Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Kacchan”

Scritch

Scritch

Scritch

Rhythmic screeches painted the dull atmosphere, like bold streaks of red bouncing against an otherwise unremarkable canvas.

“Kacchan.”

Scritch

Scritch

Scritch

The sound of metal on metal was near unbearable, like nails on a chalkboard yet neither of the two reacted to the sound. It had stopped being grating after the first fifteen minutes; by now, it was barely noticeable.

They both stilled as heavy footsteps drew closer, not even daring to breathe, and each released their own breath of relief only after they had moved farther away again.

“Kacchan I really think we should-"

“Do you really think there’s a ‘should’ in this situation, Deku?”, the boy deadpanned.

“No, I’m just saying that were running out of time, if we want to escape-”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched, the vein in his neck bulging. His expression was severely contorted, a strange amalgamation of anger, stress, annoyance and despair and his arms quivered violently from overuse. Sweat stuck strands of hair to his forehead and Katsuki’s characteristic style had been swiftly defeated from the humidity.

Apart from the evident exhaustion, the boy was disgruntled but relatively unhurt.

The same could hardly be said for Izuku.

Deep gashes unseamed both his arms cleanly, from the armpits down to the wrists, a morbid pattern of crimson and coal, blood and char interrupted only by a thick bracelet of metal. The black of the messily burnt skin and the red of the crusted blood that had escaped made the uncharacteristic pallor of his skin all the more evident.

Purple and yellow splotches had begun to bloom against the rest of it, as if clawing to escape from beneath. Scratches littered his body as liberally as his freckles did and two of his fingernails were missing.

His ankle was facing backwards.

“I know, I know, I’ll be done in a sec”

“It’s been three hours, Kacchan”

“…”

“You haven’t made a dent-”

“I said I’ll be done in a sec.”

A long-suffering sigh, then a pause before the grating sound resumed.

Scritch

Scritch

Scritch

It wasn’t unusual for Izuku to find himself in confrontations with villains. In fact, it had happened so often that he’d gained a reputation for it and his classmates had made it a point to never leave him unsupervised (not that they’d ever told him this, but they weren't exactly known for their subtlety). It hadn’t even been a long trip, just a quick run to the convenience store opposite UA to get some ingredients for dinner, a trip which Kacchan, surprisingly, had volunteered to join him on because Izuku was a “dumbass nerd who wouldn't know the right things to get”. Izuku internally laughed at the contradicting statement but wasn’t about to pass up Kacchan's offer to hang out, because, no matter what crude words it was hidden behind, that's what this was. An offer to hang out; a tentative step in fixing their relationship.

There should've been no reason for anything to go wrong. It was right next to U.A., in the middle of the day, in broad daylight and for once, he and Kacchan were actually getting along. Not that he was being nice or anything, but he listened to Izuku’s rambling about the hero fight he had seen that morning without complaint and only told him to shut up twice! He had a strange look on his face as they shopped, contemplative and...soft? Or as soft as Kacchan could be anyways. It was entirely different from the explosive anger he had grown used to and was slightly jarring, but surprisingly really nice. It felt bittersweet, his heart glad that he was allowed to witness this now, but also grieving the friendship that could’ve been, if only he’d had a quirk from the start…

Watching Kacchan debating between two different brands of chilli, Izuku stepped forward to take a look when a gentle hand pressed into his shoulder, preventing him. He startled slightly at the sudden touch and fought against the impulse to slap the hand away, forcing himself to relax with much effort before plastering a smile on his face and turning around to investigate. In the corner of his eye, he saw Kacchan lift his head to look at him, not quite concerned but not completely uncaring either. Flashing him the same strained smile, he turned to face what he presumed to be another customer.

“Hello, is everything alri-“

The moment their gazes connected, Izuku’s world began to turn, and an intense nausea consumed his being until he could focus on nothing else.

“Deku?”

Pressure erupted in his sinuses and behind his eyes, the feeling not dissimilar to a migraine but the pain infinitely worse. His ears popped and his vision swam, darkness steadily creeping into the corners of his view. He would have gasped but he was finding it increasingly difficult to draw air into his lungs and he clawed at his throat. He couldn't hear, he could barely see but he felt Kacchan reach towards him. Izuku tried to tell him to get away, to go back, to save himself but he didn't get the chance to before everything went black.

“You need to cut it off.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do, smartass?”

The screeching sound continued, the boy unrelenting in his attempts to break the chains, despite knowing by now that it was utterly futile.

“No...I mean my leg...”

“What are you talking about Deku? Speak properly or stop distracting me-“

“I need you to cut off my leg.”

The screeching came to a sudden halt.

“I’m not doing that.”

“You know it’s the ‘right’ answer. Locked in a room surrounded by tools that just so happen perfect for amputation? Unguarded? In a place that we could easily escape if only I could use my quirk. A situation completely incompatible for your quirk but oddly perfect for mine? The amputated limbs surrounding us!?”

Sure enough, even in the darkness of the cell it wasn’t difficult to make them out, about five or six hands and feet, of all different sizes and in varying states of decay. It had been terrifying when he first opened his eyes here and had thrown him straight into an awful panic attack, but it had been a couple of days now and he hated to admit it but he had gotten used to them.

A loaded silence prevailed for a moment, before the screeching sound returned.

“I’m not doing that.” Katsuki repeated, face unperturbed but voice shaking, almost imperceptibly.

Izuku liked to pride himself on his temperament. He could usually keep his head in even the most aggravating scenarios but he was cold and starving and in pain and this fucking dumbass wouldn’t listen.

He lost it.

“It’s my body! It's my leg! And I’m sorry that you decided to be a good person and suddenly hurting me is so unbearable for you, I really am, but if you make me beg for you to permanently maim me, as if it's something that I want then so help me!! "I’m not doing that" DO YOU THINK I WANT YOU TO!? News flash, I’m not letting us die here because you were too righteous to do what needed to be done so either you cut it for me or I'll do it myself.”

The screeching continued without even a pause, and Izuku let out a humourless laugh.

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight can’t even make one tough decision? Too weak to make a few sacrifices? Some hero you’ll be.”

Izuku fought a wince at his words, but refused to back down. He knew he was going low but he needed to give them a fighting chance of survival. It had been hard enough to get him to cauterise the wounds on his arms, and they didn’t have time for all the pleading and reasoning that had taken. The footsteps were getting louder and Izuku really did not care to see what else their kidnappers had in store for them; yes, because they’d already unzipped his arms like a coat and had his ankle facing the wrong direction, but mainly because Kacchan could be next and he didn't know if he could handle that. He thought his jibe about being a bad hero would be enough but the other boy was unwavering in his conviction, no longer pretending as if sawing the chains was doing anything but seemingly giving up altogether, content to just… die?

“Are you serious right now!? I am in so much pain I can barely move my arms but you want me to cut my own leg off!? You think I won’t!?”

Katsuki remained unmoving, arms crossed and head hung low, as if he were gearing up to sleep.

“Fine, then.”

He kept up his façade of nonchalance but he couldn’t hide how his body tensed. Still, he kept his eyes closed and head down.

Eyeing the various apparatus surrounding them, Izuku settled on what looked like a glorified breadknife. His hands wrists were in various stages of disfigurement, the left mangled more than the right, but it’s wrist was still in socket despite the broken bones. With the way his right hand flopped around, there was no way it’s grip would be strong enough to cut through bone.

Ignoring the searing pain, he reached forwards and snagged the one of the cleaner saws, testing it in his grip before placing it gently against his shackled ankle. It jumped up on his skin, mimicking the way his hands trembled from fear exertion.

’Deep breaths Izuku’

With determination, he ploughed down and the saw skimmed the surface, barely breaking skin. A single bead of ruby red formed from the aberration and winked up at him, even in the darkness. His chest rose and fell rapidly as the implications of what he was about to do slammed into him like a freight train.

He was going to cut off his leg.

He was going to cut off his leg

H e w a s g o i n g t o c u t o f f h i s l e g.

His arm trembled more violently, and he set it down on his lap, hiding it from sight, as if removing the evidence of his fear would abolish the feeling too.

Lifting the tool, he steadied his hand once more and bit down on the remains of his t-shirt, breathing in deeply.

‘It was out of commission anyways, my ankle is backwards, they probably would’ve had to amputate it anyways’

He blocked out the voice that telling him that ’no, with advances in modern quirk medicine it could probably be fixed somehow’, and let his body move before he had the chance to think.

The whole debacle happened in a matter of seconds, yet when his vision became clear again, Izuku found himself in a dark room, three of his four limbs chained to the wall. He gently called on his quirk, coaxing out the embers of One For All but to no avail.

‘Quirk suppressant cuffs?’, he mused, absentmindedly.

It was too dark to really make out his surroundings but he could tell he was surrounded with objects. Using his free leg, he felt around, moving the objects and hearing the characteristic sound of heavy metal on stone.

"Awake already?"

Izuku's head jerked upwards as he resurveyed the room, startled at both the sudden voice and the fact that, for all his training, he’d been unable to detect the other’s presence. Usually he was more aware of his surroundings than this. Squinting against the darkness that permeated the room, it only took his a second to recognise the person from the convenience store, the one who had looked into his eyes and-

‘hurgk-’

Just the memory of the feeling made him want to throw up. He tried to stand up as much as he was able but the restraints has practically zero give and he slumped back to the floor.

The tall man giggled.

"Usually, I just leave at this point and wait to retrieve my souvenir", he grabbed something next to him on the ground where was sitting, and thumbed it lovingly. "The issue is, you're just so cute, I can't help but want to have a little fun with you", the man lazily drawled. Izuku's body stiffened as a wash of cold dread soaked his body. Suddenly hyperaware of just how much of his shirt was missing, his hands instinctively moved to cover his chest only to clink against the restraints with the reminder that he was entirely vulnerable here.

The man laughed openly this time. "Don't get me wrong, you're a very pretty boy, but I didn't mean that kind of fun."

Izuku hated himself for feeling even a modicum of gratitude towards this villain for doing the bare minimum and not assaulting him. That was, before the villain held up a knife and gratitude evaporated altogether, replaced by resurfacing nausea and the realisation of 'no, he definitely still getting assaulted'.

He wanted his mom.

"Now, it should only hurt a little-“, the villain paused, as if contemplating his words before releasing a harsh snort, “Or a lot. Probably a lot but who knows!"

Izuku was growing real tired of that laugh, real fast.

"You'll scream pretty for me, won'tcha doll?" Izuku yanked at his arms again and again but to no avail, desperation colouring his face and animating his body with a sense of new life. The restraints, though, were unaffected by the plea written in his every move and with those parting words, Izuku's reality shattered, leaving only a world of agony.

'Schlip'

His face crumpled like a wet tissue and he bit his tongue in spite of the makeshift gag. The noise that escaped him was like the cry of a wounded animal, and had Katsuki’s eyes snapping wide open, his gaze permeated with distress and disbelief as he wasted no time in rushing forward.

“WHAT THE HELL DEKU?!”

In his distress, he forgot to be gentle with the boy's mangled hands and now-sliced ankle. He pushed Izuku's hands away with much more force than he had originally intended but the shorter boy didn’t react regardless, too absorbed by the trauma, the slew of curses Katsuki had expected unable to even escape his subconscious. A low, dull whine made itself known instead, and a heavy stream of tears navigated down the boy’s cheeks.

“Alright, alright, hush now, I’m sorry”

It was startling how quickly Katsuki’s tone shifted, unsure and unfathomably, painfully soft, as if he were talking to a startled animal he were terrified of scaring off. Even more surprising than the crack in his voice, however, was the abrupt termination of Izuku’s cries. His body became so still it was hard to determine whether he was still breathing and it had Katsuki was at a loss, grasping for what to do.

“Deku-“

Eyes that had been hidden behind disheveled green curls unveiled themselves, levelling him with a glare so angry and hate-filled Katsuki nearly couldn’t believe that this was the same boy who carried a bag of bandages and dog treats everywhere ‘just in case’; who watered weeds because he found it ‘too cruel’ to uproot them; who made sure to catch instead of kill spiders despite how deathly afraid of them Katsuki knew he was.

“I’m-“

“Just. fucking. cut.”

Katsuki’s body became rigid, not with shock or fear as it had the first time, but with a sickening, all-encompassing dread that curled in his stomach. He no longer had the luxury of convincing himself this was a bluff, or the right to deny when the evidence of Deku's resolve was right infront of him. With a saw lodged in the other boy’s ankle and blood spurting rivulets onto the stone floor, he was confronted with the harsh reality that this well-and-truly wasn’t about him. It didn’t matter that he had changed, that he'd promised himself he’d never lay a finger on Deku again. It didn’t matter that he had finally started to forgive himself, on the grounds that he ‘wasn’t that person anymore’, and that he would go straight back to being 'that person' that he could admit only in the dead of night or safety of his therapist’s office he hated so much. It didn’t matter that he was destroying Deku’s dreams of being a hero permanently, properly, something that middle school Katsuki, that even All for One wasn’t able to achieve and if Katsuki did what even the world’s worst supervillain was unable to, then where did that leave him? It didn’t matter that there would be no coming back from this, that the tentative friendship Katsuki would rather die than admit he treasured, would be in shambles after this. ‘Morality’ and ‘justice' had no place here, the only way he could show anything was by getting them both out of here, alive. The greatest way to atone for his past, for his present, was to take on this burden, to make himself the target for all of Deku’s despair and anger and horror. Giving the boy a punching bag, to atone for making Deku his for so many years. Making him hate Katsuki instead of himself, ending his dreams with his own bloodstained hands. The least he could do was this, allow Deku the small relief of knowing he wasn’t responsible for this, that he had done his best but the 'big bad bully' had taken his leg and, well, what else could he have done? Suddenly, the thought of letting Deku do this to himself was too much for Katsuki, unfathomably cruel in a way that, for all his trespasses, he felt he'd never been before.

That didn’t make the prospect any less daunting.

He was nowhere near ready, he couldn’t do this what was he thinking couldn’t go back he didn’t want to go back but the decision had already been made, and now every second he spent dawdling was just another second of Deku losing blood. He set his jaw in a determined grimace and grit his teeth.

’It isn’t your leg’

'No', Katsuki thought bitterly, 'but I sure as hell wish it was.'

Dragging the apparatus back up towards him, he was somehow still woefully unprepared for the scream that pierced the atmosphere and the hands that rushed to prevent him, grasping and tugging at his arm with a strength that the disfigurement, starvation and blood loss shouldn’t have allowed. It was no small feat shrugging off the fingernails that dug into his forearms, and harder still was tuning out the litany of desperate pleads but Katsuki refused to slow his movements, methodical and unyielding in his pursuit.

“No, no no no no Kacchan stop please stop not my leg I can’t be a hero without my leg I can’t-“

Internally, a infinitesimally small smile ghosted Izuku’s lips. Bitersweet tears complimented his sobs, visceral and ugly and raw, and gratitude expanded in his chest so violently that he started to choke on it. The freedom to cry, to scream, to fight, to blame; it was a luxury that, often times, the world hadn’t afforded him, forcing him to receive abuse with open-hands or risk receiving a double portion. He knew what Kacchan was thinking and couldn’t be more grateful, but his leg was the one being sawed through and amidst the pain and the trauma, he figured he could put himself first in his own life, just this once. He gave in to the catharsis of letting go; he allowed himself to accept the kindness Katsuki had offered. He clawed and fought, wailed in agony and cursed more than he had his entire life.

“STOP IT PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU I’M BEGGING YOU WHYWHYWHYMEWHATDIDIDOTOYOUWHYISITALWAYSME-“

'Shhkriiit'

A harsh inhale punctuated the insistent stream of words as Izuku seemed to choke on the air itself, a raw and grainy sound seemingly emerging from his very soul. He vomited, little more than bile and spit, before promptly choking on that too, violent coughs tearing his throat apart as he gasped for some substance to cling to.

Katsuki had just hit bone.

Katsuki refused to block out any of the abuses he was showered with, and instead welcomed them openly with the resolute determination not to stop. The shift in texture, however, saw the movement shuddering up his entire arm and, coupled with Deku’s own visceral reaction, he couldn’t help but falter in his rhythm. He couldn’t recall when, exactly, he had started crying. He swallowed down again the vomit that threatened for the third time to arise, before pushing the saw forward, deeper into bone. The sensation reverberated through his whole body, and it took every square inch of resolve he had left to keep going.

’It isn’t your leg.’

Once he had cleared the bone, Izuku’s foot dangled, jerking about limply with each stroke of the saw; Katsuki had to hold the two pieces together in order to make any more progress. The screams had dissipated by this point, replaced by a hauntingly blank stare, Izuku’s gaze fixated on his leg with eyes so glassy and distant they could’ve belonged to a dead man. The last flap of skin gave with a sickening ‘snap’ and the remains of his foot was pushed away. Gently but firmly, Katsuki slipped the bloody stub out of the shackle and Izuku felt his quirk settle back into his chest, a momentary comfort in the midst of his misery. Blood erupted everywhere, his own literal fountain of life, and the two stared at it, spent and despondent.

“You’re not done yet.”

“I know.”

With as much precision as he could manage, Katsuki fired up his quirk and used it to cauterise the wound. It was messy and painful, after all, his quirk was explosion, not something clean-cut like ‘half hot half cold’. Still, he channelled everything that he could, thousands of hours of quirk training into this one moment of making this as pain-free as he could manage. The smell of cooking meat made their stomachs lurch, in anticipation then in self-loathing. After days of starvation, the smell of burning flesh, of a real human’s burning body was enticing. Watching the skin fold and curl like melted plastic was morbidly enthralling, and both boys watched with rapt attention.

Finally, after a long pause, it was over.

Katsuki lifted the boy onto his back with a care he usually reserved for small children, not even grumbling half-heartedly when the other boy’s arms wrapped around his neck, inadvertently choking him. He wobbled slightly, the exertion and lack of food finally taking its toll and, snagging the remaining foot, he stumbled gracelessly towards the back wall.

“Your quirk work now?”

A nearly inaudible hum served as confirmation and they stood, swaying, for near half a minute as Izuku tried and failed to collect himself and brace for even more pain. After 90 seconds of deep breaths and refocusing himself, Katsuki’s leg’s were buckling and Izuku was nowhere closed to being calm. To hell with it, he decided, and a strained ‘smash’ followed by a large wave of power saw his quirk crumble in moments the wall that Katsuki had spent 4 days trying to overcome.

Izuku promptly passed out.

The force had knocked them both down and Katsuki spared neither time nor gentleness scooping the other boy up and running as fast as he could manage in his state. Fumbling with the limp, unconscious body, Katsuki struggled to get Izuku onto his back again. When the awkward position continued to hinder his running, Katsuki could only squeeze his face and push past the apprehension and guilt, before shoving the dismembered limb between his teeth to manhandle the body onto his back. Preparing to use explosion to fly, the sudden sound of heavy footsteps had a cold dread curling into the pit of his stomach.

No no no no no no no no NO! not now, not after everything.

He tried to lift off again, but found that for some reason, he couldn’t. He cursed his stupid, weak, useless body, for failing him now of all times. He couldn’t get caught here, he wouldn’t let it all be for nothing. Frenzied eyes searched the abandoned street they seemed to be on, for an exit but he was coming up short, the alleyways were all dead ends and he could only keep running forwards. A hand reached out to grab him and he snarled aggressively at it, taking steps backwards, the ache in his legs making him painfully aware of the boy on his back he had to protect. Another hand gripped his shoulder and he swiped out a foot abruptly, tripping the figure but loosing his own balance and crashing to the ground. This wouldn’t do. There were too many of them. He didn’t have time for this; Izuku needed the hospital. He needed to go. He needed to escape. He needed-

“Bakugou?”

“Sensei?”

"No no no this can’t be real I’m going crazy I’m seeing things that aren’t there it has to be a quirk I need to keep going I need to go-“

A firm hand on his shoulder coaxed him into opening the eyes he hadn’t realised he’d clenched shut. Aizawa was kneeling in front of him, face carefully blank but eyes roaming his body in obvious concern.

“We came rescue you, it’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Adrenaline fading, he looked around, only now seeing that the ‘figures’ surrounding him were all established pros. Behind him, he glanced back to see what looked from the outside to be a fairly unassuming building (minus the freshly broken wall) no more than 50 meters from where he now sat.

Suddenly, a new wave of despair punched the breath out of him and, careful not to jostle Izuku too much, he collapsed further to the ground. The appendage that had been wedged between his back and Izuku’s chest bounced as it hit the floor. Exhaustion and misery evaporated his pride and long, pitiful sobs bubbled up out of his chest.

“You were here? The whole time?”

Dropping further to a crouch, the boy’s homeroom teacher spoke softly, horrified by the corpse they had apparently been carrying with them, but unwilling to startle this traumatised child with his own slew of questions.

“We only got here a few minutes ago”, he kept his tone carefully even, soft but not condescending in that way he knew Bakugou hated, “our sweep team was surveying the building for any sight of the villain or any hazards to be aware of before we entered.”

“The whole time…”, the boy mumbled, seeming to loose himself entirely as he devolved into crazed mutters.

“What-“

It was then he noticed the miserable state Midoriya was in. It should’ve been the first thing he noticed, especially after the lessons on special awareness years of experience had instilled in him. As much as he loathed to admit it, seeing Bakugou, of all people, in such a state after days of being missing had rattled him. Now though, his senses returned and he surveyed Midoriya, who was clearly much worse for wear, trying to guage the full extent of the damage. He looked awful. The blood that soaked them both had partially disguised his injuries but even the heavy blanket of red couldn’t hide the deep gashes in his arm, clearly burnt with Bakugou’s quirk in a crude and eerily resourceful, but no doubt excruciating attempt to staunch the bleeding. His hands were mangled beyond belief, like someone had taken a hammer to them, twisted and purple, with bone sticking out in some places on the right one. Technicoloured bruises peeked out from beneath the coat of crimson, especially vivid across his torso and legs. His feet-

Foot.

His foot.

Midoriya only had one foot.

He couldn’t breathe. Suddenly it made sense, the overprotectiveness, the despair upon learning that help had been right outside. The blood that coated their bodies wasn’t the result of ‘excessive violence’ (Shota had been ready to fight tooth and nail to make sure they were released without charge they were kidnapped for goodness sake-), it has been the remains of a life-altering decision made in utter desperation. They had hesitated and now his student, his sweet, heroic, reckless child was missing a foot.

Shota battled to keep his expression somewhat blank. He couldn’t falter, especially not now, when these children needed his support and reassurance more than anything. Not now, when one of his kids was missing part of his leg and the other missing part of his soul, both so deeply traumatised that he couldn’t be sure if they would ever recover. He could fall apart once he reached the comfort of his apartment, find solace in the quiet solitude, but for now, he had a job to do.

Paramedics swiftly scooped Midoriya onto a stretcher and began to administer emergency care, snatching the disembodied limb and vacating the premesis. He desperately wanted to follow them, badger them with questions, find out what could be done (if anything could be done a fearful, but not quite irrational voice in his head whispered) but he willed his body to stay crouched in front of Bakugou, willing his face not to betray his anxiety. He would only get in the way of the paramedics, right now, it was his job to take care of the kid that was still conscious.

In the midst of his internal debate, Bakugou had stopped muttering and sat in contemplative silence before suddenly lifting his head, grief-stricken gaze only half-hidden behind a face of pure determination.

“We ran for miles”, he started, voice gravelly and wobbling but words intentional, each sentence carefully measured. “We ran for miles and eventually, eventually we made it back. We were spotted on a camera, which is how your search teams were able to locate us.” It wasn’t clear who exactly he was talking to, but nobody dared interrupt, all heroes on site barely breathing as they listened intently.

“Yes, that works. We would have died if we didn’t cut it, and by cutting it he saved our lives, got it?”

When nobody responded, Katsuki’s face twisted into a snarl and he banged his fist on the concrete, hardly even wincing at the pain.

“I said, got it?”

A police officer tentatively stepped forwards, sighing deeply before responding. “Kid, we get that you’ve been through a lot but you can’t just expect us to lie-“

Katsuki exploded.

“So what, you wanna be the one to tell him he cut his own leg off for no damn reason, huh? That he went through all that pain for no reason ? That he can’t be a hero anymore and it’s for no reason!?. Do you know what it’s like to saw through bone? To maim someone because if you didn’t then they’d’ve just done it themselves? Do you know what it’s like to do something like that, only to realise you made the wrong call, to sacrifice everything you’ve ever wanted just to find out it was all pointless?”

The tears retuned with a vengeance and, in that moment, Shota was reminded just how young these children were. “I didn’t want to” he garbled, tuning his gaze to Shota as if expecting a rebuke, “I told him I wouldn’t and he said I was weak and selfish but I didn’t care and I was really ready to die there but then he screams and I look up and he’s sawing his own leg-“, horrified gasps resounded amongst the heroes, “-and if he was going to do it anyways I wanted him to hate me and not himself so I cut and I cut and I cut but I can’t do it anymore, I don’t want to be responsible for this you can’t do this to me please you can’t--”

Shota pulled him into a tight hug. He was usually more careful with things like this but he could see the kid clearly needed it and so did he . There too much to unpack there, too much for even him to process (boy he would be feeling it when he got home) and he wasn’t the type of professional help he knew these boys would need. He didn’t even want to imagine the conversations they’d have to have once Midoriya was conscious, the headache that would be dealing with both angry press and angry parents, and his own feelings of incompetency and failure as a teacher. For now, though, he pushed all of those aside and simply allowed the kid to break down.