Work Text:
“Katsuki-Katsuki, if I disappeared one day, would you come find me?”
“Hell no, you’re a big boy, figure out how to come back yourself.”
“But what if I don’t know how?”
***
Katsuki stands still in the foyer, his house keys digging into his palm; no doubt it’ll leave an indent. He holds his breath; their shared apartment feels quiet. None of the usual gentle chaos that Shouto carries with him swirling in the air. There’s no soft laughter, no garbled sound from the TV blaring out, no thuds or creaks from the kitchen cupboards swinging open and being shut, no rustle of clothes against the couch; it’s silent and hushed, like it’s keeping a secret from him.
He fucking hates it. It’s eerie and foreboding. Something perverse about it, like there’s something hiding under the shadows, waiting to grab him.
It’s unusual, it’s unsettling, and it’s wrong.
It’s not supposed to be this quiet, it’s never this quiet. It’s been a week of Shouto being gone, of Shouto missing, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep his wits around him, act like everything’s fine as he heads to work, as he eats, drinks, goes for his morning jog, watches his shitty reality show. He doesn’t know how much longer he can act like this shit isn’t killing him from the inside, like it isn’t clawing away at his chest, creating a cavity that only Shouto can fill.
He can’t stand the quiet. It’s stifling.
He spins around, slamming the door shut behind him, no patience to lock the door behind him, no one’s stupid enough to raid a Pro Hero’s place, and if they are, they won’t find anything of worth in there, Katsuki thinks. He’d rather sleep on Deku’s shitty couch or Ei’s guest room than spend another minute with that haunting silence and absence.
***
“It could be a mission, right?” Ochako asks, “It’s the most likely possibility.”
“But he would have told someone if he’d be gone for over two weeks,” Eijirou replies. All heads swing towards Katsuki, at his grim expression, they switch to Izuku, who gives a small shake of his head, and then to Yayorozu.
A small group of them has gathered at Eijirou’s place, trying to parse together whatever little information they have on Shouto’s whereabouts, the information amounting to almost nothing. He was there one day, begging Katsuki to make him cold soba, and the next, he’s not.
He wonders if it’s some petty revenge. A way to gripe at Katsuki for denying him, but Shouto’s not that cruel; he’s never cruel. Even if he could get away with it, he’s too empathetic, too prone to feeling others’ hurt and pain, to act so heartless.
“It’s like he just vanished.” Yayorozou’s voice breaks, her sunken gaze shifting to the side.
“It’s truly unlike Todoroki-kun to do something like this, if not us, he would have informed his mother or sister, but they haven’t heard a word from him.” Iida fixes his glasses.
“I checked with his agency, and they didn’t report any secret undercover mission…It’s not that. Even if it was some last-minute-secret mission from the HPSC, there would be some record of it with his agency. There’s nothing.”
Silence settles over them, and it grates on Katsuki’s nerves. He bites at his nails, trying to find something he’s missing, anything. The sound of his shoes hitting the ground as he starts pacing all over the living room mixes with Deku’s insistent mumbling, Yayorozou and Tsuyu’s sniffling, and the brief whispers that fall out as Mina attempts to comfort them.
The weird tension is broken by Denki, “Look, I don’t wanna be the one to say it, and I feel awful saying it-but…but we have to consider that possibility, right? That maybe-” He trails off, looking uncertain.
“Maybe what?” Katsuki growls, daring him to continue. His hardened gaze fixed on him.
“Katsuki calm-” Eijirou’s already standing in between the two of them, his palm pressed against his chest.
“That maybe he killed himself!” Denki’s eyes widen, his hand covering his mouth, like the words were forced out of him. There’s a weak gasp, the sound of weeping, Deku reeling back as if someone slapped him, Katsuki can feel the knot in his chest tighten, his fists clenched and shaking - “You bastard-!” Eijirou has to grab him by his jacket’s collar to hold him back.
“Calm down! This isn’t helping anyone!” Ever the peacemaker.
“Look! I just-we need to consider the possibility that maybe he- the last few months were hell for him! Everyone noticed it was taking a toll on him! He wasn’t-he wasn’t doing okay. He felt fragile. Like he’d break easily, break soon.”
“Oh, so you think he just went and killed himself?!” Katsuki yells, his voice feels rough even against his own ears.
“It’s a fucking possibility, isn’t it! He’s not on some grand detox trip, it’s not an overseas mission, or something undercover! If some villains had him, they’d make a broadcast or demand ransom, or anything. He’s not with his family-none of his friends know where he is! He-he’s just gone.”
“But…Todoroki-kun wouldn’t…”Midoriya says.
Shouto wouldn’t. He has his issues, he’s got a shitload of trauma from his childhood, and probably a hell load of mental issues passed down from his family, but he’s never given any indication, any hint, that he wants to kill himself. He’ll hide, he’ll cry, and, on his worst days, throw tantrums like a child. Hell, he’ll get withdrawn and moody, and shit- Katsuki knows that he struggles, struggles with his purpose, with the meaning of existence, with his worth and value, but he’s never said shit about ending it. He wouldn’t. He just fucking wouldn’t.
Right?
But the seed’s already been planted, and he can’t breathe, can’t see past the angry tears blurring in his eyes, he can’t think straight, just slumps against Eijirou.
“That’s enough, Kaminari-kun.” Iida’s stern voice breaks through the haze. “We shouldn’t talk about our dear friend like this, and we haven’t exhausted all possibilities and theories yet. We can never guess the nefarious reasons villains might target someone.” Haunting images play in Katsuki’s mind, of Shouto being hurt, being tortured, being- “Or it could be a simple quirk accident too, as I recall Kamui Woods had an incident several months ago that transformed him into a bird; it took over 10 days for him to return to normal.”
His words bring some comfort to the room, return some of the warmth, and even set Deku’s rambling off, “Quirks are getting more and more complex and stronger by the day; there’s no way to be sure of what the new generation’s quirks are capable of doing. Their effects can last for longer durations too - if he got quirked into an animal or someone invisible, then what might have lasted for 4 days for their parents could last for 10 now, or there could be a time-travelling quirk, or-or if it’s something like Eri-chan’s quirk that turns back time and makes people vanish-” he cuts himself off.
Ochako takes over for him, “There are so many possibilities, we just need to figure it out.”
Denki ducks his head, fisting his hair in both hands, “I’m sorry, guys-I just-”
“It’s fine, dude…everyone’s just worried about Shouto.” Ei claps him over the back.
Deku continues, “I’ll reach out to a few of the police officers and other hero agencies in the area, check out their latest reports on recent incidents in the city. It could help us narrow it down. Momo, I could use your expertise with this; you’re good at research.”
“Of course! Anything to help!”
“We just need to be positive, guys. We’ll get todobro back.”
The room’s morale slowly rises, everyone discussing theories and new possibilities, trying to convince themselves it will work out, but the chatter does nothing for Katsuki. He still feels the sinking feeling welling up inside, his heart hammering against his chest. He can still feel the sense of wrongness that’s accompanied him from the day he noticed Shouto was missing. He can’t shake off the wrongness of the situation, even as Eijirou and Izuku look at him, trying to offer words of comfort, but
“So what? He either killed himself or a quirk made him fucking disappear from this world? What good does any of that fucking do?”
He can’t stand the disappointed looks he receives, so he storms out of the room. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he has to leave, has to think, has to recalibrate.
The cool air brushing against his face as he steps out of Ei’s place reminds him of Shouto’s gentle touch. He has to bite back his tears.
***
“What the fuck did you do, you bastard?” Maybe grabbing the former number one hero by his chest and slamming his back against the door in his own home isn’t the smartest move he’s made in the past week, but he’s made a couple of worse ones, so who gives a shit.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bakugo.”
“Where is he-Where’s Shouto?”
“What do you mean? He hasn’t come to visit today.”
He jammed him against the wood again, “When was the last time he came?”
“It was about four days ago, Thursday.”
“What the fuck did you say to him?”
“Bakugo-what-?” It must speak about the disgrace of a fallen man, that he does nothing to push him away. to stand still and take it, of a man who’s tried to change too late, “Did something happen to Shouto?” There is no fight, no resolve in his voice, a quiet defeat.
“You must have said fucking something - nothing makes him worse off than the shit you say.”
“I assure you, nothing like that happened. We were quite civil; he even dropped off some postcards, you can ask Fuyumi.”
He lets go of the old man, turning away to face Fuyumi; her eyes glistening with panic, a hand hovering over her mouth trying to stifle in her gasps, Katsuki can feel his voice crack, give in, “Then where the hell is he?”
***
He finds a bench.
This park is closer to his place than Ei’s. It’s where he and Shouto would come sometimes, when they had downtime from work, and being cooped up in their home was driving the two of them insane. It’s usually teeming with children in the afternoon. Parents keeping a watchful eye as they walk their dogs, vendors trying to sell ice cream to the kids, sakura flowers blooming around them, and some of the braver kids even approaching the Pro Heroes bartering with them to play a game of catch (“I’ll let you pet my dog if you manage to catch me!” ). Of course, they would indulge them.
More often than not, they’d come here during the night, fresh awake from a nightmare, a desperate need to feel the cool air against their skin, to remind themselves it’s all in the past. They’d barely exchange words, just feel their breath fogging up against the night sky as they took a walk in silence while trying not to let their thoughts spiral out of control.
Later, they’d find the same bench he was sitting on, the one that overlooks the small pond in the park, and converse quietly. They’d been coming here a lot, the past couple of months, Shouto’s nightmares taking a turn for the worse. Katsuki would often come out of his room for a glass of water and find him sitting listlessly on the couch, staring at nothing, and then drag him out.
Sometimes, Shouto would summon his ice, something small and sharp, and mindlessly scratch at the bench’s surface with it, leaving indents.
Katsuki thumbs at them now, almost unconsciously. He isn’t used to being out here without Shouto. He can count the number of times he’s been here alone on one hand.
Fuck, just where is he?
***
Tracking down the mindfreak when he’s on a mission is a shitshow, but he managed to get a hold of him eventually. Hitoshi’s work as an underground hero has helped him develop a strange network, so to speak. He’s the first among them to get an inkling of something wrong, hear the whispers of a massive attack or an illicit deal before the rest of them get called on scene.
If anyone knows of some nefarious plans a villain has against Shouto, then he must have a vague idea. He and Hakagura. She already told him she’s heard nothing.
They meet at a secluded corner behind some shitty club, and he can hear the music blaring out, some pop song, it’s loud enough to conceal the sound of Hitoshi’s footsteps, and perhaps even provide cover to their conversation.
“Bakugo.” He nods at him, “I’m not supposed to be out right now, we have to make this quick.”
“What do you know?”
“There’s nothing.”
Fucking hell
“There has to be something.” He feels like he’s begging for information. Katsuki hates it.
“Nobody in my network’s mentioned anything about a pro hero going missing, or being taken in-” He stops mid-sentence, right when the door opens, and one of the bar’s staff walks out to throw away the trash. The shadows give them cover. Hitoshi continues, when the guy leaves, “I’m gonna keep looking Bakugo...But. Right now, I have nothing.”
Katsuki has to hold himself back from smashing the wall. It feels like defeat.
“He didn’t say…mention anything the last time you saw him? Acted any weird?”
“Weirder than Shouto’s normal? Not really, but it’s been a while since I saw him, well, even longer before he went missing.”
Katuki runs a shaky hand through his hair, grasping at his blond strands. “No mission either?”
“Shouto’s too mainstream, too recognizable for most of these covert operations, unless he was quirked to change his features. But so much protocol goes into these missions, so, for no one in his agency to even know what’s wrong…that’s strange.” Hitoshi gives him a pat on the shoulder, “But me and Hakagarue will keep asking, looking, see if there’s any loose thread we’re missing.”
“Right, Alright.”
They haven’t exactly developed a relationship to comfort one another; it’s an awkward goodbye as they make their way in opposite directions.
***
“Oh, Shouto didn’t come with you today.”
Meeting Himura Rei on his own is never an easy task; he has a hell of a lot of respect for the women and what she’s went through, but there’s always a tinge of awkwardness in their interactions. A sort of wariness that comes from not fully understanding the role they both play in Shouto’s life, where they stand, and Shouto’s never quite helped in combing through the awkwardness, not the way Katsuki did for him and his own parents.
But his parents are easy. It’s easy with them. Even when it was weird as fuck the first time he invited Shouto to his family’s house for dinner, where they had to blast past the whole ‘Here’s Endeavour’s son, Dabi’s brother, the weird traumatized kid from my class who is still learning how social interactions work’ introductions. But it took only a few hours for his parents to grow to love Shouto, like he was their own kid. Hell, they get upset with their own son when Shouto can’t make it to their monthly dinners.
Sometimes, Shouto will even show up without Katsuki in tow. Always with a present in hand, drinks, some food from their local hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Dynamight merch, or any knick-knacks he picked up during patrol. Because one thing he got through his thick head was not showing up empty-handed to where he goes (“It helps with the initial awkwardness…we can just discuss what we brought instead of why I’m there…it’s easy.”)
Katsuki suspects he would never reach that level with Shouto’s parents, but he’s never been too upset about it. Knows Shouto struggles with his own relationship with them, often bringing Katsuki along to act as a buffer.
Rei leads him into her living room. It’s a quaint apartment, something Shouto helped her buy and Fuyumi helped decorate, so it isn’t just barren walls, but instead filled with family pictures, soothing art, quilts, and all the odd hobbies old ladies indulge themselves in. He has to push her knitting project - a cat blanket, he thinks she must be making it for Shouto- to the side to sit down on the couch. She hands him a steaming cup of tea, and he thanks her. An awkward silence settled over them.
Unlike Shouto, he isn’t used to showing up unannounced at his parents' house unless it’s to scream at Enji Todoroki.
Rei clears her throat. “Is…everything alright with Shouto?”
Katsuki’s brows shoot up.
“It’s just…I haven’t heard from Shouto in a while now.” She looks distraught, her fingers drumming against the couch. She can’t meet his eyes. “He hasn’t visited in over a week now…or called, or even texted.” Katsuki knows that Shouto likes to fit in a call with his mother every evening, even if it’s just to briefly ask about her health. “I’ve been checking on the news too, but there hasn’t been anything about…about his hero activities, or…if he’s in the hospital.”
He wonders if he made a grave mistake coming here; he wasn’t prepared to break the news to her about her son going missing. He assumed Fuyumi would have informed her, after witnessing his little scuffle with her father, but shit. “He isn’t in the hospital.” He manages to spit out.
“Oh… that's a relief.” There’s an uncomfortable pause. “Did I do something to upset him, then?”
“I... don’t think so.”
“Katsuki,” Her stormy gray eyes meet his piercing ones, “why are you here?”
He inhales sharply. “Shou’s been missing, I thought maybe he told you something.”
“What do you mean he’s missing?” She sounds calm, too calm, almost. Her hands cupped in her lap.
“He hasn’t been home for a week now…It’s probably some last-minute overseas mission, and he might just not have had time to reach back.” He lies, not sure if it’s a cruel thing to keep the truth from her, “I just wanted to ask if maybe he fu-told you, said something about any mission.”
“No…he doesn’t like to bring up his work with me. Even in the letters he left with me, he talked about the meals you, um, cooked for him, and this lovely place he visited. Oh, I can’t recall the name now, and the cat he wants to adopt.”
“I thought he stopped writing you letters?”
“He did…but sometimes he’ll still do it. It…helps me, having them, the letters, I mean.”
“Oh.”
-
“When he um, contacts you from his mission, can you please tell him to call me? I’ve just been very worried, anxious, the past week, that something bad happened.”
“Yeah…I’ll let him know. I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about.”
***
Deku
1:23 PM
[Voicenote]
Transcription: “Hey, Kacchan, I thought I’d drop a little update for you. I’ve been working with Hatsume-chan and Yaomomo on the quirk research, and we’ve narrowed down a few areas in Shouto’s patrol jurisdiction where quirk accidents have occurred. I’ve asked Jirou-san, Ei, and Shouji to handle the investigation, since they’re the most familiar with the area. Could you drop by the police station near Shouto’s agency? They said they’ll compile some files by tomorrow. And uhm, I can’t get into contact with anyone with high enough clearance at the HPSC office, we’re still lacking leads in that area- if they sent Shouchaan on some overseas mission, but international media has been quiet too, and well, I asked Hawks, and he said he’ll look into it, but he isn’t too confident, said they took away most of his access when he stepped down as president, but he’s got a better chance at eliciting information than either of us. Oh-shoot, I’m being called on-I’ll call you later!”
***
A rough patrol finds him straggling through the apartment, tossing away his scraped-up uniform and finding some comfortable sweats to get into. He finds one of his old costumes stashed at the back of his closet and sets it aside. He’s gonna have to order another set. But this will do in the meantime.
He’s making his way to Shouto’s room to ask if he wants to place an order with him, to cut down on shipping costs, when the realization hits him. His hands hover over the door handle, his breath quickening.
He lets out a small explosion, the burnt wood smell hitting him. He throws the door open, and-and he doesn’t know what he was expecting, maybe he thought he’d see Shouto’s sleeping body, or in one of his weird cleaning phases, but he’s met with nothing but an empty room, devoid of the person that gives it life. It’s filled with the same absence he felt the day he noticed Shouto missing.
It’s been 3 weeks.
He still can’t find the strength to enter the room, not without Shouto there.
He slams the door shut and leaves.
***
He ends up in the gym, wanting to blow off some steam. Let’s the clanking of the metal plates, the rhythmic thud of the treadmill, the grunts from the trainer on the side, the burn in his muscles, and the smell of metallic iron help keep his anxious thoughts at bay.
But it only works for a little while.
One of the trainers approaches him when he’s reracking the dumbbells, “It’s been a while, Bakugo! You and Shouto must be busy, huh, no time to get a good workout in.”
He and Shouto are used to coming here together; sometimes Eijirou or Deku will join them too, but since this place is closer to their building, it’s just the two of them. He’s used to making their workouts into a competition between them both, to see who can run the most, lift the hardest, and hold the plank longer. Everyone’s too used to their antics by now. Enough to notice when one of them is missing. Isn’t that fucking great?
He grunts in reply, doesn’t want to make any conversation, nothing that concerns practical strangers and their prying interest in where Shouto is. He forces his eyes on one of the noticeboards, hoping it’ll send a signal that the guy needs to fucking leave him alone.
He finds himself reading the same Gym Etiquette rules he’s read millions of times again to drown out his rambling. He’s worse than fucking Deku.
“Gym Etiquette
The Iron Rule: Treat others how you want to be treated.
No Food and Drinks: Refrain from bringing food inside. Only bottled water allowed.
Maintain Personal Hygiene: Wipe down equipment with towels and spray bottles provided.
Use Headphones: Keep music, podcasts, and phone calls to yourself to avoid disturbing others.
Re-Rack Your Weights: Return dumbbells, plates, and kettlebells to their proper racks.
Lost and Found: You may find any lost valuables at our front desk.”
It’s filled with scratches and doodles, words crossed over and rewritten, random words highlighted in blue and yellow. He wonders which dumbfuck brings a highlighter to the gym. Thinks about it long enough that the trainer’s finally gone and he can start his new set.
***
Aizawa’s Problem Children
10:37 PM
Pikachu: [Voice Note]
Transcription: Heyyyy, guys. Okay, so me and Jirou were searching on social media, cause I had the brilliant idea that if there’s nothing on the news, then there might still be something on the net, right? Cause our fans can be wild and weird, and at the places they aren’t supposed to be, especially when it’s super dangerous and can cost them their lives, just to get one picture or vid-ouch that fucking hurts!
[Incomprehensible]
Fine, I’ll get to the point, jeez, anyway, we, uh, kept searching, but there’s almost nothing about Shouto? No recent information is… that's fine, almost normal. But uh, it’s sort of strange that there aren’t any weird fan messages up either? No weird thirst tweets, or fanarts, or ayego edits. No posts about him not being seen on patrol or on any of the channels doing promotional content, it’s like half his fan base has disappeared. Most of it is just really old content, too. That's weird, right? We think it’s weird. Or maybe the algorithm is broken. Mineta did break the system when he decided to purchase the platform…
Uhm, but we’ll keep searching online, something should turn up. I’ve broadened the search bar to international, too. Anyway, Chargebolt out.
***
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking, it just slipped out, I didn’t mean to say it. They were just crowding me, and I felt overwhelmed-”
“Fucking hell, what did your PR manager say?”
“Just-they’ll work on it, lay low, don’t say anything more.”
Katsuki has to crouch down to get on Shouto’s eye level. He leans forward to run his hand up and down across his back, “Okay…it’s gonna be alright, we’ll figure something out. You’re fine.”
***
His dad’s the one who opens the door, his brows raised and eyes round, “Katsuki! Good to see you, son!” He says while pulling him into a hug. Katsuki almost goes lax, has to force himself to hold his tears back, but his dad holds onto him still. “You didn’t call. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, just wanted to see you both,” he rasps.
“Anytime, we’re always happy to see you.” He lets him in. He’s taking his shoes off in the foyer when he hears his mom yelling from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of the cabinet being slammed closed, “Oi, who was it?”
“Katsuki came to visit!”
“Eh, the brat?” His mom walks out of the kitchen and into their living room. She slaps his back hard when she sees him, hard enough that he has to let out a small “oof”, and then ruffles his hair like he’s their pet dog. “You should have said you were coming! I would have made Mapo Tofu for you.”
He slumps down on the couch, catches the sports channel his old man was watching on the screen, “‘ts fine, not hungry.”
Her mom raises her brow, “You okay?”
“You nag at me to drop by more, and when I do, you get on my ass about it!” He doesn’t mean to blow up on her; he’s put in a shitload of effort to be a better person, better friend, better son. To stop acting spoilt and entitled, but it’s hard, with everything weighing heavily on me, he just wants to seek comfort in his parents’ company, not be interrogated.
“Oi, don’t be a hardass, it’s just a question.” He ignores the silent conversation his parents have over his head.
His dad takes over from her, “Well, I was experimenting with some fish stew today, and we were just about to have lunch, so let’s have a meal together! It’s been a while.” It helps mellow out the tension he’s created. He gives a small nod.
Later, he helps his parents set the table, and his father talks him through his recipe as they eat. It’s good, and he demands that he send him the recipe so he can recreate it himself.
They ask about his work, talk about their recent fashion project, and when his dad brings out a bottle of wine and says, “Oh, Shouto brought this one! Said it’s from Nabu Island. I haven’t had the chance to open it yet.” Apparently, he came by with it for dinner while Katsuki had been stuck on a stakeout. He thinks he remembers Shouto coming back with their leftovers.
“No Shouto today, eh? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without him,” His mom says with a lilt in her voice. She must’ve been waiting to bring him up.
His expression crumbles immediately. And, without meaning to, with just a little coaxing, everything comes spilling out: The past 3 weeks, Shouto missing, his worries, his insecurity, how he hates how empty their apartment feels, the fear that he’s lost him without ever getting to say goodbye, without getting to tell him how he felt about him. His parents held him through it, like they would when he was a kid and would cry over some dumb shit like a school project or bad grade.
In the morning, as he’s getting to leave, his dad tells him, “Drop by anytime, okay?”
“Or just move in with us for a while.” His mom brushes his hair away from his face and cups his face with one hand, “Till he comes back…Shou’s a good kid. He’ll be back.”
He really fucking hopes so.
***
“You’re acting paranoid right now, and you won’t even tell me what’s wrong!”
“I messed up, I messed up badly.”
“You haven’t!”
“I did! I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. You were just grieving your brother, and those vultures spun it into something it isn’t cause that’s how they get clicks.”
“I ruined my career, my life, everything-”
“You’re spiralling.”
“What am I if I’m not a hero! What’s my purpose?!”
***
Natsuo Todorki
4:17 PM
Voicemail:
Hey Bakugo, hope you’re well. I haven’t been able to reach Shouto for a while now, and Fuyumi’s been saying some crazy things, and we’re really worried about him. Can you tell him to call back? Or even text, or, if he’s upset with us and doesn’t want to talk, then can you just let me know if he’s alright? I’ll, um, wait for your reply. Thanks, man.
***
Katsuki kneels down and forces Shouto to look at him, “You know better than to go on social media when shit hits the fan. It’s all a trend for them, an agenda, everyone jumping on the opportunity for the next hit post.”
Shouto’s eyes are blasted wide open, “But they think I’m gonna be another villain-”
***
One of the reasons he and Shouto picked out this apartment was because of the view the roof offered. Other practical reasons for living together, and living here, include:
- It’s close to both their agencies
- It’s in a nice area, and the return on investment is great
- Decent enough neighbours
- It’s close to Shouto’s mother’s apartment
- It’s cheaper to share
- Shouto didn’t want to live alone
- Katsuki didn’t want to blow his entire paycheck on rent and bills
- Shouto makes for a decent roommate, helps with the chores, doesn’t make a mess, and doesn't invite random extras to ruin the peace.
- Halfie needs someone to keep an eye on him to make sure he eats and takes care of himself, and Katsuki, the saint that he is, volunteered to be the one to take on the role, with no ulterior motives whatsoever.
Well, the rooftop wasn’t a reason, but an added perk: The apartment was tall enough and in an area with relatively low pollution to offer a decent view of the skyline. It’s nothing equal to the stargazing experience at Mount Fuji, but it’s decent enough.
Shouto often drags him out here, so they can gaze at the sky while the city stretches out below them, before babbling about some philosophical bullshit, like how we’re just tiny specks in the entire universe, maybe we don’t matter as much as we think we do.
Katsuki finds the spot they normally sit at, next to an old book rack. Kids will often drop their old books and magazines, and some other kids will pick them up. Rinse and repeat. Shouto thinks it’s the cutest shit ever: It’s like they’re pen pals! But with Books, we should grab one and see what the kids are reading these days.
What he wouldn’t give to have him here, to share his dumb thoughts with him again.
Almost recklessly, he grasps at the shelves on the rack and pulls out a newspaper instead of a. The headline reads, “President of Deltacorps Found Not Dead Despite Wide Speculation.” Shit tech moguls will pull to stay relevant and drive up sales. Why the hell are kids reading this - probably just to doodle around it. He chucks it back into the rack and looks back at the sky. The stars are still there.
***
Katsuki can feel his body aching everywhere, feels it in every pore and joint. As he walks into their apartment, the only thing he can think about is taking a warm shower and just fucking sleeping. His shift ran late, till midnight, and then he still had to go back to his agency and work on some shitty reports. It’s 3 am now, and he’s ready for the day to be over. He, however, isn’t expecting Shouto to be awake. But the TV is blaring, and he finds Shouto standing in front of it, almost transfixed.
“How sure are we of Pro Hero Shouto’s loyalty to the people?” The talk show host speaks in a high-pitched voice. “Of course, we cannot negate the role he played during the war, but the active support and sympathy towards a villain, especially with the recent hike in villain activity and organized crime we’re seeing, might signal his support to the wrong side. This is especially concerning given his family ties-”
Katsuki grabs the remote and shuts the program down, Shouto’s gaze still focused on the screen. “I told you not to listen to this crap, it’s pure bullshit.”
***
Aizawa’s Problem Children
1:16 PM
Momo Yayorozu
Does anyone have any insight into why Shouto’s official accounts have all been taken down? I thought his team managed them, and not him?
***
“Fucking hell, Shou, when was the last time you slept?”
***
“Maybe he’s really just fucking dead, and we’re on a wild goose chase,” Katsuki was on the tail end of his patrol when Eijirou called him, something about the police investigation on quirk accidents not yielding any positive results. None of the kids or their parents mentioned running into Todoroki. I had one of the detectives with a lie-detecting quirk ask around with me. They don’t seem to be lying.
“Don’t say that, Denki just got in your head…that was just his anxiety talking.”
“Maybe he didn’t kill himself, maybe he did, his body could be drowning somewhere in a river or decomposing behind a trash can.”
‘Dude!”
“Fine. Maybe it wasn’t him, maybe it was a villain, maybe they killed him and threw his body away somewhere.”
“In both situations, we…his body would’ve been found.”
“Not if they had a handy decomposing quirk or if they shackled him with weights to throw in the sea somewhere.” He’s been letting his imagination run wild during the night, instead of sleeping.
“...Kat…”
“Well, what other option is there!” He stomps his feet on the ground.
“There would be reports of a scuffle, and…and he wouldn’t kill himself, you know that.”
“Do I?” Katsuki sits down on the pavement, feeling the hard ground below him, “The last few months were hell.”
“But he was getting better, he said it, we all saw it, he was acting more like himself.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we shouldn’t have believed him. I shouldn’t have believed him.”
***
He isn’t sure if it’s gonna help thwart Shouto’s nightmares, but he has him sleep on his bed instead of on his own Futon. It’s a bit strange, lying across from one another, his hand twitches, and he has to hold himself back from reaching out for Shouto’s.
He isn’t asleep yet. Without prompting, he talks, the weariness evident in his voice, “I always get sad around Touya’s anniversary. It’s rough for everyone, for my family, for me. I didn’t think it would pull such backlash this time.”
Katsuki switches over to his side, no longer on his back, to look at Shouto, who’s staring at the ceiling, hands folded on his stomach. “They always blow shit out of proportion.”
“I think fighting with my father that day made it worse. I was so angry at him, and so sad about Touya…I said all those things. It probably hurt him a lot, too.”
“Stop giving a fuck about his feelings. If you feel hurt and angry, then feel hurt and angry.”
Shouto turns around, on his side, and Katsuki is drawn to his mismatched eyes, “I hate how it makes me feel. Like I’m capable of being like him, them, what they’re saying about me on the news.”
***
Hanta drops by, a manga on hand, “Roki lent them to me, said he really liked the story, that I’d probably like it too. I finished it yesterday. I was running on autopilot today, and I thought I’d return it to him and grab the next volume, but…” He trails off,
“But the bastard isn’t here. Just leave it on the coffee table, you can get it from his room, whatever.”
Katsuki’s got his arms folded across his chest, glaring at the offending piece of literature on the table, before shifting over to watch Hanta go to Shouto’s room, and takes note of the brief pause he makes at the scorch marks on the handle.
He comes back a minute later, a new manga in tow, “Maybe you should read it too, you might like it. Dunno why, I was reading it, thinking maybe he left some kind of hint behind in it. It’s really stupid of me, I bet.”
“What’s the story about, tapeface?”
“A guy on a solitary adventure, he’s on the run from his past, and some important people are after him, and the people he meets along the way.”
“Well, that’s fucking dull. Pass.”
“Your loss, man.”
He walks him to the door, “Have you been in his room?” Hanta asks. At his raised eyebrow, he continues, “Shouto ’s-it’s all weird, I’m not used to seeing it like that ‘is all.”
***
“You’re home early today.” Katsuki finds Shouto in the kitchen, standing over a pot of boiling water, an unopened packet of Ramen pushed to the side.
“Yeah, a representative from HPSC told me to take the next few days off. Apparently, my presence is creating too much ‘public discourse’ and damaging the ‘delicate peace we’ve worked so hard to build.’ If I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind.”
“Well, that’s bullshit.”
“Maybe they’re right, it’s getting in the way of my work. A kid approached me yesterday, couldn’t be older than 8, asked if I was gonna turn into a villain since my brother is one too. 23 is the perfect age for it, apparently.”
“He’s just repeating the same bullshit he’s hearing on the news.”
“Maybe I should lay low, wait for it all to die down. Every time the press or journalists catch me, they ask the same stupid crap, and this shitshow repeats.”
“Just curse them out like I do.”
“I did,” He opens the packet and drops the ramen in the pot, “the representative said, ‘it’s a bad look on you, makes you look like a villain.’” He says in a mocking tone. He swirls the noodles with his chopsticks, “I’m half convinced that they’ve convinced themselves I’m the next big villain threat.”
“They’re stupid, can’t imagine your dumb half and half ass becoming a villain, you’re too “wholesome” for that, or whatever shit Deku and Cheeks call you.
***
Shouto’s room has always been clean and well-kept, but unlike in their first year of UA, where it was an exact replica of the Todorki manor and completely devoid of personality, he changed it up by incorporating designs and merch to support his 1A friends. He’s got a Deku-Allmight banner on his walls, Redriot-themed duvets, a Dynamight throw on the couch, and his shelves lined with different figures and objects from whatever collaboration lines they’ve all released over the years.
Not a single one of his own merch, though. Most of their friends made it a gag to buy Shouto merch and gift it back to him. They’d force him to display it on his shelves, too. Well, there was less force involved, and more asking, and even if he was confused about it, he’d do as they asked.
It’s strange, now, that only the Shouto-themed merch is missing, and not the rest. The photographs on his wall are gone too; his closets and drawers cleared out, his laptop missing, and…and maybe he did run away? Took all his shit and left, but why?
Why are all the files that Katsuki knows he keeps at home missing, too?
The knick-knacks- keychains, plushies, letters- he receives from little kids, that he cherishes, and keeps in a special corner in his room, why would he take them with him?
The Shouto poster that Hanta and Denki dared him to put up, who took it down?
The awards and plaques he’s received in recognition of his heroic work, where are they?
Why does it feel like someone came in and tried to erase all traces of his existence?
He can feel his breath rising up; he slams the drawer he was going through and exits Shouto’s room. He ends up in the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water when his eyes focus on something weird. The picture wall that Shouto insists they keep in the living room, because the one in his room, of course, isn’t enough, looks different.
He drops the glass in the sink and heads to the wall, and-
And the pictures, the pictures he knows Shouto is in, they’re gone, replaced by neutral ones. They’re with his friends. Their friends, he remembers, when these pictures were taken. But, they’re missing Shouto.
Why are they missing him?
***
“How did your meeting go? They clear you to be on scene yet?”
“No, I think they wish I’d just disappear.”
***
Aizawa’s Problem Children
3:17 PM
Izuki Midoriya
Shouto’s agency is shut down??????????????????? I can’t contact any of the staff either???
It’s not temporary either
This is so strange.
***
“Katsuki.”
“Hmm”
“Katsukiii.”
“M tryna sleep, talk tomorrow.”
“Nooo…Katsuki.”
“Shh, sleep.”
“Would you miss me if I’m ever gone?”
“Mhm…”
“Fine, I guess you are too tired right now. I’ll let you sleep.”
***
He storms into Deku’s office in UA, bypassing all the students who stand and gawk at him, and doesn’t even bother to knock as he enters, “What the fuck is going on?”
There’s someone in there, a student, judging by the uniform, who instantly shoots up to his feet at the intrusion. “Kacchan!” Izuku glares at him before nodding at the kid. Telling him he can leave and they’ll continue their conversation tomorrow. He watches in silence as the student gathers his things and leaves. “You should have knocked.”
“When have I ever?”
“Well, what did you come to talk about?”
“Shouto.”
Izuku runs his hand through his green hair and sighs, “I don’t know what’s happening. Nothing is turning up any results. It’s all a dead-end.”
“It feels like he’s fucking disappearing. Like he doesn’t exist.”
“Kacchan-”
“Like he’s being erased!”
“Being erased…do you mean his agency being shut down?”
“I mean everything! His room was all fucking weird, removed of anything that made it about Shouto! He’s gone from all the pictures in our home. I searched his name, and I couldn’t find any information about him. No stupid posts. His Herowiki page is down. The media couldn’t keep his name out of their mouths for months, and suddenly it’s fucking radio silence from them now? Nothing to report about him not being on scene? We could have used his quirk with the flame monster last week; it would have been a quick and easy win, but no one wants to ask where the hell was Pro Hero Shouto?! And now you’re saying they’ve shut his agency down? Where’s his staff?”
He’s out of breath, and so, so, so angry. His heart is hammering against his chest.
“I-I tried contacting them, but they don’t know anything either, said a notice came and told them that they’ve been relocated to offices all over Japan…”
“I fucking looked at Mina’s TikTok account, too, and all the videos she had of him, with him, all gone. Same with Denki’s account. All his stupid fans’ accounts are deactivated, too. I couldn’t fucking sleep last night and just kept spiralling. Who the hell is pulling this? Are they gonna erase our memory of him, too? Are they waiting for the right time?”
He takes in the grave expression on Deku’s face, the way he straightens up, “I didn’t know about this, but…this information helps. I’ll talk with Aizawa sensei; he’s been trying to use Principal Nezu’s influence to talk to the higher-ups at HPSC.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if those bastards had something to do with it. They took him off the field first.”
“Yeah…I’ve been worried about that too….”
“Can’t even storm into their building without their alarms setting off and protocol kicking in! This shit didn’t happen before. It’s been months of this shit.”
“Hawks…hawks will have insight into this situation.”
“This situation is fucked!”
***
He has to drag Shouto out of the house; he forces him to walk around the park for an hour, the night breeze swaying around them, the sakura blooming around them. It’s when Shouto looks more tired and less high-strung that he finds a bench. It’s cool around them, but Shouto makes himself warm enough for the cold to escape them. Katsuki nudges his shoulder with him, “How do ya feel now?”
He feels the shrug against his shoulder.
“Whatever’s on your mind..just spit it out, no point in keeping it in.”
He fixes his gaze on the pond, keeps an ear out for Shouto, but his eyes are on the sleeping ducks and the way their heads are tucked into their wings. It’s quiet between them; it could be minutes or hours that passed before Shouto finally speaks.
“You know, I looked into it, these two members of the press…they are twins, one of their quirks makes your emotions more intense…the other’s forces you to say what’s on your mind. Together, if you’re sad…then they make you sadder and spill to everyone why you’re sad. If you’re angry and stressed, then you get more angry and stressed, and you end up saying all that angry shit on your mind.”
From the corner of his eyes, he sees Shouto’s fingers moving roughly against the wooden surface, nicking at it with his ice.
“My PR, the HPSC representatives, my father, Hawks, Aizawa-sensei…almost everyone told me, in the beginning, that I shouldn’t bring up Touya, Dabi…It’s different from Izuku and Ochako…their understanding comes off as sympathy, empathy, a way to stop the past from repeating. But, because of our familiar bond, my understanding comes as Support. I can’t…represent him, talk about him, it’s a banned topic for me. The news can bring up his anniversary; they can even ask me about it, but I’m not allowed to talk about it or how it makes me feel.
“The rep said I made it worse by talking shit about Endeavour and his role in creating Dabi. Everyone wants to hail him as a hero; they don’t want to be reminded of his past actions, what he did to our family, they wanna bury it down and keep maintaining the peace. That I’m ruining it, like I didn’t fight a war at 16 to preserve it. I think-I think that they wish I died in the war. Me. My family. So they could push an agenda, and not have…such a blatant reminder of everything. About how my blood is bad, corrupted. About how I come from a legacy that’s tainted. I know…it’s for the views and clicks, but that's what they said when I debuted, too, that regardless of what I did, how much could I be trusted? Even when I worked my ass to prove it, they’d keep this rhetoric.”
His hand inches over to grab Shouto’s. “I think they want me to stop being a hero…to retire and live a quiet life somewhere far away, but…I’m not ready for that, I still have…to become a better hero, to be a place of reassurance for others…to prevent…situations like mine.”
Katsuki squeezes it, ‘You’re not gonna stop being a hero. I still have to beat you in reaching the number 1 spot, yeah?”
Shouto laughs. And for some reason, Katsuki thought that this was it, that it helped, that Shouto's subsequent shift in behaviour, to acting like himself, before the incident occurred, meant everything would eventually be fine.
He didn’t think that 3 weeks later, Shouto would just disappear from the face of the Earth.
***
He finds himself back on the bench in the park. He and Izuku discussed different ideas, theories, and strategies for hours. Even Aizawa dropped by with his own idea of the version of events that took place and a plan of action.
And while he was pumped at first, thinking they were finally getting somewhere, his nerves still frayed by the night. He couldn’t sleep, nightmares plaguing him, nightmares about Shouto leaving, disappearing, being tortured, dying. He had to escape their apartment.
He’s absentmindedly fiddling with the scratches on the bench when it hits him that what he seems to be tracing over seems to be Kanji. He has to fumble with his phone and open the flashlight, and his beating heart goes quiet when he makes out the words: Find me.
It feels like a lightbulb and a flash food, everything comes rushing to him. As he races out of the park, using his explosion to give him speed, he thinks of the weird shit he’s been noticing. He barges into the gym first, takes in the signboard, the highlight colour that’s reminiscent of his uniform, and on just one word, “Find.”
He shoots up to the rooftop next, scrambles through the shelf to find the newspaper, picks it up, and heads to their apartment. His eyes narrowed on the manga Hanta left. He picks it up. Was that a sign? That he’s on some lone travel after escaping?
Fuck, where would he even go?
He remembers the conversation with his parents…He throws the manga on the couch and grabs his phone,
“Oh, Katsuki, how are-”
“Mom, where did Shouto say the wine was from?”
“Oh, Nabu Island. Is everything al-”
He ends the call and paces the room. Why the hell would he get them wine from there? They don’t even export that. He bites his thumb, thinks of the conversation with Rei. The letters! He isn’t sure if the door even shuts behind him when he leaves, but he couldn’t care less.
-
He taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the door to open, and enters as soon as Rei shifts to the side, without waiting for her to start, “Letters, he left you letters. Can I see them?”
“Katsuki, what is this about?”
“Please.” He isn’t sure if it’s the plea or the crazed look in his eyes that has her going to her room. He paces nervously as he waits for her to come back with the letters. He thanks her as he tears into them, tracing through the content.
“These are quite simple letters…Just his everyday coming and going. And Oh, about the island he visited, he said it made for a nice vacation spot?” Her voice echoes in his ears as he finds exactly what she’s talking about:
I was asked to go on a mission to Nabu Island. I’ve been there before, once, with my class, for a summer project. The place is just as we left it; quiet and peaceful. And though most of the population is old, they’re very nice, kind, and surprisingly active. I think you would like this place. Perhaps we should go there together one day.
“He didn’t go on a mission.” He whispers.
“What?” Rei asks
“This mission, he hasn’t been to Nabu Island since our first summer at UA.”
But he thinks he feels it, something akin to hope, blooming in his chest. But, he still needs to confirm something else. He grabs the letters and leaves.
-
“Bakugo, I hope you will be civil with me today.”
He ignores the jab, shoots a nod at Fuyumi, who was the one to let him in, and glares at Endeavour. “Postcards. You said he left you postcards, right?”
“Shouto? Yes.”
“He doesn’t give you shit. Especially something like postcards.”
Endeavour’s flames flicker, “Don’t rub it in.”
“Nothing on your doomed relationship with your kids. It’s just a fact, and an observation. It’s fucking weird he’s giving you this shit. Right before he would go missing, too. Give them here.”
Lucky for him, Fuyumi is much smarter than her father; her eyes light up, and she’s the one who finds them for her. And it’s Nabu Island. It’s that fucking island. 3 times.
Only Shouto would leave behind such shitty clues, and Katsuki would be stupid enough to miss them.
He doesn’t give the postcards back. Wraps the letter and postcards under his armpits, and fucks out of there.
He could be wrong, but it’s the only lead he’s had in so long. He has to follow through with it.
***
Getting to the island is a shitshow in its own right. There are no direct flights, and the boat would take forever, so he has to cash in on a favour with Momo and get access to her private helicopter. Anything company-affiliated would go on the record and raise a red flag immediately. He hopes this process buys him enough time to thwart that. At least, for a little while.
It’s well into midnight when he gets there. The Island is quiet, empty. All the residents probably tucked into their beds, fast asleep. He hopes the helicopter landing didn’t wake them up. His landing was a bit rough.
He can’t find anyone awake to ask if they’ve seen a bastard with red and white hair around.
His feet drag on the ground as he thinks. His lips feel sore, but he can’t stop biting them, and his nails dig sharply into his palm. Think. But soon he’s taking off, uncaring of whether he’s creating any ruckus that would wake the elderly up as he flies across the island. It’s a wild guess, but he wonders, thinks, or hopes that the location on the postcard was another hint.
He’s out of breath by the time he makes it to the beach, and he has to bend over his knees to catch his breath. He breathes in the salty air and tries to let the gentle lap of the water calm his racing down. He’s scared, he thinks, scared to look up from the ground and find an empty beach, to find nothing but glistening sand, swaying palm trees, and nothing but an endless ocean.
Shouto could be on the island, he could be somewhere, anywhere, on the mountains, in the ruins, asleep on a bed, but…he wants him here. In front of him.
Thinks that this is the time Shou would wake up from his usual nightmares and seek respite somewhere, and while he doesn’t want to imagine Shouto having another nightmare alone, but god, if there’s any time to have a nightmare, let it be now.
Don’t be a fucking pussy, he yells in his head and looks up. Takes in the encompassing ocean and slowly forces his eyes to roam over the beach.
And there, sitting in the sand, a figure wrapped in darkness in the distance. Too far to make out any defining features, but Katsuki’s already running, crosses over the miles in seconds, and the figure must hear the sound of his explosions. Enough to turn his eyes away from the starry sky, and then mismatched eyes meet his, and in the next second, he finally has Shouto in his arms.
The force of the hug has them both tumbling into the sand. It feels like relief, like peace, like all the weight he was carrying on his shoulder is finally gone, and he can finally crush Shouto’s warm body into his arms, breathe him in; he thinks he might be crying, but he wouldn’t know for sure, he wouldn’t even care.
“God, you fucking bastard, why would you do this to me. I hate you.”
He feels fingers threading through his hair, and he finally, finally, lifts himself up on his arms and looks at Shouto underneath him, takes in the sand mixing with his red and white hair, takes in the soft smile he gives him, leans into the warm hand that’s cupping his cheek, and welcomes the, “You found me.” in his monotone voice.
***
The sun rises on the horizon, and the two of them are still at the beach.
Katsuki can’t take his eyes off him, thinks he’ll just disappear if he looks away, even for a second, and worries that this might all just be a figment of his imagination. He keeps feeling Shouto’s hand, his hair, his knees, his shoulder, trying to ground himself in his physical presence.
Enough time has passed, and the locals begin to gather in the area. The sound of their morning chatter, the store's shutters being opened, and the seagulls screeching rise in the background. The two of them didn’t talk much, through the night, both stuck in quiet disbelief.
But now, with the locals starting their morning-
“They’re all nice.” At his questioning look, “The people here. I knew that, from before. But they’re nice, they don’t ask a lot of prying questions, stay off social media, didn’t know about…about before. They helped me with settling here. They’d bring me food too, in the beginning, still do, say I don’t eat enough. I think that’s their way of repaying me for helping them out with things around the Island. But I don’t even do a lot, it’s just like what we did here before, with the summer program, minus the villain attacks. Just finding lost pets, making ice to cool them down, and stopping the occasional wild boars. It’s peaceful here.”
“Didn’t know you came here looking for peace.”
He snorts, “Neither did I. But…they helped, they taught me a lot, new meals to cook, how to knit and crochet, how to make pottery. It really was peaceful.”
He tucks a stray strand of hair behind Shouto’s ear. “You do look at peace, calmer.”
Shouto flushes.
***
“I’m sorry for…leaving like that.”
“Why did you leave? It wasn’t to come here and learn how to make dishes, right?”
“Everything back home was making me…paranoid, I felt like I was losing my mind, and the commission was making it harder. Kept saying weird things…”
“What weird shit?”
“They really wanted me gone from the public eye. At least, for a few years, if not forever, I was…worried they would throw me in Tartarus or another jail, I think I exaggerated and made it worse in my head-that they’d kill me. They were keeping such a close eye on me, too; I felt like I was constantly under surveillance. I could feel them everywhere. I was worried they had me bugged. Sometimes they’d bring up my private conversations…my worries, spin this into support for some great evil.”
“What the fuck. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Tell me?”
Shou gives him a soft smile, “I thought that if they were plotting a way for me to go away, then I should do it on my terms, have it be my own choice, have some agency. I didn’t want to say anything in case they were listening, I didn’t want them coming after me. I wasn’t sure if they would, but I didn’t wanna risk it regardless.”
“And so you decided to leave behind stupid hints like, “Deltacorps CEO not found dead?”
“Well, I assumed that if you were worrying that I was dead, it would help reassure you?”
“How the fuck would that even be reassuring?” Katsuki throws sand in his face, “You idiot!”
“It was the only newspaper with the right words!”
“You are so fucking awful at this. Never fucking disappear again and leave shitty clues behind.” He threatens.
“Okay.” It sounds like a promise.
***
“Come back, you got everyone behind you, we won’t let anything happen.. Especially when everyone will know what happened.”
“I think I’d like that, I missed everyone.”
***
It’s the day before they’re supposed to leave for the mainland, and Shouto’s convinced him to take a walk on the beach, insisting that he would miss this the most, like they don’t have beaches near Tokyo.
Shouto is babbling about something, and Katsuki isn’t listening, too focused on the mission he has on his mind. He stops walking and tugs at Shouto’s hand. He turns back to look at him, head tilted to the side, the sunlight washing over him, “I should’ve said this a long time ago, but Shou, I think I love you.”
His smile is blinding, and the pull at his arm that turns into a soft kiss feels enough, feels just right.