Chapter Text
His life should have been perfect.
He had the perfect quirk, so bright and powerful.
A clever mind that helped him rise through the ranks at school.
A healthy body that made him agile.
He had everything to reach the pinnacle of life.
To achieve all his dreams.
But it wasn't.
There was a stain in his perfect world, in his beautiful life.
Midoriya Izuku.
Short.
Weak.
Quirkless.
His voice was soft, his limbs were skinny, his eyes were wide.
Yet he stood in there, bright like a star, impossibly kind, impossibly determined.
And absolutely impossible to ignore.
When he was a child he didn't really know what to think. Because everything that he was told made him spectacular was something the other boy lacked, yet he shone and he stood out and he smiled like the world had already determined he was meant to be the best.
And how he hated him for it.
Especially when he made his way home after school, his skin bruised, his knees bleeding, his eyes swollen shut.
Katsuki was smart, he was the smartest person he knew and when he saw Izuku looking like that, he could only think one thing.
He was going to kill himself.
If Katsuki didn't stop him, Midoriya Izuku would die.
And as a hero meant for greatness.
He had to save him.
Even if it was from himself.
So he pushed.
And pushed.
And pushed.
Encouraged others to push along.
Tried to smother the indomitable spirit that was Midoriya Izuku.
Tried to remind him over and over of his limitations, of the cruelty of the world.
Laughed when those wide eyes filled with tears.
Sneered when that voice grew smaller, softer.
Roared when that steel strong determination refused to bow down.
Attacked when those eyes continued to shine like jewels.
And then…
Then something happened.
Katsuki wasn't sure what it was.
Or when it started.
But suddenly those eyes changed.
That determination grew bolder.
Those skinny limbs and slumped shoulders filled.
As if a force no one could understand had filled Midoriya Izuku from within and a whole new world had been opened for him.
And things changed.
As if this brand new world of possibilities didn't include Katsuki in it anymore.
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or think.
Those cold eyes barely glanced his way.
And even the teachers didn't seem to think his destiny was so incredible - that had never happened before - were not so eager to look the other way when his little outbursts escalated in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
He was scolded, his parents were called, his record now held a tentative stain for misconduct.
He was punished with counseling at school and community service every single Sunday until told otherwise.
He could only grit his teeth, letting his hatred simmer inside of him.
Especially when he realized where he was supposed to do his community service.
A hospital in the mountains, his mother explained as she drove him, a frown on her face.
A mental hospital.
He wanted to rage and complain when the director looked at him up and down, read his file, frowned, and told him he was going to work with the nurses, cleaning and expressly told him to stay away from certain patients in the west wing.
"Why?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.
"The west wing is where our dangerous patients are and I don't want you killed because of your bravado," the director said simply, his eyes steely, his lips pursed. "And some of them are little children."
What was that supposed to mean!?
"You think I'm going to hurt the kids?" he snarled.
"Haven't you already?" The director asked back, an eyebrow raised. "Isn't that why you are here?"
That hit something inside of him he refused to admit to.
"Deku's no child," he said dismissively and something in the director's eyes seemed to shift.
"Ah, I see," he said, taking notes and ignoring his mother's shocked gasp of breath. "You'll work in the west wing then."
That bastard.
Was he trying to scare him or something?
He would show him.
He worked like a madman that weekend, and the next, and the next, cleaning what needed to be cleaned, weeding what needed to be weeded.
He heard another fucker had tried to get frisky with d… that boy and got punished by planting a fucking huge ass tree at the school, where everyone could see him and jeer, so this, while more exhausting, was preferable.
At least no one could see him emptying bedpans.
Some days he had to clean hallways and listen to men and women cry and scream.
Other days he helped the nurses carry bedsheets to the laundry room and he spotted a kid about his age with scales in his arms and legs that he was peeling slowly, making a bloody mess of his skin and who had to be tackled to the ground and sedated by one of the bigger nurses.
He never asked what happened to that kid.
But those eyes full of loneliness and determination stuck to him.
Reminded him of similar eyes.
Eyes that no longer looked at him.
"Sometimes quirks are just too much for people…" the nurse whispered to him, a hand on his shoulder. "It weighs on them."
He finally understood what kind of hospital he had actually been sent to. It wasn't a mental hospital.
Well, it actually was, but not really.
It was a hospital to help people deal with quirks that were damaging to their bodies.
People who eventually went mad because their bodies betrayed them.
He thought about the boy whose dreams crumbled in front of his eyes and was slowly changing.
Sometimes that same nurse would pull him to tackle some of the patients, always the youngest ones, the ones that were in pain, the ones with desperate eyes.
He started talking to the nurse about his own story, about a boy with eyes full of stars that had changed and now was more like a blade, still bright and sharp but now incredibly dangerous.
Cold.
About how he hated him, loathed that he wouldn't disappear.
Hated that he did.
One of the patients, the one who usually was allowed to text each week and kept mostly to himself, snorted at him, blue eyes narrowed.
But he didn’t say a thing and he didn’t say anything either.
He had been warned about that one.
About his anger issues.
About his inability to control himself.
About how his own quirk was eating him from the inside and his skin was as fragile as a snowflake.
Watched as that man kept his eyes on the sky most days, as if the sun could disappear in an instant, as if he kept himself on the light could protect him from any unseen kind of monster.
Sometimes he saw him weep, hugging a nurse and talking about how his memories were coming back, and how this time it was a sweet one, sometimes it was a bad one, and he asked out loud why none of them would even look at him.
He didn’t know what kind of quirk it was, but the burns on his arms and face told a story that reminded him of a small wrist littered with similar scars, tearful green eyes that couldn’t understand why he was being hurt.
He gritted his teeth.
A second patient stood out to him, the one only the director and the head nurse ever approached.
He was a skinny man with narrowed eyes and hunched shoulders that seemed to see everything without a single word. Never allowing anyone to touch his things and more than one nurse had to be rushed to the infirmary after trying to order him around.
“He’s a VIP,” the nurse that usually shadowed him said, handing him another pile of clean blankets. “You better not approach, he has PTSD.”
He wanted to ask what the fuck could a twig like him actually do.
The nurse frowned.
“Don’t mess with that guy, kid,” she said. “He’s not the kind you can hope to beat, he was trained by one of the best and he only got stronger since then.”
Something like admiration shone in her eyes, despite her reserved demeanor.
“That sounds like a provocation to me,” he muttered, his arms crossing over his chest.
“Don’t even think about it,” the nurse warned. “Akaguro-san will not stop just because you are a kid.”
He looked at the nurse, ready to protest, but her raised eyebrow and indifferent eyes seemed to nail him to the spot.
But then he saw him eviscerate someone who had tried to touch the burn victim and he whispered something to security about one of them and that ‘Sensei’ should be informed as soon as possible, and then he sat by the younger man’s side, patting his shoulder, his voice softer, firmer, to soothe his panic.
As if the pieces of flesh and blood littering the ground around them didn't even exist.
As if that skinny old man with the narrowed eyes that usually kept to himself hadn't suddenly turned into a seasoned killer that moved on silent feet and with an efficiency so fast Katsuki even doubted his naked eye could have seen it had he not been paying attention.
Katsuki turned then to the nurse who usually supervised him, confused.
"Told you he was not to be approached," the nurse said simply, arms crossed. "He can skewer you like a piece of meat in seconds if he wants to and you wouldn't even notice until he was seasoning your flesh."
"Is that because of his quirk?" Katsuki asked, frowning.
The nurse snorted.
"Hardly," she sighed. "Sometimes tragedies warp people, make them unstable, change them."
Tragedies.
Katsuki had tried then to think about what kind of tragedies would turn a man into a monster, what kind of pain could turn a man that usually kept to himself into someone who would smile in glee while pulling someone's spinal cord from their back.
But his mind instantly wandered towards the memory of a boy with the sunniest smile and the purest heart who suddenly grew cold and merciless, who had no place in his world for him anymore.
Who could discuss death and violence and sex with a careless shrug of his shoulders.
He shook his head.
Time passed again, he got kidnapped by a group of villains that seemed to think he could make a great villain himself, which sent him into a furious spiral because what?? Who the fuck would think that?
And then he remembered those cold green eyes that seemed so pale in the light, those mocking lips curling in a sneer as he called him a coward, an idiot, a bitch.
As he expected the worst out of him.
As if he had never seen him do any better.
He found a lump sticking to his throat.
And then he had been rescued and the city descended into chaos and round face held his injured hand as she tried to guide him and the others secured the perimeter and many heroes started helping move civilians out of the way and suddenly four eyes was grinning from ear to ear, waving a hand.
"Midoriya-kun!" he cheered. "We're here!"
Midoriya Izuku stood in front of them, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared, brass knuckles on his clenched fists.
"Is everyone okay?" he asked, eyes set on round face.
She had nodded, the relief on her face clear for all to see.
Midoriya Izuku nodded back at her, looking at each member of their little team for a moment before turning to the teen behind him.
"Togata-senpai," he sighed. "We'll need to evac now."
The other teen, older, broader, smiling, shook his head in fondness.
"You know these kids better than I do," he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "You guide and I'll take the rear."
Those cold green eyes narrowed, he wrapped an arm roughly around his neck in a way Katsuk could tell hurt, and he hissed in his ear, his face stony.
And then he had directed half and half and ponytail to the rear for protection while keeping four eyes and round face in the middle with him.
It was later that he heard his rescue had been aided by Midoriya Izuku from the very beginning and while everything in him wanted to deny it, something deep inside of him told him it must be true, as true as it was the day he had been saved by him from the sludge monster trying to suffocate him, as true as the low expectations he held for him.
He still saved him.
Again.
So when Katsuki finally met with Midoriya Izuku once more, this time at the hospital - how come he had never see him before? - as he gently wrapped his arms around the murderer and got a soft hug in return, as those eyes that only held disdain for him filled with warm fondness, those round cheeks turned pink and a soft giggle escaped those lips and he finally looked like the little boy in Katsuki's memories once more.
He felt something he hadn't felt for a long time.
He felt shame.
And longing.
Midoriya Izuku hadn't changed, he realized with a start.
All that warmth and hope and care was still there inside of him, that indomitable spirit that inspired others to do better had never disappeared.
It was just not for him anymore.
This boy had once been his best friend, his brother in all but blood and he had mercilessly pushed him away, had tried so hard to make him stop, had cracked whatever was there between them with his own bare hands.
So when he approached Midoriya once more - not Deku anymore, he knew but not Icchan either because he realized, he had lost that right so many years ago - with an apology on his lips and heartbreak inside of his chest, he was ready to be pummelled to the ground once more, to be mocked for his actions and his stupidity, maybe to lose a hand or two because, after so many years, he may even deserve it.
What he didn't expect, however, was for Midoriya to actually accept his apology, to jokingly threaten to cripple him - deep inside he knew it was less of a joke than both of them were willing to accept - and to smile at him for the first time in what it felt like years.
Still a little guarded.
Still muted and small compared to the smiles he had for the people he actually loved.
But a smile nonetheless.
And suddenly his face was exploding in pain and his blood was splattering into Izuku's eyes and the world swam and he fell unconscious, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
Only to wake up a couple of hours later - judging from the way the sun had moved over him - and he was in burn victim's arms - who now he could tell looked suspiciously alike half-and-half - and he should probably tell him? - while the head nurse was holding onto his face, her quirk stopping his bleeding and numbing his muscles which was, apparently, her quirk, and the doctors and security were closing off the perimeter and making sure no patients wandered towards them while the murderer crouched in front of him, eyes narrowed to slits, a snarl of pure rage curling his lips downwards as he checked every inch of the blood stained ground around them.
"You okay, kid?" the nurse asked, her frown deep, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face. "Don't move, we'll take you to the medical wing soon."
The Dean suddenly appeared, three more eyes grotesquely sprouting from his forehead as he surveyed the area, slowly explaining everything he could see to the murderer, respectfully calling him Akaguro-san as he did.
Katsuki wanted to speak, wanted to ask them if Midoriya was okay.
Wanted to see the other boy.
But another nurse approached then, this one gently placing a hand on his hair, his voice soothing.
"The stretcher is here," he said to burn victim. "It's best if he falls asleep."
Katsuki parted his lips to protest, tried to move his fingers, felt something heavy and drowsy settle on top of him just as the murderer stood, hands clenched around two knives, narrowed eyes nailed to a spot by a tree where the leaves had been pulled clean off.
"I know where he is…" the murderer hissed, cold, hateful, furious.
Katsuki closed his eyes.
