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No game was ever safe from Bakugo Katsuki.As a kid, Katsuki lived through a string of days marked by people's adoration and jealous glances. He sported a flawless superhero cape fashioned from the finest fabric available at his parents' shop. As for the other kids, all they could do was stand by and look on; Katsuki could tell they were more envious than impressed.Unofficially, Katsuki was always accompanied by Deku, who was a complete failure due to his inability to control his weaknesses, and a handful of other names that Katsuki failed to recall. They weren't real, significant, or worth caring about; they were merely characters in his story.A person's shadow was always present in Katsuki's game.Midoriya Izuku. Katsuki smirked just thinking about this name. Izuku was always a small, lost shadow who could be easily left behind. That child, with big round eyes but always timid, overacted. He didn't even protest when pushed down or mocked in front of his friends.Izuku's mother frequently arrived to pick him up later than other mothers. Katsuki would sometimes see her standing at the school gate, her face tired and her eyes filled with concern. She always clutched Izuku's hand tightly when picking him up, as if afraid he would vanish at any time. Even those handshakes couldn't conceal something Katsuki had noticed long before: she never mentioned her father. Never. The only thing she said about him was the same old lie, told over and over until it became boring.
"Your father went to work far away."
Katsuki never believed it. He was a hundred times more intelligent than the useless Deku.No game was ever safe from Bakugo Katsuki.That was how things worked, an unwritten rule that he had established. He was the strongest, fastest, and best. There was no third option; the other kids had to follow him or be left behind. Izuku belonged to the second group, but he was the only one who refused to leave. No matter how much he was scolded, pushed, or pressured, he would always return.Katsuki quickly realized that Izuku was not as complete as he appeared.His mother, Mitsuki, always reminded Katsuki to know how to share with Izuku, her voice sometimes strangely gentle and full of sympathy, which Katsuki did not understand. To him, Izuku was always an inconvenience, like a shadow following behind, but Mitsuki kept saying, "He doesn't have everything like you, Katsuki. You are the stronger one, so give in a little, okay?”Okay, give in is fucking easy. There’s nothing he couldn’t do.Izuku adored his All Might doll, the brand new toy his mother had just bought him. Katsuki noticed him looking at it with shining eyes, his small hands clenching and unclenching, as if he was afraid of being caught coveting something he didn't own. Katsuki tossed it to Izuku without saying anything.Izuku hesitated for a few seconds before taking it. And then, he smiled.It wasn’t the usual innocent smile Katsuki was used to seeing, but a bright, sincere smile, as if everything in Izuku’s little world had become perfect just because of Katsuki’s action. A smile for Katsuki, by Katsuki, to Katsuki.But Izuku couldn’t fool Katsuki. He could clearly remember Izuku running after the kids in the neighborhood, giving them admiring looks and the way he smiled without any defense. The same smile as before.There was a pang of unease in his chest.“Don’t always be like that, I’m not like everyone else!”He pressed Izuku hard. The other child fell to the gravel, his small knees landing hard and leaving a long, red scratch. The dry sound was muffled in the silence. Katsuki stared at Izuku, waiting for him to cry, scream, or react in any way. But Izuku just looked up, his eyes wide with confusion as he tried to figure out what had happened.His eyes were neither angry nor resentful. Izuku looked at Katsuki, as if expecting him to say or do something to fill this confusing void.Katsuki laughed, a sound to break the silence and relieve the uncomfortable feeling that had crept into his mind. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Izuku to sit on the pavement, brushing the dirt from his knees. His lips were pressed together, and not a single tear fell. When he looked back, he noticed Izuku smiling again, holding the All Might toy.Those scratches, even though caused by Katsuki, were insufficient to break Izuku.Izuku didn't cry, never cried. Instead, he just stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and smiled at Katsuki as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn't hurt, wasn't offended.It made Katsuki vaguely uncomfortable.It felt like a small scratch on a polished wooden table—insignificant, not enough to ruin the overall look, but also impossible to ignore. A faint but persistent mark, one wanted to scratch it harder, make it deeper, more obvious, so that it wouldn't have to be awkward anymore.Katsuki held the handle of this blade. He knew it. Every push, every harsh word, every sneer was a clean cut he deliberately left behind. But the way Izuku looked at him, as if just being near him was enough, made all that effort pointless.The scrapes on Izuku’s knees, whether bright red or just a blur on his pale skin, still appeared behind that smile. A smile full of tenderness and gratitude, as if Katsuki were his whole world.Katsuki’s blade was what made Izuku stronger. And Katsuki loved the way those scrapes called out to him.In middle school, Katsuki was always the leader. In every after-school gathering, he didn’t need to ask anyone’s opinion, just decided things on his own. Ordering food? Just snapping his fingers. Buying the whole group? Sometimes it wasn’t a big deal. Izuku? Always standing awkwardly on the sidelines, like a shadow not knowing where to put his feet. Katsuki knew why—his thin wallet and his inherent reserve—but he never asked. There was no need.Katsuki did not need an answer. Instead, he simply pulled Izuku along by the wrist, as he always did, mouthing a few sarcastic words that sounded like orders. "You're so skinny, it's disgusting. "Hitting you makes me feel pathetic." The pull was just strong enough to hold his hand down, skin rubbing against skin, burning. Katsuki's long, red nails left scratches on the back of Izuku's hand. Katsuki had purposefully not trimmed his nails before the gathering. He let go quickly, saying nothing and occasionally curling his lips, as if it was too insignificant to bother about.He didn't think much of dragging Izuku along. So, what? Was it simply leaving him there, awkward and pathetic? Katsuki felt uneasy seeing Izuku in that way, as if he was the one being looked down upon. So, he simply dragged him along.And after each meal, Izuku would bow to Katsuki, his eyes shining sincerely, and give him a friendly smile. He always did this. That smile toward Katsuki was as gentle as a wordless thank you.Katsuki noticed that each time he pointed the blade at Izuku, he smiled slightly more. Izuku was strong in his own way. And he didn't see that as a bad thing.When peace returned after their first year at UA, Izuku began working part-time. Katsuki wasn't sure why he was bothered, but it was still a bother.Katsuki walked out of the convenience store, carrying a bottle of water and a bag of pastries, when he noticed a familiar figure on the other side of the street. Izuku, wearing a faded jacket and worn-out shoes, stood in front of a souvenir shop. He was staring down at something through the display window. He tilted his head and bit his lower lip, clearly in doubt. Katsuki didn't need to look any closer to figure out what it was: probably something small and inexpensive.Katsuki stood motionless on this side of the street, quietly observing. Izuku eventually straightened up, sighed, and walked away. He did not enter the store, but instead silently left the item behind, as if it had long since slipped out of his grasp.Katsuki observed Izuku walking through the crowded streets, neon lights dancing on the rain-soaked pavement. He stopped at a roadside eatery and ordered the cheapest item on the menu. Katsuki noticed him sitting there, head bowed, taking small bites as if to prolong his meager meal.When Izuku left the shop, Katsuki followed silently, keeping a distance enough to not be discovered. He didn't know what he was doing, but his feet automatically followed the thin figure. There was something about the way Izuku bowed his head, and the way his shoulders sagged that made Katsuki unable to turn away.Then once again, Izuku stopped in front of another store, this time for hero supplies. His eyes lit up for a moment as he looked at a new set of equipment, but then he shook his head and turned away. Katsuki gritted his teeth."That idiot..." Katsuki muttered, his hand tightening on the water bottle in his bag. He couldn't understand why Izuku let himself get into this situation. The way he walked past the items he liked as if they belonged to another world made Katsuki feel annoyed.He was used to seeing Izuku struggle, but he was never used to seeing Izuku give up. And even though he had no idea what the hell he was doing, Katsuki could sense that something was very wrong.Izuku was losing his energy.Katsuki was not blind. He saw everything, including Izuku walking out of the gym with slumped shoulders and heavy breathing after sparring with him. Katsuki did not hold back because Izuku was exhausted. He noticed the red marks on Izuku's neck and back, as well as the faint traces of his shirt that appeared beneath the creases whenever he bent over. Katsuki saw everything, but said nothing.He knew he was the one who had left those sharp, relentless marks. Katsuki had always been that way—a constantly sharpening blade, aiming for Izuku's weak point without hesitation. Because he was convinced that if he didn't, the idiot would never get stronger. If he didn't, Izuku would never overcome the weakness he despised so much.But sometimes, in brief moments, like when Izuku bent down to tie his shoelaces with a shaking hand, or when he laughed bitterly after a kick that sent his back slamming into the cement wall, Katsuki wondered if he had gone too far, if his blade had cut deeper than it should have.By the middle of his second year, Katsuki began to notice something he didn't want to accept: Izuku's spark of superpowers was slowly fading. At first, it was only small signs. Izuku's steps were no longer filled with determination when he stepped onto the training field. His mentions of his dream of becoming a hero became less frequent, until he stopped altogether. Izuku never said anything, not a word of complaint or resentment, but his silence said it all.Katsuki watched Izuku from afar, watching his every move in class, during practice, and even as he walked quietly down the street. He saw the fatigue piled up on Izuku's shoulders, saw the weariness in the eyes that once shone like a guiding light. Izuku had been the light, the person Katsuki had always wanted to surpass. But now, that light was slowly fading, leaving a cold void that Katsuki couldn't bear.Katsuki considered the scratches he'd left on Izuku's body. He remembered cornering him, throwing violent punches, and speaking harshly. He had always believed that pain was the best way to make Izuku stronger, and that it would help him grow. As Izuku let go of his dream, Katsuki reflected on whether it was worth it.Was it worthwhile to exchange a bright smile from Izuku for a sparkling look in his eyes whenever he mentioned the future? Was it worth forcing him to bow to the world, letting his flame die before it could burn out?After three years at UA, their lives took two different paths, but Katsuki's gaze never left Izuku. Katsuki quickly threw himself into new projects, big plans that he had always dreamed of, such as becoming Number One or joining the list of the richest people in Hero World. Among them, he worked hard on the Hero Armor Project, which was dedicated to Izuku.Katsuki was well aware that, while Izuku's physical strength and superpowers had faded, the light of a hero within him remained unaffected. Izuku did not need One for All to become a hero; he simply needed a new pair of wings to keep flying. Katsuki had plenty of money, the necessary skills and team, and, most importantly, he was determined. This wasn't just a project; it was a silent apology, Katsuki's way of making amends for the scratches he'd left all those years ago.
Katsuki didn't want to touch that knife anymore.
Katsuki began his journey towards becoming a Pro Hero, while Izuku became a teacher at UA. He stood on the podium with a gentle smile and sparkling eyes, sharing his experiences with the young students. His stories were always inspirational, and every word exuded hope for the future. He always said he was happy and that this job was all he needed.However, Katsuki did not believe it.He frequently observed Izuku, his gaze lingering on purpose, as if attempting to penetrate the peaceful mask he had put on. Katsuki recognized Izuku's uniqueness . Izuku's eyes, while still bright when he talked endlessly about his favorite things, carried an unmistakable layer of fatigue. Behind that smile was loneliness, a piece of his soul abandoned in pursuit of a dream of flying higher and further.Katsuki didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't bear the thought of Izuku accepting this life as an alternative. Peace and safety were not worthy of someone like Izuku, let alone his childhood dream. He didn't want to see himself standing on a podium, smiling at others' dreams while ignoring his own.Katsuki made a vow to himself. He would finish the project, pull Izuku back into the sky, give him wings, and return him to where he belonged. Katsuki would carry out his promise.When Izuku received the armor, his hands shook with the transfer paper. His eyes were downcast, hiding the emotion that Katsuki recognized immediately. This armor is more than just a gift – it's an affirmation that Izuku still has a chance, that he's still worthy of standing on the battlefield. But as the initiator, Katsuki knows better than anyone how much of a burden this gift comes with.Maintenance, repairs, maintenance – the cold numbers in the file were definitely creeping into Izuku’s mind, hidden behind that forced smile. Katsuki had calculated everything. He knew that Izuku would not be financially capable of facing the burden that came with it, but he was always ready to shoulder any responsibility that fell on him.Katsuki gritted his teeth. The helplessness made it hard for him to breathe – not because Izuku was weak, but because he had never known how to rely on others. The suffering in Izuku’s eyes, in his proud smile, all of it made Katsuki angry. Not at Izuku, but at himself.Katsuki made his own decision. A third of the paperwork - insurance and maintenance - would be kept in his personal file. Izuku would never know. This was neither pity nor something Katsuki did to make others feel grateful; it was necessary, the only thing Katsuki could do to keep Izuku from collapsing under any additional burdens.When Izuku stepped onto the battlefield for the first time in years, wearing the armor Katsuki and the class had created, everything seemed to stop for a moment. Katsuki stood behind him, observing Izuku's every movement. He was no longer the pitiful, trembling boy he had once been, but rather a mature, strong, and determined adult. Izuku's every step was now certain, and his eyes shone like a newly rekindled fire.Katsuki felt his heart pounding in his chest, a strange beat he had never experienced before.That pounding was difficult to describe; it was not just pride or relief, but something else, a smoldering fire deep within his chest that seemed to suffocate him every time he saw Izuku. Katsuki had thought he only wanted to help Izuku get up and return to the battlefield. But when it happened, he realized he wanted something more.He wasn't sure when this feeling began; perhaps it was the way Izuku smiled at him that day, or the look in his eyes when he realized the meaning of the old dream. It had lingered in Katsuki's heart like a dull scratch, but the sensation was now so strong that he couldn't deny it.
Katsuki wanted more.
Then one day, he heard from someone - or maybe from Ochako herself - that she and Izuku had started dating. The words rang in Katsuki's ears like a blade, but he wasn't surprised. They were a couple with great potential, everyone knew that. Ochako was always gentle, always trying to understand Izuku, always gently bandaging his wounds. They shared the same noble ideal of saving people, the same belief in a better future.But knowing was one thing, accepting it was another.Katsuki didn't know how long he had stood still, how many fucking times his mind had gone blank, only to hear the heavy heartbeats echoing. Part of him wanted to be angry, wanted to scream that it wasn't Ochako's place, that he had come earlier. But the rest of Katsuki just felt cold. He didn't have that right, because he had never said it, never admitted it, even hid it from himself. Because he was the one holding the handle of the blade, the one causing the wounds.And now, Katsuki no longer had any reason to talk about himself.Ochako entered Izuku's life like a breeze, gentle and warm, touching every crack in him without causing any additional pain. She didn't try to fix or make things perfect; she was simply present, as natural as the morning sun, and gentle enough that Izuku felt no need to hide anything. His wounds - the scratches he always concealed, the exhaustion he never displayed - were all completely accepted by her, without judgment or pressure.Katsuki watched from afar, and he understood. Ochako was what Izuku needed – a place where he could completely relax, without having to struggle to prove himself. She didn’t push him to his limits, didn’t demand that he continue to rise or fight the world. Ochako was the healing, the perfect balance for someone like Izuku – someone who had spent his whole life burning with ideals and making endless sacrifices.But Katsuki was different.He was never a safe place for Izuku to fall, even with his arms open. He was always the one with the sharp knife handle, pushing Izuku to move forward, become stronger, and fight indefinitely. Katsuki recognized who he was: a fierce fire who was constantly challenging Izuku, forcing him to go further, fly higher, and step harder.Katsuki believed that was best for Izuku. That by pushing him and causing more scratches, he was assisting him in accomplishing feats that no one else had. But as he watched Izuku smile at Ochako, Katsuki noticed something else. Izuku didn't need fire, nor did he need to be near a sharp blade that was constantly ready to stab him. He needed gentleness, someone like Ochako, who could see everything in him but still loved him without demanding or imposing.Katsuki did not despise Ochako; in fact, he admired her somewhat. She had accomplished something he couldn't and would never be able to do. But that didn't change Katsuki; Ochako was still Ochako, and Katsuki would remain Katsuki. He'd still be that sharp knife, able to do nothing but stand back and watch those two figures before stabbing himself with feelings he'd never admit. “Damn,” he muttered, his eyes following Izuku and Ochako as they walked away. The feeling of loss was unfamiliar to Katsuki, but now, he felt it all too clearly.Katsuki was still there, silently like a shadow beside Izuku, maintaining a distance but never truly leaving. He had no idea why he did it; it could have been habit, or he had never learned to let go of himself. Whatever the reason, Katsuki continued to listen to Izuku, whether in lighthearted conversations while working together or in the rare moments after a mission on the battlefield.Izuku always spoke with a gentle tone, as if everything in his life was going well. He spoke about his students one by one, with pride in his eyes. He spoke about the young rookies he had met with the same genuine admiration that Izuku had in previous years.And then, as usual, Izuku discussed Ochako.Katsuki initially remained silent, listening without saying anything. But as time passed, those stories became like a knife, cutting deeper into his heart. Izuku spoke about Ochako with painful tenderness, recalling their dates, the times she made him laugh, and how she always listened when he poured out his heart. Katsuki never interrupted, simply nodding and responding with short "Yeahs".Every time Izuku mentioned Ochako, Katsuki felt himself shrink so much that it didn't matter. He told himself it did not matter. Izuku was pleased, and that was enough. But reason couldn't keep his heart from tightening, as if he were carrying something he couldn't let go.There were moments when Izuku smiled, telling a small story about Ochako, Katsuki wanted to interrupt him, wanted to scream, wanted to say “stop it, I don’t want to hear anymore.” But instead, he swallowed those words and sat still, listening as if nothing had changed. Izuku, as usual, did not notice anything. He didn't notice Katsuki's eyes lingering a little longer, the way he clenched his hands under the table to stay calm, or the sighs between his stories. Izuku didn't know, and Katsuki didn't tell him. Because, in the end, Izuku remained the center of everything. If he was happy, Katsuki would put up with it, even if it meant continuing to listen and remain silent.
And that damn ring.
Katsuki couldn't recall exactly when he first noticed it. Izuku stood silently in front of a jewelry store window on the street, his gaze drawn to a ruby ring on display. An elegant, flawless design that shines under the lights as if it was made specifically for Ochako. But he was certain the price was just as high - a figure that would make anyone earning Izuku's salary think twice.
The damn store only showed it, not the price. What a way to get people to dream.
Katsuki initially thought it was just curiosity, a random moment in the nerd's life. However, these encounters became more frequent. Katsuki realized Izuku wasn't simply looking; he was dreaming. He was familiar with Izuku's expression when he was determined to accomplish something at any cost. This time, Izuku's dream was about the ruby ring.But in order to make it happen, Izuku had pushed himself to his breaking point, which Katsuki could not bear to witness. He signed up for extra teaching hours, took on every extra job the school offered him, and even began participating in commercial shoots, which Izuku had never done before. Katsuki also knew that Izuku had just received a small raise, which he had worked hard for all year. All just to get a little closer to the ring.To Katsuki, the ring was simply an expensive piece of jewelry. Based on his knowledge of jewelry, he reasoned that three "life for life" missions would suffice to convince him to purchase it without hesitation. But for Izuku, it was a dream that had to be earned through hard work and sacrifice. Katsuki noticed him working his ass off, his shoulders becoming thinner, and his eyes darkening from all the late nights of overtime.All of this is just for Ochako.Katsuki said nothing, as she always does. He just stood on the sidelines, watching Izuku's every move, wondering how he could be willing to sacrifice everything for a dream he couldn't participate in.Katsuki became increasingly frustrated with himself as he thought about it, rather than with Izuku. He despised the feeling of helplessness, the fact that he could only stand by and watch Izuku push himself to the limit, and the way Izuku continued to run forward without looking back. However, Katsuki knew deep down that he would not stop Izuku. Because that was how he loved Ochako: wholeheartedly and without reserve.And if that made Izuku happy, then Katsuki would continue to stand by and watch. Because he didn’t know how to stop. Stop looking at Izuku. Stop caring.
Stop loving.
It was hard to stop loving someone who had already left his grasp.Katsuki had thought he was ready for this. He knew Izuku and how willing he was to share everything important with those he considered close friends. But when those words came out of Izuku's mouth, confirming what Katsuki had vaguely suspected, he couldn't help but feel like someone had punched him in the chest.On the battlefield, amidst the smoldering ruins, Izuku smiled gently, the kind of smile Katsuki knew he saved for things truly important to him. His heart skipped a beat.Amidst the wind whistling through the ruined buildings, Izuku casually informed them that he had made up his mind. He stated that the ruby ring would symbolize the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He intended to propose to Ochako with it."What do you think?" Izuku looked at Katsuki, his eyes bright with excitement and hope. "Ochako likes that ring. "Does it suit her?"Katsuki did not respond right away. He stood there in the rubble, looking at Izuku—his face was covered in sweat and grime, but his eyes were filled with fierce conviction. Katsuki felt his throat tighten, as if the words had been choked out before they could be spoken.He knew exactly what he should say; it would be a simple, straightforward response. "It suits. Cheeks would be so happy." However, Katsuki couldn't bring himself to say the words right away. For a brief moment, he wanted to ask Izuku if he had ever seen him and who was always by his side. But then Katsuki remembered the reality in front of him. It was not his story. It'd never been about him."Yeah," Katsuki answered, his voice hoarse. "Fucking does. Round cheeks will enchant you to death."Izuku smiled, relieved, as if Katsuki's response provided the final confirmation he needed to proceed. The smile wasn't meant for Katsuki, but it still made his chest ache. Katsuki watched Izuku turn away, his eyes as determined as ever, and he was left behind, alone, with pain seeping into every cell.Katsuki has always been like that. A pillar, a support, a shadow that silently pushes Izuku forward. But with every step Izuku takes forward – every dream he realizes, Katsuki takes a step back, where his feelings are left behind, unseen by anyone.That ring, Ochako, the future Izuku is building – all of these are things that Katsuki can never reach. But he still stands here, still watches, even though each of them is a blade a hundred thousand times sharper than his own.Katsuki silently watches, as he always has. He watches Izuku in every little action, like the way he carefully picks up each coin, the way he checks each bill, the way he meticulously writes notes in a small notebook with worn corners. He watched Izuku's eyes light up every time he found a way to save even a little bit more - a few yen from cutting back on living expenses or a small bonus from his part-time job. For Izuku, every penny represented hope, a small step toward his dream of a bright future.Katsuki's determination was amazing, but also heartbreaking. Because he knew better than anyone that Izuku would never have an easy life. The day he had always feared arrived.Two months before Izuku was scheduled to propose to Ochako, his armor was completely destroyed during a mission. Katsuki saw him return with the armor torn, walking silently with unhealed scratches and a heavy disappointment on his shoulders.He watched from a distance as Izuku sat quietly in the corner of the room, opening the financial notebook. Katsuki could see the numbers erased and rewritten, the calculations overlapping, with black ink for minuses and blue for pluses. Savings, tutoring money, advertising money—all of it was spent to repair and replace the armor.Izuku's hard-earned dream of obtaining the ruby ring had nearly failed. Katsuki could see it in every detail of Izuku's face: the drooping of his eyes, the light in his pupils that appeared to have gone out for a brief moment, and the tears wiped away quickly, as if he was afraid someone would notice.Katsuki didn’t say anything right away. He just glanced at Izuku with an indifferent gaze, as if this wasn’t worth worrying about, as if he couldn’t see the wound, the fatigue, or anything else. But then, as Izuku had long since become accustomed to, Katsuki let out a reprimand.
“You’re really careless. With that kind of maintenance, it’s not unusual for something like this to happen.”
His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was sharp, blunt, just enough to make someone in the class interrupt, chuckle, and say, “You’re overdoing it again, Bakugo.” A joke, but enough to emphasize the distance between them.A new scratch appeared, not on the skin, but on Izuku’s chest, he knew—and Katsuki himself. But he didn’t stop.“Let me take care of half of that.”Katsuki said in such a calm tone that it almost seemed artificial. A habitual calmness to conceal something he didn't want to confront.Shoto and Momo, with their wealth and gentle demeanor, immediately offered to assist. They proceeded without hesitation, as if there was no problem. But Izuku simply bowed, shook his head slightly, and forced a smile to decline everything.Katsuki looked at him, not saying anything else. He knew Izuku would refuse any help, no matter how small it is. Izuku wasn't arrogant or stubborn, but there was something deeper in that stubborn head - a lack, an empty feeling that Izuku had been carrying on his shoulders for quite some time. He always took responsibility for himself, not to prove anything, but because he didn't think he was worthy of relying on others.Katsuki realized this, even if he didn't want to admit it.Izuku had a habit of taking on everything himself, not just out of a sense of responsibility, but because he believed it was the right thing to do. Regardless of how many wounds he had or how alone he had to go, Izuku would try to hold everything tightly in his palm. Katsuki knew it better than anyone else. And because he knew, he despised the sense of helplessness that crept into his chest. Because no matter how hard he tried, Katsuki couldn't delve deeper into Izuku's life. All he could do was stand on the sidelines and touch the surface, leaving small, faint scratches that were neither permanent nor memorable.As time passed, the distance between them became more and more obvious. Not through arguments or avoidance, but through silence. Katsuki still watched Izuku from afar, through the television screen, through the articles, through the stories that others mentioned. But Izuku no longer turned back. He walked, farther, faster, as if there was something urging him from within. Something that Katsuki could not reach, but he was smart enough to know for sure that Izuku had not given up on his dream of the ruby ring.The encounters became less frequent. If they did, it was only a casual greeting, with eyes that paused for no more than a second before moving on.Izuku became increasingly prominent in the media. His speeches, which began with uplifting social issues, became increasingly thorny. He spoke of injustice and systemic flaws that no one dared to address. Izuku was not afraid to ask questions or to face skepticism and threats. People dubbed him a "Hero of Justice," but Katsuki saw only a fool walking on a razor's edge.Izuku didn't stop there; he took on more daring advertising contracts, some with fan-service undertones, that Katsuki never imagined he'd accept. Open magazine shoots, promotional videos with angles that highlighted the body's curves, and clothing designed to appeal to the public rather than be functional.Katsuki first saw Izuku in a perfume advertisement, with a half-open shirt and a fleeting smile, as if he was concealing a secret the entire world wanted to know. In another scene, Izuku looked straight into the camera, his eyes gentle yet challenging, as if inviting the viewer into his world. He was very familiar with that smile and eyes. However, rather than being reserved for someone, it was now on display for millions.Izuku's eyes remained determined, but Katsuki saw that stubbornness as the seed of vulnerability.More dangerous missions emerged. Izuku was always the first to volunteer, flashing his familiar smile and promising to return. Katsuki was accustomed to sitting in front of the screen, watching Izuku's every move in missions where even the smallest error could cost him his life. But being accustomed to it did not mean he could accept it.Damn that ring. That round-cheeked girl was too preoccupied to notice.Katsuki did not stop Izuku because he knew any words would be ineffective. Instead, he decided to act on his own.Katsuki began calling, reaching out to the connections he had made over the years. Katsuki approached advertising producers, Izuku's partner companies, and hero teams he had previously worked for one by one. Katsuki negotiated - or, more accurately, set conditions - with a deftness that few thought he possessed. "If you want Deku to appear in your commercial, pay an additional 30%. And this is not an offer." His words left no room for rejection.When negotiations failed, Katsuki was prepared to reach into his wallet. He used his own money to compensate for the extras. He didn't care how much he spent or how much money was still in his account. He was willing to pay whatever it took to ensure that Izuku received his fair share.There were instances when negotiations failed completely. Katsuki was forced to spend twice, if not three times, as much as Izuku received. For example, he was willing to spend ten dollars to ensure Izuku took home seven. He knew the difference was unreasonable, but as long as he got a little extra, he felt it was worthwhile. Katsuki did not expect anyone to understand or agree with his method of doing things.Katsuki did everything silently, hidden behind the shell of distance that he still tried to maintain. But Katsuki's fingerprint was on every major and minor decision Izuku made. He didn't need Izuku to know, to be grateful, or to notice. Katsuki only needed Izuku to be able to move without falling.And if it came to using his own blade to block other blades pointed at Izuku, Katsuki would not hesitate.However, there were times when Katsuki felt as if the knife was being turned back on him, such as when he saw a poster outside a large magazine store. In it, Izuku was shirtless, with only a vest draped over his shoulders, staring straight into the camera with a strange expression. It wasn't his usual smile—it wasn't sincere or gentle. Instead, it felt forced and distant, as if he was trying to persuade the world - or himself - that he was fine with this.Katsuki stopped, eyes glued to the photo. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier – the fact that Izuku agreed to take these semi-nude photos, or the fact that anyone could see them as clear as day.Without hesitation, Katsuki pulled out his phone, quickly scrolled through his contacts, and immediately contacted the magazine and the people involved. He didn’t give them a chance to say anything, and went straight to the point, his tone concise but firm enough that no one dared to object. Katsuki asked for a 50% increase in the photo shoot’s fee, and if necessary, he would pay the difference himself. The other side hesitated, citing the terms of the contract, but Katsuki didn’t bother to listen to the rest. He had only one clear answer: “Increase the fee, I’ll make up for any shortfalls, or I’ll handle it my way.”Katsuki continued to contact his close contacts, one by one. He bargained, negotiated, and sometimes even threatened to withdraw all cooperation if they didn’t adjust their benefits to Izuku’s. Call after call, text after text in the night.Izuku might never know, but Katsuki didn't care. He didn't do these things to get gratitude or a look of appreciation from him. That was never Katsuki's goal. He just wanted to protect Izuku the only way he knew how – even if it meant standing in the shadows, silently taking on the burden that Izuku couldn't see.But sometimes, in between unfinished calls, in between long nights sitting alone in silence, Katsuki couldn't help but wonder what it all meant.Izuku loved Ochako, that much was clear. His eyes always lit up when he mentioned her, his smile always carried a tenderness that Katsuki had never received. A tenderness that didn't need to be measured, that didn't need to be hidden. Izuku loved her as much as Katsuki loved him – deeply, without regret, without conditions. He knew that there were loves that could never bear fruit. There were people who, no matter how hard they tried, would never belong to each other. But accepting didn't mean stopping loving, nor did it mean running away. Katsuki was willing to do anything for Izuku, just like Izuku always did everything for Ochako. A vicious circle with no end.Izuku accepts missions, commercials, photoshoots, and even fan-service, which Katsuki never expected. At first glance, it all appears to be a calculated risk—a bold, risky move. However, it gradually becomes a spiral that spirals out of control, as if Izuku is attempting to compensate for something he cannot reach.The photos appear more densely on the internet, the posts are meticulously edited, and the interviews become more and more flashy. Izuku seizes every opportunity, as if by simply moving forward, he will discover the answers for himself. Through it all, Katsuki sees not a stronger Izuku, but the scratches he inflicts on his fragile body and mind on a daily basis.The public speaks of Deku as an unyielding hero who never falls, but no one can say that he will never burn out.Things came to a head when Katsuki received a late-night phone call. It was two early in the morning., and the bar manager informed him that Izuku had consumed too much alcohol and would be unable to get home on his own. Katsuki drove over, his heart full of emotions he couldn't identify. When he entered the bar, the sight in front of him made him stop.Izuku sat down at a small table, his head resting on his arms, his breathing heavy and smelling of alcohol. He walked over, his hand unconsciously tightening as he noticed his shoulders shaking. Katsuki didn't need to inquire to learn that Izuku had been crying.Katsuki pulled Izuku up, one hand supporting him and the other waving to the manager. Izuku obediently followed him to the car, his breath smelling of alcohol and dampness from the night. The only sounds on the way home were the engine and Izuku's ragged breathing. As he approached home, Izuku suddenly spoke, his voice choked, as if each word was a knife stabbing him. Katsuki didn't turn to look, but each word felt like it was hitting him right in the heart."That ruby ring... is still worth twice the amount I have in my account right now."Katsuki kept his eyes on the straight road ahead, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Izuku continued, his voice low as a confession."I did everything. I gave up everything... but it's still not enough. Three more weeks until the day I propose to her..."Izuku's words hung in the air, not knowing what answer he wanted to hear. Katsuki didn't respond. He didn't know what he should say at this point.When they got home, Katsuki helped Izuku to bed, each movement slow and careful, as if afraid of touching invisible and nameless scratches. The pale yellow light of the nightlight fell on Izuku's tired face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and dry lips. Katsuki stood still for a long time, watching him fall into a heavy sleep.The room was so quiet that the steady ticking of the clock's hands was enough to make the space feel even more cramped. Katsuki sat on the chair, his eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of him, but his mind was in constant turmoil. The ruby ring. Three weeks. Numbers were never enough . Every little detail from Izuku's words, expressions, and actions over the past time were like scattered pieces, now suddenly coming together, creating a complete picture that Katsuki hated to face.He stood up, moving slowly as if afraid of making any unnecessary noise. Katsuki looked towards the door of the room, where Izuku had finally passed out in a drunken stupor. He gently pulled the door closed, closing it softly, as if afraid that even the slightest noise would shatter this fragile layer of peace.Tonight, Katsuki would not sleep. He had too much to do.In three weeks, Izuku was going to propose to Ochako. Katsuki knew that. He knew that this was what Izuku had dreamed of, what he had worked so hard for, even at the cost of the most important things in himself. Every step Izuku took, every time he pushed himself to the limit, made Katsuki feel like he was being held tight by an invisible rope. He didn't know what he could do to change the course of this game, to make Izuku stop destroying himself further.Katsuki sat silently in the darkness, his head resting in his hands, his crimson eyes shining with despair. His thoughts were racing around Izuku and the ruby ring, and the harsh numbers still refused to change. Katsuki had done everything he could – money, connections, threats, even spending his own money to make up for Izuku’s shortcomings. But none of it could erase the fact that Izuku was pushing himself to the brink of self-esteem. And he stood by helplessly.He had thought he was strong enough to endure anything, but now, the fear that Izuku would continue to hurt himself was like a knife stabbing deep into Katsuki’s chest. He didn’t realize that what he needed to protect wasn’t just his future or the image he wanted to keep – it was himself, the person Katsuki loved more than anything.He was filled with a feeling of frustration. Izuku would never allow him to help directly, would never understand that every time he hurt himself to achieve his goal, it was Katsuki who felt his own blood dripping, mixing with his pain.Katsuki's hands clenched into fists. His crimson eyes flashed with coldness as a thought slowly took shape, a decision he knew he couldn't turn back from. If Izuku had to possess that ring, if that was what defined his happiness, then Katsuki would be the one to do it – no matter the cost.Without thinking further, Katsuki picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts one by one. S-rank missions – life-for-life missions – began lining up before him. Missions with near-zero survival rates, where the slightest mistake would leave him a lifeless corpse. But also missions with large enough rewards to exchange for a chance to change everything. Katsuki felt no fear. Instead, a cold calm enveloped him.He knew what he was doing. This was not an impulse, nor was it aggression. This was the decision of someone who was willing to bet everything, even his life, for the person he loved. If he didn't return, at least Izuku would have enough money to live on, to buy that ring, and to propose to Ochako. If he returned – no, there was no "if". He had given himself a path of no return.No matter what, that ruby ring had to belong to Izuku.Katsuki couldn't remember how much money he had received in the past few days, nor did he pay attention to the warnings or worried looks from his teammates. He only knew that each mission was like walking through a door with no way out. And that was fine with him.The first mission was a rescue mission in territory controlled by a notorious villain organization. Katsuki didn't wait for any plans or allies. He charged in, facing bullets, explosives, and traps set everywhere. When the victims were brought out safely, he collapsed in a pool of blood - partly from the enemy, partly from himself.Two days later, with his wounds still not healed, he received his next mission - a confrontation with a group of villains plotting to attack a crowded residential area. It was a battle that lasted nearly 20 hours. Katsuki didn't stop, didn't back down, even as the pain from his old wounds became excruciating. When it was all over, he was found in the rubble, panting, his uniform soaked in blood. But Katsuki only asked for a preliminary examination, then immediately signed for the next mission.Every two days, he entered the battlefield as if he had nothing to lose. In each time he faced danger, he fought not only the enemy in front of him but also the thoughts in his head. Every step was driven by a single goal, like a stream of hot blood that kept flowing.
Ochako liked a ruby ring. And Izuku wanted to use that ring to propose to her.
He made it a habit to use the restroom whenever he returned. Katsuki washed away the blood from his body, including every scratch, cut, and bruise. He refused to look in the mirror, unable to look into his own eyes. Because, in those eyes, there was no longer the usual anger or arrogance. Instead, he was weighed down by fatigue and an uncomfortable question: Was it all worth it?But no matter what the answer was, Katsuki refused to stop. He didn't allow himself to think too much. He didn't care if the money was enough or how much more his body could withstand. As long as he had some strength left, he would continue. Izuku and Katsuki both refused to give up.There were nights when he returned to his empty room exhausted, his hands trembling so much that he couldn't grasp anything. His wounds had been hastily bandaged, but Katsuki was still unable to sleep. Instead, he sat quietly, staring at his phone screen, checking his account balance and performing calculations.Every two days, he came dangerously close to death. But Katsuki didn't care about that line. To him, it was only a faint line, not as significant as the silent promise he had made to himself.
That ruby ring had to belong to Izuku.
Two weeks before Izuku was supposed to propose to Ochako, Katsuki completed his final mission in those dark days. When he returned, he held a small black bag with the logo of a famous jewelry brand. Inside was a ruby ring, Izuku's dream of happiness.The small room seemed to shrink around Katsuki as he opened the box, with the ruby light reflecting brightly in his eyes. The sparkling stone was supposed to be a symbol of happiness, but Katsuki saw it as a suffocating weight. It was not only the result of blood, sweat, and the pain that still throbbed in every joint, but also the most visible reminder of where Izuku's heart belonged - a place he could never reach.He clenched the box's lid tightly, attempting to calm himself amidst the swirling emotions. Every thought felt like a knife cutting through his heart. Katsuki wanted Izuku to have this ring so he could propose to Ochako in the way he wanted. At the same time, he couldn't help but want Izuku to know the truth. He wanted Izuku to know that no matter how hard he tried, Katsuki was the one who ultimately supported him.That thought caused him to laugh dryly, mocking himself. Bakugo Katsuki, who had always prided himself on being strong and independent, was now caught up in his own mess.Katsuki wished that somewhere in the world, other than Ochako, there was someone willing to go to any length for Izuku.
Izuku just needed to look at Katsuki once.
With his remaining insane selfishness, Katsuki made a monstrous decision. If Izuku required a blade to cut the chains he had placed around himself, he would be the one to provide it, no matter how much it hurt Izuku. Katsuki would transform himself into a stranger, with no name, no face, nor memories. He knew this blade would cut deeper than anything else into Izuku's pride, that it would hurt both of them, and that it would undoubtedly be the final blow. He would trade the ring fairly with Izuku, forcing him to pay a high price.No game was ever safe from Bakugo Katsuki. And none of those games were played alone.Katsuki let out a heavy sigh. He returned to pick up the ring box, the ruby light still glinting as if challenging.Katsuki sat in the dark corner of his bedroom, the light from his scratched phone illuminating his face. The screen displayed a newly activated number that was completely anonymous. A simple text message would set his plan in motion. But he paused, his thumb hovering over the send button, as if something in his mind was holding him back.He had everything figured out. Izuku would get a text asking him to meet at a fancy hotel—a perfect trap set with terrifying sophistication. Katsuki would leave no trace. The amount offered was sufficient to remove any remaining pride in Izuku, but not enough to make him suspicious. Exactly half the price of the ring, a figure that was almost deliberate but well within Izuku's grasp.He would have everything ready: the room would be set up, the payment would be made in cash, and an envelope containing the agreed-upon amount would be left on the table. Katsuki would simply show up at the right time, put on his invisible mask, and assign Izuku a simple task. He would simply show up, "serve" him professionally, and then leave. No asking, no questions. Just this once, and all the money and the ring would be his.Katsuki clenched his phone in his hand, his anger and guilt boiling over. This crazy idea was like a sick game that he despised himself for devising, but it was the only way he could give Izuku what he wanted while also satisfying his own desires.He closed his eyes, imagining Izuku’s face when he read the message, when faced with the strange request from a stranger. He wondered how he would react—would Izuku be angry, surprised, or just accept the inevitable as he always did. The thought made Katsuki ache, but he quickly pushed it aside.Katsuki opened his eyes, took a deep breath. His finger paused, then firmly pressed the send button. The message was simple, no frills, nothing more than the content:
"Hello. I heard you've recently started working with male clients, and I have a job for you. The amount is [half the cost of the ring]. One time only. If you are concerned that this is a scam, I will send you half in advance. There's no need to bring anything. "Everything will be prepared."
Katsuki stared at the screen, his eyes blank. The message had been sent, there was no way to take it back. He threw the phone aside, leaned back in his chair, his head tilted back.Izuku agreed after a few hours, which must have been a period of intense struggle for him, and Katsuki immediately sent back the location and time. The message was carefully composed, not a single word was wasted, not a single detail was left out that could make Izuku suspicious. He had arranged everything perfectly, but he still couldn't stop the panic that was creeping into every nerve.Katsuki walked into the bathroom, looking in the mirror. The wounds on his arms, the scar on his right cheek – all of them were evidence of the battles he had been through. He didn’t mind pain, nor did he fear death, but the thought that Izuku might recognize him through those marks made him choke.Katsuki knew he needed another plan.The image of the origami All Might hat, which was probably over twenty years old, flashed through his mind. When Katsuki saw Izuku wearing the same hat as him, he didn't know what to do, wondering if he should tap Izuku on the forehead. He could remember Izuku's giggles and how his eyes lit up whenever he mentioned the hero they both admired. Memories that had previously faded into the background resurfaced, surging through him like an undercurrent.Katsuki cracked a half-sad, half-mocking smile. "This might work," he mumbled.In the days that followed, Katsuki prepared himself. He wandered the city, looking everywhere for the All Might mascot head he desired. Finally, he discovered it from a college boy passing out flyers in the park. It was an oversized head, slightly faded, but still had the distinctive shape of the symbol Izuku admired. When negotiations failed, Katsuki tossed the boy twice the rental price and took the item, ignoring the extra's surprised expression.When Katsuki returned home, he tried on the mascot head. It felt heavy and stuffy, but it completely covered his face, revealing no details. Katsuki walked over to the mirror to examine himself. He looked strange and stupid, but it didn't matter anymore.On the designated day, Katsuki began preparing early. He wore a tight black suit with no scars on his arms or other distinguishing characteristics. A pair of black leather gloves completed his strange appearance, concealing any traces that might reveal his identity. Katsuki looked at himself in the mirror again, his eyes as sharp as ever, but a strange unease persisted inside him.He adjusted his mascot head one last time, trying to breathe deeply to get used to the suffocation inside. Every action was slow and careful, as if he were preparing to enter a life-or-death battle. This was more than just a mission – this was the last gamble, all he could do to prevent Izuku from falling into the abyss.Arriving at the appointed location half an hour early, Katsuki entered the carefully chosen space – a small, discreet room, luxurious enough but not too ostentatious. He checked everything over one last time, his eyes scanning every corner, searching for any detail that might give him away. The room was meticulously prepared, from the soft lighting cast by the chandeliers on the ceiling to the neatly placed sofas in the center. Everything exuded professionalism, as if this was just a casual gathering. The envelope containing half the ring’s value was tucked neatly into his pocket, its smooth surface brushing against his palm every time he touched it to make sure it was still there. Katsuki considered placing it on the table, but then changed his mind. Too soon. Too predictable. He needed to keep everything under control.Back at the front desk, where he had booked a room under a false name, Katsuki stood still for a moment. The All Might mascot head covered his face, revealing only a hint of the stuffy air inside. A few other guests passed by and glanced at him, some snickering at his odd appearance, but no one paid much attention. He was just a strange guy in a black suit and a giant head.For a moment, Katsuki felt lost in his own story. He—a hero, a warrior, a man who had survived countless battles—was now standing in this grotesque state, preparing to perform the most ridiculous act of his life. Half of him was angry at himself for going this far, but the other half, the selfish and conflicted part, accepted this as a necessary sacrifice.He took a deep breath and adjusted the mascot head. Katsuki did not let himself think too much. Izuku's footsteps, which he knew by heart, paused at the hotel entrance. He could clearly picture his gait, with slightly hunched shoulders, palms probably tightening around the straps of his bags, and eyes looking down as if to avoid all the stares from those around him.Katsuki stood silently in a hidden corner of the hotel, not saying anything as Izuku entered. The All Might mascot head obscured his face, revealing only his eyes through the dark slits. He kept his back straight and his hand firmly gripped the phone in his pocket.Izuku paused for a moment when he noticed the strange man waiting for him. His eyes scanned quickly from top to bottom, as if looking for a familiar sign, but the other's complete silence added to the tension. Katsuki could clearly sense Izuku's confusion - a combination of hesitation and confusion, as if he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing."Is... you?" Izuku spoke up.Katsuki merely nodded in response, his hand unconsciously adjusting the mascot head. He couldn’t speak, didn’t dare to speak—the only thing in his plan he couldn’t fix was the lack of a voice changer. But Katsuki had expected this. He knew Izuku like the back of his hand, enough to anticipate any questions he might ask.His phone was ready, with a notepad full of short, concise answers. If Izuku asked anything, he would just type and show him the screen. Every move had been carefully calculated, just to make sure nothing would raise Izuku’s suspicions.Katsuki walked towards the elevator without saying anything, and Izuku followed quietly. He felt his eyes linger on his back, full of scrutiny. The silence inside the elevator was more oppressive than ever. Katsuki stared at the numbers on the control panel, avoiding eye contact, despite the fact that every muscle in his body tensed.Izuku leaned back slightly against the elevator wall, but his gaze did not leave him. “You… aren’t talking?” he asked, his voice gentle. Katsuki didn’t turn around. He just silently pulled out his phone, quickly typed a few words on the screen, and held it up for Izuku to see: I’m not good at talking. Don’t worry. Let’s just follow the agreement. Izuku reread it, frowning slightly but saying nothing else. Katsuki felt the tension build in the seconds that passed, but he refused to waver. He had risked everything on this gamble, and there was no room for error.The elevator arrived at the top floor. Katsuki stepped out first, without looking back, and led Izuku to the prepared room. The door opened, and the soft light from the room shone on Izuku's face. Katsuki entered, trying to keep his shoulders straight, and shut the door once they were both inside.
[So, shall we begin?]
Izuku pushed Katsuki down onto the bed, his body following closely behind, his movements so urgent that the air around him felt compressed. Izuku's knees hit the mattress, one hand propped up beside Katsuki's head, the other slid up to his shoulder, squeezing tightly as if letting go would make everything disappear. Katsuki could see Izuku's fingertips trembling.Katsuki lay motionless, his crimson eyes fixed on Izuku's every movement. The awkwardness was visible in the way Izuku bent down and held him, his hands and feet fumbling as if he didn't know where to place them. Izuku's breath brushed against Katsuki's neck, warm and intermittent, each breath a silent plea.He did not laugh at his awkwardness. Instead, a small portion of Katsuki's heart tightened, as if something was being suffocated. After all, this was still Izuku--the Izuku he knew best, the one who was too good for this.But right now, that goodness was buried deep under the shell of something else. Katsuki could feel the trembling behind every time Izuku squeezed him, as if he was trying to hold on to something he wasn’t sure if he could keep.Izuku's green hair fell down, with soft strands brushing Katsuki's shoulders. The light from the ceiling cast a pale glow across Izuku's face, highlighting his green eyes. They were so emotional, so deep and troubled, that Katsuki almost didn't dare to look at them directly. However, he was unable to look away. He forced himself to look at Izuku and remember every detail, feeling, and breath they shared.Katsuki reasoned that this was the first time, and most likely the last. The first time he could get so close to Izuku, feel his warmth, and hear his heartbeat pounding next to his ear. The last time he could believe that they belonged to each other solely for their own sake.Izuku leaned down, his lips almost touching Katsuki's neck, whispering something so low he couldn't hear it, but it didn't matter. The only thing Katsuki could feel was Izuku's tight grip on him, as if he was afraid Katsuki would disappear.
Or was he afraid his dream would disappear?
This wasn’t love, Katsuki knew, but an escape, a moment he gave him not because he wanted it, but because he needed it. He needed that money from him. But he didn’t blame Izuku, nor did he blame himself. Because even knowing all that, Katsuki couldn’t stop himself from indulging in this closeness–even if it was just a brief illusion, before it all faded into nothingness, as if it had never existed.Katsuki clenched his teeth, trying to keep his breathing even, but his body betrayed him. Each breath became heavier, each heartbeat a scream in his chest. He didn’t want to make any sound, didn’t want to reveal himself, and even more so didn’t want Izuku to notice the weakness that was filling him.But he knew. Knew that Izuku’s eyes, though fixed on Katsuki’s body, weren’t really seeing him. Somewhere inside him tightened, bitterly aware that Izuku was seeing something else—someone else, some other memory. The feeling made his chest feel heavy, as if every ounce of air had been sucked out of the room.Then suddenly, without warning, Izuku burst out laughing. The laughter rang out without warning, tearing through the silence, like a knife cutting through the already heavy atmosphere.The laughter made every nerve in Katsuki contract. He clenched the sheets, twisting his body, his nails digging painfully into his palms. But then, like an uncontrollable reflex, a weak moan escaped.Katsuki felt a surge of humiliation. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t show any weakness to Izuku, wouldn’t let him see how disturbed he was. But that laughter—the way it broke through every defense he’d built up—was too much to bear.Izuku paused, his gaze drooping as he looked at Katsuki. Izuku's green eyes widened, as if he had just realized something, but Katsuki couldn't see it. He did not want to know, nor did he dare to know. Katsuki looked away, avoiding Izuku's gaze, attempting to control his already irregular breathing.At that point, the room fell silent again. But this time, the silence was much more intense.Izuku quickened his pace, his movements becoming urgent and uncontrolled, as if he were attempting to overcome something invisible. Katsuki was pressed into the mattress, each movement felt like a direct stab to his heart.He wasn't sure what drove him to do it—perhaps the realization that this was the last time, or the foolish belief that he could hold onto something of Izuku, if only for a moment. But when Katsuki opened his eyes, his expression froze.Izuku did not look like he expected. Not like the memories Katsuki had kept close—his face glowing in battle, discussing the things he treasured. Instead, he saw a pale Izuku, his skin devoid of any life. Sweat streamed down his brow, dripped down his neck, and soaked his disheveled shirt.He did not look at Katsuki. Not once. Izuku's eyes were hazy, as if he were lost in another world he couldn't enter. His lips were pressed together, but he could not conceal his trembling. This was not a happy Izuku. Izuku was straining, forcing himself into something he didn't want.The sight broke Katsuki. His heart was pounding painfully, each beat screaming in his heaving chest. He suddenly realized that this wasn't intimacy, not the connection he'd been craving.Katsuki was wrong. So wrong that he couldn't even justify it.He clenched the sheets under his hands, his fingers shaking uncontrollably. For a moment, he wanted to scream, to stop Izuku, to say that he didn't need this, that he just wanted to see him smile again. But the words never made it past Katsuki's throat.He lay there, helpless, feeling every awkward movement by Izuku. Katsuki's eyes blurred when he realized the truth. He was wrong. Wrong from the start. Wrong from the start of this game. And now that things had gotten out of hand, all he could do was let himself be swept away by an unstoppable torrent.When it was all over, the whole room fell into a heavy silence, the air itself struggling to hold on to every piece of peace that had been destroyed. Izuku didn't say anything. He just sat quietly to the side, his back turned slightly, his shoulders slumped as if all his strength had been drained.Katsuki slowly lifted himself up, his hands trembling as he pulled back the wrinkled hem of his shirt. Every movement was mechanical, lifeless, as if he was trying to piece together every piece of himself, but none of it fit. He didn't want to look at Izuku, didn't dare face the gaze that could reflect every mistake he had just made.Izuku, however, instinctively reached out. His hands trembled slightly, his fingers curling slightly as if to compensate for his hesitation. “Let me help…” His voice was low, almost inaudible, but not without its usual gentleness.Katsuki looked at that hand. Part of him wanted to take it–wanted to believe that with just one touch, all cracks would be mended, all mistakes would be forgiven. But he knew better.Katsuki straightened up, his hands unconsciously clenching at his sides to hold on to the last bit of self-control he had. He didn’t look at Izuku, his eyes avoiding him as if he wanted to erase the presence of both of them in this moment. Still wearing that ridiculous mascot head, Katsuki shook his head flatly–decisive and cold.Izuku paused, his hand hovering in midair as if blocked by an invisible wall. The hesitation in his green eyes briefly turned to disappointment, but he said nothing. It seemed like all the words were stuck somewhere, leaving only silence. Katsuki rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. He held it out to Izuku, his hands stiff as if he wanted to keep his distance. Inside, the ruby ring - something Izuku treasured for Ochako - was carefully hidden among the bills. Katsuki didn't want Izuku to open the envelope and examine it in front of him, because he wouldn't know how to explain the presence of the ring. It was better if Izuku felt embarrassed and let him go, and it seemed like Katsuki had won this bet.Katsuki held the envelope in his hand for a few more seconds, then put it down on the table when Izuku still didn't reach out to take it. The air in the room was thick, each movement seemed to last forever.Before leaving, Katsuki suddenly stopped. For some reason – a vague urge, or perhaps a bit of unspoken atonement – he rummaged through his pocket, taking out another wad of bills. Without saying a word, he placed them on the table, the cold stack of bills lying precariously like a cruel end.Katsuki walked out of the room, leaving the hotel in an odd silence. His steps were steady, neither heavy nor hurried.He found a river, where the streetlights reflected shimmeringly on the rippling water. The chirping of insects mingled with the chill of the night. Katsuki stopped at a roadside stall, bought a can of beer and a box of cheap cigarettes. The metal can was cold in his hand, and the cigarette box was light.He was still dressed in black from head to toe, only without the mascot head that hid his face. Katsuki sat down on an old wooden bench, took off the mask, and threw it aside. With a familiar movement, he used a small explosion from his palm to light the cigarette. A small light flashed.Taking a long drag, Katsuki closed his eyes, letting the acrid smoke fill his chest, then slowly exhaled. The faint smoke spread into the night air, as fragile as what he was trying to hold onto. In his mind, each scenario appeared one by one, so clear that it made his chest tighten.He imagined Izuku's face when he saw the ring among the bills. Confused, for sure, his eyebrows would furrow for a moment, his eyes meeting that small object in disbelief. Then perhaps, those green eyes would be cloudy with conflicting emotions – a little anger, a little helplessness, and perhaps a remorse that he would never want to admit. The breath in his mouth seemed bitterer as he imagined Izuku sitting silently, his hand clutching the ring. He would probably think for a long time, his eyes staring blankly into the space around him, wondering whether he should continue or not. But no matter what, he would kneel before Ochako, would hold up the ring with the gentlest gaze Katsuki had ever seen, ever yearning to keep it for himself. In Katsuki's mind, their small wedding was like a slow-motion movie, every detail vividly appearing. A simple but warm ceremony, their close friends gathered together in cheerful laughter and sincere blessings. Katsuki imagined himself standing next to Izuku, not as husband and wife, not as lovers. He would go up to the podium, holding the microphone, giving a speech that was so flowery and creepy that even he couldn't believe it.A light breeze blew by, causing ripples on the river. Katsuki stared at the beer can in his hand, unopened.He didn't know how long he sat there. Time seemed to stop, leaving only the cigarette smoke that slowly faded away, leaving a faint burnt smell in the air. Katsuki lowered his gaze, smiling faintly. He had chosen wrongly, from beginning to end, and now he was sitting in the night questioning every decision he made.A game between blades and scratches, in the end, it didn't leave anyone with a good ending.Katsuki's phone screen suddenly lit up in the darkness, highlighting the scratches crisscrossing the metal back of his new phone. He stared at the light, frowning. Some asshole had tried to steal it a few weeks ago, but failed and dropped it. The ugly scratches covering the phone were no different from the scratches running across his knees, disfiguring the otherwise perfect expensive item.
[Deku sent you a message.]
“Why don’t you go home and sleep…?” Katsuki muttered. It was late at night, he knew Izuku should be resting after all the stress he caused. Yet he was texting at this hour.He opened the message.And Katsuki’s eyes immediately widened, pupils dilating as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.The message was just a few short words, no fancy words, no long words.
“Kacchan, I got another scratch. It hurts. Bring me the first aid kit tomorrow, please?"