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Shouto's not sure whose voice he's got of in the back of his head when he thinks ‘those who do not learn from history…’
It's an unbidden kind of thought. A delirious one.
But something about this scene is just too familiar. Izuku and Katsuki splayed out on the ground in front of him, both of them bleeding and wounded and dying.
Shouto is crouched between them, head swivelling, trying to gauge the damage between them. Putting all of the different wounds into categories like ‘treatable’, ‘manageable’, and ‘fatal, if not treated right now’. On top of that, with two of them, he has to figure out who needs his attention first.
They're both in a bad way. Both in a very, very similar way. The blast had torn through Katsuki's right side, had gone right through him and struck Izuku's left side as he'd been right behind. Both injuries are right near their hips, thankfully a little bit lower than immediately destroying any vital organs.
Still, the blow is bad. They're bleeding out quickly, red spilling out on the ground. Too much blood, and it’s gurgling up and spreading on the ground way too fast.
Medics won't make it in time, even though he still pushes the emergency medical button fitted on his communicator. Even if Shouto takes them to a hospital right now as quickly as he can with his ice, it won't be enough — they'll bleed out before they get there.
He needs to deal with the wounds now. They will be fatal if he doesn’t.
With a sinking sense of horror, though, Shouto knows he doesn't have enough equipment to properly bandage or pressurise the gaping wounds in their sides. There's nothing he's carrying that could help deal with the level of wounds that both of them have just received.
His hands shake. Nausea rolls in his stomach.
Think, he tells himself desperately. Focus. How are you going to save them?
Katsuki is so out of it that Shouto is almost certain he's unconscious, even though his eyes are open in narrow slits as he stares up at the sky. When he breathes, it's basically a death rattle. Wet and raspy, like his lungs are filled with blood and it’s creeping up his throat.
There's blood on his lips too. Shouto can't see if it's coming up from inside of him, or if he's just got an injury there too. Whatever it is, he can't treat it.
Similarly, Izuku is barely hanging onto consciousness. His fingers are pressing down on his side, but there's no strength left in him, because the blood is just flowing out between his fingers now.
Shouto can't put enough pressure on both of them at the same time. He's not going to pick one, either. Because if he picks one to save, then that means he has to pick one to die.
It's both of them. It has to be both of them.
But the bleeding needs to stop. It needs to stop, or slow down, otherwise they're not going to make it another few minutes.
Shouto can't lose them. He can't lose both of them.
He leans over them, inspecting their wounds. Katsuki's fingers twitch at his side when Shouto pulls the fabric away and tries to wipe away some of the blood to get a better look, and a quick glance up shows that Katsuki’s face is scrunched in pain, but he doesn’t have the energy for anything more than that.
Shouto checks over the wound, but it doesn’t lead to much other than his fingers being covered in blood that he just smears around. It doesn't help at all.
When he goes to look over Izuku, Izuku's fingers wrap weakly around Shouto's wrist.
Shouto startles, snapping out of his methodical processing. He looks up at Izuku's face — pale, taunt and tight with pain, but lips moving. Shouto leans down, ear close to Izuku's lips, and Izuku rasps.
"You... the villain. Save."
Shouto leans back, shaking his head. "There are other heroes on the scene. They're dealing with the villain."
But there is no one else around them, right now. No one else has noticed what has happened to Dynamight and Deku.
It's only Shouto here.
And the heroes that have shown up don't have any way for Shouto to communicate with them. Not unless he gets up and goes to them, leaves Katsuki and Izuku behind, and —
It might be too late, by then.
The bleeding needs to stop.
The wounds need to close.
Shouto swallows down bile.
Vomit is not going to do anything, he tells himself, a voice in the back of his head that sounds like Endeavour. It's not going to save them. You need to do this, Todoroki.
He's seen his father do it once before. On a villain that received a grave injury — self-inflicted, right when Endeavour had tried to take him in to hand him over to police. Endeavour, with no medical help around, had used his fire and cauterised the wound.
It had stopped the blood. It had been the reason the villain lived in the end.
The burn it left behind had been nasty. Ugly. A permanent reminder, forever engraved on their skin. But they'd lived.
Shouto lets out a breath, trying to calm himself down. Trying to approach unattached, like it's not two of the people he cares about most lying, dying, on the floor of this battlefield together.
He needs to approach this unattached, or he's never going to be able to do this.
His left side flares to life. He has to be careful here. He can't let the flames spread too hot, too fast, too high. He needs to keep it only to the wounds, just to cauterise them shut. He needs to make sure he does not damage too much of the skin, otherwise the burns are going to pose another deadly risk.
Katsuki first, he decides.
Katsuki isn't conscious anymore, or he's far enough out of it that it's hard to tell. He got hit first — the damage is likely worse, too, even though there's so much blood Shouto can't tell between them.
It's pooling on the ground together, spilling and mixing into each other. Shouto swallows down the metallic taste that burns the back of his throat, and he places his left hand over Katsuki's skin, a few centimetres from the wound. He makes sure it's clear, makes sure nothing is going to meld into the skin from the fire.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and lets his hand burst to life with flames. He has to hold down Katsuki's shoulders with his right hand, as his body suddenly awakens and starts thrashing wildly in pain. His eyes are wide, but there's no awareness in them. There's just pain, until he passes out entirely.
The smell of burning flesh rises up and clogs Shouto's nostrils. He knows it well, but he's never quite been this close before, and he doesn't think this is something he'll ever be able to scrub clean from his skin now. He gags, but holds it down, making sure that the wound is properly closed before he finally lets the flames simmer and die.
He's not sure if Katsuki's alive or dead anymore. His own heart stops, and he quickly presses his fingertips to Katsuki's neck, leaving a smear of blood pressed there.
One, two, three seconds, and Shouto cannot feel a heartbeat.
"I can't lose you," Shouto whispers, frantic, looking back down at the wound. It isn't bleeding anymore, but the sight of the burns is ghastly and sickening, and Shouto prays and prays that he has not just killed Katsuki while trying to save him.
He feels it, then. The weakest flutter of a heartbeat.
He chokes down a gasp of relief.
It's not over yet. It's far from over yet.
He makes sure Katsuki's heartbeat strengthens before he shifts, looking over Izuku once more. Izuku's eyes are closed, but he's still breathing. Shouto hopes he's unconscious, for his own sake.
Okay, you've done it once.
He moves away any fabric from the wound, and takes another deep breath, trying to breathe through the stench of burnt flesh and blood.
"Sho-" Izuku's voice breaks off in a weak cough, eyes shutting again as he tries to get through it. Shouto's head whips towards his face, watching and praying that Izuku doesn't start choking.
When the haze clears, Izuku is staring at him. Worried.
Concerned.
Not just for Katsuki. Not just for himself.
Shouto knows, with that singular expression, what Izuku is currently thinking about.
He's worried for Shouto. Worried how Shouto goddamn feels about doing this.
Izuku Midoriya would, of course, rather bleed out and die rather than make Shouto do something like this.
Stupid, he wants to cry, but if he says anything he’ll just start weeping, and tears might just cloud his vision, and it means he might just mess this all up.
"I have to do this," Shouto whispers, though his voice still cracks. He shudders, and it's a monumental effort to push everything back and make sure he doesn't break down. He clears his throat, and he tries again. "I have to do this now, Izuku, or you're going to die."
"You—"
"I'm not losing you. I'm not losing either of you, okay? If— If I have to do this to save you, then that's not... God. Just. I have to do this. I'm not letting you die. That's not happening."
Izuku doesn't reply, but Shouto notices in the corner of his eye that Izuku's hand slowly turns. Palm up to the sky, fingers curled. Waiting.
Shouto slips his right hand between Izuku's fingers and holds on. Izuku, weakly, tightens his grip.
Shouto is almost sick again at the thought that the hold actually helps. He's just glad Izuku is giving him this gracious kindness. He takes that moment and fuels himself, and lets his flames rise.
Izuku's hand tightens, and his back arches, but he tries to make sure he doesn't squirm too much.
Shouto can't hear much beyond the flickering flames, but he thinks he might distantly hear his voice on repeat in his ears, apologising over and over.
The wounds stop bleeding.
It's as much as Shouto can do, right now. He just has to pray and hope that it's somehow enough to save them.
The smell — and everything — gets to him, and he can't hold it back anymore. He has to turn around to retch, rasping with thick, choking sobs. His vision clouds over with tears, and he can't do anything to keep them at bay.
Despite being trained to be unattached, to make sure his emotions don't cloud over his judgement in the field, all that training goes out the window when it comes to these two.
He swipes at his eyes and his mouth, uncaring for how gross it all is. He looks around them, and sees movement in the distance, but his eyes are too blurry to properly see.
There's nothing else he can do. He's not leaving them.
Not, not if—
No. This has to have been enough. This has to have saved them.
He faces them once more, fingers stroking over their faces. Katsuki's still breathing. So is Izuku. He holds onto these moments, counting every second, every breath, praying it is not their last.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he says, over and over, head bowed. "I'm so sorry. Please be okay. Please. You can't— you can't both leave me. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, please, just hang on, just— just stay. Please."
It is only his low voice, mixed in with raspy, light breaths. He doesn't know how long for, but it feels like a lifetime.
"Down there!" He hears, and then suddenly the world bursts into movement and sounds around him.
He looks up, and sees the vests of medical personnel hurriedly making their way over with equipment. They run up to him, and basically skid down to their knees to look over the two Pro Heroes, lying deathly still on the floor.
"What happened?" One of them asks him, the words ringing in his ears like they're underwater.
"I had to stop the bleeding," he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. He might be bleeding, too. "I— I had to—"
"Okay. Okay," they say. "Okay. We'll take it from here."
Except he will not be moved, and he refuses to do so until Katsuki and Izuku are being moved too, finally being taken to the hospital.
A fighting chance, they say. A slim, fighting chance, but Shouto has given them the opportunity for it.
It's reassuring, he thinks. If there's one thing Katsuki and Izuku know how to do, intrinsically and entirely, it is fight.
And they do.