stitched him up hours before. The look he shot Katsuki was startled, wide-eyed, almost defenseless. It was a raw expression, one Katsuki recognized, but hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

For a moment, Katsuki's gaze softened, his sharp eyes catching the involuntary shudder as Izuku adjusted in his seat, trying to mask the pain he was clearly feeling. The careful, instinctive motions to avoid tugging at the fresh stitches gave him away, though, and Katsuki tilted his head to the side, studying him.

"Not Reaper, huh?" His tone was quiet but searching, waiting for the reaction that would confirm what he already suspected. Izuku swallowed, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he quickly glanced away, visibly pulling himself back. His expression shifted, the brief, unguarded look slipping behind a practiced wall of reserve, his jaw tightening as he schooled his features into calm composure. The tension in his shoulders seemed to harden, not from anger or irritation but from the same guarded restraint Katsuki remembered all too well—Deku's way of clamping down on anything he didn't want to show.

When Izuku finally met Katsuki's gaze again, his face was controlled, distant, though his hand remained close to his side, fingers hovering protectively near the fresh stitches. "No... it's me," he finally said, his voice subdued, lacking the sharpness that had become so familiar. "Just... me."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, studying the person sitting across from him with a renewed intensity. There was something about this version of Izuku, something that felt like a ghost of the past—familiar yet faded, like an old memory slipping in and out of focus. This didn't feel like the ruthless, calculated presence of Reaper, nor did it seem like the raw, fragile innocence he'd glimpsed before. Instead, this felt closer to the Izuku he remembered, the one he'd trained with, fought with, competed against. The kid who wouldn't back down, no matter the odds. But how could that be?

Katsuki leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, of the subtle shifts in Izuku's posture, the way he held himself like he was still fighting off the urge to close up entirely. Katsuki let out a low, almost disbelieving breath, his fingers curling tightly against his knees. It was insane—beyond insane, really—to see that Izuku's fractures had solidified into actual, tangible people. People he could look at, talk to, and know weren't entirely the same. Each side of Izuku had its own flavor, its own presence, and he was just now realizing how different they really were. The quiet, hollow-eyed version sitting in front of him right now was so far from the Izuku who was in awe of the colorful fish in the aquarium of what felt like lifetimes ago. And Reaper? Reaper was something else entirely, something cold and hard, like stone covered in frost.

Yet, somehow, there were similarities woven into each side, moments where he could see the echoes of the same person beneath. This "me" felt more like the person he'd chased into that abandoned building last night.

But Katsuki wasn't the type to accept mystery and guesswork. If he was going to stick around, he needed to understand the full picture.

"How many pieces of you are in there?" he asked bluntly, though he wasn't just curiosity—it was determination, a demand for clarity. "I've seen that Reaper bastard. Seen the other side too. And now this..." He gestured at Izuku, head tilting to the other side as he scrutinized him. "Feels like I'm talking to someone I used to know."

Izuku tensed, his eyes flicking up, something uncertain in his gaze. He seemed to search Katsuki's face, as if weighing how much to reveal, how much Katsuki might already know. There was a beat of silence, and Katsuki could see the walls sliding back into place, could see Izuku retreating back into that distant, guarded posture.

Katsuki's eyes narrowed. "Look, if I'm sticking around, I need to know who's who in there." His tone softened, just slightly. "So, stop clamming up. You know how I am—I'm not going to sit here and keep guessing which version of you is going to show up next."

Izuku exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly as he let out a weary sigh. He looked down, his fingers tracing an idle pattern on the edge of the desk, his gaze far away, distant. "It's... complicated," he began, almost clinically, as if recounting a fact instead of a piece of himself. "There are... three of us. Three... distinct sides. But we share memories, so it's not like I don't know what the others have done or felt. There's Reaper." He hesitated, the faintest hint of distaste crossing his face, as if the name itself held weight. "Then there's... the more fragile one. Izuku, the part that's... too broken to handle this world."

Izuku's fingers continued tracing that idle pattern on the edge of the desk, a small, nervous gesture that Katsuki recognized as something leftover from the past. "And then there's... me," he murmured, lifting his eyes to meet Katsuki's. His gaze softened, and for a moment, the guardedness fell away just enough for Katsuki to catch a glimpse of something raw and familiar, like the echoes of the boy he'd known. "I'm the one you used to know. The one who was there before... before all of this. Before I died."

Katsuki's eyes widened slightly, the realization settling in. He felt so different from the fragile emaciated person in that storage closet where they were hidden waiting to run from the league. Then again Izuku was probably being pulled every which way as he began to unspool inside.

"I go by Deku," he said, the name slipping out like a half-remembered promise, something familiar and worn but still powerful in its own way.

Katsuki's jaw clenched, something in him bristling at the name—part of him had always hated it, resented it even, but now it felt like the last thread connecting them to the past. Without thinking, Katsuki pushed himself up, crossing the short space between them. He stopped just a few feet away, close enough to see every detail etched into Deku's face, every scar, every line of tension he held in place with barely-contained restraint.

Katsuki's fists tightened as he watched Izuku—no, Deku—standing there, guarded as ever, with that distant look he'd seen too many times over the years. Damn it, there was always something going on behind those eyes, something hidden, twisted up in knots, and Katsuki couldn't stand it. He wanted answers, not more of this vague, deflective crap Deku was always pulling.

"Yeah, okay, so you're Deku. But are you even you?" Izuku's eyebrows scrunched together not understanding. Katsuki leaned forward, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them. "How much do you remember of the hours after the collapse?"

Deku's face changed, and Katsuki caught the subtle shift—a flicker of something raw, a flash of pain he knew Deku wasn't planning on showing. His hand drifted to his elbow, tracing that scar like it was a trigger, something anchoring him in place.

"What are you doing here, Kacchan?" Deku's voice was low, almost like he was talking to himself as much as to Katsuki, shifting the conversation away from something he obviously didn't want to touch.

Typical. Deku always did have a way of burying the truth until it was practically fossilized.

"What am I doing here?" he shot back, scoffing. "What do you think, idiot? Like I told the other asshole, I'm not letting you out of my sight after all that bullshit." Deku almost looked annoyed. Katsuki's patience snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. His words came out harsher, sharper than he intended, spilling from the raw wound that had been festering since the moment Izuku had disappeared from his life.

"Or do my damn shitty feelings for you not matter to you either?"

Deku flinched. That clearly hit a nerve. His gaze dropped, a shadow passing over his face, and for a moment, he looked more vulnerable than Katsuki had seen this side of him in years. There was something broken in that expression, a shame that ran deep, woven into every scar and line etched across his face.

Katsuki leaned in, his voice softening but no less intense. "Was it Reaper who made you leave, or was it you? 'Cause I know it sure as hell wasn't the Izuku I knew. And don't try to lie to me."

Deku's lips parted, like he was searching for words, but nothing came out. His hand tightened on his elbow. "Look at me," Katsuki said, his voice barely a whisper now. He reached out, his hand brushing Deku's shoulder, but the touch was met with resistance. Deku jerked back, pulling away with a quick, defensive movement, his eyes averted like he couldn't stand to face him.

Deku didn't respond. He just kept his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, his shoulders hunched as he pressed his hand tighter to his side. Katsuki could see the shame there, the quiet, lingering hurt that he was trying to hide. "Look at me," Katsuki said reaching out, grabbing his shoulder, but Deku pulled away again, flinching as if the contact had burned him. He looked back toward the computer, his face a mask of controlled indifference, shutting down again, retreating behind those same walls.

A tense silence filled the room, thick with words unspoken, truths neither of them could bring themselves to say. Katsuki's hand hovered in the air, more than fucking frustrated as he watched Deku distance himself all over again.

Then, suddenly, a notification pinged on the computer screen, the sound cutting through the silence. Deku's attention snapped back to it, his eyes narrowing with renewed focus, his hands moving back to the keyboard as he scanned the message. Katsuki's patience was practically nonexistent, but he knew he couldn't push now. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold back. Deku pulled up an email now completely focused on it.

Katsuki leaned over, squinting at the computer screen, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had caught Deku's attention. The need to know was eating at him. Who the hell was messaging him this early? And what could be so urgent that it kept yanking him away from every attempt Katsuki made to actually talk to him?

Just as he leaned in a little closer, his concentration broke with a violent start as something large and dark phased right through the wall to his left. Katsuki jolted, barely biting back a shout as he whipped his head around, only to find himself staring into the cold, dead eyes of Phazewave, the Nomu's massive, distorted form towering right next to him.

"Shit!" Katsuki practically fell back, his heart pounding a mile a minute as he glared at the Nomu. "What the fuck, you overgrown meathead?!" he snapped, refusing to let it see just how much it had scared the shit out of him.

Phazewave, seemingly unbothered by Katsuki's outburst, let out a low, guttural growl that rumbled through the room like distant thunder. Then, without even sparing him a second glance, it dropped a crinkled 7/11 bag onto the desk beside Deku with a careless flick of its massive clawed hand, its red eyes gleaming with what Katsuki swore looked like smug satisfaction.

Deku didn't even flinch. He just sighed, reaching into the bag as if having a Nomu delivering breakfast were the most normal thing in the world. He pulled out an egg sandwich and a yogurt, his expression flat, like he'd done this a hundred times before.

"Seriously?" Deku muttered, his tone half-annoyed as he shot Phazewave an exasperated look, like he was scolding a misbehaving pet.

Phazewave chittered, clearly annoyed. But with an irritated growl, it reached into the depths of the shadow and pulled out a second, more battered-looking 7/11 bag. It dropped it on the table with a heavy thud, as if it had no damn patience. Deku grabbed the bag and turned to Katsuki.

Katsuki shot Phazewave a suspicious look, reluctantly reaching for the bag, his gaze flicking between Deku, the Nomu, and the sad, crumpled plastic that had just been unceremoniously dropped in front of him. He pulled out a squished Katsu sandwich and a few spicy karaage, the once-crispy chicken now thoroughly flattened into an unappetizing lump.

He glared at the Nomu, realization dawning with a horrified sort of clarity. It did this on purpose.

That thing had actually gone out of its way to squish the food meant for him.

As if reading his thoughts Phazewave's dead, unblinking eyes stared right back at him, unrepentant, as it let out a chitter that Katsuki could swear sounded like a laugh. A low growl of his own started in his throat, his hands tightening around the plastic bag.

"You... you think you're funny?" Katsuki snapped, his gaze narrowed on the Nomu as he held up the sad remains of his sandwich. But the Nomu just blinked at him, its chittering tapering off with a final, dismissive snort before it phased back through the wall, leaving him sitting there with his mutilated breakfast.

Izuku barely looked up as he continued to eat, his attention glued to the screen, reading the email's contents with that intense focus that had always been a trademark of his. With a small sigh, he finished his sandwich and pulled up a browser, fingers flying over the keyboard as he dove into whatever research he'd deemed essential at six in the goddamn morning.

Katsuki dragged his chair next to him, placing the squished sandwich on his lap and eyeing it with a mix of irritation and disbelief. He opened the wrapper, and the sad excuse for a Katsu sandwich practically disintegrated in his hands, pieces falling apart like it was held together by spite alone. He glared at the remaining scraps in his hands, feeling his blood boil all over again.

Unbelievable. That thing was actually smart enough to be petty. Deku didn't even look over, his eyes still locked on the search results. "It clearly doesn't like you," he murmured, tone nonchalant, as if stating a simple fact.

"Yeah, well, the feeling's fucking mutual," Katsuki shot back with a snort, half an eye on Deku as he crammed a piece of the squashed sandwich into his mouth.

Katsuki tore another chunk of the flattened katsu sandwich with his teeth, chewing with a vengeance that wasn't entirely directed at the poor excuse for breakfast. His eyes flicked between the battered scraps in his lap and Izuku—Deku, Reaper, whoever the hell he was right now. He was pretty sure this was still "Deku," though. He hadn't picked up on any sudden changes in behavior or mannerisms. The guy sat stiffly at the desk, every inch of him radiating focus, his fingers dancing over the keyboard like they were born to do it. The sharp glow of the screen threw pale light across his face, making the shadows under his eyes seem even darker. Katsuki swallowed hard, the food scraping down his throat like sandpaper.

The hell was going on in his head? He looked fine—well, as fine as someone with stitches barely holding their body together could look—but Katsuki knew better. Knew that stillness. Knew that look. Deku wasn't just working; he was running. From what, Katsuki couldn't pin down, but he'd seen this enough times in the past at U.A. to know it wasn't a sprint. This was a fucking marathon.

He glanced back at the computer. Deku was feeding something into the screen now, the keys clacking in sharp, precise bursts. His other hand held the remnants of his breakfast, the egg sandwich half-forgotten, hovering near his mouth like his brain hadn't decided if eating was worth the effort.

The email Katsuki had caught a glimpse of before was still up on the monitor, but now a new program had popped into existence, windows multiplying like hydras as Izuku worked. Lines of code raced across the screen, something Katsuki didn't have a clue how to read, but the intent behind Deku's movements was clear: he was decoding. Katsuki shifted in his chair, leaning closer to get a better view.

"What is it?" Katsuki asked, his voice sharp with a curiosity he couldn't quite bite back. Not that Deku looked over.

"Encrypted message," Izuku replied simply, taking a quick bite of his sandwich like that would be enough to satisfy Katsuki. It wasn't.

"No shit, nerd," Katsuki snapped, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his hand and tossing it onto the desk with a precise flick. "Who's it from?"

Izuku didn't answer right away, his attention glued to the screen as his fingers moved with machine-like efficiency. He opened another program, dragging and dropping the email into a field Katsuki couldn't make heads or tails of. A soft whirr came from the computer as the decoding process began, and Izuku finally leaned back, tossing the rest of his sandwich into a nearby trash bin like the taste had started to bother him.

Katsuki stared, his eyes narrowing. "You gonna answer me, or is this part of your whole brooding asshole act now?"

Deku glanced over, his green eyes sharp but not quite hostile. "I'll know when it's done." He gestured to the progress bar inching along on the screen. "Takes time."

"Fantastic," Katsuki muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms as he glared at the flashing display. The room fell into a tense silence, save for the faint hum of the computer and the occasional soft ding as Izuku clicked something else. Katsuki tried to focus on the process, on the strange dance of numbers and symbols flashing by, but his eyes kept drifting back to Deku.

Deku. He was always like this wasn't he—always burying himself in whatever new mess he'd gotten tangled in, leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces. It's had been years since he'd seen him like this and although it was nostalgic... Katsuki hated it. Hated that even now, even after everything, he couldn't turn it off, this constant need to watch him. To make sure he didn't crumble under the weight of whatever insane mission he was dragging himself through.

"Still watching, huh?" Izuku's voice broke through Katsuki's thoughts, flat but carrying a trace of something that might've once been humor. It wasn't now—not really. He didn't look away from the screen, his hands moving over the keyboard with mechanical precision, but Katsuki caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was trying to hold something in.

Katsuki didn't bite at first. His jaw tightened, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the back of Deku's head like he could bore a hole straight through it. The room felt too quiet again, the hum of the computer the only sound between them. Then Deku sighed, his hands stilling on the keyboard as he tilted his head just slightly in Katsuki's direction.

"You don't have to be here, Kacchan," he said softly, almost too softly. There wasn't any venom in the words, no malice, but they still hit Katsuki like a slap to the face. Izuku's tone was measured, calm, like he wasn't just telling him to leave but making it clear he expected him to. "I can handle myself."

Katsuki didn't respond immediately. The words settled like lead in his gut, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint buzz of the computer monitor. He could feel the weight of Izuku's expectation, the way he was deliberately not looking at him now, like he was waiting for Katsuki to snap. But Katsuki didn't snap. Not yet.

Izuku stayed focused on the computer, his eyes fixed on the decoding process, but Katsuki didn't miss the way his shoulders had tensed, the way his fingers hovered just a little too long over the keyboard. He was bracing himself, expecting an argument. Maybe even expecting Katsuki to walk out. Katsuki scoffed at that—leaving was the last thing on his mind. If anything, the whole mess was only making him dig his heels in deeper.

When Deku finally turned to glance at him, his expression unreadable, Katsuki moved. He straightened, leveling a look at Deku that stopped him in his tracks. It wasn't anger or the usual sharp edge that Katsuki carried into every room he entered. This was something heavier, something raw and unguarded that made Deku blink, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Eventually, we're gonna have to talk about this, you know? The... whatever it is that's between us. The rift. All of it." He kept his voice low, fighting to keep it steady. "You can't just act like it never happened. Like you didn't leave."

Deku didn't react at first, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table. Then, with a sigh, he spoke, his voice colder than Katsuki was expecting. "And what exactly would that change, Kacchan? Talking about it?" He refused to look Katsuki's way now. "It wouldn't fix anything."

Katsuki gritted his teeth, feeling the anger bubbling up again. "That's not the damn point, Deku! You think you can just bury all this, pretend it doesn't exist, and walk away from it?" He took leaned closer. "You can't keep running from the people who give a damn about you."

Deku's hand stilled, his shoulders tense as he finally looked up. "I didn't ask you to care," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, and he leaned in, lowering his voice. "You think the last year and a half meant nothing to me?" The words hung in the air, sharp and pointed. "All of that meant nothing, huh?"

Deku's mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening as he muttered, almost to himself, "You don't understand, Kacchan. You can't even begin to understand."

What the hell didn't he understand? He'd been there through practically everything with him. Katsuki's fists clenched, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh, I can't understand? Really?" The words were out before he could stop them. His eyes blazed with frustration, his voice low but vibrating with intensity. "You think I don't know what it's like to lose, to feel like you're drowning? To fight through all this crap alone?"

Deku flinched, just barely, but it was enough for Katsuki to see he'd hit a nerve. For a split second, Deku's gaze softened, a flicker of pain and something almost like regret crossing his face. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar, distant look, his walls slamming back into place. "This is different, Kacchan. You don't—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Katsuki snapped, his voice a low growl. "You think I haven't lost people too? Hell, we've all lost something. You're not the only one dragging scars around."

Deku's shoulders tensed, his eyes flickering with something unreadable, and for a moment, Katsuki thought he might finally snap, might throw those words back at him, throw the walls down for once.

Katsuki kept pushing, "I gave everything I was to keep you safe, damn it. Izuku, Don't act like you're the only one carrying—"

He didn't get to finish. Deku flinched at the sound of his name, his hand faltering on the keyboard. And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, Katsuki saw the shift. The subtle roll of his shoulders, a minute shift in his posture, like his body was recalibrating. Deku's eyes glazed over for a brief second, and Katsuki's stomach dropped as he noticed the faint flicker, a flash of something too familiar.

Reaper.

The air around them felt charged, a tension Katsuki had only felt in the moments right before things got violent. He watched, warily, as Deku blinked once, then twice, his gaze growing unfocused, his breathing shallow. Katsuki's instincts screamed at him to back off, to let it go—just this once, to keep his mouth shut and let the moment pass.

Katsuki wanted to yell at him, but he forced himself to breathe. The last thing he needed was for Reaper to claw his way to the surface, to twist this argument into something darker, more dangerous. For all his grievances with this version of Izuku, at least he wasn't Reaper. Reaper would be a whole other level of hell, and Katsuki wasn't in the mood for that fight. At least he wasn't mocking him, taunting him with that unnerving detachment.

So, he swallowed the rest of his words, shoving another piece of the mangled sandwich into his mouth as he watched Deku from the corner of his eye. The tension gradually receded as Deku seemed to steady, the flicker in his gaze fading, his posture easing back to something resembling calm. Katsuki felt his shoulders drop a fraction, relief mingling with the irritation still buzzing in his veins.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

By the time Katsuki finished his food—if the sad, flattened pile of grease and bread could even be called that—the decoding process was done. A soft chime from the computer announced its completion, and Deku sat up straighter, his fingers darting across the keys to open the message. Katsuki leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as the screen filled with text.

The message wasn't long, just a few lines of neatly spaced words, but the weight in Deku's posture told Katsuki it was enough. He skimmed it, his brow furrowing as he processed the familiar name at the bottom.

Reaper,
Information too sensitive for this channel. Meet me in person at our usual spot. Twelve pm. Be discreet.

—Pixel

Katsuki snorted, breaking the silence. "Pixel? As in the hacker you've been cozying up to?"

Deku ignored him, his lips pressing into a thin line as he reread the message. He seemed to be weighing something, his eyes darting over the screen like he was trying to pull more out of the text than was actually there. Finally, he closed the laptop with a decisive snap and stood, every movement laced with the detached resolve Katsuki had grown to hate. He watched him closely, trying to gauge if he'd truly steadied or if Reaper was still lurking beneath the surface, waiting for another crack to slip through.

Well, Here goes nothing.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Whisps of A Memory 

The bass slammed through the club like a heartbeat, vibrating up through Katsuki's feet, rattling his bones. It was suffocating, and it pissed him off that he even had to come back here in the first place. Neon lights strobed across the walls, their relentless glow bathing everything in shades of red and blue, distorting faces and shadows alike. It made him itch, his nerves buzzing like he was wired to the fucking grid.

He lounged—or tried to look like he was lounging—on the plush couch in their booth, one leg stretched out, the other bouncing with barely-contained energy. His dyed-black hair stuck to his forehead, the slick, humid air of the club clinging to his skin. His skull-patterned mask sat snug over his face, but it didn't stop the acrid stench of sweat, smoke, and booze from seeping into his nostrils.

God, he really couldn't describe how much he hated places like this.

And yet, here he was. Because he was here.

Katsuki's eyes flicked to Deku—or at least that who he'd walked in with—hunched across from him. His hood was pulled so low it might as well have been a damn shroud, and his posture was rigid, his scared hands folded on the table like he was trying not to clench them. His drink sat untouched, just like it had since the server dropped it off ten minutes ago. Katsuki wasn't drinking his, either, but at least he wasn't pretending he might.

There was a faint, restless movement along the edge of Deku's shadow. It was subtle, just a flicker, like ink bleeding into water. Anyone else might have missed it, chalked it up to the pulsing neon lights overhead, but Katsuki wasn't "anyone else."

Phazewave had slipped into Deku's shadow the moment they'd left the tunnels, it now blended seamlessly with the darkness that pooled around Deku's feet. Katsuki couldn't see much—just a faint shimmer of something shifting unnaturally within the shadow, a ripple that didn't belong. But he didn't need to see more. He knew the damn thing was there, lurking, waiting. A guard dog hiding in plain sight, ready to tear anyone apart at the first sign of trouble. Well, demon was a more appropriate term.

"Tch," Katsuki muttered under his breath, forcing himself to stay relaxed, his body angled casually against the back of the couch. "Where's your contact? This Pixel guy's late. Thought you said he'd be here by now."

Deku didn't look up from his drink—still untouched, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. His fingers twitched slightly, the only indication that he'd even heard Katsuki. His hood cast a shadow over his face, but Katsuki didn't miss the way his eyes darted to the edge of the booth, like he was nervous.

"He'll be here," Deku said finally, his voice low, barely audible over the pounding bass. Not bothering to look at Katsuki.

"Yeah? 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't look like it." Katsuki's lip curled in irritation. "How the hell do you even trust this guy? You sure he's not screwing you over?"

Deku's gaze flicked to him then, sharp and calculating, like he was deciding whether to answer or shut Katsuki out again. "Pixel's not the problem," he said, his tone steady but distant. "He knows better than to screw me over."

Katsuki snorted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward again, his voice dropping low. "Yeah? And what happens if he does? You gonna let that thing"—he gestured vaguely at the flickering shadow beneath Deku—"tear him apart?"

Deku finally lifted his glass, the movement slow and deliberate. His hand was steady, but there was a certain weight to it, like he was considering every inch of the motion. But just as he went to sip from it, there was a twitch—a subtle, almost imperceptible jolt through his wrist. The glass tilted just a hair too far, liquid shifting toward the rim before he righted it.

He took a sip, his lips barely brushing the rim before he set it back down. His green eyes glinted faintly under the low hood as he leaned back, his voice dark and cold, cutting through the pounding bass with ease.

"No one knows about Phazewave," he said, the words deliberate and laced with quiet menace. His gaze locked onto Katsuki, unwavering. "And I'd recommend you keep it that way, Katsuki. Unless you feel like explaining why your face got ripped off."

Ah, great so Reaper was out now.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, a growl rumbling low in his throat as his fingers curled into fists. The nerve. The absolute nerve of this asshole, sitting there like he owned the damn place, tossing out warnings like he was doing Katsuki a favor. It wasn't fear Katsuki felt—it was irritation, a slow, burning frustration bubbling up like magma under his skin.

"Watch your mouth," Katsuki shot back, his voice sharp and bristling with heat. "You don't get to talk to me like that, Reaper."

Reapers' lips twitched in what might've been a sneer, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned his attention back to his drink, as if Katsuki wasn't worth any more of his goddamn time. Katsuki's irritation flared, and before he could stop himself from saying something he might regret—or might not—he shoved himself to his feet, hands braced on the edge of the table.

His chest heaved with barely-contained anger, like he was trying to keep from detonating on the spot.

He jabbed a fucking finger at Reaper, sharp and accusing, every ounce of his frustration spilling out like gasoline on an open flame.

"Don't you ever talk to me like you're untouchable, you two-bit knockoff," Katsuki snarled, his voice low but deadly, every syllable packed with venom. His eyes narrowed to thin, predatory slits. "You ain't as scary as you think you are, Reaper. You're just a cheap mask for the kid too scared to deal with his own fucking crap. But keep flexin' your little shadow mutt if it makes you feel big." His lips curled in a sharp, wolfish grin, eyes wild with challenge. "You're still just him hiding under all that edge."

His head tilted ever so slightly, just enough for the edge of his hood to shift, and Katsuki saw it—that faint gleam of his eyes catching the neon light. His fingers tapped once, twice, three times on the table in slow, steady rhythm... Impatiently.

"Sit down," Reaper said, his voice as smooth as broken glass dragged across concrete. Calm, quiet, and laced with just the right amount of threat to make it clear he wasn't asking. "Or leave. Either way, Quiet. We've got company."

Katsuki's eyes twitched. The sheer gall. The arrogance. He wanted to slam his fist straight through the shit nerd's face. He didn't sit, but he didn't move to leave either.

The weight of the air in the booth shifted the second Reaper let out a long, slow sigh. Not an annoyed sigh, not tired—resigned. Like he already knew this was going to be a pain in the ass and had made peace with it.

"Here we go," Reaper muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Katsuki to hear.

The booth's beaded curtain parted without warning, a slow sweep of metal beads clicking softly as a figure stepped through. Katsuki's eyes flicked up instantly, sharp and alert. His gaze locked on the newcomer before the guy had even fully stepped inside.

First thing he clocked was that subtle shift of pixels moving across his skin. He was skinny. Twitchy. About average height. His face angular, sharp in the way that made people seem fox-like—sly, calculating. He wore a loose jacket with too many pockets, hands shoved deep into them like he was hiding something. Black pants, scuffed sneakers, and eyes that darted from side to side like he was checking for traps in every shadow.

But that wasn't what set Katsuki off.

It was the way he stopped dead the second he spotted Katsuki.

Pixel froze like a deer that had just spotted a wolf, eyes narrowing with suspicion as his gaze locked on Katsuki. His eyes darted from Katsuki's masked face to his hands, his eyes narrowing like he was checking for weapons, analyzing threats. Smart. Katsuki tilted his head ever so slightly, a look that was anything but friendly. Yeah, keep looking, rat. See what you find.

Pixel's jaw tensed, his sharp gaze cutting toward Reaper like he was looking for confirmation, for some kind of explanation. His eyes said it all—who the hell is this?

"Who's he?"

His eyes didn't leave Katsuki, like he was waiting for him to make the first move.

Katsuki tilted his head ever so slightly, just enough for his mask to shift under the dim strobe lights. His gaze bore into Pixel, unblinking. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared. The silence stretched out, heavy and uncomfortable.

Pixel's lip twitched, frustration flashing across his face before he shot a glance at Reaper, his eyes hard with suspicion. "You bringing strays now, Reaper?" he asked, nodding toward Katsuki without looking away from Reaper. His voice had that nervous lilt, like he was trying to act casual but couldn't quite nail the delivery.

"He's with me." He didn't offer any more than that, like the matter was settled the second the words left his mouth. His gaze never even shifted from the drink in front of him.

Pixel blinked once, his sharp eyes darting back to Katsuki, scanning him again. This time, the look lingered longer on his hands, then his shoulders, like he was calculating Katsuki's range and reaction speed. "With you, huh?" He snorted, cocking his head to the side as if sizing up the idea. His lips twisted into a half-smile, half-sneer. "Don't usually see you dragging around backup, Reaper. Thought you didn't 'do teams.'"

He turned back to Reaper, but he didn't sit down. Not right away. His hands stayed in his pockets, his shoulders still tense, like he was waiting for someone to throw the first punch.

"You sure you trust this dude?" he flicked another glance toward Katsuki. "Seriously, didn't think you were the 'plus one' type, Reaper."

"Pixel," Reaper said. The subtle flicker of authority was undeniable. Shut up. That was all he needed to say, and Pixel's mouth snapped shut instantly.

The hacker's smirk fell, his face smoothing out into something more neutral, but Katsuki could see it—the shift in his eyes. Resentment. Suspicion. Pixel wasn't stupid, and he didn't like what he didn't understand. Katsuki had seen it a hundred times in people who thought they were smart enough to be in control of the room, only to find out they weren't. It was the same look villains had when they realized they were out of their league.

Pixel's gaze shifted past the swaying beads of the entrance, eyes narrow and alert, scanning the murky depths of the club for any prying eyes or eager eavesdroppers. Satisfied, he turned back to the booth, his movements quick and precise as he produced a small, sleek cube from his jacket. With a casual snap of his fingers, the cube expanded into a solid, glowing hard drive, which he set on the table with a soft clink.

He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "I've been mining through the mainframe of the Ghouls' systems like you asked. Tough shit, but I managed to jack some intel."

His eyes flicked towards Reaper, then back to the hard drive as he continued, "The second I broke past their firewall, some bastard started tailing my digital tracks, trying to pin down my location—figure out who I was."

Doxxed, huh? Lucky to still have his damn head. The realm of cyber shadows and electronic espionage was not Katsuki's playground, but he understood the risks, the deadly dance of information warfare. He understood why Reaper was using someone skilled.

Pixel wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, a jittery laugh escaping him. "Barely slipped out without getting my ass fried. They're not amateurs." He shot a glance at Katsuki, as if sizing him up again, wondering perhaps how much he understood or cared about the intricacies of digital thievery... or maybe how much he could say in front of him.

"Spill it then," Katsuki growled lowly, leaning forward, his curiosity now a live wire. "What'd you pull from the fire?"

Pixel tapped the hard drive, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm, but a nod from Reaper had the hacker continuing. "Blueprints, communications, some encrypted shit I haven't cracked yet. But this..." He paused, ensuring he had everyone's undivided attention, "This is the big one. I found a roster—names, locations, BOLs. If you play this right, you might be able to finally dismantle the league."

Pixel's hand moved almost instinctively as Reaper reached out to grab the hard drive. With a subtle, but firm withdrawal, Pixel pulled the device just out of reach, his eyes locked onto Reaper's with a new level of seriousness.

"I've got two locations here," Pixel explained, his voice dropping to an even more guarded whisper. "But one of them... it's probably what you've been hunting for." His fingers hovered protectively over the device, a clear signal he wasn't just handing over the data without some assurances. "With this, I'm out. The Ghouls have been twitchy since their backdoor dealings with the league started. I don't plan on being caught in the fallout."

Reaper's expression hardened, the shadows under his hood seeming to deepen. "How can you be so sure?" he pressed, his voice low, almost a growl.

Pixel leaned in, his voice barely audible over the club's relentless bass. "Because they've had a certain someone with a mind quirk making regular appearances there. Someone who can rewrite who you are, what you can do." His eyes darted towards Katsuki briefly, gauging his reaction.

The connections snapped together like live wires. Odd Eye. Could this really be it? He knows Deku had been relentlessly scouring Japan's districts for their hide out for the last few months but still. The idea that they might actually cut the head off the hydra that was the LOV seemed both exhilarating and daunting.

For all his bluster and bravado, he couldn't help but feel a sharp, poignant relief that he had found Izuku when he did. Damn lucky, that's what it was, Katsuki mused internally.

Reaper extended his hand, his palm open and expectant, his dark eyes unyielding as they fixed on Pixel. The silence was sharp, punctuated only by the distant thump of bass through the club's walls. "If that's the case, and you've delivered what I've been chasing," Reaper's voice was low, a controlled rumble of restrained intensity, "then consider our business concluded."

Pixel hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of the moment settling around him. His eyes flickered with a mix of relief and a faint, residual fear as he placed the hard drive into Reaper's outstretched hand.

Reaper's fingers closed around the hard drive, securing the precious cargo with a firmness that suggested he wouldn't let it go until he had wrung every last byte of data from its depths.

With the hard drive now securely in Reaper's possession, Katsuki and Reaper made their way out of the throbbing heart of the club, down to the exits of the Twilight Market. Emerging onto Takeshita Street in the blinding daylight, Katsuki and Reaper slipped right into the buzzing chaos of the crowd like they belonged there. Just minutes ago, they'd been wrapped in the shadows of their own dark dealings, but now, the vivid, relentless energy of the day swallowed them whole, like the Market had never existed. The portal they'd stepped through—tucked discreetly behind a public bathroom—vanished without a sound, leaving almost no trace for the clueless masses caught up in their mundane, routine lives.

Katsuki couldn't help but begrudgingly admire the Ghouls' crafty setup. Hiding portals right under everyone's noses, scattered across the entire city, and managing to stay off the radar of even the sharpest heroes? It was genius—and yeah, a little damn annoying.

Takeshita Street was alive with the energy of shoppers, tourists snapping photos, and vendors calling out the day's specials. The colorful shop fronts and eclectic fashion of Harajuku provided a starkly different backdrop compared to the dimly lit, bass-thumping atmosphere of the Twilight Market they had just left.

"It's almost laughable," Katsuki muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Reaper caught it. "With all the damn hero tech out there, you'd think someone would've uncovered this network by now."

Reaper ignored Katsuki's grumbling, his focus already shifting ahead. Katsuki clicked his tongue in irritation, his impatience with Reaper's perpetual calm radiating off him like heatwaves. He squared his shoulders, catching up in a few long strides, his expression hardening as he matched pace beside Reaper.

The crowd parted around them like they were just two more faces in the city's heart, nothing to see here. But Katsuki's eyes, ever scanning, ever wary, caught the slight hitch in Reaper's step as they passed a row of food stands, a vendor's shout about fresh crepes sliced through the din, catching Izuku's attention.

Reaper paused, almost imperceptibly, a reaction so subtle most would miss it. But not Katsuki. He noticed the way Reaper's hood slid back just enough for him to almost see the longing in his eyes—a look that dragged Katsuki back to a different day, under a different sky.

There was a time, not too long ago, when an outing like this would've been filled with laughter, stupid jokes, and that annoyingly pure joy Izuku always seemed to find in the simplest things. Back then, stopping for crepes would've just been a simple date, a time to enjoy each other's company, which Katsuki had truly loved. Now, though? The suggestion came with a weight Katsuki couldn't stand to admit—it reeked of fucking desperation. A weak, fumbling grab for something normal, like they could snatch a piece of that untainted happiness from before Odd Eye had so thoroughly shattered Izuku's mind.

Katsuki watched him, searching for any sign of the old excitement that used to light those expressive eyes. There was a ghost of it there, a brief spark as if some part of him too was remembering that day.

For a fleeting second, it wasn't just Reaper standing beside him, but a shadow of that other, more subdued side. His shoulders dropped slightly, the tension seeping out as if a switch had been flipped inside him. The shift was so subtle, yet so definitive. Katsuki watched intently, his instincts honing in on the change. It wasn't just the body language; it was the entire aura around him that seemed to soften, signaling that Reaper had receded, leaving someone else at the fore.

It took Katsuki a moment to sort through the nuances of his body language, to confirm that it was indeed Deku peeking through, not Reaper. At least he was picking up on the differences on who was present rather quickly.

He also couldn't help but wondered what the hell Deku did with those memories, remembering Izuku had mentioned that most of their memories bled into each other. Did they give him even a sliver of peace, or did they just haunt him? Ghosts of a life that felt too damn far from the mess they were living now?

Deku's eyes, when they briefly met Katsuki's, carried a softness, a vulnerability that was rarely visible when Reaper held sway. The brief glimpse of Deku, the real Deku, was enough to make Katsuki's chest tighten, a mix of something like hope fluttering against the walls he had tried to rebuild around his own emotions.

But just as quickly, Deku's gaze shifted away, his attention flitting back to the crowd around them, the defense mechanisms kicking back in to shield his exposed feelings.

That look in his eyes... it dragged him back to that day. The wreckage, the confession that never left his damn throat, the heavy, suffocating weight of everything unsaid. It could've filled whole damn books if he'd just told him. But then what, he wouldn't have known what to do with those fucking words. Not then. Hell, it had taken him years, years filled with loss, pain, and the kind of raw, grueling self-reflection that only comes when you're constantly staring down death, to even begin to understand the depth of what he felt for the person in front of him.

If Deku had confessed, it might have shattered the precarious balance they'd maintained. Katsuki had always been too hot-headed, too wrapped up in his own struggles and insecurities. He didn't even want to think about that...but still. What did this Deku think of the few months after the coma, of the relationship they'd painstakingly built through trust, affection, and quiet moments alike? Did any of those memories mean to him what they did to Katsuki? Or was it like reading someone else's story, knowing the words but not feeling them?

He scowled at the pavement, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. It was a damn mess, wasn't it? He wasn't an idiot. He knew the complexities of Izuku's condition, the way each personality held fragments of the man he... the man he what? Loved? Could he even admit that, when it felt like loving three different people housed in one body? His heart ached, a sharp, jagged thing that didn't know whether to settle on pain or affection.

The crowd surged around them like a living river, carrying an endless stream of faces, each locked in their own worlds, oblivious to the complex storm of emotions swirling between Katsuki and Deku. The crosswalk light flickered red, halting the flow of people momentarily, trapping them in a moment that felt suspended in time.

As Deku stood waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green, Katsuki couldn't help but close the distance between them, their shoulders brushing slightly. Deku turned his head slightly, his eyes lifting to meet Katsuki's. There was no anger there, no trace of the guarded expression that usually tightened Katsuki's features. Instead, his eyes were open, vulnerable, filled with a longing that stretched back years, reaching into the depths of a past littered with both pain and tenderness.

The usual mask that Deku wore, the one that kept the world at bay, seemed to fade under Katsuki's gaze. It was as if that look, raw and pleading, was a key that unlocked something within him, something tender and fragile that he usually kept hidden beneath layers of self-control and detachment.

A promise he had once said to Izuku floated to the surface. "I'm sticking around, no matter how many fucking times you lose your memories. We'll make new memories, build our future together. And every single time, I'll fall in love with you all over again."

He had meant every goddamn word, a vow not just of commitment but of a relentless, recurring love, one that promised to renew itself, to rebuild from the ashes of every catastrophe they might face. Of all the promises he had made and broken... this one that he would never in all eternity break.

Now, standing at this bustling intersection as the city moved around them in blurs of color and light, Katsuki's hand reached out, brushing against Deku's. The contact was tentative at first, a question posed in the simplest of touches. When Deku didn't pull away, Katsuki's fingers caressed his hand, a gesture so filled with tenderness and yearning that it might have been a plea.

His eyes, those deep pools of ever-changing green, held Katsuki's gaze, and in them, there was a flicker of something that went beyond the boundaries of Reaper's harsh survivalism or Deku's strategic coldness. It was something purely Izuku, a spark of the man who had loved Katsuki with a bright, unwavering flame.

In that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the noise of the city fading into a distant hum, the crossing light turning green unnoticed. Katsuki's heart thudded loud in his chest, each beat a drum of war and worship, fighting for the future he so desperately wanted.

"I meant what I said," Katsuki murmured, the words barely louder than a whisper but heavy with emotion. Deku didn't seem to place Katsuki's words immediately, the connection to that distant promise perhaps blurred by the fractures in his memory and the shifting dominance of his personas.

Katsuki only traced his thumb one of the scars on Deku's hand, a mark that told stories of bravery and sacrifice, of pain endured and battles won. These scars were texts written on his body, each one a testament to his resilience, to the harsh life they had lived together, through terror and tenderness alike.

"Every single damn time, Deku... whether it's your memories that fade or this shitty world that tries to tear us apart, I'll fall in love with you all over again." Deku's initial confusion melted into a slow, dawning realization.

"I'll keep choosing you, Deku, every version, every time. Because I will never stop loving you."

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Shadow of A Doubt

Katsuki scowled down at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen where another missed call from Shoto glared back at him. It was the seventh one today—or maybe the eighth; he'd lost track. Either way, the bastard was relentless.

It had been over a week since Katsuki had charged headfirst into the fire, determined to put that piece of shit, Odd Eye, into the ground for what he'd done. He hadn't contacted anyone in all that time, not Shoto, not Ochako, not anyone who might be wondering if he was even still alive. Part of him knew he should call back, especially for all that they'd done for him. He should tell them what he'd found, tell them about Izuku, tell them that... well, that the idiot wasn't dead after all.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

He knew the risk of staying silent. Every day he kept them in the dark, every moment he didn't share what he'd learned, he was gambling with their trust. They deserved to know that Izuku was alive—that he'd survived... and that his condition was worse than previously anticipated. It was so fucking hard to keep quiet knowing they deserved the truth.

But Katsuki also knew what telling them would mean. The second he brought someone else into this mess, the fragile thread holding everything together would snap. The thought of putting someone else in the line of fire was not something Katsuki wanted, especially with all the deaths already staining his hands.

That and Deku, or more so Reaper, would fucking bolt. Katsuki could feel it in his bones, the same way he could feel a coming explosion in the air.

They didn't trust him. Not yet. Not fully. And bringing anyone else into this, no matter how much Katsuki trusted them, would be enough to push him over the edge. He'd vanish again, disappear into the shadows he'd been hiding in before Katsuki found him, and this time, Katsuki might not be able to find him again. As it was it was sheer fucking luck he had found him the first time.

And that thought? It scared him more than anything.

Katsuki shoved the phone back into his pocket with a frustrated growl, pacing the narrow stretch of floor in the cramped hideout. The stale air pressed down on him, carrying the faint scent of rust and damp concrete, but it wasn't the claustrophobic atmosphere that had his nerves fraying.

No, it was the fact that Reaper had shoved his way to the surface and was in one of his damn moods. The asshole wasn't just out—he was in his element. With the hard drive in hand, Reaper had been scouring its contents for hours, his fingers moving over the keyboard with an intensity that bordered on obsessive.

Katsuki let out a frustrated huff, his boots crunching against the cracked concrete as he paced the narrow maintenance tunnel. His body was still coiled tight, every muscle ready to spring like a damn landmine waiting to go off. He had to get out of that room—had to get away from him.

Reaper was a damn bastard on a good day, but tonight? Tonight, the asshole was on a whole new level of insufferable.

It had started with Katsuki asking—asking, not demanding, which was a hell of a lot more patience than he usually had—to see the files on the hard drive. He'd just wanted to know what the hell they were dealing with, maybe find a way to help. But Reaper? The guy had turned on him in an instant, his green eyes dark with disdain as he all but sneered.

"Why don't you leave this to someone with more than a single brain cell? You're just going to slow me down."

It had been a challenge, plain and simple. A deliberate jab, meant to get under Katsuki's skin. And damn if it didn't work. A familiar heat flared in his palms as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Say that again, you smug son of a—"

"I don't have time for your tantrums," Reaper had interrupted, his voice cold and dismissive. "You're here because I'm allowing it, not because I need your help. Try not to forget that."

The words felt like they had struck him, and for a split second, Katsuki had seen red. His body had moved on instinct, stepping toward Reaper with a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands were already sparking, the heat of his quirk licking at his palms as he yanked Reaper from his seat by his collar. Reaper's hand had shot up, gripping Katsuki's wrist with a strength that caught him off guard. "You really want to do this?" Reaper said, his voice low and mocking, his teeth flashing in a grin that didn't reach his eyes as Black tendrils poured out of his back, spilling onto the floor like living, writhing ink.

But before he could either of them could start swinging, a low, guttural hiss had echoed from the corner of the room.

Katsuki let go of Reaper the moment Phazewave's hiss rattled through the air. That sound—it had been enough to douse even his fury, at least temporarily. He'd stepped back, fists clenched, his entire body screaming for a fight that couldn't happen—not with that thing looming in the shadows, waiting for one wrong damn move.

And now here he was, pacing like a damn caged animal in the maintenance tunnel, scrubbing a hand down his face as if he could wipe all the anger and frustration of the last few months.

His chest rose and fell with each deep, steadying breath, but it didn't do much to settle the roiling storm inside him.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket, and he gritted his teeth, yanking it out. Another text from Shoto. The message popped up on the screen, glaring at him like it had a personal vendetta.

I know you're reading these. Just respond, Kat. Please.

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Sure, he could respond—just to get Shoto off his damn back for five minutes. But what was he supposed to say? Oh yeah, found Deku. Turns out he's alive but kinda cracked, and oh, by the way, remember Project Phazewave? Yeah, it's babysitting him like some kind of horrifying pet from hell. Oh, and the worst of his split personalities is running the show right now, and spoiler: he's an absolute ass. So, all good here!

Yeah. That'd definitely go over great. IcyHot might even send a thumbs-up emoji.

His stomach growled, breaking through his spiraling thoughts, and he glanced at the time on his phone. 7 p.m. Of course. The last thing he'd eaten was that culinary crime scene Phazemates had so graciously dropped off earlier.

It was still insane. That damn Nomu had actually phased into a 7-Eleven, robbed the shelves, and then delivered it—delivered it—like some horrifying Postmates employee with zero stars and an attitude problem. And the kicker? It had crushed his food into oblivion on purpose.

Phazemates gonna roll out a membership plan or what? First delivery's free, but it comes with a side of pure hatred.

Unbelievable.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a string of curses under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. With his stomach reminding him he couldn't live off pure anger and adrenaline, he turned on his heel, storming back toward the room.

The door creaked as he shoved it open with a little more force than necessary, and of course, there was Reaper. Exactly where he'd left him. The bastard hadn't moved so much as an inch, still hunched over the laptop and his notebook, his fingers flying over the keyboard with that same relentless focus. The glow from the screen cast sharp shadows over his face, making him look even more detached, more like some calculating machine than a person.

Katsuki stopped just inside the doorway, crossing his arms as he glared at Reaper's back. "Oi," he called, his voice sharp and loud enough to cut through the heavy silence.

He let loose a heavy sigh, "What do you want now?" he asked, his tone dripping with irritation as his fingers continued to dance across the keys.

Katsuki's eye twitched. "You've been at this for hours," he snapped. "Take a damn break. Eat something, drink some water, do something other than sitting there like a fucking zombie."

Reaper finally turned his head, his green eyes sharp and cold as they locked onto Katsuki. "I'm fine," he said flatly, his voice as mechanical as his movements. "You, on the other hand, are annoying me. So, unless you've got something useful—"

"Useful?" he shot back, his voice rising. "You think running yourself into the ground is useful? You think being a prick to the one person who's actually trying to help you is useful?"

Reaper's expression didn't change, but Katsuki caught the slight tightening of his jaw as he stared at Katsuki, eyes assessing.

"I'm not waiting around for that oversized nightmare to steal dinner again. We're eating, and we're eating something that isn't pulverized into roadkill before it even hits the table."

"You're welcome to leave and feed yourself if you're so desperate. I'm busy."

Katsuki's arms fell to his sides as he stalked closer, jabbing a finger in Reaper's direction. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you. Busy doing what, exactly? Staring at files like they're gonna fall in love with you? And in case you've forgotten, I'm not letting you out of my sight, genius. Damn it, take a break!"

Reaper turned towards him slightly before, sitting a little taller at the attitude in Katsuki's tone. "I don't need a break. And I don't need you barking orders at me."

"Well, too bad, 'cause I'm not asking," Katsuki snapped. His patience had officially reached zero. "And you know what? I'm done trying to talk sense into your smug ass." He took a step closer, his voice sharp and cutting. "Deku! Get out here! Right now!"

Reaper's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Don't waste your breath. He's not coming—"

"Deku!" Katsuki barked again, louder this time, his voice echoing off the walls. His gaze stayed locked on Reaper, watching for the cracks, the shift. "I know you're in there, nerd. Quit hiding and get your ass out here!"

Reaper's expression went dark as he tried to snarl, "He's not—"

"I'm asking for him, not you!" Katsuki cut him off, his voice thunderous now. He stepped even closer, his fiery eyes boring into Reaper's. "Deku! I know you can hear me, so quit letting this asshole hog the wheel!"

Reaper flinched, just barely, but it was enough. His breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as if trying to anchor himself. For a moment, Katsuki thought he might lash out, might drag this into a full-blown fight just to shut him up.

But then Reaper cringed, his eyes squeezing shut as a tremor ran through him. His breathing quickened, sharp and uneven, and Katsuki could see the battle playing out beneath the surface—the tug-of-war for control.

"Deku," Katsuki said again, his voice quieter now, softer but no less commanding. "C'mon, nerd."  Reaper's head snapped up, and the glare he leveled at Katsuki was enough to make even the bravest man think twice. His green eyes burned like molten acid, pupils narrowing to razor-sharp slits. The air seemed to thicken, heavy and oppressive, as if the sheer force of his disdain could crush Katsuki where he stood.

"Shut. The hell. Up." The words dripped venom, each one spat with precision, his voice a low, menacing growl. But Katsuki didn't flinch. If anything, he stood taller, his jaw set, refusing to be cowed by the hostility radiating off Reaper in waves. He knew a scare tactic when he saw one, and he wasn't about to back down. Not from him.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, his chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. For a moment, Katsuki thought he might snap—lash out, throw something, anything to regain control.

But then, Reaper's shoulders slumped, the tension bleeding out of him like a balloon slowly deflating. His grip on the desk loosened, his knuckles going from bone-white to flushed as he released the pressure. His head dipped forward, strands of white hair falling into his eyes as he let out a shuddering breath.

Katsuki watched as the change unfolded, subtle at first—a shift in posture, a softening of the sharp lines that defined Reaper's presence. His breathing slowed, evening out into something steadier, though still labored.

Holy shit, it fucking worked.

When he finally lifted his head, his green eyes no longer burned with venom, his whole appearance softening if only a fraction. They were wide, tired, and glassy with exhaustion.

Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms and glaring down at Deku like the world's angriest babysitter. "Let's go," he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Deku blinked at him, his tired eyes darting toward the laptop still humming on the desk. "But... we're in the middle of—"

"Oh, don't even start," Katsuki interrupted, reaching over to close the laptop. "You're not gonna sit here and tell me you're too busy to eat. Don't make me drag your scrawny ass out of here, nerd."

Katsuki's glare deepened as Deku's eyes flickered hesitantly toward his notes as if they might vanish if he didn't keep an eye on them. "But the hard drive—"

"Nothing," Katsuki snapped, cutting him off yet again without hesitation. "How the hell are you supposed to function on an empty stomach? You think you're gonna catch Odd Eye on fumes and a yogurt?" He jabbed a finger toward the door, his voice brooking no argument. "Let's go."

Deku was still rooted to the spot, his eyes darting between Katsuki and the desk like he was still debating whether to argue. But Katsuki didn't give him the chance. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and tossed it at Deku, hitting him square in the chest. "Move it. Now."

And so he did.

Deku followed Katsuki through the bustling side streets of Shibuya, the city's neon glow casting strange shadows over their path. And as usual, the city was anything but quiet—cars honking, voices calling, music spilling out of storefronts—but neither of them said much as they followed the Yamanote line. Katsuki's strides were purposeful, his hands stuffed into his pockets, throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder to make sure Deku was still trailing a few steps behind. Katsuki could see his gaze flicking nervously over the crowds as if every face might hide a threat, and honestly, couldn't blame him.

They wove through the chaos until Katsuki abruptly turned down a quiet side alley. The sudden shift from the lively main road to the dim, narrow passage was jarring, and Deku slowed his pace, stopping just short of where the alley opened back out onto another busy street.

Katsuki turned to him, brows knitting together in confusion. "What?"

Deku's eyes lifted, his gaze catching on the glowing red sign hanging above a modest entrance at the alley's end. The unmistakable logo of Ichiran. His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. "I-I can't," he said quietly, almost too quietly to be heard over the distant hum of the city.

Katsuki frowned, his irritation momentarily replaced by confusion. "What do you mean, you can't? It's ramen, not a goddamn VIP club."

Deku's eyes dropped to the ground, his hands clenching at his sides. "Someone's going to recognize me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's too public."

Katsuki only gave him an incredulous look, eyes raking over the snow-white hair where dark green used to be. That hair alone was enough to make people think he was some weird foreign exchange student, not ex-hero Deku, who in return, gave him a look—a pointed, weary glare that said it all without needing a single word. Katsuki's frown deepened as he recognized it instantly. The bastard didn't even need to explain.

It wasn't just about Ichiran. It was about the fact that Deku couldn't afford to step foot in any public place, much less a damn ramen shop in the middle of fucking Shibuya. Katsuki knew it, and Deku knew Katsuki knew it, which only made the situation even more irritating.

Not with the world thinking he was dead, a vigilante buried in the rubble. All it'd take was one person recognizing him, snapping a picture, and everything would come crashing down. The media would have a goddamn field day if anyone caught so much of a whiff of him being very much alive.

"Right," Katsuki muttered, crossing his arms. "Because what we really need right now is a goddamn media circus."

Deku didn't respond, his shoulders sagging as he glanced back toward the alley's shadows. His expression was guarded, but Katsuki could see the fatigue etched into every line of his face, the way he carried himself like someone teetering on the edge.

Katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his raven black hair as his gaze drifted upward. The Zara sign loomed above them, neon and glaring, and farther up, the Modi building stood like a silent sentinel over the chaos below. He'd dragged Deku out here for a reason—to get the idiot to eat, to force him to do something halfway normal, even if only for a few minutes.  And now they were at a standstill because, of course, Deku couldn't take one fucking step inside without risking everything blowing up in their faces.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he debated with himself. Should he even let Deku out of his sight? It wasn't about trust—he didn't fucking trust him, not completely, not yet—but about practicality. Deku was slippery, had always been. Katsuki had spent enough time chasing him to know that if he gave him even an inch, the nerd would find a way to bolt. And now? Now there were higher stakes than ever before.

But keeping Deku on a short leash, treating him like some fragile thing about to shatter, wasn't going to work either. That wasn't who he was, or how he wanted to be treated.

Katsuki sighed, the sound more resigned than annoyed this time, though the irritation was still there. "Alright," he said, the word heavy with resignation. "You're not walking into Ichiran? Fine. We'll improvise."

Deku followed his line of sight before he blinked, clearly surprised by Katsuki's sudden shift in tone. "What do you—"

"Stay put," Katsuki cut him off, already turning back toward the restaurant. I'll grab the food. Don't move a muscle, or so help me—"

Deku rubbed at his eye, the exhaustion written across his face as he muttered flatly, "I'll stay here. Not going anywhere."

Katsuki froze mid-step, his hand curling into a fist so tight his knuckles popped. His gut churned, doubt and distrust twisting up inside him like a barbed wire noose. And why the hell wouldn't he? Deku had pulled this vanishing act before, disappearing the second Katsuki let his guard down. And shit, he was fucking scared that the asshole would indeed do it again. The thought of it, made Katsuki's teeth grind so hard it was a miracle they didn't crack.

He turned just enough to shoot a sharp look back at Deku, who was now lingering in the alley's shadow. The nerd's gaze was steady but distant like he was watching something Katsuki couldn't see. That look—tired but stubborn—gave Katsuki just the briefest pause. Was it the exhaustion? The way Deku's voice didn't waver this time? Hell if he knew.

"Don't even think about it," Katsuki warned again. "You so much as twitch, and I swear to god—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Deku cut in, not even looking at Katsuki, his focus locked on some invisible point beyond the alley's edge.

For once, Katsuki couldn't tell if he wanted to punch the nerd or believe him. Maybe both.

Katsuki lingered for a second longer, he hated this. Hated the not-knowing, the constant battle between wanting to trust and being ready for the rug to get yanked out from under him. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he turned and strode toward the Ichiran entrance.

Inside, the warmth and savory scent of ramen hit him immediately, but it didn't do a damn thing to ease the knot in his chest. Katsuki ordered quickly, his words clipped as he rattled off the to-go options.

Then he stepped to the side to wait, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his eyes darted to the door every few seconds.

The minutes dragged like hours. He could feel the impatience buzzing under his skin, his foot tapping with every passing second. It was fucking stupid, really. He knew Deku wasn't in any condition to bolt right now. The idiot was still healing from his wounds. And yet, Katsuki couldn't shake the image from his head, the way Deku had fought him in that abandoned building. Like a wild animal ready to kill itself to get free... how he was ready to push his body past it's already fragile limits.

Katsuki's head jerked up as the sharp sound of his number being called snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. The worker behind the counter held up the bag of steaming ramen, her bored expression barely registering as she repeated the number again.

"Yeah, I got it!" he barked, striding up and snatching the bag with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. He didn't bother to apologize as he pivoted on his heel, muttering a curse under his breath. His eyes flicked to the door as he pushed it open, the warm night air enveloping him as he stepped back onto the bustling street.

He turned into the alley, his boots crunching against the uneven pavement as the noise of Shibuya's chaos dimmed behind him. His gaze darted toward the spot where Deku had been standing, half expecting the idiot to still be there, leaning against the wall like some brooding shadow.

But the alley was empty.

The ramen bag crinkled loudly in his grip as he froze, his stomach dropping. No. No, no, no. God-fucking-dammit this asshole. His head whipped back and forth, scanning the narrow space as if Deku might be hiding behind a trash can or blending into the shadows. "Oi!" Katsuki shouted, his voice ricocheting off the brick walls. "Deku!"

Nothing.

His throat felt like it was closing as that all-too-familiar edge of panic surged in. His fingers clenched around the plastic bag as he spun in a sharp circle, scanning every inch of the alley for a glimpse of frost-white hair or that stupid, oversized jacket. "You've got to be fucking shitting me," he muttered, his voice tight with rising anxiety. His thoughts were frantic, running through every possibility. Did Deku bolt? Did someone see him? How could he have fucking trusted him, dammit?

His teeth ground together, the heat of his quirk flaring faintly in his palms. He could feel it building, the anger, the self-loathing. That idiot had told him—over and over, he'd said it plain as day. "You don't have to be here, Kacchan. You shouldn't be here." And what had Katsuki done? He'd ignored it, shoved it aside, because deep down, he'd thought he could change Deku's mind. Make him stay. Make him see reason.

But no.

He'd been an idiot. A blind, arrogant, stupid idiot to believe, even for a second, that Deku wouldn't bolt the first chance he got.

Katsuki was seething, clenching his jaw as he stormed toward the main avenue. His boots pounded against the pavement as he moved, his breaths shallow and quick. "Fucking idiot," he hissed, his frustration barely masking the fear clawing at his throat. The hideout, he needed to get there before the nerd grabbed everything and disappeared. "If you ran off—if you did this again—I swear to—"

One moment, he was storming forward, half-determined to track Deku down even if it meant tearing through the entire district. The next, a sudden, impossible force yanked him sideways, hard enough to nearly dislocate his arm. Katsuki barely had time to let out a guttural growl of shock before the world around him dissolved into something unnatural.

It was like being pulled underwater, his body weightless, every sound muffled and distorted. A cold ripple slithered over his skin, a sensation that made every hair on his body stand on end. Instinct took over, and he thrashed against the invisible pull, swinging his fist hard at the darkness enveloping him, the bag of food still clutched tightly in his other hand. His fist hit nothing but a cold, silk-like texture, the movement only amplifying the unsettling feeling of the shadows tightening around him.

"What the fuck—?!" he snarled, his voice a sharp bark that echoed into the void.

Before he could process what was happening, the bag of food was ripped from his grasp, the crinkle of plastic the only sound in the suffocating silence. His stomach churned as the darkness shifted again, moving—not just dragging him, but traveling, like it was pulling him through some damn invisible current. The weightlessness made him dizzy, his footing nonexistent, his heart hammering in his chest.

And then it hit him—the cool, slick sensation crawling over his skin, the way the shadows clung to him like they were alive. He knew this feeling. The park. That goddamn fight with the League. The way those mirrors had twisted reality, how the shadows had swallowed him whole before, throwing him into chaos he couldn't control. He remembered the suffocating darkness, the disorienting pulls and drops, the way the floor had swallowed him just like this.

He knew this quirk. This was Phazewave.

"Let go, you freak!" he snarled, the heat of his quirk flickering in the cold darkness.

And then, just as abruptly as he'd been swallowed up, the pull stopped. Katsuki was dumped unceremoniously onto the cold, uneven ground, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet immediately, his head whipping around as he tried to orient himself. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings. The glow of Shibuya's skyline stretched out before him, the hum of the city muffled against the ringing in his ears.

He recognized where he was almost instantly. The Zara building. Across the damn street from the ramen shop. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached, explosions flickering weakly at his fingertips. He barely had time to process how the hell he'd gotten here before a rustling sound yanked his attention to the far end of the rooftop.

He spun on his heel, his eyes locking on the unmistakable sight of the Nomu's shadowy body standing beside Deku, handing him the food he'd taken from Katsuki. Deku glanced at the bag, his expression distant, shoulders slack like he was barely holding himself up. But the moment he turned his head and saw Katsuki—really saw him—the shift was immediate and visceral. His entire body tensed, ready to snap at the first sign of danger. The exhaustion in his eyes evaporated in an instant, replaced by sharp, unrelenting focus. His posture straightened, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for a fight.

"Kacchan? What happened? What's wrong?"

Katsuki's breath hitched, his chest heaving as he took a halting step forward, then another. He didn't even realize his hands were trembling, his entire body so tense it felt like he was going to collapse.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" The words erupted from him, raw and thunderous, a tidal wave of anger that crashed against the rooftop.

Deku flinched, the bag in his hands crinkling under the force of his grip. "Kacchan—"

"No!" Katsuki cut him off, his voice cracking as it surged higher. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides, stopping just short of grabbing Deku by the collar. His crimson eyes burned with something more than fury—something deeper, more raw. "You don't ever—ever—fucking do that again! Do you hear me?!"

The distortion of his irises flickered as they glowed molten, reflecting back in Deku's eyes who in turn stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen, like he'd been slapped. His gaze flickered over Katsuki's face, and whatever he saw there made him pale. "I—I didn't—"

"You think you can just... vanish without warning?" His voice cracked under the weight of his words, "You think I can handle that shit again? That I can handle losing you again?!"

Deku's mouth opened, but no words came out. His expression wavered, caught between shock and guilt as Katsuki continued, his voice dropping into a low, trembling growl. "These last few months, I've been running on fumes, holding on by a thread. You were that thread, you stupid nerd. The only reason I kept going was because I knew you were alive out there."

Katsuki's breathing hitched, and he scrubbed a hand down his face as if trying to push the emotions back down. But the dam was already cracked, and there was no stopping the flood. "You don't get it, do you?!" he shouted, the tears finally breaking free, carving silent paths down his cheeks. "I can't lose you again, Deku. I physically—mentally—can't. You think you're protecting me? Bullshit. You disappearing is what's killing me!"

Deku's hands trembled at his sides, the crinkled ramen bag forgotten in his grip, watching as the person who had always been a force of nature, always so unshakable, unraveled right in front of him. He looked mortified as if seeing the cracks in Katsuki's armor had physically shaken him. "I..." Deku's voice faltered, trembling as he tried to find something—anything—to say.

"The day you went after Phazewave and Vortex in Hakone—the day you fought them alone—I almost ended it, Deku. I almost fucking ended it."

The words hit the air like a bomb, raw and jagged. Deku flinched, his body stiffening as the impact of Katsuki's confession sank in. His lips parted again trying to get something out, but no sound came out. The weight of Katsuki's voice, the sheer devastation behind it, cracked that wall he had thrown up between them.

Katsuki's hand tightened around his collar, fist trembling. Those glowing eyes locked onto Deku's, unrelenting and burning with a mixture of fury and anguish. "You think you're protecting me by pulling this lone wolf crap? You think I'm better off not knowing what you're up to, not knowing if you're even alive? Bullshit. That day—" His voice broke again, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass. He forced himself to keep going. "That day, when I thought you were gone, I lost it. Completely. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could feel was this... this goddamn void, this emptiness that was eating me alive."

The bag slipped from Deku's hand, dropping to the floor, his gaze flickering with something Katsuki hadn't seen since he found him—fear. But it wasn't the fear of battle, of facing some new enemy. It was fear of what Katsuki was saying, of the depth of the pain he was laying bare.

Katsuki's trembling hand released Deku's collar, but the tension in his shoulders, the fire in his molten eyes, didn't fade. His breathing was ragged, shallow, each inhale a struggle against the tide of emotions threatening to pull him under. He reached beneath the neckline of his shirt, fingers shaking as they fumbled for the chain around his neck. The metal was warm against his clammy skin.

Deku watched as Katsuki yanked the chain free, the faint glow of the ring catching in the dim light. Katsuki held it out, the metal swaying slightly from the force of his hand trembling. The pulse of emerald light mirroring the beat of his own heart.

"This," Katsuki said, shaking the chain slightly, the faint glow catching Deku's gaze. "This shit was supposed to glow as long as you were alive. You told me that yourself. 'It carries a part of me, Kacchan,' you said. 'A part of my soul.' You swore this thing would never stop glowing, as long as you were out there somewhere, breathing."

Katsuki could feel the pressure start to flow inside him, but he shoved it down. "And it just... stopped." Katsuki's voice cracked, the words coming out in a trembling whisper, choked with pain. "It went dark, Deku. It went completely fucking dark."

Deku's head jerked up, those dull emerald eyes that once sparkled with so much emotion met Katsuki's as the weight of those words sank in. He opened his mouth to speak, but Katsuki didn't give him the chance.

"You have any idea what that did to me? I was in that lab with IcyHot, the one you raided in Toei, and I felt it. I felt the moment that light went out, and I thought—" His voice broke completely, the sentence unfinished as his grip tightened on the chain. "I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you. And I... I couldn't—" He stopped, shaking his head like he was trying to physically banish the memory.

Deku's knees threatened to give out, his hands trembling as he took an unsteady step closer. "Kacchan... I didn't know. I—"

"Of course, you didn't know!" Katsuki snapped, his voice a mix of anger and raw grief and Katsuki could see the shadow of someone else watching him through those eyes, but he didn't fucking care. "You didn't know because you didn't bother to tell me what the hell you were doing! You went off on your own, thinking you could handle everything by yourself, and you left me here to—" He stopped again, his voice breaking into a low growl as he dragged a hand through his hair, the chain clinking softly against his chest.

"When that light went out, I lost it," Katsuki said, quieter now, but no less intense. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could feel was this goddamn black hole ripping through me, and I couldn't—" He swallowed hard, the tears brimming in his eyes fell faster, carving tracks down his face. "I couldn't handle it. I couldn't fucking survive it."

Katsuki felt the rush of pressure building in his chest again, a wave of molten heat threatening to spill over, to consume him. His breathing hitched, his lungs burning as if the air around him had turned to smoke. He stumbled back, his legs unsteady, each step feeling like the ground might collapse beneath him. He didn't care where he was going—he just needed space, air, something to keep himself from breaking apart completely, from spiraling over that edge.

His back hit the nearest wall, and he slid down, his legs folding awkwardly beneath him as his weight gave out. He sank to the floor, his chest heaving with the effort of pulling in each ragged breath. His hands flew to his face, trembling fingers pressing against his forehead and covering his eyes, as if blocking out the world could somehow silence the storm raging inside him.

The silence around him felt deafening, broken only by the uneven gasps of his breathing as he struggled to rein in the chaos. Breathe. Just breathe. Shoto's words looped in his mind like a desperate mantra, a lifeline to hold onto as the pressure threatened to condense inside his heart.

He fucking hated this. Hated how weak he felt, how raw and exposed he was in front of him—Deku. Reaper. Whoever the hell he was right now. He hated the vulnerability coursing through him like an open wound, bleeding out every emotion he'd tried so hard to keep locked away.

Why the hell did he even bother to say all that?

He hadn't meant to—hadn't wanted to. It wasn't like him to lose control like this, to spill everything out in a torrent of words that he couldn't pull back. Katsuki was the one who held the damn line when it came to emotions, no matter what... or he had at one point.

But now? Now he was sitting on the cold floor, shaking like a leaf, his chest aching with every breath as he tried to process what had just happened. What was the point? What the hell was the point of saying all that?

Deku didn't care. Not really. Not anymore. Maybe he used to, back when things were simpler, back when he was still just that scrappy kid with stars in his eyes and an unshakable belief in his heroes. But now? Now—

Katsuki's spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt when he felt the sudden pressure of arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace. His breath hitched, his entire body stiffening at the contact. It took him a moment to register what was happening, his mind scrambling to catch up with reality.

It was Deku.

Deku was holding him.

Katsuki's wide, molten eyes blinked in disbelief as he processed the warmth radiating from Deku's body, the trembling grip of his arms around Katsuki's shoulders. His face was buried against Katsuki's neck, and his breaths came in quick, uneven gasps that matched the stuttering rhythm of Katsuki's own chest.

Chapter Text

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Phantom Touch

Katsuki's head turned slowly, his glowing eyes fizzling out as they locked onto the figure holding him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Deku—really saw him. The tear-streaked face, the trembling shoulders, the desperate grip of his arms around Katsuki like he was holding onto something he couldn't bear to lose.

Deku was there. Really there. His arms were wrapped around Katsuki with a desperation that Katsuki didn't know how to process. Didn't expect from the person who had looked at him without so much as a hint of warmth these last two days.

And now... now he was clinging to Katsuki like he mattered, like he was precious.

Katsuki swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he felt the warmth of Deku's breath against his neck. He didn't know what to do, what to say. The storm inside him—the anger, the grief, the overwhelming pressure—it all seemed to pause, held at bay by the sheer disbelief of this moment.

"We-I thought I was doing the right thing," Deku's voice cracked, trembling as he choked out the words. His grip tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of Katsuki's jacket like he was afraid to let go. "I just wanted to keep you safe, Kacchan. We thought—" His voice broke completely, and he buried his face deeper against Katsuki's neck, his tears hot and unrelenting. "I thought if I stayed away, if I kept you out of it, you'd be okay. I didn't know... I didn't know how much I was hurting you."

Katsuki only blinked. It was like every wall Deku had built, every layer of distance he'd tried to maintain, was crumbling right in front of him.

Almost hesitantly, Katsuki raised one arm, his hand hovering awkwardly for a moment before he let it rest lightly on Deku's back.

Katsuki's hand stayed there for a moment, steady and warm against the trembling curve of Deku's back. But then, almost instinctively, his fingers began to move, traveling upward, brushing against the tense line of Deku's spine until they reached the nape of his neck. Katsuki's palm lingered there for a moment, feeling the heat of Deku's skin, the rapid pulse beneath his fingers, before sliding into the unruly mess of white curls.

The strands were softer than he remembered, but familiar in a way that made Katsuki's chest ache. His fingers curled into his hair, his touch firm yet gentle as Katsuki pressed Deku closer.

Katsuki's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, his face burying into those messy curls. He stayed like that for a moment, still and silent, as if savoring the feel of it.

"Deku," Katsuki muttered, his voice rough, unsure, as if saying his name might shatter the fragile moment. "You're such a goddamn idiot."

Izuku pulled back slightly, his movements hesitant, His tear-streaked face came into view, his green eyes red-rimmed and glistening with emotion.

Katsuki inhaled deeply before he let out a long, shaky sigh, the anxiety and pressure that had been coiled so tightly inside him finally beginning to ebb away. He leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze meeting Deku's as he dragged a hand through his hair.

"Can we talk, nerd? Like actually talk about what the hell's going on... please? Don't leave me here in the dark when all I've wanted was to be right here next to you."

Deku looked down for a moment, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for something—or maybe like he was debating with himself. Katsuki couldn't tell if the hesitation was directed inward or if it was one of those damned fragments of Deku's other selves weighing in.

For a long heartbeat, He didn't say anything. His hand clenched briefly in his lap before he finally pulled back, his arms unwinding from around Katsuki as he shifted to sit beside him.

Deku brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he rested his chin on top. He stayed that way for a moment, his gaze distant, his eyes flickering with something Katsuki couldn't quite place. Then, without looking at Katsuki, he muttered softly, "Can we at least eat first?"

"Yeah, fine," Katsuki muttered, his voice gruff as he pushed himself upright and reached for the crinkled ramen bag lying forgotten on the floor.

But before he could fully get up a ripple spread across the dimly lit space, dark tendrils curling and twisting unnaturally as Phazewave emerged from the murk like a living specter.

The Nomu's clawed hand reached out, snatching the bag effortlessly before Katsuki could react. Katsuki tensed, his fiery eyes narrowing as he watched the creature. Katsuki only clicked his tongue in irritation before he sat back down.

Phazewave cocked its head at Katsuki with an expression that was almost... curious. Its chittering voice echoed faintly as it looked between the two of them. He really hated this fucking Nomu.

"You gonna hand it over, or you just here to make this weird?"

The Nomu extended its clawed hand, holding the bag of ramen with an odd gentleness considering its monstrous appearance. Deku grabbed with so much as a thanks, but Phazewave chittered again, a sound that almost seemed to carry satisfaction, before melting back into the shadows. Its form dissolved like ink spreading into water, disappearing completely.

The sound of rustling takeout bags and the faint clink of plastic containers broke the silence as Katsuki and Deku settled back into their spots on the floor. Katsuki tore open his ramen container with practiced ease, the warm aroma of broth and noodles wafting up to meet him. He twirled his chopsticks in the noodles, taking a quick bite before glancing sideways at Deku. The nerd was sitting with his knees still pulled to his chest, his chopsticks moving in slow, deliberate motions as he lifted a small portion of noodles to his mouth.

They sat in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them. After a while and another mouthful of ramen, Katsuki set his container down with a soft thud, his chopsticks clattering against the edge. "Alright, nerd," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "What's the plan here? What's the endgame?"

Deku paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering inches from his mouth. His attention shifting to Katsuki, it was sharp and searching, before dropping back to his container. He didn't answer right away, instead placing his food down carefully as if buying himself time. Katsuki watched him closely.

When Deku finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more measured. "I... I need to stop Odd Eye. No matter what it takes, you remember what I told you the day I left."

Katsuki couldn't forget that night even if he tried, the heat, the hostility that he'd realized later on was Reaper taking shape in the kitchen where they'd both said nasty things to each other.

Katsuki also didn't miss the way Deku's tone shifted, the hardness creeping in like a shield being raised. Deku's posture stiffened, his hands tightening around his knees as if bracing himself. Katsuki could feel the shift in the air, the presence of someone else—Reaper—lingering just beneath the surface, as if he too remembered that night. He didn't need to look twice to know that Reaper was watching, coiled like a viper, ready to strike if things went sideways.

"Stop Odd Eye, huh?" Katsuki muttered, his voice low and rough. He twirled a chopstick between his fingers absently, "you're not just talking about stopping him, though. You're talking about ending him."

Deku flinched, just barely, but Katsuki caught it.

"You're still set on that, aren't you?" Katsuki said, his tone sharper now, though not unkind. "Still planning to go for the kill when the time comes."

Deku's shoulders tensed further, his green eyes flicking toward Katsuki for just a moment before darting away again. Katsuki didn't miss the flicker of something in that gaze—hatred, defiance, maybe both. And just beneath that, he could see Reaper's shadow, actually watching them both like a predator waiting to pounce.

The shift was so subtle, Katsuki almost didn't catch the cold shadow in Deku's eyes solidified, and the warmth Katsuki had been clinging to slipped away. Reaper's glare locked onto Katsuki, venomous and unrelenting, his voice low and sharp like a blade slicing through the fragile peace they'd just fought to build.

"So what if I do?" Reaper's words were so bitter, Katsuki could almost taste them. "So what if I go through with it? Does that make me a monster to you? Does that still make me a villain in your eyes, Katsuki?"

The way Reaper spat his name—it wasn't Izuku or Deku's voice. It was something darker, twisted by hatred and the weight of too many broken promises... the promises he had made Izuku. The defensive edge in his tone braced for Katsuki to say yes, for the confirmation that he was just like Odd Eye or anyone else they'd fought to take down. It was almost like he was daring Katsuki to judge him.

Katsuki didn't look away. Hell, he didn't even flinch. "You think I'm gonna start seeing you differently because of that?" he said, his voice low but steady, laced with that familiar Katsuki bite.

Reaper's glare sharpened, a flicker of something—maybe confusion, maybe anger—crossing his features. But Katsuki didn't let up.

"Listen," Katsuki continued, his tone rough but honest. "I've known what you were planning since that day in the park. I know you're still going for the kill when it comes to Odd Eye. And yeah, maybe a part of me wanted to punch the shit out of you for even thinking about try it all those months ago."

He exhaled sharply, the sound more a frustrated growl than anything. "But after everything that's happened—everything we've been through—I can't fucking blame you. I get it, De—Reap. And if I were in your shoes, if it were me? I'd do the same damn thing."

Reaper's eyes widened just a fraction, the venom in his glare faltering for the briefest moment. Katsuki pressed on, his voice gaining strength, like he was driving the words straight into whatever darkness had wrapped itself around the fragments of his soul.

"You're not a damn monster for wanting to end this. You're not a villain for deciding that sometimes the only way to win is to make sure the other bastard can't come back for round two. And you're sure as hell not a villain in my eyes." Katsuki's voice softened slightly, the edge giving way to something raw and real. "You're Izuku. You're my Izuku. Whether you're Deku, Izuku or Reaper, I don't care, you're still mine. And no matter how fucked up things get, no matter how far you think you've fallen, that's never gonna change."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, as Katsuki leaned forward, challenging Reaper to argue.

"You wanna know the truth, nerd?" Katsuki said, his voice dropping into a low, almost broken murmur. "When I thought you were dead—when that ring stopped glowing—everything else stopped mattering. Being a hero? Saving people? None of it meant shit anymore. All I wanted was to find the bastard who took you from me and I wanted him to fucking suffer. I didn't care about justice, didn't care about right or wrong. All I wanted was to find him, to drag his sorry ass out of whatever hole he was hiding in and make him feel every ounce of pain he'd ever caused you—caused us. I wanted to watch the light drain from his eyes while he realized he'd made the biggest goddamn mistake of his life."

His breath hitched, his voice trembling with the sheer force of the hatred bubbling up inside him. "I didn't give a shit about the consequences. Hell, I was ready to burn the whole damn world down if it meant getting to him if it meant I didn't have to feel that fucking void anymore. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be ripped apart, to have everything you care about stolen from you, to be left with nothing but ash and regret."

Katsuki's gaze locked onto Reaper's, his eyes ablaze with unfiltered rage and unrelenting determination. "You have no idea how close I was. I was ready to lose everything—my name, my title, my fucking soul—just to make sure Odd Eye paid for what he did. For what he took from me."

There was shock, maybe disbelief in those emerald eyes. It was like the darkness surrounding him wavered, unsteady, as if Katsuki's words had cracked something deep inside.

For the first time since this fractured version of Deku had emerged, Reaper seemed... satisfied. There was a quiet acknowledgment in his piercing gaze, a sharp, almost imperceptible nod, before the subtle shift began. The atmosphere lightened—not by much, but enough for Katsuki to feel it. Enough to see it.

And just like that, Deku was back, blinking once, twice, as if coming out of a haze.

"I'm gonna be there, nerd. Right by your side. When we find that asshole, I'm not just gonna stand on the sidelines. I want to see it—the moment he realizes he's lost, the moment he knows he's not coming back from this. I want to see him suffer."

Deku's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't interrupt. He just stared at Katsuki, his lips pressed into a thin line, listening intently.

"I've never killed anyone," Katsuki admitted, the words falling from his lips like stones. "Not because I don't think some of the scumbags we've faced don't deserve it—they do—but because it's a line I've never needed to cross. A line I wasn't sure I could cross... but for Odd Eye? I'd make an exception."

The statement hung in the air, charged and unrelenting. He needed Deku to understand—fully, completely—that he meant every single word.

"I don't care if it means getting my hands dirty, if it means crossing every line I've ever drawn for myself. That bastard put us through hell. He made you think you had to carry all this shit alone. He tore you apart, piece by piece. And he's not walking away from that. Not while I'm still breathing."

Deku's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes shimmering, "You...you really mean that, Kacchan?"

Katsuki's expression softened just slightly, but his voice remained steady, unwavering. "Damn right, I do."

Deku nodded slowly as if he was finally accepting that Katsuki's words weren't some fleeting moment of desperation but an unshakable truth. His throat bobbed again, the weight of it all settling inside.

With a steadying breath, Deku rose to his feet, the quiet sound of his boots shifting against the floor breaking the silence. He stood tall, his posture still holding the echoes of Reaper's edge but softened by the unmistakable presence of Izuku beneath. His green eyes, though tired and red-rimmed, looked at Katsuki's with a renewed determination.

Deku extended his hand toward Katsuki, fingers steady despite the shitshow they had just weathered. "Okay," he said. "Let's take down the League. Let's take down Odd Eye."

Over the next few days, Katsuki and Deku dug into the contents of the hard drive, scouring every piece of data like their lives depended on it—which, frankly, it probably did. Whatever Odd Eye was planning with the league was probably nothing short of monstrous. They combed through it trying to find anything that could bring them closer to finding the League and stopping Project ZENITH.

The information about the Kofu Holding Facility was mostly accessible, its structure and layout laid bare like a challenge, almost like the League wanted them to find it, making Katsuki suspicious of the data. Still, he couldn't help but scoff every time he saw a diagram or security detail. It wasn't that the place wasn't fortified—it damn sure was—but he'd seen Reaper tear through a steel door three inches thick.

The Facility was a hellhole masquerading as just another covert League of Villains operation, a typical MO for Deku and Reaper. There were four sublevels, each serving some twisted purpose, embedded into the side of a mountain.

The first sublevel? A stockpile of illegal support items, enough to outfit a small army. "Storage for supplies," the file had said. More like a treasure trove of villain-grade tech and weapons. It made Katsuki's skin crawl to imagine what half that crap could do in the wrong hands.

Then there was Sublevel two—labs. Machines and synthesizers working on that EcksTerminus serum. Katsuki didn't have to be a scientist to know it was bad news. Anything requiring "isotope preparation" sounded like something that should stay locked in a lead box, not pumped into test subjects.

But Sublevel four? That was the one Katsuki couldn't get out of his head. Human trafficking. Cells. "Processing bays," they called them, like the people they held were just items on a goddamn conveyor belt. He'd make sure an anonymous tip went out after they wiped Odd Eye off the fucking map. Still, it was the other location, Numazu, that had Katsuki's hackles up.

"Figures the shittier place is the one locked up tighter than a damn bank vault," Katsuki muttered, his eyes narrowing as he clicked through yet another encrypted file.

The few accessible files about Numazu were sparse, but what they did reveal painted an ugly picture. Notes about "final stages of development," references to a serum EcksTerminus, which Katsuki now dubbed E.T. because honestly, he wasn't going to keep saying that stupid ass name, and multiple mentions of someone by the initials O.D. personally overseeing the work there.

"'O.D. personally monitoring progress,'" Katsuki read aloud from one of the unencrypted documents, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Great. So, that extra said there was mentions of that the grade-A Asshole, Odd Eye, here but there is no official mention of him." He shot a glance at Deku, expecting some sort of response.

Deku, sitting across the table, didn't look up from the stack of notes he was meticulously organizing. His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pressed into a thin line. But Katsuki didn't miss the way his shoulders seemed less hunched these days, the way the air around him felt less suffocating.

Ever since that conversation on the rooftop, Deku had been... different. Warmer, in a way. He wasn't back to being the starry-eyed nerd Katsuki had grown up with—that version of Izuku was long gone or hidden away so deep inside himself, he'd probably never see him again—but there was a flicker of something familiar.

He talked more, occasionally cracked a wry smile when Katsuki said something particularly obnoxious, and even let out a soft laugh when Phazewave had scared Katsuki half to death for the umpteenth fucking time that day.

Reaper, on the other hand, was still a pain in the ass.

Katsuki could feel it every time Reaper surfaced, which was often. The sharp glares, the biting remarks, the way he held himself like he was expecting Katsuki to stab him in the back at any moment. Reaper didn't trust him—hell, Katsuki wasn't sure Reaper trusted anyone. But Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that their moment on the rooftop had left its mark. It wasn't like before, where his every word was drenched in venom and disdain, but it wasn't exactly friendly, either. He tolerated Katsuki, and that was putting it generously. He still snapped, sure, but there was something different about the way he looked at Katsuki now—like he was trying to figure out what made Katsuki tick, what kept him so damn determined to stick around.

Katsuki's thoughts were interrupted by Deku leaning back with a frustrated sigh. His hands fell away from the keyboard, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Most of the files about Numazu are locked behind some kind of double-layer encryption. It's... advanced. I can get through it, but it's gonna take time."

"Figures," Katsuki muttered, leaning forward to look at Deku's screen. "What about the ones you've cracked?"

Deku clicked through a few files, bringing up a document that had been partially decoded. The text was fragmented, but key phrases stood out: 'Cloud Nine,' 'subject viability,' and 'final stages of ZENITH.'

Katsuki leaned in closer, eyes fixed on the screen as Deku zoomed out to reveal the encryption program working tirelessly to crack the rest of the files. Lines of code flickered across the monitor, a digital labyrinth slowly unraveling itself, but not fast enough for Katsuki's liking—or Deku's, for that matter.

"How much longer is this crap gonna take?" Katsuki asked, his tone laced with impatience. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as he waited for an answer.

Deku didn't look up immediately; instead, he reached for the mug of coffee sitting beside him. He took a long sip, his expression tightening as if he were steeling himself against a headache. "I don't know, Kacchan," he said, his voice sharp with irritation. "Do I look like I can predict the future? It takes as long as it takes."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at the snippy response but didn't push it.

"Tch. Yeah, well, I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius with this shit."

Deku shot him a sidelong glare; the kind that made it clear he wasn't in the mood. "Genius or not, this encryption is top-tier. Double-layered, with failsafes built in to scramble the data if the program makes even one wrong move. I'm doing what I can, so unless you want to try cracking it yourself, maybe don't rush me."

The bite in Deku's tone was unmistakable, and Katsuki had to fight the urge to snap back. Instead, he huffed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fine."

He couldn't blame Deku for snapping at him. Hell, Katsuki had been watching him—watching them—for days now. Katsuki hadn't fully grasped how bad it was until now, seeing it firsthand. Deku wasn't just himself anymore. He was a chorus of voices, each with its own priorities, its own style, its own way of looking at the world. Katsuki could practically hear them arguing as he read through the notes, the words clashing with each other like they were fighting for control of the narrative... the muttering didn't help either.

A sharp ding cut through the tense silence, drawing both Katsuki's and Deku's eyes to the corner of the laptop screen. A notification blinked twice, its soft glow against the dimly lit room almost hypnotic. Katsuki only watched as the notification expanded into a web page.

The title at the top of the page jumped out immediately: Dynamight: Missing or On Hiatus? Questions Arise After Prolonged Absence.

Katsuki felt his stomach twist as his hero name stared back at him, bold and highlighted like a flashing neon sign. His fiery gaze darted across the passage, taking in the key phrases that were also highlighted—"Dynamight" and "Katsuki Bakugo."

"The hell is this?" Katsuki muttered, leaning closer to get a better look. It wasn't that the article that caught his attention, because people starting to question his absence was bound to attract unwanted attention on the heroes but...

Deku, still nursing his coffee, didn't respond immediately, but Katsuki could see the way his fingers twitched against the cup, a subtle tell that screamed guilt. When Katsuki glanced at him, Deku's eyes darted away, focusing intently on a non-existent speck on the table.

Katsuki's attention snapped back to the screen, scanning the article. His hero name appeared multiple times, interwoven with the speculations about his recent inactivity, recounting his last major appearance near Shoto's agency, his explosive entry into the scene, and his pivotal role in taking down the villain involved. None of it was surprising—standard media coming up bullshit for their viewers. But the way his name and actions were highlighted wasn't random.

This wasn't just some article Deku had stumbled on.

"You've got some kind of program running, don't you?" Katsuki asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of the laptop's fan. He pointed at the screen. "This isn't coincidence. This thing's flagging my name on purpose."

Deku set his mug down carefully, his jaw tightening. "It's... an aggregator," he admitted reluctantly, his voice low but steady. "It monitors for news mentions, incidents, social media posts—anything connected to you. It's not just for you, though," he added quickly, as if that would somehow soften the revelation. "I have it for... other people too."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, his molten red gaze locking onto Deku. "You've been keeping tabs on me? This whole time?"

"It's not what you think," Deku said, his words coming out in a rush. "I wasn't spying on you, Kacchan. I just... I needed to know you were okay. After everything that happened, I couldn't just—" He stopped himself, his fists clenching in his lap. "I couldn't let myself lose track of you. Not after they almost murdered—"

Deku froze mid-sentence, his jaw snapping shut as if physically holding back the rest of his words. His green eyes flickered with panic for a split second before he looked away, muttering something under his breath that Katsuki couldn't catch. The fuck?

"Oi." Katsuki's tone was sharp. "The hell are you talking about?"

"It's nothing," Deku replied quickly, his voice too tight, too defensive. "Just... forget it, alright? I need to focus on finding a place in Numazu and getting supplies together for the trip. There's a lot we still need to—"

"Like hell it's nothing." Katsuki shot to his feet, gripping Deku by the shoulder before he could so much as think about brushing him off. His fingers dug into the fabric of Deku's hoodie, his grip firm but not painful. "You're not running away from this, nerd. What the hell do you mean by 'after they almost murdered me'?" He added that last word as if finishing the sentence for him.

Deku stiffened under Katsuki's hand, his entire body going rigid like a wire pulled taut. "Let it go, Kacchan," he muttered, his voice low and laced with warning. He tried to twist out of Katsuki's grasp, but Katsuki's hold didn't budge.

And just before Deku could answer—or more likely evade—Reaper shoved his way to the surface, standing to pull away from Katsuki

"He means," Reaper began, his voice cold and unyielding, "You're wasting your breath, Katsuki. that I took care of the bastard who was hired to either kill you or drag you to the League in pieces."

Katsuki blinked, stunned into silence. His mind raced, replaying the last few months in a rapid-fire montage, searching for any moment, any indication that something had been off. But there was nothing. No shadowy figures tailing him, no strange incidents, nothing. His life, aside from the hellscape of Izuku's disappearance, had been routine—or as routine as it could be.

"You're full of shit," Katsuki snapped, his molten red eyes narrowing. "I'd know if someone was gunning for me. No way in hell you pulled this off without me noticing."

Reaper sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation, as if he was dealing with a particularly slow student in a class he didn't want to teach. "You're predictable, Dynamight," he said, dragging a hand down his face. "You have routines. Patterns. You don't change them, and that makes you an easy target. They didn't need to get clever—they just needed to be patient."

Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but Reaper cut him off with a sharp gesture, his other hand resting on the back of the nearest chair as if to steady himself. "I grabbed him before he could so much as touch your balcony door," Reaper said, his voice darkening with every word. "He was halfway through unlocking it when I yanked his sorry ass into the shadows. Took him somewhere nice and quiet before he could start screaming."

Katsuki's stomach churned at the way Reaper said it, the detached tone making it clear he wasn't just recounting facts—he was reliving the moment in vivid detail. And the way his green eyes gleamed with something primal, something cold and unyielding, told Katsuki that the bastard hadn't gone quietly.

"What did you do?" Katsuki asked, his voice quieter now but no less demanding.

Reaper's lips curled into a dark, humorless smile. "What I had to," he said simply. "I interrogated him. He wasn't a mastermind—just a grunt following orders—but he spilled plenty when I started breaking bones." It took Katsuki a moment to remember the person in front of him was a merciless killer.

"And?"

"And," Reaper continued, his tone dropping into a deadly quiet, "He belonged to a guild—one with a nasty little specialty in assassinations and high-risk extractions. I spent weeks tracking down every single member of that guild. Took out their leader first—an arrogant bastard who thought he could bargain his way out. Then the lieutenants, one by one. Every last one of them." He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, until he was standing inches from Katsuki.

His eyes—bright, venomous green—locked onto Katsuki's with an intensity that made the room feel suffocating. There was something unsettling in the way he watched him, like a predator gauging its prey. Slowly, Reaper raised his hand, his finger extending to trace the hollow of Katsuki's neck.

Katsuki tensed, the touch was deliberate, unhurried, his finger cool against the heated skin of Katsuki's neck. Reaper's voice softened, almost a whisper, as his finger slid along the line of Katsuki's throat. "Just like this," he murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. "Quick. Clean. Efficient."

Katsuki's throat bobbed involuntarily as he felt the cool, deliberate trace of Reaper's finger against his skin. The sensation sent an involuntary ripple through him that he didn't know how to interpret. Whether it was from unease or something else, he couldn't tell—it made him almost squirm. His mind rebelled against the idea that there was anything remotely thrilling about the bastard's touch, but his body wasn't getting the memo. His pulse kicked up, an unsteady rhythm pounding in his ears.

What the hell's wrong with him?

Katsuki could see it in the faint curl of his lips, slow and knowing as green eyes glinting with something cold and calculating. His finger lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back, his expression shifting into something that might've been mistaken for a smile—if not for the deadness in his eyes.

Katsuki exhaled sharply, his breath coming out in a rough huff as he fixed Reaper with a glare. "You're seriously messed up, you know that?" he said, low and biting. But it lacked the usual venom he liked to throw around, and he hated himself for it.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to push past the uncomfortable knot in his chest. He didn't like this, didn't like this side of Izuku. And yet, some sick part of him couldn't ignore the way his pulse had jumped at that touch, the way his breath had hitched before he could stop it.

"Can we move on to the next phase of our planning?" Reaper asked, his voice smooth, almost bored, like they hadn't just had a moment Katsuki couldn't explain and didn't want to dwell on.