Chapter Text
October 21, 20XX
Test Subject: 00626 (GROUND ZERO)
Effects of Explosive Recoil on the Superfic. Radial Nerve
Abstract: The purposes of this study are 1) to demonstrate the effects of momentum conservation from explosions on the of a specified peripheral nerve in man and 2) to determine the limit of the subject 00626’s neurological response to constant nitroglycerine detonation….
Dr. Izuku Midoriya hates days like this. He much prefers the quieter tests -- collecting noninvasive samples, physical exertion tests, psychological tests. Even after all these years, the screaming gets to him. Some days, like this one, he has to shift his headphones so the pads are at his temples, instead of his ears, to muffle the sound while still appearing to listen. The explosions still carry through the one-way glass, though. Even muffled, they vibrate the control panel enough to make his fingers numb. He averts his eyes from the tormented expression of 00626’s face as he struggles against his arm restraints.
Days like these make him question the importance of his research.
The test over, Midoriya watches as the men in advanced bomb suits escort 00626 out of the test chamber. Usually, 00626 is the most difficult subject at Yuuei Institute. He fights every chance he gets, wastes precious experiment time jumping around the test chamber, pushing away security and researchers with dangerous blasts, yelling profanities and spitting. He strains himself even further than the tests allow doing so. Today, he looks broken. The fight is gone from his eyes, like he’s accepted defeat.
Something compels Midoriya to wait outside of the Nerve Function Lab that day. He watches them attach the electrodes to 00626’s arms, usually something they have to restrain him to do. He lies there, still, like a dormant volcano. Midoriya notices for the first time the deep bags under 00626’s eyes. It had never occurred to him to consider the quality of sleep of the subject, but it did make sense that it wasn’t nearly enough. He watches 00626 wince as the researchers handle him, testing his elbow mobility then moving his arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. Midoriya feels sick to his stomach with guilt.
He moves to the side when security escorts him out, down to the subject rest chambers. He waits until they return and turn the corner of the hallways before he carefully opens the stairwell door, shuts it silently. The stairwell is darker than he imagined. They feel more like the grimy stairs of a public parking lot, all concrete and fluorescent lights, than something part of a state-of-the-art facility. The third floor, where the subjects are contained, is clean but sterile as the rest of the facility. It feels more like a hospital than somewhere people live.
Subject 00626’s room is at the far end of the hallway, the second to last door on the left. Midoriya peers into the window of his room. They’ve dressed him in comfortable-looking sweats, and he sits cross legged on his bed, back to the door, reading something to warm lamplight. If it wasn’t for the apartment’s bareness and the long mirror, which seems better suited to a police interrogation room, it might actually be a passable room. He notices, though, that 00626 holds his book open with his elbow instead of his hand, that he’s massaging his wrist intently as he reads.
Then, 00626 turns around. He makes eye contact with Midoriya, intentionally.
It’s not one-way glass.
00626 stands, sets his book face-down on the bed (it’s War and Peace apparently), and strides up to the window, hands in his pocket. Midoriya leans back nervously. It’d be perfectly reasonable to leave, pretend he’d never been here, but something about the way 00626 looks at him keeps his feet locked to the floor. He’d never seen 00626 up close before -- always several feet away, behind a desk or a control panel. He’s more muscular that Midoriya had imagined, though his scarred arms and shoulders are easily predicted. His eyes, stunningly, are red. Not the whites, no, the irises. A secondary characteristic of his Quirk?
“Haven’t you fuckin’ had enough staring at me today, Doc?” 00626 drawls, his voice muffled and almost metallic sounding through the glass. He leans on one forearm against the window pane. He’s so close that his breath fogs the window. “Aren’t you supposed to give me four hours of rest before taking my vitals again?”
“Oh, I’m not here to take any measurements,” Midoriya says, realizing instantly how weird that sounds. His palms are sweaty, and he feels hot even in the temperature controlled environment.
“The fuck you want then?” He almost looks amused. It’s hard to imagine him getting many visitors.
Midoriya has no idea what to say, so he decides to be honest. “You seemed… distressed after today’s experiments. I wanted to check on you.”
“Of course I’m fucking distressed doc, I just blew out my own arms.” The amusement is gone. Hatred replaces it. “Not that any of you seem to give a shit.”
Midoriya bites his lower lip. No, he hasn’t particularly cared until today. He’s always felt a little bit of guilt about it, but it’s been easy to brush away. After all, 00626 is such an important subject. His Quirk is like none of the others they have. Most of the subjects are benign, easily traceable to other biological sources -- bioluminescence, animalistic features, regeneration. But sweating a synthetic explosive compound and detonating it with his hands with only minor physical repercussions? That was extraordinary, an absolute blessing in the lab, though, admittedly, a curse for the subject. “I’m sorry, 00626, I--”
“That’s not my <i>fucking</i> name!!” 00626 screams, slamming his hand on the glass. It’s bullet (and explosion) proof, but Midoriya still backs away when he sees sparks fly from the subject’s palms.
“Uh.. Ground Zero then?”
“For a scientist, you’re a dumbass, Dr. Midoriya,” 00626 says, sneering. “Who the fuck would name their child ‘Ground Zero’? I mean, the same kind of bastards that left me here, I guess.” He sighs. “It’s Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Katsuki.” Midoriya nods, committing it to memory. He stares at 006-- Bakugou’s face while he repeats over and over again, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki. “Katsuki, you seemed different today. I’ve never seen you so…”
“Well-behaved? Did I earn a gold star?” Bakugou starts to walk away from the window. Midoriya has to strain to hear him. “Look, I’m tired okay? I’m going to sleep. Leave me the fuck alone.”
When Midoriya leaves, he feels a pang in his chest, like he shouldn’t have.
----
“Really! The damage was so minor. It was like he’d pulled a muscle while exercising, it’s incredible!” Dr. Uraraka is always enthusiastic after an experiment. Her passion for her field borders on inappropriate sometimes, especially when there was a competition at hand. Her research, though, was incredible, and Midoriya sometimes envies her ability to work without rest for days. The day after an all-nighter, she seems the same as any other day.
“He did seem off today. I’m wondering if there are psychological ramifications instead,” Dr. Todoroki chimes in, taking a bite of his lunch. “I’d like to see the experiment replicated with a concurrent EEG.”
Midoriya stares intently into his katsudon. He doesn’t want to say what he thinks, for fear of revealing his visit, but he knows that if he doesn’t say anything the test will resume without any pushback. So, he says, “It makes sense to replicate the experiment in a while, though, so he has time to recover.”
The table all turns to look at Midoriya. He’s usually the last person to hesitate on an experiment. If anything, he spends too much time imagining different scenarios and potential tests instead of dedicating time to questioning the correct course of tests. Dr. Iida sits up a bit. “It goes without saying, of course. We’ve all seen how 00626’s attitude is when we do that kind of test two days in a row.”
Of course. Test Chamber C will never quite look the same.
“I wonder why Izuku is so keen on this suddenly,” Dr. Asui says, tapping her lip with one finger. “Did you have any revelations today?”
Panicking, Midoriya gulps, searches for a reason. “I don’t want to discount behavioral changes in our findings. Even though we were only looking at physical data, it seems appropriate to consider that into our report…” Everyone nods. Okay, that worked.
He’s grateful when the subject changes to office gossip (“Shouto, is it true that you and Momo hooked up in the chem lab last week?” to which the answer was the worst no anyone has ever heard), forces himself to eat his lunch despite his poor appetite. His mind keeps wandering back to the dead look in Bakugou’s eyes. Everything feels wrong. He goes through the motions of the day, checking his samples slower than usual, making typos on his datasheet that take him thirty minutes to find and fix. He ends up getting out later than usual.
Todoroki, though, still waits for him in the lobby. Ah, it’s Thursday, that’s right. “Izuku, you wrapped up slowly today. Are you sick?”
“Oh, it’s just a little headache. I should be fine.” Midoriya says, still nervous and still an awful liar. Todoroki, blessedly, doesn’t bring it up.
They’re silent on the train ride to their usual bar, which isn’t that odd except that Todoroki looks over at Midoriya every now and then as though he’s checking that he’s still there. They get three drinks in before he finally says something. “You don’t have a headache, Izuku.”
“Of course I don’t,” Midoriya says, swirling his beer in its glass. “I uh, went up to the subject resting area today.”
“To visit 00626.” Of course he knows. “I figured. Did he threaten to kill you?”
“No.” That probably wouldn’t have even phased him. That’s just a normal day for 00626. “He did seem off today. I was worried about him, and I wasn’t wrong to do so, I think. He seems exhausted, Shouto. I’m starting to wonder if he’s going to be okay.”
“Or if what we’re doing is wrong.” Todoroki sips his beer. “May I remind you that we’ve discussed this thoroughly already? I believe you’re the one who said ‘the greater good is our top priority here, and all we need to do is remind them that this work is for a higher cause’?”
“I did.” His former words sting. “It feels different. I don’t think B-- 00626 would care much.”
“What were you going to call him?” Todoroki’s eyes narrow. He’s always been able to see right through him, his gaze like a hawk’s.
“He told me his name is Bakugou Katsuki,” Midoriya admits.
“You know that’s classified information.”
“Yes, but the subject gave it voluntarily -- look, I think he might not want to be part of these experiments anymore. I spent today trying to think of a way to give him, I dunno, a break?” His beer is done for, and he’s a little too eager about the next one. “I don’t mean removing him from the program. At this point, he’s far too dangerous to be released into the general public, but I do worry that he might be burning out, forgive my pun.”
“Forgiven.” Todoroki says, and asks no more questions. Midoriya frets for a long time, though, enough for him to finally say. “Your train of logic applies to you too. What we’re doing is for the greater good.”
Midoriya gulps down his drink.
“I know.”