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The back of his hand was itchy.
Katsuki felt like he couldn’t open his eyes. They were sealed shut from being stuck there for so long. His lips were the same, dried and pursed together. His mouth tasted like ass, and he felt like his jaw was tensely shut. He could feel all the tense muscles in his temples seize as he squeezed his eyes tighter from the bright light ahead of him. (above him?) He didn’t know where he was and he was thirsty. His head was aching.
He was lying down, he knew that. The bed was more comfortable than the shitty floor he had been sleeping on, but he could still feel his ass pressing through the mattress to the spring under him. There was something around his right wrist, and the back of his left hand was still itchy. The clothes on his chest were light and soft. His pants were bunched too high on his calves—probably due to a blanket pulled up to about his waist—and his socks were too thin to stop his feet from being cold.
This was not the same place he had been before, he assumed. None of those dickheads would ever put him on a mattress and tuck him under a blanket. No, this was somewhere new. Maybe somewhere worse. Fuck. His eyes tensed again as tears started to bubble behind his eyelids. His head pressed back into his pillow as his mouth trembled. Don’t cry, he willed himself, stop crying.
He was so tired. He didn’t want to do this again. He didn’t want to be put somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar and painful. His chest tore with the dread of what new punishments and torture these villains would have in store for him. He wanted to go home. This new place was too bright, even with his eyes sealed shut.
The past month had been bad enough. Had it even been only a month? Katsuki could hardly remember anything beforehand. Everything with those—those fuckers clouded his head. He tried to think about his life when he was taken to keep him sane, but as the days drifted on, it got fuzzier and more distant. He thought it had only been a month, but maybe it had been more.
It hadn’t been his whole life, though. He knew that for certain. Katsuki liked to verify his thoughts through facts, but his memories assured him he’d lived somewhere else before this. Somewhere with another young man his age, with dark green hair and eyes alike. With stars for freckles glittering his face, neck, and more. Katsuki could see him in every stage of life, with every expression of joy and fear, and anger and sadness. Unlike everything else, he remembered a gallery of memories, some of them placing a familiar sickness in his stomach while others fluttered him with butterflies.
He had a name. Katsuki knew that. And he had that name somewhere in his head. He knew it. For a fact, he had to. Only he couldn’t picture it in his head. Maybe if he could speak, he could utter it out loud to jog his thoughts back into motion.
Katsuki had to find him.
The urge surged through him like a tidal wave. He felt this heated sense of urgency to run. He had to get away and find this boy—fuck, what was his name? Katsuki would know it when he saw him, he was sure of it. He had to get up and find him. He missed him; the feeling of longing tugged at his heart so hard he thought he’d sink through whatever bed he was lying on.
His eyes snapped open as a deep breath overtook him. His nostrils flared as he stared up at the lights of the white ceiling above him. He forced himself to sit up even as his arms and stomach ached and saw the entire room around him was doused in white. Maybe a few accents of gray-blue, but mostly white. Sterile. Katsuki didn’t have the mental capacity to realize this was a hospital room. He only saw it as a prison.
There was no one with him. The room was empty and silent except for the soft dripping of liquid down an IV. He followed the sound until he saw the needle stuck into the back of his left hand. Ah, that was where the itching came from.
His face tangled with panic and he ripped the IV from his hand. What were they putting in his body now? Fuck, fuck, fuck, it couldn’t have been good. Probably something even more powerful to sedate him. He was too strong to keep quiet with just some fucking poison in his stomach, he had to have it put into his veins. If it were any other day, Katsuki would have taken it as a compliment, but now? Now he was just terrified.
The needle fell to the side and blood dripped out of his skin. Katsuki examined himself further to find he was in a sift black t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants, half hidden under the scratchy blanket. The visible parts of his body were wrapped in bandages and gauze. Some areas of the white wrappings were stained brown from old blood. As he shifted, he could feel the bandages around his ribs as well.
Everything hurt. His head was pounding and his muscles felt like giving out. Whatever the bandages around his ribs were hiding was burning, searing through his skin like he was splitting his torso in half. Adrenaline, he told himself, will kick in soon.
He kicked the blankets off and stood up. He fumbled, knees wobbling as he held onto the edge of the bed for support. Then, his head shot towards the door to his left. There was a window on his right but he seemed to be on an upper level and…well, his quirk wasn’t what it used to be at the moment.
He’d had to fight his way out quirkless. He already came to terms with that. He’d been planning something like this for all the time he’d been kidnapped. Wherever he had been taken, they kept drugging him with this shit—this poison that kept him some using his quirk. And they dehydrated him which made him sweat less. So, he always had to come up with escape plans that surrounded fighting with his bare hands.
Now, wherever this new place was that they had moved him, would have to involve the same quirkless fighting. Especially since they’d stuck that IV in him. Katsuki wasn’t the pinnacle of physical fitness either. However long he was kidnapped for left him weaker, the muscle melted off his body as they neglected to feed him enough.
Whatever, he thought, I’m good enough to fight in any condition.
He staggered towards the door, fists balled and mind buzzing with energy. He ignored how his head pounded and chest surged with fear. He shouldn’t have been scared. He was supposed to be a hero. But those villains—those shitheads—well, they weren’t exactly weak. Katsuki had killed fucking AFO, he shouldn’t have been beaten down by some stupid kidnappers, but he kept finding himself catching his breath and trying to calm his heart down.
He turned the doorknob and flung the door open.
It was a hallway. A typical hospital hallway
Good, this was good. Hospitals were big. He would have more places to hide as he slid his way out. He would be able to discuss himself, blend in, and find that guy. God, Katsuki wanted his name. He knew it already, but he just couldn’t fathom it.
Down his left, he saw the hallway widen into a waiting area with a desk
And an elevator. Surely there had to be stairs nearby. Katsuki didn’t know what floor he was on, but
“Katsuki?”
That was his name. For a second he faltered at the fact that she knew him and then he scowled. Everybody knew his name. Any villain could’ve seen him on the news and memorized it. Katsuki didn’t remember why he was on the news, but he was the greatest, so he must’ve been documented at some point.
His head turned and he looked over at a woman who had stood from her seat in the waiting area. She was older with similar blonde hair and a harsh, but worried look on her face. Her eyes looked dark around the edges and she was wearing clothes that seemed days old.
He had to get away from her.
He ran for the stairs. He tore past chairs and nurses, and someone behind him screamed “Grab him!” as he headed for the stairwell down the hall. He was slow and weak, shivering ankles wearing him down as his socks threatened to slide on the tile floor.
A strong hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Some man—probably a villain—was dragging him back to his prison.
“No!” Katsuki screamed. He thrashed, ripping his nails into the firm hands that were holding him and forcing him to the ground.
He pushed against the arms of the man holding him down. Katsuki didn’t recognize him. All he knew was that he couldn’t beat him. His muscles were gone and thinned. His arms quivered as he pushed against the man who was urging him to calm down.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he sobbed, still trying to fight. He took in a huge, heaving breath that made his whole body rattle. “Get off of me. Stop it.”
Fuck, he felt close to passing out. He was dizzy even lying down. The floor felt tilted and ready to tilt him over his head. He could see stars in the corners of his visions and his arms hurt so bad. He was shivering and crying, hands gripped into the man’s forearms as he pushed down on Katsuki’s shoulders and held a heavy leg over both of his thighs.
Above and behind him, he heard a voice.
“He’s too hysterical, we have to sedate him.”
Panic struck him like lightning. New fury took hold of him and he started to fight again. Lightheadedness be damned, if they were going to knock him out anyway, he was going to do as much damage to these villains before he was out. His throbbing arms and chest shook with every heartbeat.
He jerked his body against the heavy man, squinting through tears to see some vague face and security uniform. The man didn’t look mean, per se, but he was holding Katsuki down. Katsuki was aware enough to know that he didn’t let anyone hold him back.
But something cold was pinching the side of his neck. Katsuki’s eyes fluttered up, trying to see behind his head. Above his face was a woman with pursed lips and sad eyes. She wore white with gray hair tied into a bun. As Katsuki stared up at her through his tears, he wanted to kill her.
The pinch was gone and he felt… sideways. His arms went slack by his sides and his head relaxed against the floor. He felt his shoulders slide with ease and his chest soften with one deep breath.
“He just woke up, why did you have to do that?”
“He was going to tear something if he kept fighting like that.”
“But he’s—“
“We’ll try to ease him into this transition when he wakes again. I’ll watch him until he does. It won’t be more than a few hours.”
“God, that kid’s such a fucking…”
His eyes slid closed and his brain shut off.
The floor was sticky and smelt of iron.
Katsuki rested the side of his face against it, shoulders curled as he lay on his side and shut his eyes again. His stomach hurt. His head hurt, His arms hurt. His wrists were tied with a rough rope that made them bleed if he struggled too much.
So, his wrists were always bleeding.
“Hey, hey, hey,” a soft, sobbing voice urged. Gentle hands grabbed the side of his face and tilted his slackened head to look up. “Can you hear me?”
Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut and opened them wide again to make them stop being so blurry. He stared up into a starry expanse of wide green eyes looking back at him. Eyes that were welled with tears and tensed with panic.
“Kacchan?”
The words made his heart flutter and chest feel lighter. He liked that word, that name. It felt like something so familiar and safe in a place of such pain and fear. He felt like he’d kept on living just to hear it again.
“Kacchan, it’s me. It’s me. And I’m going to get you out of here, but I need to make sure you’re with me.”
Katsuki wiggled his hands and realized the rope wasn’t there anymore. With his free hands, he pushed himself up to prop up his torso with his elbow. He was shaking and the motion made him grit his teeth. His ribs pulsed and he felt like he could throw up.
His free hand slid up and reached for the face in front of him. He had to touch it; he had to see if it was real. So many times—every time before this, it had been his imagination.
But then his rough, blood-stained fingertips brushed against the soft freckled skin and Katsuki lost his breath. His body surged with relief like cold water had soaked all his clothes. Katsuki’s hand grew aggressive, grabbing at the jaw and apple of those freckles cheek to keep them close to him. He couldn’t let him go.
A name quivered out of his cracked lips.
He woke up with his name on his tongue.
“Izuku.”
Katsuki sat up, his eyes shooting open as both hands grasped at the sheets by his sides. He stared forward, seeing nothing but the white wall ahead of him. No Izuku, not even if he tried to pretend.
A soft hand pressed onto his sternum, easing him to lie down again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s not here right now.” The old woman sighed and patted him gently.
“I want him,” Katsuki croaked. Fuck, his throat hurt. “He was…He was there. Is he okay?”
“Everyone is okay, Katsuki.” The old woman nodded and offered a smile. “Just relax. You are safe.”
His dry eyes blinked rapidly and he remembered the room, the hallway, the exit staircase, and the people who held him down. No one had hurt him here yet. He was starting to come to the vague realization that he was at some sort of hospital.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the UA infirmary. You have been sleeping here for a whole day. I’ve been taking care of you.”
“... UA?”
“Your school, Katsuki.”
“My school,” he repeated. The words felt weird on his dry tongue. “Right, my school.”
Somewhere in his chest, the idea felt right. He knew that he went to school at UA. That was a fact. It was something he’d known for a long time. UA was the best school in Japan for prospective heroes. Katsuki was a prospective hero. He was the best. Those were also facts.
Now, he couldn’t remember going to UA. He could barely picture his classroom, classmates, or coursework. He knew it far in the depths of his mind, but it was lost to him. He couldn’t remember all his triumphs and victories, only that they happened.
He blinked and it seemed to take a while. When his eyes snapped back open, the lighting of his room had changed and the old woman had teleported to the other side of the room by the door. Katsuki assumed he’d fallen asleep. The sunlight out his window was looming lower than earlier, possibly making it the afternoon. The lights above him were still too bright, and Katsuki wanted to go to sleep.
“I want to sleep,” he admitted. “They hardly ever let me sleep.”
“Okay,” the woman said. “You can sleep, Katsuki.”
“Turn the lights off.”
“Of course.”
Katsuki shut his eyes and forced himself to relax. He wanted to believe the woman. And now that he remembered being found, he did his best to assure himself this was real. The fatigue weighing his eyelids down helped a lot. As the lights were shut off and the old woman left the room, Katsuki lost any sense of fight he had left in him.
He passed out again.
Katsuki groaned and pressed his forehead against the hard ground. His hands clutched at his stomach and his eyes rolled back as another hard kick shot to his side. This time it hit his hip bone and would surely leave an awful bruise.
The figure above him loomed like a demon. Like? It was a demon. There was no simile needed. Katsuki was in hell, being beaten and tortured over and over. Every second he woke up, he found himself being kicked, punched, sliced, slapped, and a million other things.
“Not looking like the symbol of victory now, are you?”
“Your mother is here.”
Katsuki had decided to think of his brain as an ocean. He was a lone survivor of some disaster, floating alone on a shred of debris, trying to catch anything valuable before it sank or got consumed by a crashing wave. The shit that floated: those were facts. Anything that sunk was a memory. And Katsuki was trying—trying so hard to grab as much shit before it sank. But it seemed like most of the valuables had already drifted to the bottom of the ocean, forever being tossed in soaked sand and never to be found again.
The old woman was so small she had to stand on a step stool to speak to Katsuki while he was lying down. She wore some weird blue visor and there was a syringe stuck into her gray bun like it was decoration. Katsuki would sit up to speak to her, but there was a heavy weight in his chest pressing him down. He felt it on all his limbs, truly. A sickening tug that was trying to drag him down.
“My mom?”
His mom. He had one, of course. What loser didn’t have a fucking mother? But he couldn’t—he couldn’t picture her. The idea of parents in general was so distant in his head that it was hard to understand that his mother was outside and wanted to see him. Something felt sour in his stomach as he thought about her.
He’d woken up five minutes ago. He was alone when it happened, the feeling making him cold. Being alone made him think this was just another prison, no matter what the old lady said. He knew she was telling the truth (he wasn’t fucking crazy) but the anxiety nibbled away at his brain anyway. The longer he stared at the walls he got worried they were some illusion of a friendly hospital. Maybe some new villain had a hallucination quirk and this was all some big trick.
The old woman told him it was morning again when she came in. A little after nine. She gave him a small cup of water and Katsuki downed it in an instant. She said something about his IV already hydrating him, so there was no need to chug, but she didn’t know how long it had been since Katsuki got a good glass of water.
She told him he had been there for three days now. He was found in the middle of the night and immediately taken into their care. He slept away the whole first day and the next morning was when he woke up and tried to run away. He vaguely remembered being awake later that afternoon, but it wasn’t for very long. Now, it seemed to be the afternoon again, but Katsuki knew a whole day had come to pass again.
The old lady was nice to him, no matter how much Katsuki wanted to scream at her to stop fucking looking at him like he was weak. He was just… recovering. He wasn’t weak. She kept staring at him like he was a beaten puppy. He knew that at any other point in his life, he would’ve already screamed at her. But right now, he couldn’t stomach a fight.
“What about my dad?”
He felt like he should ask.
“He’s not here. Probably at work. But I'm sure he’ll come back now that you’re waking up.”
Dad’s were always at work, Katsuki assumed. His dad must have worked hard too. He had some stray, fuzzy memory of Izuku talking to him about how lucky Katsuki was, how he always got so many Christmas presents and his parents' cars were so nice. Yeah, Katsuki’s dad nuts have worked hard, he thought.
Katsuki nodded. He swallowed and it hurt.
“Would you like to see your mom?” The woman prompted.
“I—I think so.”
The old woman didn’t seem to be fond of that answer, but she stepped down from her step stool. “Okay.”
He watched her leave, still lying back. A minute later, probably after the old woman had spoken to his mother, the door swung back open and a familiar woman walked in.
It was the same one from the waiting room from when he tried to escape.
She looked even more tired. Katsuki stared at her as she approached with all of the focus in the world. His mom, his mom. He studied every spot on her face and part of her hair. He tried to search for anything to make her seem less alien to him.
“Hey, brat,” she huffed. She wrapped her arms around herself and shifted her weight to one hip, looking down at him. Her lips pursed and brow tensed like she was struggling between a smile and trying not to cry. “God, you’re giving me so many fucking gray hairs. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Katsuki’s insides twisted at her words. The confusion…no, the anger (he knew what that felt like) at how she spoke to him overpowered the shit dragging his body down. He sat up, one hand gripping the bars on the sides of his bed as he did so. It took him a moment, chest heaving from the basic motion as his mother watched.
He looked up at her and felt like something was wrong. Maybe he’d shifted universes. He was the same man just one multiverse to the left.
His throat was dry. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
Mom. This was her. This was his mother. She looked like she was his mom. Katsuki knew he had that same wild hair and those vibrant eyes. She even had a harshness that Katsuki was sure he carried with himself. Something about her was so familiar—of course it was, she was his mother—but the best way he could describe it was like he was experiencing deja vu. He felt like he had been here before, spoken to her before. (Of course of course he had this was his mom. His fucking mom.) But he couldn’t remember when.
“The fuck’s wrong with you, Katsuki? Wipe that shitty look off of your face.”
Anger stirred in his chest. He didn’t know who this woman was—he was supposed to, but he didn’t. The idea upset him and made him want to scream. He could feel the anger itching at his skin. “Fuck you.”
The woman chuckled dryly and ruffled his hair. “There’s my boy.”
“What—stop.” He grabbed her arm and threw it off of him. “Don’t touch me.”
The woman scoffed and reached for him again. “I’m your mother. I made you, I missed you. I can touch you if I want to.”
”No!” The sight of her was nauseating. He couldn’t fathom her. He couldn’t think about her. Remembering that he had a mother—a fact—was different than actually knowing the woman. This was a stranger. His mother, he told himself, but he didn’t know her. It was making him dizzy even though he was sitting down.
“Get out!“ He shouted. “I don’t—I don’t…”
I don’t know who you are.
The door opened again and the old woman was standing there with that strong man from before. Katsuki didn’t want to see him either. They stood there looming, watching him and his mother.
Had he done something wrong? Why was the security guard there? Katsuki didn’t want to go to sleep again. He didn’t think what he had done warranted being knocked out. He was sorry. He felt the fear tug down his chest and he heaved, the apology heaving on his tongue. I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t make me go back to sleep I’m sorry.
Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. It was like a pressure was easing all the air out of his lungs and he couldn’t inhale fast enough to bring it back in. His fingertips were feeling fuzzy and his heart was ready to burst out of his ribcage. He would fight, he decided, if they tried to make him go to sleep again. He would be strong and at least give some effort, even though he knew after last time that the man was stronger than him.
Maybe it had been long enough and he could use his quirk again. Maybe their effects had worn off of him and he would be the best again. There was no way a security guard could beat Japan’s Symbol of Victory. He had to be stronger than him now, right—
“Excuse me, ma’am,” The old woman’s voice was stern. “I think it would just be best if he rested for the time being. He’s concussed and confused. I won’t have you harassing him.”
His mother scoffed and yelled, “I’m not harassing him. He’s my son!”
Katsuki stiffened and the words croaked out of his throat. “I want you to leave.”
The woman looked torn apart, head flying from him to the old woman. “Katsuki—!”
“Out, miss.” The old woman pushed, urging her towards the door. “Please, just let him rest now.”
The old woman was able to half-lead, half-shove Katsuki’s mother out the door. Once she got close enough, the security guard guided her easily with one hand on her elbow but the woman would not stop shouting.
The door swung shut and Katsuki was left in pitiful silence with the old woman. The guard was gone and Katsuki thought he’d be able to calm down now, but the panic kept surging.
Anxiety was all too familiar. He hated it. He hated it he hated it he hated it so much. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t breathe and he could see himself from above. He was staring down at a pathetic excuse for a hero. Someone scared of a fucking mother and security guard. God, why did they do this to him?
A kind hand rested on his shoulder. “Take deep breaths, dear. Everything is okay. She is gone now.”
He looked up from his hands—when had he been looking down?—and stared at the old woman. He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want her words or her comfort. She was guiding him through breathing patterns, muttering reassurances but Katsuki didn’t want it. He didn’t want to hear it from her.
“Lie back,” she urged. ”It’s okay.”
“Where’s Izuku?”
“Midoriya is in class right now. They’ll be done in about half an hour.”
She was able to get him to put his head back against the pillow. But he wasn’t done. “Will you call him? Tell him to come here.”
He’d been here for three days and still hadn’t seen him. The old woman told him that Izuku was okay, but where was he? Surely, if Katsuki’s memory serves him right, Izuku would want to see him. He was—They were together. That was another fact Katsuki knew, and that particular fact (along with all the others he knew about Izuku) was backed up with memories. So then, where was he? Katsuki knew he didn’t look his greatest, but Izuku had to want him still, right?
The old woman frowned at him. “He always does, child. Every morning and every afternoon.”
Oh. That eased something in his bones. He felt his muscles ease as the old woman guided him to lie down again. His head hit the pillow as he was overcome with fatigue. His head was starting to hurt again. His eyes pricked with the urge to cry.
Everything was so confusing. He tried to rattle his brain for everything factual he knew. He was at UA, he was safe, and Izuku was coming soon. He was shaking. His head was pounding, and he wanted to ask for some water but his throat felt torn. The old woman was putting something new in his IV and he knew it was going to make him fall asleep again. But he didn’t want to sleep if Izuku was coming soon. He had to tell her to stop.
All that came out was a croaked sob as his eyes squeezed shut and tears rolled down the sides of his face. He felt them drip into his ears. Above him, he heard the old woman mutter something comforting but he didn’t give a shit. He wanted things to make sense. He knew he was safe, but there was something looming in the back of his head telling him something was very wrong. Something about this happy ending was rotten.
He wanted to escape so badly, but this wasn’t how he wanted to come home. He was so confused and he hoped it was just from a concussion or some other stupid fucking shit. It felt like there were big empty spots taking up space in his head. Yes, he was at UA, his mom was here, and he was safe, but what did that mean?
These were just things being told to him. He had nothing solid in his mind to back it up. He wanted some kind of reassurance this wasn’t fake or a fucking dream. He didn’t have any memory to believe these people.
And now he was falling asleep again. His face felt fuzzy and he wanted to fight it. He was supposed to be number one, but he couldn’t beat some fucking anesthesia?
“I don’t wanna go to sleep,” he muttered. He tossed a weak, stray hand toward the woman. He missed her completely. “Don’t put me to sleep.”
“I’m not, Katsuki. You’re just tired.”
Why wouldn’t the room stop dimming?
“…want to be here—want to be awake when… when he gets here…”
“He’ll be here when you wake up, I’m sure.”
Katsuki had more to say. He had more to fight about. He wasn’t so sure he believed the woman when she said she wasn’t drugging him. He should have been strong enough to be well-rested by now. There was no way he was this weak.
But he didn’t get in another word before his body gave out.
The liquid dribbled down his chin and he made no effort to lick it up. His hands were tied so he couldn’t wipe it.
It tasted like alcohol, not that Katsuki had ever drunk it more than a few times, but he knew what acetone smelt like. And that was how it tasted. Like rotten vodka. It burned its way down his throat and made his chest feel like fire for hours after.
Ironic, really. Katsuki was surprised he still had a sense of humor after an eternity of torture, but he always found it amusing how something could feel so hot but stop him from making explosions.
They were stopping his quirk. He knew it since the first time they forced the poison down his gullet. He tried to fight them. He tried his hardest, but he was useless without his quirk. The idea made him hate himself but it was true. These villains must have known him well enough to know he relied on his gifts too much. They understood how harmless he was if they just forced him to drink their silly suppressant once a day.
He didn’t know what their goal was. He only knew he was made to be a punching bag. Sometimes the people beating him would say something about revenge or payback, but Katsuki was too busy being in pain to really focus.
There were four of them, to his knowledge. Only three of them used brute force to make him cry. They would do anything just to see him squirm, wail, and beg them to stop. One of them favored waterboarding, another liked to cut shapes into his arms, and the third was very good at kicking. They were stupid, senseless acts of violence, all so meaningless that Katsuki should have been able to fight against them.
But the fourth villain always managed to hold him back.
She never touched him, she only looked at him. Katsuki hated her sharp black eyes. Not just the irises, but her entire eyeballs were only black and endless. When she looked at Katsuki, his head was dipped into a ceaseless cycle of panic.
Villain Number Four. Quirk: Anxiety. Anytime Katsuki looked her in the eye, his heart rate picked up, he couldn’t breathe, and all he could think about was every single thing in his life that went wrong. It was worse than the physical punishments. It made him scream and cry. He would tear at his hair and dig his nails into his scalp. His body would seize and curl into a little pill of a boy on the bloody floor, whistled whimpers seeping from his lips begging the woman to stop.
She never did.
“He’s had serious head trauma. Nothing too permanent, but he seems very confused.”
“Confused how?”
Katsuki stirred. He knew that voice too. The urge to find it was so strong but he couldn’t feel the strength to open his eyes yet. The conversation was happening far away, probably in the hall outside his room. The door must have been cracked.
“We told you how he woke up alone yesterday morning, sometime soon after you left. When he did, he got right up and started running out of his room. We had to wrestle him to get him back into bed.”
“Wha—why did he—?” The question seemed to die on his tongue.
The old woman continued. “Then his mother was here when he woke up next—”
“Oh.”
“—Yes, and she was making him very upset. She says he didn’t seem to know who she was.” The words had some sort of bitter finality to them.
“You think he has memory loss?” Izuku gasped. “What—What does he remember?”
“We’re not sure. It’s hard to tell with him coming in and out like this. We had no idea the first time, assuming that his panic was because he was in a new place and scared. But then, after his mother… Well, it wasn’t the reaction you would expect. Or the one you would hope for.”
Silence. Then, a weak, quivering inhale.
“We know he keeps asking for you.”
“M-Me?” God, Katsuki wanted to scream. “Well, I should go in there—“
His heart rate picked up.
“He’s resting. We want him to have as much time asleep as possible. He wakes up pretty often now, usually just asking for water and then going back to sleep. You can wait here and when he wakes up in about an hour, you can go in. We don’t want to startle him by waking him up before he’s ready.”
Yes, he was resting. The word tasted so good in his mouth as he relaxed again. Izuku was outside, and Katsuki could feel his presence. The idea eased him so quickly back into his pillow. He smiled in his sleep. Izuku would be there when he woke up.