The End of the Day

The doctors keep Izuku in the hospital for a night. "In case of complications," they say. Katsuki wants to spit fuck complications in their faces, but doesn't because there might actually be complications. 

At some point, he goes home. It's a quiet train ride, and the seats on either side of him are empty. Katsuki tries not to dwell on memories. But with the silence heavy around him, it's impossible to keep the thoughts from coming.

He returns to the hospital the next morning, since he has been excused from school for the internship. The first place he goes is Izuku's room, but Izuku is still sleeping. Katsuki pauses for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He can hear a gentle snore. One of Izuku's hands twitches, and his eyelashes flutter like he's about to wake up, but all he does is turn his head to the side and continue snoring. Katsuki withdraws quietly, keeping his hand on the door until it shuts to minimize the noise.

Since the person he most wants to talk to is still asleep, he makes his way to Togata's room instead. Last time he visited, Togata had still been unconscious, but he's awake now. His face is dull, and even his hair looks droopy. Togata brightens slightly when Katsuki walks in, but it's only a shadow of his normal vivacity.

"G'morning," he says in a voice that sounds painfully cheery. 

Katsuki stares at him. From the looks of it, his injuries aren't too severe (he has an IV drip in one arm, but he's sitting up without support). They saved Eri and the other kids, but Nighteye was badly injured. Katsuki wonders if that's why Togata looks so gloomy. He doesn't have to wonder for long.

"I'm quirkless," the older boy says. Togata turns to stare out the window, although all that's visible is empty sky. "Do you know what happened to the kids?" His voice sounds almost conversational, but it's hollow. 

Katsuki can't tell if it's a real question or a rhetorical one.

"They're still alive, but we didn't save them at all." Togata pauses. "He was keeping them alive to use in his experiments."

"What does that mean?" Katsuki asks.

Togata only shakes his head. "Eri is the healthiest of them, but her limbs show signs of repeatedly being subjected to Overhaul's quirk."

Katsuki feels his stomach tighten. He had a rough idea of what was going on, and here's the confirmation. It's nothing short of torture. When he stops at the door to the ward where the children are, he hesitates, and bile rises in his throat. The children are no longer under plagueface's control, but they've survived things no child should have to experience. He grits his teeth and opens the door.

No one lets him actually see the kids. There are more excuses about confidentiality, but he finds out a little bit. The kids all have red eyes and a small bump on their foreheads where Eri has a horn. None of them have awoken on their own. None of them are free of bandages. None of them have truly been saved.

After checking on Nighteye and the others from their group, he returns to Izuku's room. It's only a little past noon, but his body feels leaden. Izuku greets him with a small smile, and Katsuki feels some of the weight lift. But Izuku, of course, asks for updates, and Katsuki gives them reluctantly. With each bit of news, Izuku's smile grows fainter. In some technicality, the mission was a success, but it hardly feels that way now.

"Everyone's alive?"

Katsuki nods.

Izuku breathes a sigh of relief. "It could have been worse."

"It could have been a hell of a lot better, too."

Inko arrives a little while later, and when the next shift of doctors comes through, Izuku is released from the hospital.

On the way home, they receive one more piece of bad news.

"The police van transporting Overhaul was attacked, suspected involvement of the League of Villains," Izuku says, looking up from his phone screen.

"Fuck," Katsuki replies.

Izuku pockets his phone silently. He looks like the optimism has been drained out of him, and part of Katsuki wants to comfort him. He could say that he's sure the kids will be fine, or something like that, but those would just be empty words.

He stays with Izuku all the way home, through the entryway and down the hall until they're in Izuku's room. Katsuki sits on one side of the bed and Izuku on the other, backs resting against the wall. Silence stretches between them, but it's not the usual comfortable silence. Instead it's filled with worries and regrets left unspoken. This silence makes him restless. 

Katsuki changes the way he's sitting once and then once again. It's too early to sleep, and while they have homework they could be doing, it doesn't feel like the right time. Katsuki rests his back against the wall and stares at the opposite wall. Unsurprisingly, there's an All Might poster looking back at him. The bed shifts, and he feels Izuku settle next to him, shoulders almost touching.

"Kacchan, are you okay?" Izuku's voice is hesitant.

Katsuki tilts his head back until it hits the wall. If he looks out of the corner of his eye, he can see Izuku's face in profile. "Yeah, close enough," he says. "You?"

Silence pervades the room once more. Izuku is slower to answer than he was. "I need to be stronger," he says. "And now, I feel even weaker, like Eri's quirk took me too far back. I need to train."

Katsuki lets his eyes roam over the room, over the All Might memorabilia and the stack of unfinished homework on Izuku's desk, over the bookshelf with a mix of hero magazines, old textbooks, and his own notebooks. "It's not all on your shoulders," he says.

Izuku shifts until they're sitting face-to-face. His eyes show regret and worry and something else.

"What?" Katsuki snaps.

"I could have done more." The eye contact breaks, and Izuku stares at his hands. "Togata was the closest to being number one, he could've risen through the hero rankings, like Hawks, but now he's…"

"Quirkless," Katsuki says.

"Quirkless," Izuku repeats. "Maybe he can still be a hero," he says glumly.

"It doesn't mean he's useless." The words slip out before Katsuki can stop them, and then he realizes what he said and almost wants to laugh. He bites his lip in an effort to keep his face neutral.

Izuku is staring at him again, and his eyes are full of questions. He shouldn't understand the bitter irony, but Katsuki can't help but wonder. How many times did Katsuki call him useless for not having a quirk? His thoughts spiral. And then, before anything more can be said, Izuku's phone rings.