Chapter Text
This was disorientation…
Jarringly, he feels what seem like hands pulling and tugging at his body, forcing him onto unsteady legs; wrenching him away from the boy he was clinging to.
Red and blue flashing lights left him in a dizzying haze.
Every sound was altogether deafening and muffled at once.
Voices, sirens, the sound of screaming. Whose was that, anyway? Why did his throat feel so raw?
Was this what drowning felt like?
That tight constricting feeling in your chest; stealing the breath from you. The rush of your own heartbeat in your ears, the muffled din rushing loudly, surging through your head. Pulsating in nauseating waves.
His equilibrium was off.
He could hear a cacophony of questions being directed at him, but...
Katsuki was drowning in a sea of red.
The sight of Icarus’ descent would forever be burned into his retinas. An image akin to melted wax.
The harsh breaths that make it past his lips are nothing short of choked pained gasps and he finds himself fighting against the hold of the EMT’s attempting to restrain him; his trembling hands reaching out, desperately searching.
Everything was so wrong.
He was late.
He was too late and everything was red.
He hardly remembers anything that happens next, each second a passing blur.
Only reacting when two more EMT’s run past him with a stretcher, he tries again to force his way closer. Yet still, he was restrained.
Couldn't these people understand? They were seriously pissing him off. Couldn’t they see? He had to be near him. He had to know if he was ok! He had to know if his shoddy attempt at CPR even worked.
He’d never been this stricken in his life.
As if the axis of his world was flipped entirely upside down.
And yet, what else could he have expected?
The signs had been there.
However, like everyone else around them, he’d elected to ignore them. Blindsided by a sunny disposition and ceaseless optimism. It was Deku, afterall. Cheery to a fault.
When did all of that slip away? How did it ever get so bad?
Panic spikes within him as they move Deku’s broken body, leaving nothing but a smear as a reminder on the pavement in front of their school’s main entrance.
A thought occured to him then, It had to have been the beginning of the week.
Deku had seemingly been himself up until the beginning of this week. However, Katsuki was so preoccupied with his own trivial matters, boasting about U.A. or getting himself into trouble, that he hadn’t noticed the shift.
Just when had the fight left those viridian eyes?
In the end, it didn’t matter when. His light was snuffed out and he was too late.
Too painfully late to realize… Izuku’s flame had been extinguished.
And now, the pavement… his prone body… everything was coated an angry, brilliant, flaming vermilion and this was one fire that Katsuki couldn’t put out.
He’d fucked up. After everything? He'd practically written the script.
Guilt left him trembling as paramedics diligently worked on the broken boy beside him in the ambulance. They raced against time to get to the hospital.
Vaguely, he realized shock was setting in.
His body had moved on its own.
He didn’t even remember hearing himself beg to come with them. He didn’t even know why they let him. He could hardly be considered any type of family to Deku.
He’d lost that right long ago.
He’d never get it back.
Anxiety grips him tightly as the paramedics charge up their defibrillators.
Katuski watched; agonizingly, as his once childhood friend flatlined twice on the way to the hospital.
Never before has a heartbeat been so infuriatingly fickle, like the flicker of a candle in the dark on a windy night. The odds stacked against them.
It stunned him to realize that he’d have given anything for just a few moments longer.
As if somehow he could reach out and physically keep Izuku’s heart beating with sheer willpower alone.
Thankfully; for once, time was on their side as they pulled up to the ambulance loading bay of Musutafu Regional Hospital.
Everything that happened after that was a blur, but apparently, it hadn’t passed without some more fight on his part.
“Young man!” Katsuki is startled from his rage when a pair of fingers snap together in front of his face. His dazed gaze locks onto that of an elderly woman, a medical assistant it would seem.
“I understand that this is an awful and traumatic experience for you dear, but there are some important questions that we have to ask you and we can't do that unless you calm down. Can you do that for me?”
Katsuki’s mouth clamps shut in shame, nodding mutely.
“Okay… good,” she continues gently, “now, we need to know the young man’s name.”
“I-izuku, Midoriya Izuku,” Katsuki rasps out, vaguely taking note that he’d been provided with a blanket.
“And how are you related to Midoriya?” she asks next.
“...He’s in my class.”
“I see,” her expression is tight and questioning as she enters the information he was providing onto a tablet, “would you happen to know anything more about him? Who his parents might be? Or any emergency contacts we should be aware of?”
The realization dawns on him like a slap to the face.
“Oh god…” his voice cracks, “Aunty Inko…”
Dread rushes through him at the thought of how devastated she was going to be. Guilt grips him like a vice as unknowing tears stream down his cheeks. The medical assistant hesitates but asks him a few more generalized questions before giving him some space.
What seemed like hours trickle by.
During this time Katsuki was moved into a private waiting room just outside of the OR.
Several different people; medical staff and policeman included, come to question him and take his statement during this time. Having rasped out answers on autopilot, they assure him that his parents have been contacted.
An officer by the name of; Tsukauchi Naomasa, appears later and stays with him, sitting just to his right. Whether out of respect for his space or due to Katuski’s own surly nature, the older man elects to maintain silence. Not bothering him with any more unnecessary questions unless the need arose.
A ways off, familiar voices could be heard and Tsukauchi stands abruptly, walking down the hall before disappearing from sight. As Katsuki’s parents both round the corner, a gasp and pained sob could be heard in their wake.
Katuski’s never heard such a painful sound in his life, and instantly he knew, his parents had brought Aunty with them.
He was caught in a haze of tight embraces, worried expressions, hushed reassurances, and several more prying questions. At this point he was so drained, he could hardly find it in himself to answer them.
And even still, despite everything that has happened thus far, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Aunt Inko being led down the corridor moments later.
Her crumpled face was distraught and tear-stricken, a wad of tissues clenched tightly in her hand.
Katsuki knew he was a distressing sight; when upon seeing him, seeing his bloodstained uniform and hands, Inko was nearly brought to her knees, if not for Tsukauchi steadying her.
Several more hours passed and it was a waiting game in which time was of the essence.
The next few hours were a mixture of dozing in and out of a fitful sleep, coffee and smoke breaks, barely audible conversations, nail-biting and pacing. There was hardly a word from the surgeons and the hallway's occupants hardly knew what to make of it.
It was nearing 1 in the morning.
School had let out that day at 3 and Katsuki stayed in detention for about an hour, making it about 4 o’clock by the time he walked out of the main entrance before seeing…
He shudders despite himself.
How long had Deku been up there?
What kind of thoughts were running through his head?
Katsuki tried to keep himself in the present as he chewed his bottom lip.
His parents stand, each of them giving Aunty a tight hug and a few whispered words.
The pair of them make their way over and give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and a kiss to his hair, as they walk out for yet another coffee and smoke break.
It was then that Katsuki found himself alone with Aunty Inko. At this point, it’d been almost 9 hours since Izuku was admitted for surgery.
Although her expression was mostly dismally blank, Katsuki found himself bristling under the older woman’s inspection. She stared at his bloodied hands for an age before uttering, “...You should really get yourself washed up, dear. I-it’s not good to let blo-” she cuts herself off, “...to l-let it dry on you like that.”
Katsuki hesitantly glances down at his stained hands and nods numbly. Standing to his feet, he’s about to make his way to the restroom before her voice halts him again.
“I…” her voice is quiet, almost as raspy as his own. “I’m glad…” she says after a moment.
Katsuki’s tired crimson gaze meets her own puffy eyes, eyes so like his, it made Katsuki’s chest clench.
“He wasn’t alone,” she continues. “H-had you not been there, then…” she trails off.
They wouldn’t be here, clinging desperately to some semblance of hope.
It went unsaid, but Katsuki knew that if he hadn’t had detention that day, they would be having a completely different conversation. One that certainly involved funeral arrangements.
“It’s funny, you know…” she huffs humorlessly, her lips trembling slightly, “I never once suspected that something like this would happen, I never even entertained the thought.... let alone, realized how much pain he’d had to have been in...” Her breath hitches, “for him to see no other way out… to do this… how could I not see it? I should have seen it....” she wrenches back a sob, finding her voice again. “D-does that make me a terrible mother?”
As Katsuki finds her watery gaze again, he treads closer, his heart in this throat as he crouches before her, taking her tightly clenched fists into his hands.
His gaze is downcast, staring at their hands, at the contrast of the blood flaking off of his stained fingers.
“This isn’t your fault, Aunty. I…” he gulps harshly, a familiar sting clouding his vision.
His own watery gaze meets hers and he can see recognition in her eyes. “...I-if I had been there for him… if things were like they used to be. If I weren't such an asshole… maybe he wouldn’t have…”
Jumped; is left unsaid, but still, he powers on. “His spark… h-he lost it because of me. And I can never…”
He could never forgive himself.
It was his fault.
He’d planted the idea like a seed he’d never known would grow.
Deku was always stronger than he appeared.
Katsuki had had no cause to believe that he’d taken his awful jeering to heart.
Inko’s lips were pursed tight as she stared down at the boy crumpling at her feet. She could see the deeply seated guilt growing within him. Guilt not much unlike her own. She gives his hands a tight squeeze. Sure, she could be angry. She could place blame, but at the end of the day, this was on her too. If she’d believed in him more or maybe if she hadn’t been so fearful of his dreams, so overprotective...
She knew something was up with Izuku when he’d come home one evening last week and hadn’t touched a bite of his katsudon.
Inko had just assumed he was tired, or that he wasn’t feeling well. She’d had no idea it could have been this… that her little boy would...
“None of that now,” she replies with a strength that blinds Katsuki. He couldn’t fathom how she’d even summoned it. “I guess that just means we’ve got more work to do.”
Katsuki’s own resolve steels at that and he gives her a nod, that was the understatement of the year.
If Izuku survived this, Katsuki would undoubtedly spend the rest of his life making up for his mistakes, there were no two ways about it.
After cleaning himself up, a few more hours pass in which their respective parents end up huddled and cuddled restlessly in the waiting room chairs. His parents giving Inko as much needed support as they could offer.
Katsuki as usual, elected for space, which they gratefully gave him.
Each of them startles as the double doors of the OR finally swing open, revealing a very haggard looking surgeon and to Katsuki’s immense surprise, a pro-hero. Recovery Girl.
Inko is on her feet in an instant, clenching a tissue tightly in her hand.
After 12 hours of waiting, they were all on pins and needles.
None of them speak for a moment.
After massaging the bridge of his nose, the surgeon speaks up. Eyeing every one of them solemnly. “I want you to know, he is alive.”
Inko sobs into her hands in relief and Katsuki’s mother comes up from behind her and brings her into her arms, steadying her.
Katsuki, on the other hand, wasn’t as relieved, he knew a lingering ‘but’ when he heard one. His fists and jaw clench in anticipation.
“...This surgery wasn’t an easy one... and as you can see,” he gestures to the smaller woman beside him, “we’d even had to enlist the help of Recovery Girl, here. Thankfully, she was on staff here tonight, we couldn’t have done this at all without her help.”
The elderly hero smiles tightly, giving them a nod. “Your boy’s injuries were very grave, I’m afraid. And to be frank, it’s a miracle he even survived. We lost him several times but, graciously… he’s a bit of a fighter, that one,” Recovery Girl relays.
Katsuki feels strong hands grip his shoulders and it was only then that he’d realized he was trembling. He gratefully accepts the grounding contact.
“That being said,” the surgeon continues after Recovery Girl had said her piece, “he isn’t out of the woods yet. Not to be the bearer of bad news, but this could quickly take a turn for the worse in a number of ways. I want you all to know the reality of what we are faced with here, full disclosure.”
Recovery Girl interjects, “the wounds Izuku received were extensive, some of which require more medical jargon to explain than one would care to hear at 4 in the morning,” she adds, trying to lighten the mood a bit, but before long, the serious edge comes back to her voice, “Not including his broken back, arms and leg, as well as any internal bleeding he had, Izuku has sustained head trauma, the severity of which is as of yet to be determined. This is obviously our main focus and concern,” she finishes with a frown.
“With the help of Recovery Girl, we managed to stop the internal bleeding completely, as well as mend most of his broken bones, shortening his recovery time in what we’d estimate to be about half. In due time and with an extensive amount of physical therapy, we are confident that Izuku would make a full recovery. We currently have no cause for concern that he wouldn’t be able to walk again,” the surgeon informs them.
“However,” Recovery Girl adds, “as it is with all head trauma, it is highly unpredictable and could very well affect him in many different ways. As is, he is still in critical condition. He had extensive swelling as well as a brain bleed that we managed to address, but he will likely need more MRI’s and or CT scans to even see the full extent of the damage and the unfortunate reality is, that there is only so much that my quirk can do without causing his body more harm than good.”
“For now, we have him in a medically induced coma, although at this point the likelihood of him waking up on his own is slim, we did this as a precautionary measure to keep him from inadvertently exacerbating his injuries until we can get a full read on the situation at hand. What he needs now is rest and rehabilitation, once his body has, for the most part, regained some of its stamina, we may be able to try the use of Recovery Girl’s quirk again.”
“I see… okay… I- I understand, a coma… seems like it would certainly be necessary at this point,” Aunty Inko reasons, more with herself than them it would seem.
“Mrs. Midoriya, we don’t want to alarm you, but given the severity of his injuries, we want you to be prepared for any… eventuality.”
Katsuki’s heart sinks as a rage bubbles up his throat to replace it. His fists clench tightly, his anger directed at no one but himself. It was irrational he knew, but anger was by default, his go-to emotion more often than not.
All of this was just… so unfair.
Sure, Deku survived, but now what?
Does he stay in a coma? For how long? What was the likelihood that he would even wake up? What if he did wake up and he was a fucking vegetable? What if he did wake up and he no longer had any of his cognitive functions? What about nerve damage? Brain bleeds? Amnesia? Cerebral edema? Blindness? Paralysis? He could be fucking deaf now for all they knew…
At what cost was his life spared? There was no way he was just going to walk away from something like this as if it never happened. And on top of that alone, the psychological damage would be just as severe. Sure, say he didn’t remember any of this, that’s great and all, but he’d still thrown himself from a 4 story building. Something like that raises questions.
Katsuki pulls away from his father’s warm hold and storms off down the hall. The older man attempts to call out for him, only to be stopped by his mother. She knew more than most how he worked, she was a hothead herself most of the time. Katsuki appreciated that she respected his need for space.
Stepping out into the cool autumn night, he could barely feel the chill.
His emotions were wound so tightly that he hardly knew what to do with himself. His palms were gripped so tight, they were smoking. It wasn't often that his natural control over his quirk slipped, it felt like he was trapped on a roller coaster hanging upside down.
As he paced back and forth under the starlit night, he catches sight of a tall, wiry, and very lithe blond man, who looked like a stray wind could blow him over. His expression is somber as he walks toward the hospital's emergency room entrance. They make eye contact and his gaunt face pinches in what seems like concern, but Katsuki promptly avoids his gaze, continuing to pace.
His problems were of no concern to the skinny bastard and he sure as shit didn’t need pity.
He needed much more than pity.
He needed a miracle...