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Katsuki wakes up clinging to his pillow so forcibly that he swears he sees smoke.
He knows it's impossible right now; the quirk nullifiers flooding his bloodstream prevent him from even warming his hands, let alone sparking off.
But that dream makes him feel like he could.
Red eyes and sharp teeth propelled by green and blue. A hand beckoning him. A voice calling him. Katsuki swears he felt the warmth of safety, swears he felt their fingertips brush, and saw them both try to close their hands.
But they tell him he never left the ground, that Dabi was too quick. The scarred villain had shot a barrage of fire, which overwhelmed Katsuki, and Compress took that opportunity to trap him within another marble. Then Toga snatched him off Compress and scurried away.
At least, that's one of the ways they tell the story. He's heard maybe 10 different versions by now.
Some trick to disorient him, maybe, twist his mind until he can't trust his own memories. Katsuki would like to say it's not working, but the fact that he has to convince himself they touched is proof enough that it is.
Katsuki curls up under the thin blanket they gave him, something grey and simple, woven instead of soft. They don't want him to find too much comfort now. But God does Katsuki miss soft.
At home, he had a big sherpa blanket, which was blue and yellow, something that vaguely reminded him of All Might, so he begged his dad for it.
Katsuki was still small then, maybe 10 or 11, young enough that his parents still thought he could be fixed, that he had a future. They didn't know Katsuki could never be saved. Not then, not now.
But his dad bought it, even after wincing at the price; it was huge and heavy and from some nice brand, but his dad just steeled himself and threw it in the cart with a smile.
Katsuki didn't even thank him. Just grinned and kept walking.
Katsuki regrets a lot of things; one of his biggest regrets is how he treated his parents.
He would do anything to be sitting next to Masaru on the couch, wrapped in his big All Might-esque blanket, watching some cooking show while his mom sat in their armchair, teasing Katsuki for his aversion to the cold.
The best he can do now is pull the hospital-quality blanket over his head and curl himself into a ball while he presses his eyes shut to block the tears.
He’s learned that if he squeezes his eyes tight enough that blots of color dance behind his eyelids, and if he focuses, he swears he can see a vague outline of his parents.
But he knows it's just wishful thinking.
When Katsuki wakes again, he stares at the metal door a few feet from his bed, waiting for his breakfast.
He wakes up alone now; he used to have roommates before he was moved here. Back at the “kennel”, a warehouse with dozens of other people like him.
He wouldn’t say he made friends there, or that he misses it; that would be stupid. Caring too much about people who were either going to die or be competition was pointless.
He didn’t even have friends at UA; he wasn’t about to start when their lives were on the line. He just grew accustomed to being surrounded by people who knew what he was going through.
Until the shared camaraderie made it too dangerous to stay.
Eventually, people learned about his reputation, heard of his winning streak, and discovered that if they fought him, they would lose.
Depending on the handler, losing meant something different for everyone. But no matter what, a loss meant punishment. Some got beaten, some were starved, some killed, some suffered worse.
All that’s to say, Katsuki became a light sleeper. Unfortunately for his competition, the league didn’t want to lose their “grand champion”, so after the third attack, he was moved.
Now Katsuki has his “own room”, but he knows a cell when he sees one.
No windows, a metal door that locks from the outside, and stone walls and floors.
He is lucky, though; he gets his own "bathroom" now. It’s a small corner of his room surrounded by a curtain, reminiscent of those in hospital rooms.
Shigaraki says winners get rewarded, and that privacy was a privilege.
Inside the curtain is a toilet, toilet paper, a sink, and soap. He even gets his own shower. A shower head sticks out from the wall above a drain that is embedded directly into the stone floor. When he showers, the sink gets wet, sometimes the toilet too. He always has to move his toilet paper out of the enclosed area. He learned that after the first time.
Katsuki's only form of entertainment is a punching bag.
They took the weights after he threw one at Dabi and broke his foot. The beating and burns he got after that were undeniably worth it.
Katsuki is only permitted to work out; they want him to keep his muscle tone. He does, but it’s not for them. He needs to be ready if the chance to escape comes again.
Katsuki is pulled from his thoughts as he hears the telltale screech of the hinges on his door and the drag of metal scraping stone. He lifts his head lazily.
"Hi Kacchan!"
Katsuki sighs; he's long given up on trying to force her to stop saying that name. And he's long accepted the familiar ache in his stomach when he hears it coming from the wrong voice.
He doesn't bother with a response, just stares at her hostilely. Just because she’s the nicest of his handlers means nothing; he has to keep his guard up.
"I've got breakfast for our big guy!" She smiles, the light catching on her fangs.
She creeps in, kicking the door shut behind her. Each step she takes towards Katsuki's bed, more dread builds in him; he hates when she's on food delivery, which has been for the past 4 days. It definitely hasn't been helping with his misery, at least Dabi and Spinner just leave it.
She finally reaches his bed, her smile growing disgustingly wide, big enough that it must hurt. And she leans down halfway, before dropping his tray on the floor and grinning as his eye twitches.
"Okay! Time to eat up!" She takes a few steps back and waits, never taking her eyes off him.
The old Katsuki would have killed her. Hell, the old Katsuki would have ended her the second her foot breached his doorway. But the old Katsuki is currently rotting somewhere deep inside him. All that's left is this broken-down Katsuki, who knows when he must submit because he's faced enough consequences and punishments that even the words make him want to start panicking.
So Katsuki lifts himself from his bed and drops to his knees on the floor. Slowly, he lowers himself onto his hands and bends them at the elbow. No matter how often he does this, it's never less humiliating. He leans his head down and takes a bite of the pile of rice they gave him.
The same thing every day.
They stopped giving him utensils after he stabbed one of his food carriers in the eye and nearly escaped; that's why someone from the league always feeds him now.
Katsuki takes another mouthful, his face burning with shame, but he needs his strength, no matter how horrifically embarrassing it is to achieve it.
"Good dog!" Toga laughs cheerfully, clasping her hands together and bringing them to the side of her head, tilting it dreamily.
"If you were like this all the time, I bet you wouldn’t be here!" She lowers her hands and squats to his level before ripping the tray away from him mid-bite.
"Look at me when I'm talking."
Katsuki raises his head, rice stuck to his cheeks and still chewing. He tries to erase the irritation from his face, but he knows it is fruitless.
Toga shakes her head disappointedly, "I thought you were hungry, but I guess not," she sighs, making as if to stand and walk away.
Katsuki swallows his rice and shakes his head, "I am."
He hates her.
Toga gleams, her eyes squinting with the size of her smile as she giggles. "Aww," she drops the tray again, out of Katsuki’s immediate reach, and he glares,
"Then beg!"
Katsuki really fucking hates her.
"Please let me eat, I want it." He forces out coldly, lowering his head to the floor in a poorly positioned bow.
Toga coos. "You're lucky I'm so nice!" She giggles, pushing the tray back toward Katsuki, who devours the rice quickly, preventing any more interruptions or risk to his meal.
Toga grabs the tray, gently patting Katsuki on the head with it. He holds back a real feral growl.
"Okay, Kacchan, thanks for playing with me! Dabi is gonna be here later."
"Why?"
"You'll just have to see!" she answers gleefully, all but skipping to the exit before slipping out of his cell and slamming the door shut. Katsuki listens to the clicking of locks before he allows himself to rise.
If Dabi is coming, it only means one thing: a fight.