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Katsuki’s injuries after the war leave him vulnerable and struggling to complete basic tasks. The mobility in his leg is shot. His dominant arm is a mess. And he’s slotted for years of physical therapy. He can’t use his quirk properly anymore. He likely can’t be a hero anymore. He wants to be sad about it. He deserves to be sad about it. But every time Katsuki starts to grieve what could have been, his friends are there. He doesn’t want to ask for help. He knows he needs it, but he has trained himself to be so vastly independent over the years that it’s still something he struggles with. Katsuki’s gotten better. He acknowledges his friends’ strengths and weaknesses. He even refers to them as friends in his head—he’ll be damned if he admits it aloud.
His friends know that they are his friends. They also know how to approach him and provide help without hurting his pride. Right now is such a delicate time for him. They move naturally, fluidly, without asking. If they offer to help him, they are sure to get a half-hearted blast to the face. Instead, they just do.
As Katsuki stands in his hospital room struggling to change into a clean pair of hospital pajamas because he can’t move his heavily bandaged arm, Sero sidles up next to him and secures the buttons without being asked. Katsuki huffs but doesn’t swat him away. When each button is firmly secured in place, he gives Katsuki a small pat on the chest then returns to his seat next to the hospital bed and starts flipping through the volume of manga he brought with him without saying a word. Katsuki watches him with steadfast eyes, then hobbles over to his bed to take a seat. His body is tired and all he did was get dressed.
When he’s finally released from the hospital Katsuki has a crutch to support his weight and a sling for his slowly healing arm. He’s dressed in his uniform thanks to his parents and walks unsteadily to the dorms with his uniform jacket hanging loosely off his body, shielding his sling. He wonders if this will be his life from now on. Is there even a point in returning to a hero high school when he can’t be a hero anymore? There are other schools. Will he be moved to general studies? It’s announced that Shinsou will be joining their class. Will he take Katsuki’s spot in 2A?
None of the teachers say anything about him being removed from the hero course but since he can’t participate in any classes that require physical exertion, he’s sidelined, forced to watch his friends get ahead of him. Even Deku, who no longer has a quirk, is still strong and active. He’s learned a lot and applies to his education so that he can still be a competent hero without an ability. Plenty of heroes have quirks that aren’t particularly strong or flashy, having to rely on their physical strength and support items instead. Deku is one of them now and he doesn’t let it slow him down.
In the dorms, Katsuki struggles to hold a spoon while he eats the curry someone else made. He tires too quickly to stand in front of the stove and cook for himself or the others. Kaminari sits next to him and explains that Satou is the one that cooked the curry, knowing how much Katsuki likes it. He had resigned himself to the spoon because chopsticks are an even greater challenge at present, but his shaky hand makes the food spill onto his place before he ever gets it to his mouth. Katsuki sets the spoon down and huffs angrily. He can feel tears sting the back of his eyes as he fights the urge to cry.
Kaminari seizes the moment and the spoon, lifting it to Katsuki’s mouth. “Open up,” he says softly so as not to draw anyone else’s attention.
Katsuki glares at the spoon but does as he’s told, opening his mouth wide for Kaminari to shovel the food onto his tongue. He could have used his left hand to eat, but he was instructed to try and execute small tasks like eating with his right to assist with his physical therapy at home. Katsuki chews and Kaminari scoops him out more potatoes and curry sauce, waiting patiently for him to swallow before feeding him once more. Kaminari doesn’t stop until Katsuki’s plate is empty and no one in the room says anything about it. Both his belly and his heart are full.
Kirishima is, well, Kirishima. He’s loud, affectionate, and quick to help Katsuki even when he doesn’t need it. When his crutch slips out from under his arm and he stumbles forward, Kirishima is there. He catches Katsuki easily and scoops him into his arms.
“I don’t need you to fucking carry me,” Katsuki protests, but he’s already looping his arm behind Kirishima’s neck for support.
Kirishima beams at him. “I want to carry you. I’ll always be there to lift you up even when you don’t need it. I’m your unwavering horse, remember?”
Katsuki puffs his cheeks in a pout to hide the way his face blooms with color and his heart rate quickens. His friends and his classmates are idiots—stupid, supportive idiots—but they don’t make him feel like his injuries will have him at a disadvantage for very long. His body will heal, and he’ll figure out the best way to move forward when that does. Everyone will be beside him, pushing him forward when that happens.