Chapter Text
Katsuki makes a running landing, the easiest way to arrive somewhere without waking up the entire neighbourhood. It had been quite a flight here - Aizawa does not live near the centre of Tokyo, and Katsuki had almost gotten lost flying here in the dark. Checking your Google maps mid-flight when you need both hands to stop yourself falling is quite the undertaking. Especially when it’s raining.
Nevertheless, he’s here. It’s a series of low-rise apartments, beyond nondescript in Japanese suburbs. Far from Deku’s flashy skyscraper of a penthouse, this is lower middle-class living, small apartments with entrances visible to the outside. There aren’t any people around, but there are plenty of cars parked nearby. Katsuki climbs the stairs to the apartment building indicated on his phone, two at a time.
The third apartment down. He knocks.
A couple of minutes pass. The door opens.
Aizawa looks rough. Probably shouldn’t be a surprise. He’d been rough 22 years ago, and now, in his 50s… well. Life has been hard on him. He’s missing an eye. His facial hair is scruffy, but his head hair is cut short and appears somewhat neater because of it. He’s greying at the temples. His face is lined and thin. To say he seems tired would be the understatement of the century.
“Ah,” he says. “Bakugo. I’ve been expecting you.”
“What, are you clairvoyant now, too?” says Katsuki as he enters the apartment to Aizawa’s side. He toes off his shoes in the genkan. He’s sopping wet, and leaves a trail of water as he goes.
“No, just saw you in the news.”
“Right,” says Katsuki, because of course Aizawa would have gotten the same news that the entire rest of the planet had seen. That Deku had his little friend back. Everyone knows. “Then I guess you know I’m here for answers.”
“Figured,” says Aizawa. “Stay there, I don’t want you getting my furniture wet.”
Katsuki does. A moment later a towel is thrown directly into his face. It’s not gentle, which Katsuki appreciates at this point, after being treated like he’s made of glass for the past few days.
He starts scrubbing himself down as Aizawa shuffles deeper into the dimly lit room. It’s a small apartment with little furniture. The living room is comfortable though - that’s the main descriptor Katsuki can think of - with a plush futon laid out in front of a television set. There’s a space heater and a couch in here too, with blankets everywhere. For Katsuki, who is freezing, it’s extremely welcome.
A cat watches them from atop its perch on a cat tower, its tail languidly drifting side to side as it observes.
Gruffly, Aizawa asks, “So, are you doing alright?”
“Define alright.”
“Coming from you, that about says it all.”
Katsuki snorts, “It’s cozy in here, stuffed animal collection in another room?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” says Aizawa, and sits down on the couch, gesturing at an ottoman. Katsuki puts his towel down on it and then sits. “Better manners than I remember you having.”
“Well, I was raised to respect my elders,” sneers Katsuki. “And you sure are an elder now.”
Aizawa chuckles lowly. “Okay.”
“You’re retired?”
“Yeah,” says Aizawa. “Can’t fight anymore. Can’t teach anymore. Might as well.”
“Why can’t you?”
A crooked smile on his exhausted face, Aizawa sighs, “Bakugo, I’m too damaged. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Whatever way you can think of. The hero life does this to us all eventually. I made it here. To old age. You might consider that winning.”
Katsuki presses his lips together. It’s not like he didn’t know that. They all know that. You either die young in a blaze of glory or you get old… and broken. Like All Might did. 50 isn’t even old if you’re a civilian. It is if you’re a hero.
They sit in silence for a second, and Katsuki imagines Aizawa is as lost on how to start as he is. The TV is on at a low volume, and for a moment Katsuki listens to its drone and lets it settle his nerves. He’d found Aizawa by logging on to Deku’s hero portal, since Deku is an idiot and had told Katsuki his password earlier that day. He’d also foolishly given Katsuki the phone with which to do this. But Katsuki hadn’t called ahead nor told anyone where he was going. It’s after 11pm. But Aizawa had answered him - had expected him.
“So,” says Katsuki. “How much do you know?”
“You reappeared. Quirk displacement and you were never dead. Deku is taking you under his wing.”
“That’s the gist of it.”
Aizawa sighs and scratches at his stubbly cheek with a single finger. “I imagine he hasn’t told you everything though.”
Relief soars through Katsuki. Fucking finally! Someone is going to tell him what the hell is going on. “That’s right, he’s being insanely difficult.”
“That’s Deku for you,” mutters Aizawa. Is it? Is it really? Deku is usually a font of information. What has changed in the intervening two decades that this is the impression people have of him now? “Right, do you want me to start from when you went missing?”
“Yes,” says Katsuki.
“Get ready for the exposition dump,” says Aizawa, and settles back into the couch, a hand on each knee.
Bakugo had disappeared. Gone. Completely.
The others on his squad - Deku, Kirishima, and Todoroki - had defeated the other villains in the alleyway and then begun to search for him. While they initially had assumed (or hoped) that Bakugo had simply gone off on his own to pursue another target or scout the area, they’d soon realised that he was not, in fact, anywhere nearby.
Panicked, they’d called Aizawa, who had joined them to search. Of course, they’d found nothing, and the situation had been escalated up and up and up. To the rest of UA, to professional heroes and widespread searches. And then it had hit the media.
Bakugo Katsuki, missing. Had he been kidnapped again? Had he defected to the villains? Rumours abounded, snowballing and gradually becoming more negative on social media until the general consensus was that he’d finally joined the opposing side. He was bad, everyone knew that.
And then the coverage had ended. The news cycle moved on. People forgot about him altogether. When he was mentioned it was always in conjunction with Deku, who was a rising star even while still in high school. As time passed without any sighting of him, Katsuki faded from villain to tragic victim of the Hero Complex.
And the “Hero Complex”, as it were, was under fire.
Was it okay to take fifteen year olds and put them in the line of fire? To strap them into a lifelong career with an insane mortality rate when they were that young? Other countries were outlawing hero work for those under 18, and pressure was strong in Japan to do the same.
And. Importantly.
The power of quirks keeps getting stronger. Everyone knows that.
Far from the first quirk - the baby who glowed - the powers available to random members of society were getting more and more unmanageable. With quirk inhibitors and boosters and everything else on the market, it seemed that things were getting out of control. And if you give a child too much power…? Superiority complexes, or rejection from society depending on what kind of quirk it was.
How does someone like Toga ever live a peaceful life? When people are driven to use their quirks by their own biology, and those quirks are ultimately considered evil? How can you live amongst those that don’t accept you?
So there were more villains. Stronger villains. Stronger heroes. More collateral damage.
And then heroes were officially licensed to kill. Some of them. Not all. Just those ranked highly enough that they were trusted by the Hero Association to do the dirtiest of deeds. To rid the world of trash that wouldn’t - couldn’t - be trusted to live among the rest of them. It wasn’t like before, when deaths were an unavoidable element of large-scale battles. It was purposeful.
Deku had been one of the first licensed - it made sense, since he was one of the people pushing for the legislation. He’d spoken to the Houses of Representatives and Councilors. In fact –
“ – What?”
Aizawa blinks. Katsuki abruptly realizes the man hasn’t blinked in a while. “What’s the problem?” he asks.
Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat, “What do you mean, Deku pushed for – to kill – villains?”
“Just what I say.”
“Deku?”
“Yes,” Aizawa scratches his rough cheek. “I see you haven’t done much of your own research on him yet.”
He hasn’t. He’d… he’d felt weird looking up Deku. Jealous, and bitter about it. That Deku is the indisputable #1 now, that he’s a god among men? Katsuki has had enough hearing about it from everyone else around him, let alone from Google. “Fuck, nothing would have prepared me to hear that? He’s a goody two shoes! Always has been! He wouldn’t be fuckin’... advocating for murder.”
“He did.”
“Explain that! The fuck!” The words come out tangled by his tight throat. “I need context!”
Deku had taken Bakugo’s loss hard. As Uraraka had said, he’d nearly failed out of UA. They’d had to give him special permission to skip training, certainly only a benefit extended to Deku because of his exceptional performance in the field. Days turned into weeks and into months, as Deku searched and searched for him without finding so much as a clue. He’d obsessed over it. He’d tracked quirks, practically written essays on villain movements, and tried to understand what could have happened not just on a tactical level, but a scientific one. What does “disappearing” mean? What could it really have been? What was that quirk?
It was a deep spiral, not just into a pit but down to somewhere dark and unreachable. Deku cared about nothing else. Fighting villains just became a way to either search for or avenge Bakugo Katsuki. Already difficult to hold back, One for All became brutal and uncontrollable when Deku was angry or upset. All of the other elements of it that had begun appearing around the time that Bakugo had disappeared had complicated matters.
Nevertheless, the results spoke for themselves. Deku was able to take down villains of increasing caliber, and entered the hero rankings before he’d even finished high school - the first time this had ever happened, the first time anyone had gone pro while still at UA.
And then, not long after they’d graduated, a team had apprehended the villain whose quirk had hit Bakugo.
The moment Deku had heard about it, he’d been en route. He’d insisted on the villain being released into his custody, and then… the villain had never been released from it. He’d never been seen again. They all know why. They all know what happened to him. He’d obviously been –
– A knock.
Both Katsuki and Aizawa turn to look at the front door.
Another. It’s not really a knock, though. The entire door shakes from the impact of someone’s closed fist.
“Fuck,” says Katsuki. “Is that…?”
“Shit,” says Aizawa.
The doorknob turns and then breaks. The door itself cracks - no, ruptures - open, splintering around the lock still turned into the doorframe. Katsuki sees the green light flickering in, dancing across the opposite wall, before he sees Deku through the opening. His eyes glow.
“Kacchan!” he shouts. His voice booms. Aizawa’s cat sprints a hasty retreat, darting away into the hall and disappearing into what is presumably a bed or bathroom.
Katsuki stands, “Deku! What the fuck are you doing?!”
The light abruptly vanishes.
Much calmer, much quieter, with the sound of relief, Deku says, “Kacchan! You’re okay!”
“My fucking door,” grumbles Aizawa.
Deku appears in the room. His hulking body is tense, his fists clenched and his expression pinched. He comes close, his face relaxing as he looks at Katsuki.
Suddenly, Katsuki is aware of how much he’s craning his neck back to return his gaze. He’s standing incredibly close, so close that errant drops of rain drip from Deku’s hair down onto Katsuki’s upturned face. But Katsuki isn’t going to be the one to back down here, so he instead widens his stance and puts on his best scowl.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Katsuki asks him again.
“I could ask you the same,” says Deku.
Katsuki throws a hand out in the direction of the broken door hanging sadly from its hinges, “Are you kidding? What the fuck is that?”
“You left dinner without saying anything,” says Deku.
“So you came and broke Aizawa-sensei’s goddamn door down? What’s wrong with you?”
Deku’s eyes flick up to Aizawa and then back down to Katsuki. They seem to glow, almost, in the light being thrown off by the television set. “Not relevant where you were, only that you disappeared to somewhere.”
“Not your fucking business.”
The expression on Deku’s face darkens. He is completely and utterly serious when he replies, “There is nothing on this earth that I care about more than your safety, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s hackles rise. His teeth are exposed as he snarls, “Back the fuck off.”
“Make me,” says Deku.
The urge to let his quirk pop comes, and Katsuki doesn’t resist. He lets the sparks dance around his fingers. “Don’t tempt me, Deku.”
He sees the corner of Deku’s mouth quirk up, just the barest hint of a smile.
“Cut it out,” says Aizawa. “He’s fine.”
Deku’s gaze slides to Aizawa and at last he steps away from Katsuki. Katsuki turns as Deku moves forward, unwilling to put his back to him. Aizawa has not physically reacted to Deku’s presence. Indeed, he looks as cool as a cucumber, even as Deku looms over them, “You should have called me to tell me he was here.”
“Figured you knew,” says Aizawa. “And apparently you did, since you found the place on your own.”
“Only because Kacchan used my account to look for your address,” says Deku.
“So there’s no problem.”
Deku frowns, “The problem, sensei, is that Kacchan vanished. If he hadn’t used my account to find you, I wouldn’t have found him. Do you not see that as a problem?”
Aizawa shrugs, “It didn’t happen, so it isn’t a problem.”
Katsuki can almost see the steam coming out of Deku’s nose. His gaze is so intense it’s surprising that Aizawa hasn’t melted. But Katsuki knows how to defuse the situation effectively.
He leaves. Just walks right out the busted front door and into the rain. It’s coming down heavier now, the wind pushing it into weaving and folding lines of varying density.
“Kacchan!” Deku shouts after him immediately, but Katsuki ignores him, casually hopping over the railing on the walkway outside and blasting himself into the air. As expected, it’s obviously completely effective at disrupting Deku and Aizawa’s fight, because seconds later, Deku is in Katsuki’s peripheral vision.
Katsuki detonates one hand in a bigger blast than the other, spinning himself off to the side, the rain turning into a spiral of streaks ahead of him as he flips through the air. It doesn’t last long; barely a second later a hand wraps around his waist as Deku intercepts him.
Furious, Katsuki kicks at him, boots sliding awkwardly off Deku's hip as Katsuki begins to lose altitude but Deku stays in the air. The difference in the utility of their quirks is clear in this situation because their methods of flight are so different. It only takes a moment before he’s more or less hanging in Deku’s grip so he twists and brings his hands in, firing it up and blasting as close as he can to Deku’s eyes.
It only has half of the effect that Katsuki wants it to: Deku does flinch as the smoke sweeps into his eyes, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his arm tightens around Katsuki’s waist and he pulls him in tighter, drawing him into his chest and tucking him under his chin. The motion traps Katsuki’s hands in Deku’s embrace, crushing him awkwardly against a much bigger body.
He thrashes but Deku is immovable, both the rock and the hard place.
“Get off!” he shrieks, at full volume - an attempt at being heard over the wind - and digs his fingers into Deku’s casual clothing.
Deku doesn’t respond. He just flies them home.
Well, back to Deku’s home.
They land again on the wet helicopter pad. Deku doesn’t let him go even then, simply tossing Katsuki over his shoulder and making his way down the stairs. Naturally Katsuki’s writhing doesn’t seem to bother him, and even a series of blasts from his nitro-soaked palms garner little response.
“Please don’t damage my clothing,” Deku says, and, absolutely incensed, Katsuki begins to target it on purpose. He burns holes in it but the skin beneath it remains completely untouched, as though Deku can’t even feel a nitroglycerin explosion.
“What the fuck,” Katuski complains, but he’s thrown on the couch before he can get an answer. He pops back up like a whack-a-mole, whipping around to glare at Deku. “Hey, fuck you!”
“Calm down, Kacchan.”
“Don’t talk to me like that! I’m not your kid!” Katsuki spits.
Deku looks at him, “Kacchan, I don’t think of you as a kid. Just as someone precious to me. Please understand. I lost you once, I don’t want to lose you again.”
Katsuki glares at him. “Don’t pretend. You’re just like everyone else.”
“Like everyone else?” Deku repeats carefully.
“You’re all acting like I’m made of fucking glass,” Katsuki snaps. “Like I’ll shatter if someone tells me the truth. You decide what I get to know and when. Kirishima. Uraraka. My parents. Even Aizawa.” He grits his teeth so hard his jaw pops, “But especially you.”
Deku exhales slowly through his nose. He looks tired in a way Katsuki hasn’t really noticed before. Like the age has caught up with him. Like he’s really been suffering for twenty years.
Unfortunately he also looks understanding, which is something that really fucking pisses Katsuki off.
“Kacchan,” Deku says, softer now, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. “You’re overwhelmed. You’ve been through something traumatic--”
“Don’t,” Katsuki growls. “Don’t fucking try to therapize me.”
“I’m not--”
“You kidnapped me just now,” Katsuki says flatly. “Brought me back here against my will.”
The rain drums against the windows, distant thunder rolling somewhere far away. It’s been terrible weather lately. Just as well; it matches Katsuki’s mood.
Deku doesn’t deny it.
“I prevented you from putting yourself in danger,” he says instead.
Katsuki stares at him, wild-eyed and accusatory. “I left the building where you were having a boring dinner with your stupid middle-aged friends to go see Aizawa at his house in the suburbs. I didn’t jump into a villain fight. I didn’t even tell anyone where I was going because I knew you’d do this.”
“And I was right to,” Deku says, a little sharper now. “You flew across the city in a storm, alone, in unfamiliar territory, to confront a man you barely know, at nearly midnight.”
“I know him just fine.”
“You remember him as your teacher. Not as a retired, injured civilian with no backup and no protection.”
“Since when do you get to decide who I see?”
Deku’s jaw tightens. “Since I’m the one who has to live with it if something happens to you.”
And of course that’s what it is. The thing about Deku that no one else seems to notice or understand. Deku is innately selfish. He always has been and always will be. His desire to save people isn’t altruistic, it’s self-serving. Because Deku’s body moved on its own, because Deku wants to be #1, because Deku can’t live with it if someone else dies. It’s all for Deku,
Katsuki understands. He’s selfish too. But at least he’s honest about it. And what Deku, now number one hero in the world, would never admit --
“You’re scared,” Katsuki says.
Deku doesn’t answer.
“You’re not just being annoying or overprotective,” Katsuki continues, voice lower now. “You’re fucking terrified, you little bitch.”
Deku looks away. That says it all.
Katsuki laughs again, but this time there’s no mirth in it at all. “Jesus Christ. You really never changed, did you? You were always like this. Always putting yourself in charge of saving everyone. Always deciding what’s best. You just got stronger, so now nobody stops you.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“No,” Katsuki says. “You’re trying to control me. You’re living your fuckin’ dream - you get to have it all, now.”
Deku flinches like he’s been struck. Katsuki hit a nerve. For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The only sounds are the rain, and the faraway hum of the apartment’s central heating.
Finally, Deku straightens.
“Sit down,” he says.
Katsuki bares his teeth. “Make me.”
It’s just a fraction of a second, but Katsuki sees it. The calculation. The restraint. He could make Katsuki do whatever he wanted. But he doesn’t. Plaintively, he says instead, “Please Kacchan, just sit.”
Against his own instinct to be difficult at every opportunity, Katsuki drops back onto the couch, though he doesn’t relax for a second. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight in the gap between his legs. Deku remains standing.
“I’m not lying to you,” Deku says after a moment of pause. “Not exactly.”
Katsuki snorts. “That’s reassuring.”
“I’m telling you what you need to know,” Deku continues, and there’s that same phrasing again, the same infuriating assumption baked right into it. “And I’m not telling you things that would hurt you.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Katsuki snaps.
“I do,” Deku says quietly. “Because I know what happens when you go looking for answers.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrow, “Meaning what?”
“Meaning I won’t let you do that to yourself,” Deku doesn’t move. The power around him hums, contained but just barely - it’s immense where it crackles beneath his skin. His voice is low, “You died once. As far as the world was concerned. As far as I was concerned. I buried an empty box. I stood in front of a grave with your name on it. I listened to people talk about your potential. Your promise. What you might have been. I named my hero agency after you.”
His fists clench. The green light flickers again, faint but unmistakable in his shiny eyes. They’re filled with unshed tears.
“And now you’re here,” he says. “Alive. Breathing. Yelling at me in my living room.”
Katsuki’s throat tightens despite himself.
“And you think,” Deku finishes, his voice cracking to pieces, “that I’m going to let you run headfirst into something that might take you away from me again?”
Silence.
The fight drains out of Katsuki in a rush, leaving behind something raw and aching. He sinks back down onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. He buries his head in his hands, scraping fingers back through his hair.
“So what,” he mutters. “You’re just… what? Going to keep me here forever? Wrap me in bubble wrap? Decide my life for me?”
“No,” Deku says quickly. Too quickly. “I want you to have choices. I want you to be happy.”
“Then stop lying to me. Or… what did you say before? Not telling me things that would hurt me.”
Deku’s mouth opens. Closes.
“You know something about the quirk. About what happened. About whether I can go back.”
Deku looks at the floor.
“Tell me,” Katsuki says.
“I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
“Kacchan --”
“Tell me!” Katsuki explodes, sparks flaring wildly now, emotion bleeding straight into his quirk. “I don’t care if it’s bad! I don’t care if it 'hurts'. I deserve to know!!”
Deku closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there’s something final in his expression. He swallows; Katsuki can see the bob of his throat. And then he says, "There is no way back. Ever."