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Katsuki pushed forward through the forest, trying to stay on the path enough to avoid crunching the underbrush under his feet. The trees around him stood like empty pillars, void of light against the blue gray sky. Between them, the fireflies throbbed and the crickets screamed. It wasn't loud enough to cover his footsteps—just enough to get stuck in his ears and drive him crazy, the same hum over and over again. The mud clung in clumps to the edges of his sneakers. It had rained in the afternoon.
There were villains out here somewhere. When the alert had come in, Katsuki had assumed it was some kind of extra training. Aizawa Sensei was just insane enough to do a thing like that, and nobody had bad enough luck to get attacked on summer break twice. Then he'd seen Aizawa Sensei's face, just briefly as they passed each other on the way, and he'd known this was for real.
He'd been heading back to the camp then. He wasn't now.
The path curved sharply—Katsuki noticed when his shin caught on a thicket. He stopped there for a second, considering which way he should go, and how to get himself untangled. Then he bent down to pull off the string of briars from his pant leg, setting his hand against a tree to steady himself.
He'd made it back to camp already—or at least, to the open area in front of the office building where the remedial classes had been held two years ago. Then, in the dim light at the edge of the bulb hanging outside the door, he'd seen the footprints. It had rained that afternoon, and the ground was still damp. They were pointed away, back toward the forest. And he'd recognized the pattern that the soles left.
Katsuki shifted his grip on the tree, and then he froze. Slowly, he cupped his hand, turning it so that his palm faced inward to block the light and sound from reaching whatever villains were out here—Katsuki didn't know if they were close, or what their quirks were. He hadn't stopped inside to ask for information.
The wet thing his fingers had brushed was smeared down along the bark, pressed in between the cracks, red and sticky.
There were a lot of problems with Deku. One was that he would never leave anybody behind. Another was that he wasn't slow enough to arrive anywhere last.
There was some villain, or group of villains out here, and Katsuki didn't know anything about them. Using his quirk in a place like this drew too much attention. It would have been too risky to fly to safety—the whole forest would have known where they were hiding.
By the time he'd made it back to camp, Deku had already left to go find him.
Katsuki yanked his leg free and stepped over the bramble, pressing his foot down flat to push the underbrush out of his way. It was louder than he wanted, but quieter than it could have been if he'd been going fast. And also, as he kept moving forward, he realized there was already a bit of a path carved through in this direction--fronds bent or broken off in places to open his way.
Deku had been here already.
Katsuki stopped before he had quite registered why—and the sounds of movement continued. There was somebody else, a little ahead and to the left, doing the same thing as him.
"Oi!" Katsuki called, just loud enough for this person to hear, quiet enough that the sound wouldn't carry.
Around them, the crickets were still wailing.
"Hey," Deku said, stepping forward again, "Who's there?"
"It's me, idiot," Katsuki whispered, sure now that Deku would recognize him.
Deku stepped closer—he wasn't moving like he was hurt, but it was too dark to see features. The first thing Katsuki noticed when he got close enough to stop being a Deku shaped shadowy blob was the way his head tilted up to look over Katsuki's shoulder, the dawning surprise and horror on his face.
Katsuki spun around. Some kind of tendril grabbed his head and yanked him off balance. He nearly used his quirk on instinct—but instead he fell with the motion, braced with his forearms and rolled as he hit the ground.
When he got back up, a meter or so away, another tendril had not-Deku by the wrist. Then Katsuki blinked, and the creature had melted back into the shadows, the switchblade dropping from his dissolving hand.
Katsuki snatched it from the ground, held it up to catch the moonlight filtering through the canopy. It hadn't touched him. There was blood on the edge. Carefully, Katsuki flipped it closed and stuck it in his pocket. Then he turned around, orienting his steps by the path the tendrils had traced.
Deku was sitting at the base of a tree, one hand pressed against the gash in his shirt. When Katsuki got close enough, he just whispered, "Illusion quirk."
Katsuki couldn't think of a good response to that which would be satisfying to deliver at a low volume. So instead he just reached down, grabbed Deku by the arm and yanked him to his feet. He'd make sure they both made it back.