Chapter Text
Stop it.
He sobbed.
Please stop it.
He begged.
It hurts, Kacchan.
Everything fell on deaf ears.
"What are you gonna do about that, you quirkless weakling?"
The weak shall quiver beneath the stronger.
Before U.A.
After Midoriya Inko passed away, Midoriya Izuku disappeared.
Bakugou Katsuki could never care less, except the fact that his mother kept nagging him to at least help with the police and detectives with all the 'you are his childhood friend can you answer some of these questions' bullshit. With no surprise, it annoyed the shit out of Bakugou. Frankly speaking, everything that would have anything to do with Izuku definitely would annoy Bakugou. He answered all questions from the authorities honestly—except the fact that he used to beat up the boy for just—well, being weak. A twisted mind of a child that wanted to show superiority, simply put.
Bakugou was always forced to sit down nicely in his living room, together with the police and detectives who were desperate for clues to aid them in the search of Midoriya Izuku. Today was exceptionally longer than the usual sessions and he was starting to lose patience.
“Hey, are we done here? I have shit to do and this is not one of them,” Bakugou blurted out, his sitting posture becoming more casual.
“Katsuki! Behave would you, geez!”
A smack landed on his head and Bakugou snarled at his mother, “Oh shut up, I have answered everything they asked! I have shit ton of stuff to do that concerns me more, damn it!”
Before his mother could land another smack and yelled at him, the police officers and detectives stood up and bowed to them, eyeing Bakugou, they said, “Thank you for today’s information, Bakugou-kun. I hope everything goes well with the search—and may Midoriya-kun return to our side anytime soon.”
He didn’t.
After U.A.
Given his talent, Bakugou shone into another bright seed of a hero from the prestigious school none other than U.A. High. Despite that, not many agencies would dare to risk it to work together with the aggressive and short-tempered lad—not that that bothered him so much.
Kirishima Eijirou—a hard-working, talented graduate from U.A. High—was always by his side. His initially annoying over-familiarity and prying made Bakugou weak to his knees now. As much as he hated to admit or say it, Bakugou loved Kirishima. And with all that said, the feeling was mutual.
They debuted as a professional duo hero. Kirishima with his hardening quirk and Bakugou with his explosive quirk with no doubt made a good combo. After their first debut, they immediately got a huge influx of fans fawning over their incredible job in missions—and probably their relationship (nobody really knows).
After the Kamino incident back in U.A. High, Bakugou became fond of holding hands. Scratch that—holding Kirishima’s hands. Kirishima would softly and gently rub on Bakugou’s hands whenever he was upset or was about to explode into uncontrollable anger, and it would magically calm the explosive hero down. Kirishima would whisper sweet nothings and get smacked on the face—depending on his luck, he could get whacked on the face with a flying fist or with a pair of loving lips.
Everything was fine, Bakugou thought. Life was pretty great, he thought. Being able to live under the same roof with someone he truly loved, being able to have the position as one of the best heroes in the chart, being able to show the world what he was made of. Everything was good.
Until one mission went wrong.
Bakugou’s eyelids felt heavy. He tried fluttering them open—all he got was a sharp pain on the back of his head. The floor was stained with blood, most possibly his. The throbbing discomfort on his head and the blood had pretty much explained that someone has busted something hard—maybe steel—on his head, that had sent him unconscious. He tried moving his hands, and fuck. They were bound in heavy restraints of metal. There was no way he could use his quirk like this. Aside from that, he was pretty much free. His legs were not restrained, thankfully. He wasn’t gagged or anything weird either.
Not far from him was Kirishima, legs restrained and strong, thick straps enveloping his shoulders and chest—tying his body up against the pillar. Kirishima pretty much was in the same state as him, except the fact that he was more heavily restrained, and he was still unconscious. Bakugou scrunched his nose, something is not right. He tried to stand up with his wobbly legs, in which he himself did not know why they were so weak at that moment. Nevertheless, he still made an effort to close his distance with Kirishima.
“Kiri—“
“So are you the famous duo that recently made their way up the hero ranking charts?” A voice said.
Bakugou swiftly shifted his stance to face the direction where he heard footsteps closing in. The person stopped halfway, their figure lingering in the shadows.
“Who—the fuck are you,” Bakugou hissed, “Show yourself.”
“My, my, patience, Bakugou Katsuki.”
The tone of this person has already ticked Bakugou off, nobody talks to him like he was some child that needed extra lessons. “Patience my ass, show yourself.”
A scoff elicited from the mysterious figure, “I will do so, pretty much sooner or later,” he said, voice still laced with that bitter-sweet poison.
“Kacchan.”
Kacchan?
“What—“ Bakugou lost his footing, he fell with a thud on the ground, “De-Deku?”
The figure stepped out of the shadows, the dim light illuminating his face, highlighting his features. Bakugou was at loss of words. It was him.
It was him.
Midoriya Izuku.
“Hello, Kacchan.”, Midoriya smiled—the smile that Bakugou had never ever seen in his whole life he lived knowing Midoriya, “Did you miss me?”
Bakugou didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to respond. He froze on the ground and stared at his long-lost childhood friend with pure disbelief. The news declared him dead years back, probably a year after Bakugou enrolled into U.A. High. But now Midoriya was there, he was there. Standing right in front of Bakugou.
If it weren’t for his unique locks, Bakugou would have been unsure if it were really Midoriya. He looked—different. His usually bright and bubbly eyes now had a rather cold and intimidating gaze. His build—has changed. A lot. A lot. The scrawny little boy that Bakugou knew in the past—this was not him. Midoriya wore a white shirt that hugged his toned muscles, covered with a black vest, and he had a badly knotted red tie. His whole posture was different as well, Bakugou thought. Midoriya would usually hunch his shoulders a little bit, as if he was scared as if he was protecting himself from something—anything. But now, he stood tall and full of confidence and bravery. It was pretty much intimidating.
“Kacchan,”
The voice snapped Bakugou back to the whole crazy, absurd situation he was in.
“I thought they said that you were dead,” was all that came out of Bakugou’s mouth. He wasn’t sure what was the point of saying that anymore, but he did say it anyway.
Midoriya tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raising up, his eyes looking unimpressed, “Yeah, and I bet you didn’t give a fuck, did you? You were probably happy with the news.”
His brows furrowed, “Nobody said that you fuckmunch.”
“Judging from what you did to me, Kacchan, we all pretty much know how you would feel if I died.”
“That’s not—“
“Yes, it is.”
A kick landed on his stomach. It was too sudden, everything was too sudden, he couldn’t register what happened. He fell to the ground with a loud thud, vigorous coughing echoed in the room. Bakugou doubled over defensively, he threw up what little he had eaten earlier. His red eyes shot up in fury and disbelief, never had Midoriya manage to land a punch or a kick on him. Never.
“Deku, you fucking—“
Another kick landed on Bakugou, this time on his face. The sound of Midoriya’s leather shoe clashing against Bakugou’s skin bounced off the walls, ringing loudly. His nose was bleeding at this point. Bakugou tried to at least stand up, only to have Midoriya pressing his foot down on his back—hard—shoving him back to the concrete floor.
“Isn’t it great to be able to play like in the old times again, Kacchan?”
Bakugou wheezed, his blood was boiling with rage.
Nobody treats him like this. Nobody.
Especially not Deku.
“I’ll fucking kill you.” He managed to say in a low growl.
Midoriya grinned, “I missed this so much, Kacchan. You, and your mindset that you are always on the top—always the best.” A hand, covered in scars caressed Bakugou’s bruised cheek, “We will see about that, yeah?” Midoriya chimed, amused at Bakugou who tried to wriggle away from the touch.
“Hey, Kacchan, do you remember when you beat me up, and call me names, and shamed me in front of the whole class? You do, don’t you? Of course, you do, that was the thing you always do to me every day, even until junior high.”
Bakugou frowned, “What do you want, you piece of shit-“
Midoriya’s calloused hand gripped his blonde locks and tugged on them painfully, pulling his head up, “I want you to experience the same thing I went through.”, Midoriya said with pure malice.
Suddenly, panic bubbled up within Bakugou. He had a lot—a lot of things to be made up when it comes to Midoriya. And he was uncharacteristically scared. Scared of what Midoriya had in that twisted mind of his. What was he planning? What could he possibly do—
“Bakugou?”
Fuck.
Kirishima.
Kirishima was dragged into this mess because of him.
“Who are you?” he raised his voice, “Get your hands off of him,” Kirishima was no idiot, he immediately registered the situation they were both in, not to mention waking up to seeing an unknown man kneeling above Bakugou who was in a pretty much bad state.
Midoriya laughed, and suddenly it connected all the dots in Bakugou’s mind. And he was—terrified. Beating him up, shaming him in front of the whole class, driving everyone away from him, he has a lot to be made up. And Midoriya was about to do it. Right there and then. To him.
Midoriya was going to break him in any ways that he could think of in front of Kirishima. Color drained from Bakugou’s face and his lips trembled, he couldn’t read minds, heck, and it scared him because he didn’t know what the fuck Midoriya was planning to do next. His eyes that were usually brimming with ambition and courage were wide with fear, and Kirishima noticed immediately.
“Bakugou?”
“Kirishima Eijirou,” Midoriya butted in, “Be honored that you can see this arrogant son of a bitch writhe and cry. It’s not every day you see that.”
Before anyone could say anything, Midoriya threw Bakugou to the wall. His back slammed painfully loud against the concrete and he slumped down to the ground. Bakugou was speechless, he barely could register and process anything at all. The loud ringing in his ears and the sharp pain across his body sent him groaning uncomfortably. He didn’t even notice when Midoriya fished out a rather large syringe from his back pocket and injected whatever stuff was in there into his veins. Bakugou fought back, but all he got was a punch to his already bruised face.
Minutes passed and Bakugou finally regained his breath, he was about to lash out at Midoriya with death threats and all profanities he could think of until Midoriya unlocked the metal restraints around his wrists. The action sent both Kirishima and Bakugou at loss of whatever was going to happen next. Everything seemed too absurd, too surreal, too insane. They two looked at Midoriya, puzzled, but all the man did was smile.
Bakugou took the opportunity to stand up with what little balance he had left after being tossed around like some toy, and brought his hands up in front of his face, his palms facing Midoriya. Ready to ignite the shit out of him. His hands twitched and Bakugou grinned from ear to ear, it was his win.
Or so he thought.
Nothing came out of his palms.
Nothing.
Bakugou looked at his hands and tried doing the same again, with his most powerful blasts. But nothing came out.
Red eyes widened—horrified—his quirk was what built up his pride, it was what made him make his way through up until now. He looked over at Kirishima, who was as aghast as he was.
He couldn’t activate his quirk.
A maniacal laughter abruptly brought their attention back to the green haired man.
“How is it, Kacchan? Isn’t it great! A drug that cancels out quirks! Isn’t that great!?”
Bakugou couldn’t even say anything at this point, he was so scared, so so scared. His whole body was shaking and his legs gave out on him, he desperately brought up his hands to try and activate his quirk, refusing to listen whatever bullshit Midoriya had said.
“Come on—come on—“ he chanted, palms still facing Midoriya, who was now closing in him, “Damn it—DAMN IT!” Bakugou was screaming now, his arms were trembling uncontrollably and his legs started kicking on the floor, bringing his body further away from Midoriya until there was nowhere else to go.
Bakugou’s back was against the hard, cold wall. He was cornered. He had nowhere to go. He didn’t dare look up at Midoriya, he stared at his palms with pure fear—fear of losing his quirk permanently. His heart drummed loudly under his ribcage, as if threatening to burst out of his body anytime soon. He could hear Kirishima screaming his name from the distance, worry thick in his cracking voice.
“Hey,”
Bakugou bit his lip.
“Look at me.”
Bakugou did.
And his heart sank.
A delirious smile across Midoriya’s face that he could swear to God had never seen before, was there. In front of him. Too close.
“How does it feel to be quirkless?”
The raging fire inside him felt like it was gradually, but surely, flickering away. Never had he thought of this finally coming up, catching up to him. Bakugou was about to open his mouth to say something—anything—but he was too slow. Midoriya had pulled on his hair and slammed his head down on the cold floor, his back facing Midoriya.
“What the fuck—Let me go!” Bakugou screeched, never stop fighting back, clawing and kicking and—just trying to get away. Get out from this mess.
Midoriya said nothing, but even without Bakugou seeing his face, he knew that he still had that malicious smile tugging on the corner of his chapped lips. Midoriya ran up his rough hand under Bakugou’s top and he leaned in, very much close to Bakugou’s ears, saying, “Let him watch.”
Bakugou’s stomach twisted with disgust and horror. His struggles became more vigorous and more frantic as Midoriya ripped off his slacks in one smooth, swift motion. The cold air slapped against his now bare skin and it scared him what was to come next. He screamed obscenity at the other man as he tried to pry away the hand that was holding his head down, and when he managed to get a better view of his surroundings, the first thing that he saw was Kirishima.
Kirishima.
The redhead’s usual bright attitude was gone without a trace; his face was covered in pure dread. His red eyes were wide; tears were brimming at the edge. He kept repeating the word ‘please stop it’ in a low whisper, but loud enough for Bakugou to hear. And it hurts him. It pains him to see Kirishima like this because of him.
In a split second, Midoriya’s fingers were around Bakugou’s neck, enveloping the limb from behind the blonde. Bakugou immediately tensed up and his breathing became heavy. “Red Riot, will you do me a favor and do the honors to watch?” Midoriya chuckled, his voice low and intimidating—dominating. “I have to teach Kacchan a lesson, I want him to feel how to be treated like shit. Like how he treated me back then.” Midoriya continued, his green eyes still glued to Kirishima’s red ones. He looked lost, and of course, he did. Bakugou never brought up anything ever again about Midoriya right after his disappearance. He never talked to anyone—he never said anything about how he treated him in the past. He never did.
“Don’t—“, a raspy voice snapped both of the men’s attention at the blonde, who still remained unmoving in Midoriya’s grip. “D-Don’t look.” He whispered, his voice shaking and as much as he hated to admit it, tears were starting to wet his cheeks.
“Please—“
He begged.
“Stop this—“
Midoriya smiled.
“What can you do about it, you quirkless weakling?”
The weak shall quiver beneath the stronger.