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It started with a yellow lockbox.
The day after the court case, Tsunagu found himself back at the Bakugou household for what would hopefully be the final time. A police officer accompanied the two of them as Katsuki packed up his possessions. Any number of other people had offered to help, but Katsuki had firmly rejected all of them. Partly for the sake of his privacy and partly because there was simply no need.
Even having seen how sparse Katsuki’s room was on his prior visit, Tsunagu found himself disconcerted by how little there was for the teenager to gather. His remaining clothing filled a suitcase and his hiking gear took up half a second suitcase, and that was almost everything. Beyond that, it was just a few books, a small stack of papers collected into a folder, and some odds and ends. There was something to be said for a minimalist lifestyle, but there was a stark difference between minimalism by choice and minimalism by necessity. Tsunagu contemplated the matter as he finished folding the last of Katsuki’s clothing, eyes drifting over to the subject of his thoughts who was kneeling down by a vent for-
Silver flashed in his peripheral vision and Tsunagu didn’t have any time to think. He wasn’t fast enough to do anything, not before Katsuki did. In a single swift movement the boy twisted to catch the knife in between his fingers, using a small concentrated blast to counteract it’s momentum. Tsunagu found himself frozen with one arm outstretched, heart having nearly stopped in his chest. To his credit, Katsuki handled the sharp blade with a practiced ease. The moment the knife was in his hand, he inspected it, flipped it shut, and tucked it safely into his pocket. With the trap successfully disarmed, he reached back into the vent.
After a few moments of shifting and turning something within the shaft, Katsuki pulled back with his prize and a toothy grin on his face. His hands were wrapped tightly around a yellow lockbox, a similar size and shape to the two he’d asked Tsunagu to retrieve a few days prior.
Tsunagu was still frozen when the teenager turned back around causing Katsuki to freeze too. There were several seconds of wide eyed silence between them before Tsunagu found himself able to move, pulling back his outstretched hand and letting out a sigh of relief.
“I assume that was what you meant by a trap that could take off a finger if not disarmed correctly?”
Visibly relaxing, Katsuki gave an eye roll as he pushed himself to his feet and brought the lockbox over to the second suitcase.
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal for me since I’ve been doing it for ages, but I figured it’d be risky for anyone who doesn’t know how the trap works.”
“... Despite the fact that you are in front of me and presumably alive, I keep finding myself surprised you didn’t die in a childhood accident.”
Katsuki only grinned in reply as he tucked the lockbox safely into the suitcase before closing the lid and zipping it up.
The whole affair took them less than an hour. Katsuki paused for only a moment after exiting the house, eyes trailing over the building with a flash of an unreadable emotion on his face. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it came. He turned away with a familiar fire blazing in his eyes, sliding his suitcase into the trunk of the car waiting for them before he ducked into the back seat. Tsunagu thanked the police officer who’d of supervised the collection, tucked the second suitcase into the trunk too, and stepped to his side of the car. He lingered for a heartbeat to look over the place he’d visited all of three times now. Despite how few times he’d been here, he still took an odd satisfaction in seeing it for the last time. After the moment passed Tsunagu opened the car door and slid into his own seat, ready to leave this place behind.
They rode back together with a soft comfortable quiet between the two of them. In the quiet, Tsunagu found his mind wandering back to that yellow lockbox. He wanted to respect Katsuki’s privacy, yet he couldn’t help but wonder what was so sacred to the other that it required such protection. It was something to ask about in the future perhaps, but not today. Not when Katsuki was already bouncing his foot with his intense red gaze flickering around the car every so often.
Katsuki’s dedication to honesty was an interesting double edged sword that Tsunagu had to handle delicately. For the most part, the other would answer with what he believed to be the truth. Sometimes, if he was particularly unhappy with the topic, he’d dodge the question or flat out refuse to answer. The real danger lay in the fuzzy place between that which he’d answer completely and that which he’d refuse. Questions that fell into that in-between region made Katsuki decidedly uncomfortable, a pressure on him to answer regardless of whether or not he actually wanted to. Tsunagu often had to stop and consider if a question would be pushing the boy too far. There were several questions that he still wasn’t sure about asking.
The question of the yellow lockbox had been at the back of his mind all summer long. He’d learned already that the red box held Katsuki’s art supplies, while the blue held mementos. Yet the yellow box hadn’t come up again since that first day. Tsunagu hadn’t even seen it since then. Despite his curiosity, he refrained from asking about it. There was no need for him to know. Besides, there were more pressing questions at hand.
Such as the matter of Katsuki’s hearing.
Little things had stuck out to him over the summer. It wasn’t much, but particularly when he was stressed or tired, Katsuki’s hearing was the first of his senses to go. Likewise, when he was upset, speaking seemed to be the hardest form of expression for him. He was loud, of course he was, but sometimes his loudness felt… unintentional. When Tsunagu was facing away from him or had his mouth covered, Katsuki had a harder time making out what he was saying.
Adjusting to these little things wasn’t hard. Tsunagu got a small whiteboard for the fridge where either of them could leave notes, and after a little bit of thought, he got a second whiteboard for the coffee table so hard to verbalize thoughts could be written down and wiped away. If he needed to remind Katsuki of something, he texted or left a note rather than calling out across the house. Texting in general was highly preferably to phone calls. During conversations he took care to make sure he was facing Katsuki, and at home he left his face uncovered. When Katsuki’s volume crept up in a space not meant for loud sounds, a simple touch on the arm or shoulder was enough to alert him so he could lower his voice.
It took time to figure out the best method of handling each situation, but that was all part of parenting. Really, each individual challenge was simple enough to manage. Putting them all together though, there were concerning implications.
Still, it wasn’t until Izuku was over one day that most of the puzzle pieces fell into place. It was two weeks before the students would be moving into the dorms, and Izuku was waiting in the living room while Katsuki got changed so they could go meet several of their classmates for a end of summer training session. Tsunagu had been holding an idle conversation with the boy, and somehow they’d gotten onto the topic of Katsuki’s quirk and it’s side effects.
“Actually, I always kinda worried all the noise from his explosions might end up damaging his hearing over time. I mean, they’re so loud and he’s around them constantly. When we were kids, I tried to suggest he use earplugs, but he wouldn’t even consider it. I know it’s probably fine, Kacchan knows his limits and he’d notice if something was wrong, but I still wonder about it sometimes.”
Before Tsunagu could reply, Katsuki had come out from his room and the two had been off. Izuku’s words left to linger in the back of Tsunagu’s mind. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
Hearing loss wasn’t uncommon for heroes. Quite the opposite, heroics was a loud profession. Even a hero like Tsunagu who fought relatively quiet battles got his hearing checked twice a year. Katsuki was constantly at the epicenter of loud and powerful explosions, so hearing issues were well within the realm of possibility.
That brought Tsunagu back to the issue of bringing the topic up with Katsuki.
Obviously, there was nothing to be ashamed of if he was losing his hearing. It wouldn’t stop him from becoming a hero, it would just require some adjustments. The problem was Katsuki had been raised with a flawed idea of perfection, and while he’d been working to unlearn a lot of the false ideals that had been beaten into him, shame was hard to let go of. If Tsunagu didn’t handle the situation delicately, he could scare Katsuki away from asking for help.
There was also the matter of names that Tsunagu was sure must fit somewhere in here, but that he hadn’t found the connection for.
Anyone who knew Katsuki knew his propensity for nicknames. But it was only after Tsunagu started really paying attention to the pattern of the nicknames that he realized there might be more to them. For one, the nicknames followed a set of unspoken rules. Katsuki never used someone’s name when he was introduced to someone, unless he’d known well in advance he was meeting them. Either he’d give them a nickname, or he’d refer to them indirectly depending on the formality of the situation. Initial nicknames were always descriptors, never shortened forms of the person’s name. Nicknames didn’t just apply to people either, Katsuki would avoid using names of unfamiliar places or objects when he first encountered them.
The same rules did not hold true for texting or writing. While Katsuki would often use nicknames in any form, he would just as easily use someone’s given name in writing, even when he wouldn't say it out loud. He’d use someone’s name in a text right after meeting them if need be. Meanwhile, it’d be a few days or a few months before he’d say that same name out loud.
The habit was so consistent that Tsunagu knew it had to be important, but it didn’t seem to quite fit in with the rest of the signs.
In the end, Tsunagu decided to put the matter of names to the side and focus on what he was fairly confident he understood. He consulted with a number of books and reached out to a few of the heroes he knew with hearing loss for advice. Tensei and Gunhead both offered useful insight into navigating the topic, and Hizashi had been incredibly helpful both for advice on managing hearing loss in the heroics line of work, and in understanding how to help Katsuki handle hearing loss. Tsunagu hadn’t mentioned he was asking for Katsuki, but Hizashi was smart and apparently had had suspicions of his own. Doing research and thinking over how to broach the issue took time, so it wasn’t until Katsuki had gone back to school that he finally felt ready to bring it up.
After overthinking the matter for the entire week leading up to Katsuki’s first weekend visit home, Tsunagu resolved to bring it up Sunday evening. He waited until they were both relaxing on the couch in the living room after dinner. Katsuki had finished up the last of his homework for the evening and had switched to working on his latest knitting project. The entire day had gone very well, and Katsuki was in a good mood. Tsunagu finished up the last of the paperwork he’d brought home, setting it down on the coffee table as he shifted his posture to face his son ( his son! ) more directly.
Noticing the shift immediately, Katsuki finished the row he was working on and set down his needles. Red eyes looked up, waiting for the conversation to start. Well, nothing left for it but to jump right in. He kept his tone even and neutral.
“Katsuki, I’ve noticed a number of small things over the past few months that have made me wonder if you might be experiencing hearing loss. Damage to one’s hearing is very common in the heroics line of work, particularly for individuals with loud quirks like your own. Even if you aren’t currently experiencing it, testing for and protecting against gradual hearing loss in the future could be vital for you. Do you think you might be experiencing some level of hearing loss? Or is it something you’re concerned might happen in the future?”
Several long seconds of silence ticked by as Katsuki considered his questions. Katsuki wasn’t looking at Tsunagu, his palms sparked off twice, and he worried at his lip with his teeth. All little signs but ones that screamed of nervousness. Whatever was going on, Katsuki definitely knew something. Whether he’d trust Tsunagu enough to share it was another matter entirely. Tsunagu waited patiently for the other to puzzle through his feelings. He didn’t miss how red eyes darted to the whiteboard on the coffee table, though it wasn’t picked up.
Eventually, Katsuki spoke in measured words.
“I’m not worried about gradual hearing loss from my quirk. Now, or in the future.”
The teenager’s word choice didn’t escape Tsunagu, and that left him with the choice to press for further information or let it be. If he pressed, Katsuki would tell him, but he didn’t want to push too far. Not when the mere fact they could have this conversation calmly at all was leaps and bounds from where they’d started. A middle ground then.
“Is there something else going on that you aren’t ready to talk about yet?”
Katsuki’s posture relaxed near instantaneously at the out. Again, Katsuki paused, but he made up his mind much quicker, giving a nod. Alright.
“Would you feel more comfortable talking about it with someone else? I did reach out to Present Mic for advice on the matter, and he guessed I was asking with you in mind. He wanted me to tell you he’d be more than happy to talk to you about managing hearing loss, both in heroics and in day to day life.”
That took longer for Katsuki to find a reply to. Once more he picked his words out carefully and deliberately.
“No. It’s not… It’s not somethin’ I need to talk to someone else about. It’s not gonna put me in danger, ‘n’ it’s not gonna get worse. I just need time to think about it.”
There was a lot packed into such a short statement, but Tsunagu would have time to unpack all the nauce later. For right now he just gave a nod of his own, purposefully relaxing his own posture to help put Katsuki at ease.
“Okay. I trust you to know what’s going on and to ask for help if you need it. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen.”
He paused for a few moments to let his words sink in, waited for Katsuki to nod again, and then he switched topics to something lighter.
“How are you feeling about the provisional exam?”
That did the trick, and before long Katsuki was excitedly talking about his newly developed super moves.
The following week ended up incredibly busy. The provisional license exam always brought a wave of complications with it. From increased villain activity, to freshly licensed students seeking work-study. Usually he’d only take on the intern or interns who he’d invited earlier in the year, but he’d only selected Katsuki last cycle. While Tsunagu would’ve been more than happy to have Katsuki at his agency, the teenager had firmly refused to mix his home life and his training. As much as an irrational part of Tsunagu wanted to keep Katsuki safe and close, he knew it was probably for the best that the other work with a different agency. The result was two straight evenings spent sorting through potential students to find someone else to fill the vacant position.
By the time the weekend rolled around, he’d almost forgotten about their conversation. So much had happened, and between Katsuki earning his provisional license, and finding out a member of the League of Villains had managed to infiltrate the exam ( God, that nearly gave him a heart attack when he got the call ), their discussion had fallen to the back of his mind.
Saturday morning he took the train down to UA to pick Katsuki up. Even though he knew Katsuki was capable of defending himself, and the infiltration appeared to only be for information gathering purposes, he still felt far safer accompanying his son for the trip. Katsuki had huffed about having an escort, but he’d been far too pleased about passing the exam to put up much of a fight. They went out to dinner on Saturday to celebrate, Katsuki recounting the rather interesting experience.
Sunday was a quiet day for both of them, relaxing after a hectic week. Or it was until late afternoon.
Katsuki started shifting restlessly, gaze flickering around the room, often settling on Tsunagu for a moment or two of contemplation before darting off to inspect something else. Just as Tsunagu was about to ask if everything was okay, Katsuki hopped off the couch and with one last glance, ducked into his room. Well then.
Surprisingly, the other was only gone for a minute before he returned with his backpack. His shoulders were tight, and everything about him screamed nervousness, but there was a determination in his eyes. Tsunagu didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on before Katsuki set his backpack on the coffee table, unzipping on the pouches to pull out a telltale yellow lockbox. After a moment of hesitation, Katsuki deposited the lockbox on the middle of the couch and sat down on the other side of it.
A code of some sort was entered into the side, and then Katsuki flipped the lid of the lockbox open to reveal….
Sound equipment?
That was the best term Tsunagu could come up with to describe the contents. He could make out headphones, what looked like a small microphone, and a recorder. The equipment looked older, worn, but well-cared for. Tsunagu was very careful not to reach out towards it, but he did tilt his head to see as much of it as possible. No obvious explanation jumped out at him, so he looked to Katsuki for answers. The other took a few seconds to compose his thoughts before explaining.
“My quirk’s got a built in way of protectin’ my hearing. It’s why I’m not worried about damaging it with my explosions. I dunno exactly how it works, but my ears… brace against the sound? I can feel the vibrations, but I can’t hear the explosions. Never have, no matter how large they get. Took me awhile to realize how loud they were for other people.”
Katsuki took in a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever he was about to say next.
“There’s a trade-off though. First off, my hearing’s never been great. I think whatever counters it also dulls sounds a bit. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember though, and it’s been consistent even after I started usin’ my quirk more. But the second part is whatever’s going on doesn’t just filter out my explosions. It stops me from hearin’ any sound I make, doesn’t matter how big or small.”
Several things clicked into place at once.
“You can’t hear yourself speak.”
“Took me until I was nearly 5 years old to figure out that most people can. ‘Zuku was always mumbling under his breath without meaning to and I thought it was the same thing. Once my quirk came in I started getting suspicious because I couldn’t hear the explosions. That got my noticing other things, like that I didn’t hear my footsteps either, even when I knew they were making a sound. Didn’t take me long after that.”
A million and one questions leapt to mind, but Tsunagu restrained himself. Katsuki was already out of his comfort zone here, and he wanted to ensure this was a positive experience. He needed to focus on what was important.
“Were you ever able to speak to a specialist about it?”
A shake of the head and grimace.
“That would’a required talking to my parents about it, and my mother already had more than enough shit to hold over me. Didn’t really matter in the end. I figured it out. Even if I can’t hear myself, I can still feel things just fine. I can feel the vibration of my feet well enough to sneak around. I play the drums and even when I can’t hear all of it, I can feel the beat. When I talk, I can feel the words in my throat and on my tongue. Just… not what comes out. It’s not anything major, it won’t stop me from becoming a hero or anything.”
The last part came out a bit defensive, and Tsunagu was quick to reassure him.
“Of course not. I doubt anything could stop you from becoming a hero, at most it would require planning and forethought.”
Katsuki seemed satisfied with that, falling quiet. After a few moments, Tsunagu found his gaze drawn back to the recording equipment, taking it in with this new information. He thought he might understand it now, but Katsuki saw his curious gaze and answered the silent question.
“Since I can hear other people for the most part, I was able to figure out speaking well enough to get by when I was younger. Mostly I just guessed until someone said I was doing it right. I started reading young so my teachers assumed that’s why my pronunciation was a bit off. When I figured out what was going on, I knew I’d need a better solution, so I put the first version of this together.”
As he spoke, Katsuki reached over to gingerly pull the equipment out so it could be seen clearly.
“It’s a pretty simple set-up, I’ve upgraded it a bit over the years but the concept stayed the same. It lets me record myself and play it back after to see if I got it right. Used it a lot early on, spent a lot of hours practicing with it. Now I just need it occasionally, mostly for learnin’ English.”
“And for names?”
The question caught Katsuki off-guard, he must not have expected Tsunagu to connect the dots between that particular habit and this new information. All the same, he nodded.
“Yeah, names… Names are always hard. Can’t check if I’m saying ‘em right ‘till I get home, so I figured out if you have the right tone and attitude, people’ll put up with nicknames instead. If it’s someone I think I’ll need ta’ say the name of, I make sure I can say it afterwards. Otherwise I just stick with the nickname. Honestly same rule works in general. If I keep my speech rough, nobody notices if I say somethin’ slightly off. Even ‘Zuku hasn’t caught on yet, though I think he’s gotten close a few times. ”
“Did anyone else know about your condition? An old teacher or your regular doctor?”
“Nobody who's still alive.”
Several long seconds of stunned silence ticked by before Tsunagu took in a long breath and did his very best to not laugh or sigh.
“Katsuki, saying it like that makes it sound like you killed someone because they figured it out.”
Red eyes went wide and the teenager quickly clarified.
“Oh, nah. Nothin’ like that. His name was Tsubasa ‘n he was a childhood friend. Only reason he knew was I asked him if he could hear himself speak. Took a bit, but he helped me figure it out. I swore him to secrecy because I didn’t want my mom finding out. He… went missing awhile ago. Only found out for sure he passed away this year.”
“That’s… not easy to deal with.” Certainly not the explanation Tsunagu had been expecting, nor one he knew how to handle right now. Katsuki just shrugged in response, gaze falling to the equipment in his hands. The name sounded vaguely familiar, he’d need to look it up later. Not much to be done about it now. Instead, Tsunagu focused on the future.
“I know you’ve been managing your quirk’s side effects on your own quite effectively, but how would you feel about seeing an otologist? Mic recommended one who specializes in quirk related hearing disorders, and she may be able to offer other options. Or at the very least, a better understanding of how your quirk affects your hearing.”
When Katsuki’s shoulders tensed up minutely, Tsunagu quickly added on to his statement.
“It doesn’t have to be right away. There’s no rush to get it checked out, so it’d be whenever you’re ready.”
Katsuki considered that for a few heartbeats before replying.
“Probably better to get it over with sooner rather than later.” Pausing, he fiddled with the device in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was unusually soft. “Would you be able to be there?”
The request was such a small one, but Tsunagu’s heart swelled with an overwhelming mixture of pride and affection. In such a short time, Katsuki had come so far, and asking for support was still so difficult for him. It was incredibly hard for Tsunagu to keep his composure when given such a rare display of trust. Somehow, he managed.
“Yes, of course I can. I can call tomorrow to schedule an appointment if you’d be okay with it?”
He got a small nod in reply, and that was that. Not long after, Katsuki tucked the equipment carefully back into the yellow lockbox, and it went back into his bag. Safe from the world again.
Next Saturday, the two of them went to the clinic together. There Katsuki underwent a series of tests, ranging from audiometric testing to a CT scan to inspect inner workings of his ears. It was an exhausting day, but the results were well worth it. Katsuki was dead on in his assumptions, the tests showed increased durability in almost every part of his ear, at the cost of reduced overall hearing. One of the bones in his ears had an unusual structure to it that held the bone steady when Katsuki made any noise, preventing the sound from traveling any further. The bracing was quick and precise, meaning Katsuki likely wouldn’t experience any damage from his quirk over time.
With that in mind, the doctor had discussed several options with Katsuki. Surgery was technically a possibility, but highly ill advised and he dismissed it quickly. There were a few other options he considered briefly, but in the end it came down to whether or not he wanted hearing aids. Another week passed by while Katsuki thought over the prospect, doing research and reviewing the currently available models and support item possibilities. He and Hizashi apparently end up having a five hour discussion on the matter after classes one day. Said discussion would’ve almost certainly been longer, but curfew rolled around and a rather exparasted Aizawa had to track the two of them down and drag Katsuki back to the dorms.
By the end of the week, Katsuki had made up his mind to give hearing aids a try and they were back in the clinic for an evaluation. At that point Katsuki knew what he wanted, so getting the correct ones picked out and ordered only took about thirty minutes total. He’d hesitated on the color for only a moment before selecting a black case with a bright orange receiver. Another week went by before they arrived and it was time to get them fitted. The pair Katsuki had were fairly low power as he didn’t require much amplification, but they were programmed with a slight delay, offsetting his natural defense mechanism so he could hear himself speak in real time. They weren’t meant to be worn during training or in combat, but they worked for day to day life.
Tsunagu had been expecting some changes from the hearing aids. An adjustment period for sure, and some bumps along the way. What he hadn’t been expecting was how Katsuki went quiet.
It wasn’t a bad sort of quiet per say, more… strange than anything else. On that first day Katsuki was overwhelmed with all the subtle sounds of the world he hadn’t noticed before, not to mention his own. Twice, Tsunagu saw him jump at the sound of his own footsteps. The first few times Katsuki spoke with them in, he stopped mid-word, as if someone had interrupted him. He got used to it eventually, but every so often he’d jolt minutely at the sound of his own voice. For the first day, Katsuki was constantly distracted by all the new stimulus. Gaze drawn in every direction, and fingers twitching at every unfamiliar noise.
His volume control had been steadily getting better prior to the aids, part of it had been related to his temper after all. Still, the difference afterwards was staggering. While he retained his explosive presence, and he was as unafraid to speak his mind as ever, Katsuki’s loudness now had a deliberateness to it. When he raised his voice, it was done with purpose, and it was that much more effective as a result.
There was plenty of tweaking required to find the right settings, follow up appointments and various complications, not to mention a small flurry of dramatics from the media when some reporter finally realized the brightly colored devices on Katsuki’s ears weren’t headphones. For all that some things changed though, things mostly stayed the same.
Tsunagu never saw the yellow lockbox again after the second time, but the case Katsuki picked out for his hearing aids was a bright yellow. Katsuki’s nicknames got more varied, sometimes including parts of people’s names, but the nicknames themselves stayed. When Katsuki was stressed, he still liked to write things down. He preferred texting to phone calls, although they were easier with the hearing aids. There were challenges, but it would not be life without them. In the end, all it really took was time, trust, and a few adjustments.