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For people who operated on habitual routines, change was never something welcome.
It was overwhelming – not in a good or a bad way really but in the way you had no way of knowing what happened next. It brought along a sense of helplessness Katsuki could only connect to bad memories. He liked having control of his life – it wasn’t that hard to establish really. Discipline had been something he’d drilled into himself since the day he’d decided he wanted to be a hero. He would be lying if he claimed that that discipline was ironclad but it gave him enough grounds to be able to know what to expect from his mind and body.
His anger had always been like that to him.
His own version of discipline.
It grounded him, made him feel like who he truly was without having to show the fragile inside. Heroes didn’t get to be vulnerable – he found that out the hard way. It wasn’t just the villains who would target him but the media, the people and pretty much everyone who breathed the same air as you. His quick temper at least had the advantage of ensuring that not a lot of people shared the same air as him, choosing to maintain their distance unless necessary.
Katsuki didn’t mind that.
It didn’t need a genius to figure out that he wasn’t exactly a peoples’ person. He liked his personal space and not a lot of people in his class seemed to have a good take on that. The last time he’d allowed himself to relax in front of them, the entire lot had decided he needed to be spoiled and lest it be said that that hadn’t gone well. Katsuki wasn’t the sort of person who liked that kind of attention – he just wished there would be more people who would understand that more.
Katsuki was strong.
He needed people to understand that till the moment he couldn’t afford to do it anymore.
—
“When I say no strenuous activity, I mean it,” Recovery Girl said, voice sharp and direct unlike her usual old lady mannerism. She enunciated each word from the last, almost as though she expected Katsuki to not hear unless she did that, “Your heart isn’t ready for exercise. By that, I mean you’re not even running up stairs.”
These were warnings.
The only two things Katsuki had heard since he’d woken up were words of pity and warnings. Most of his teachers seemed to believe he would lack common sense over this. That he would decide that jumping into hero work was how to go about a month into his heart physically having exploded. He was eager for a recovery, yes. But he wouldn’t lie… he didn’t want to die.
It terrified him to the core to know that his heart was fragile enough that he might simply go to bed one night and never wake up again.
Katsuki didn’t bother to answer. Didn’t even bother to look Recovery Girl in the eye. He wasn’t going to cry of course, but just because he understood the reasoning behind it, didn’t mean he was happy about it. He hated it, in fact. He was thankful that his primary doctor had thought that it would be healthy for him to go back to regular classes with his batch – just to ensure he wasn’t falling behind academically. But he hadn’t been given the physical clearance in any amount.
So much so that they’d held off on even answering when Katsuki asked if he’d ever get back on the field again.
“I need you to tell me you understand,” there was something emotionally charged in Recovery Girl’s voice. Katsuki could only imagine it came out of her own experiences during the war – not many had been as lucky as him in having a hero sacrifice their lives to start his heart again. Gratitude… Katsuki didn’t really know how to express that anymore. Edgeshot had given his everything to give Katsuki a shot, but the damage which had remained had pretty much taken that away from him.
Katsuki nodded, “Yeah,” he mumbled out, still not looking away from where his gaze was peeled outside the glass window. He wasn’t really looking at anything – there was nothing to look at from this floor anyways. But he couldn’t bring himself to face whatever look Recovery Girl had to be wearing. Or even what Aizawa was wearing. Their teacher had been shockingly good at attempting to treat him like he wasn’t fragile, but it was obvious he was concerned.
He stood there with his arms crossed, eyes honed on the two of them.
Katsuki hated that.
Izuku was the problem child for their class. Aizawa needs to be dragging another one of them to the hospital every other day. He needed his own break after all the things which had gone down – this war hadn’t been light on any of them after all.
Recovery Girl hummed at Katsuki’s acknowledgement. It wasn’t an affirmative one though – he knew she didn’t believe him. A part of him didn’t believe himself to be honest. He liked to think he was a rational person when it came down to it – that he’d know that he couldn’t afford to die while attempting to push himself beyond what his body was capable of. But Katsuki was far too self aware to believe that entirely.
More than rational, he had always been competitive.
To witness all his classmates go through their hero training, progressing in ways Katsuki couldn’t for what seemed like forever… it wouldn’t be short of torture on him.
While he’d tell himself otherwise, every muscle in his body would be screeching at him to start training, and he didn’t trust his mind to not come up with a rationalization on that. For the longest time, a future of becoming a hero was all that really drove Katsuki. He didn’t have much in the way of close friends, much in the way of hobbies beyond his work… it was hard to find it in him to understand his worth outside of that.
“Bakugou,” it was the first time Aizawa had spoken since they’d entered the office, “If you feel off in the slightest, I need you to come to me.”
It wasn’t a request but a direct demand. One which Katsuki both appreciated and hated. He knew that Aizawa was justified. He knew UA couldn’t afford to have a student passing away on campus, but he could only hope that part of that came out of heart and not just responsibility. It was odd for him to feel that kind of vulnerability but near death- well, death experiences had a tendency of making you more frank with yourself.
Katsuki nodded again, “I will,” he said slowly. He knew that with the rest of their class being worked up over everything, even if he didn’t go to Aizawa one of them would snitch before things got out of hand. He would probably yell at them, but then he’d probably end up being grateful to them anyways. He didn’t know what to make out of it that he was managing to contradict his own thoughts and emotions within his head within seconds.
Recovery Girl turned to look at Aizawa and something seemed to pass in between them that Katsuki couldn’t be bothered to try to interpret. But whatever it was, it seemed that the two were satisfied with their progress for now, “Alright then,” she said, “I don’t want to see you here before your next check in in the coming week, alright?”
Katsuki nodded again, letting himself zone out a little as Aizawa offered him a hand to help him stand.
He didn’t take it, obviously.
—
“Bakugou!”
Both Aizawa and Katsuki’s heads turned in the direction of the call as they turned to face a familiar face. Kirishima’s hair was down, which meant he hadn’t had the chance to dry it yet after a shower. He looked different like this, and while Katsuki had obviously seen him like this multiple times before, something about him seemed different now. He supposed the redhead hadn’t been spared by the invisible effects of the war either.
He looked… older almost.
His hand dropped as he got closer but his smile didn’t disappear. He didn’t wait for permission as he drew himself closer, a little hesitant as he hugged Katsuki. His eyes went wide – he hadn’t exactly been expecting a hug, but he didn’t push the taller boy away. The hug was gentle, not suffocating in the way hugs usually were and definitely not strong enough to hurt the still healing stitches on Katsuki’s torso. He didn’t hug back exactly but he let his hands linger on the small of Kirishima’s back as he closed his eyes, letting his head rest for a bit on his shoulder.
The last time he’d seen the redhead was back in his hospital room. Apparently, most of their class had taken turns sitting in during hours when his parents weren’t there. Thankfully, the Hero Agency had put him up in a private room which meant that there hadn’t been any restrictions on visiting hours. He doubted that they kept visiting hours for people who they weren’t certain would wake up at all.
Kirishima had looked no better than a corpse back then, and he’d made it a point to yell at Katsuki for extending his limits beyond what was humane. A part of him had wanted to argue back that it had been necessary but now he kind of realized that he would’ve had a similar reaction if someone he loved had been in his position, dead for a painfully long time with damage to almost every internal organ imaginable.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, the material of Kirishima’s shirt muffling the words a little. It was something he owed. He had known that his final push might have gotten him killed back then in the field, but he hadn’t really stopped to think how it would have affected everyone around him. Hadn’t stopped to think that it would affect them at all.
Kirishima moved, placing his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders as he slowly pushed him away.
“You’re alive,” he said, “And for now, you’re home.”
Katsuki hated that a touch of smile played on his face.
“Ok,” it was Aizawa who broke the moment between them, “Kirishima, can you take it from here?” It was framed as a question but their teacher obviously knew the answer because Eijirou was already moving to take the bag Aizawa had been carrying from him. Katsuki intercepted that though – he might not be able to exercise anymore, but his reflexes were still as sharp as ever. Oxygen deprivation hadn’t impacted his motor functions in any way at least – he could at least hold onto small mercies there.
“I can carry my stuff.”
But Aizawa glared at him, pushing the bag back into Kirishima’s arms, “Don’t take his side, Kirishima,” Aizawa said in a voice which was partially joking and partially deadly, “He has strict doctors’ orders for no exertion.” His glare held at Katsuki who let his shoulders drop, along with his hold on the strap. He knew better than to push right now, even if it made him feel about as big as a peanut.
Kirishima gladly took the bag, slinging an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder.
“It's all good, sensei,” Kirishima said with a smile, “I can be his knight in shining armour for a few days.”
Kirishima should have been glad the bag wasn’t in Katsuki’s hands because he knew he’d swing it right at him had it been.
—
He’d been right when he’d believed watching the other students train wouldn’t be easy.
His instincts screamed to get in there, for his explosions to pull him into the field like he’d been doing for years now. The field was his home ground – it had been for almost as long as he could remember. He should be out there and everyone else had to know that. Not that the knowledge would help anyone. If he’d been strongly advised against exercise, using his quirk was a level of forbidden he wouldn’t dare breach.
Which is why Aizawa had forced him to change out of his uniform and into the thinnest clothing he owned as they stood out here in the sun, watching as the rest of the class went through the combat drill for the second time in the day. He hadn’t used his quirk since that day, of course. Which meant he had no idea how unpredictable it would be now with how damaged some of the conduction systems of his arms had been.
Plus, the backlash from the blasts would directly hit the finely stitched muscles of his heart and perhaps make it promptly explode, much like his nitroglycerine.
He knew his quirk was still there.
He felt it bubbling under his skin like a long lost friend quite often actually. But he knew he had to restrain it. He hadn’t been put on quirk blockers but he knew that if it came down to it, Recovery Girl wasn’t above doing exactly that. Katsuki had been put on quirk blockers once before in his life – when he’d gotten a high fever a few weeks after he’d first unlocked his quirk and had been spontaneously going off every few seconds.
He’d hated every second of that experience.
Quirk blockers… they kind of worked in a way to suppress an instinct. Like a vice grip on his arm keeping him from moving it. Something very obviously out of the normal. It had been so obvious that Katsuki had broken down in front of his mother for the first time, begging to be taken off the medication. She hadn’t given in of course, but she’d convinced the doctors to give him something to put him to sleep, at least until the worst past.
He doubted a combination of quirk blockers and sleeping pills were a solution long term for him.
“I need to be out there,” he blurted out, head turning towards Aizawa who didn’t look away from where Uraraka was fighting Asui. From what Katsuki had seen both of them had improved beyond expectations when it came to skills. It was almost comedic how changed everyone’s styles were now, in comparison to their first year. Back then, their moves had been strong but inexperienced.
Now… They were all trained soldiers.
“You will,” Aizawa said after a moment, “Just not now.”
Katsuki’s hands fisted up in a flooding kind of annoyance. It was deep and burning and brought along a sense of shame. He knew Aizawa was right - of course, he was. But he wanted to be out there. Otherwise the months would go by and Katsuki would grow older, and he wouldn’t make the necessary progress to follow his classmates to their next year. He’d be held back and then -
“What if we do it in steps?” Katsuki pushed, “We can start with… getting a little more intense during physiotherapy or… I don’t know, a personal trainer?”
Aizawa raised his eyebrows at the second suggestion and Katsuki rolled his eyes at his own words. It made him sound like a privileged and spoiled child. His parents had been in his corner since the day he’d woken up into his mellow kind of nightmare – if they were able to afford a personal trainer who’d be able to ensure his progress as a hero, they would’ve. But it wasn’t an option, and not a lot of such people existed at all.
“I’m not sure about this trainer… ” Aizawa said, mimicking Katsuki’s eyeroll, “But we could try asking Recovery Girl about the physio.”
For a moment Katsuki couldn’t believe those words. His eyes widened as he turned fully at his teachers. He knew he probably looked a little stupid, getting excited over something as very minimal as this, but in his book this might as well be a blessing from whoever was watching. He knew his body wasn’t ready for anything extensive, anything at the level of what he’d need to return to his previous fitness.
But he needed something.
He knew he’d promised Recovery Girl but then… this much couldn’t hurt, right?
—
Turns out Aizawa had somehow managed to convince Recovery Girl to let the physiotherapy idea pass.
Katsuki had never been this grateful.
It had been a week since his last appointment and Aizawa had taken the opportunity to talk to her, while scheduling the next appointment. She’d been very reluctant apparently, but ultimately she’d agreed with the clause that a medical professional, specifically a cardio specialist, would have to be present during all his sessions. Funnily enough, it kind of stood similar to his trainer idea, but this was covered as a part of his treatment plan by the Tokyo Hero Agency.
He hadn’t expected it to be this awkward though.
Hasaba Ryuutaro.
That was the name of the specialist assigned to him. He wasn’t much of a talker, which was something Katsuki appreciated but he ignored things in a way which ended up making him more uncomfortable than glad. Instead of telling him what to do, the man had promptly shoved a piece of paper into Aizawa’s hands, which had somehow made the man chuckle.
The man’s eyes remained strained on his laptop, where Katsuki could only presume all his vitals were displaying after the number of studs and wires which had been attached to him. It was some kind of fancy detection thing where his body’s condition could immediately be read by the programme. It would promptly inform him if he was at any risk, which would continue loudly ringing if he continued to push through.
Given that sharp noises was something Katsuki hated with a passion, it was the perfect way to keep him in check.
Or so he’d thought.
He’d been walking on the treadmill - walking - at a setting of three for only about ten minutes when the device started beeping on Hasaba’s monitor. Rage and frustration flooded through him, but it shocked him beyond reason just how winded he felt. He was drenched in sweat already, and his palms had been tingling over the last minute or so. His breath was coming in short and shallow gasps – it was shocking because before the war, Katsuki would go for morning jogs where he’d run around campus for more than one and a half hours and not breath a sweat.
His heart was beating far too fast in his chest.
The fear won out over the rage.
“Is-is… that normal?” he asked, hating how shaky his voice sounded in between the pants. Hasaba shook his head and Aizawa was moving immediately, as he all but pulled Katsuki off the treadmill, steadying him as his world threatened to tilt sideways for a moment. Angry tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and it took all of his willpower to not actually let them fall. Aizawa seemed to understand that and while his hand held onto Katsuki’s frame, he chose to look instead as Hasaba who slowly closed his laptop and stood up, taking steps forward.
“I was against this,” Hasaba said, “I don’t think you’re ready physically or emotionally for what kind of uphill training this will be. Your body is in ruins. It will be weeks before you’ll be able to walk on the treadmill without having a reaction like this. Maybe even longer.”
Katsuki’s chest throbbed, and he breathed in deep, hand settling on his chest.
He was fine.
He was fine.
“I know this is going to be tough,” he gasped out, “I am ready for it.”
Hasaba rolled his eyes which made Katsuki want to blow up his face for a bit. Not that he had the morality or the ability to actually go through with it but it sounded like an interesting fantasy to fixate on throughout the rest of the day, “Everyone thinks so,” Hasaba continued, “Most people in your position drop out before we hit a month. It's best to simply let your body finally rest when you go through something like… well, death. Plus, with your brain having been deprived of oxygen for so long, we don’t even know if it's possible for you to regain your previous stamina.”
“We’ll find out then!” Katsuki snapped up, fed up with the man’s obvious attitude, “I’m not giving up. Herowork is supposed to be who I am. I’m willing to die if it's to get there.” He knew he was throwing around empty words – he knew that no one was ever prepared to die. He hadn’t been and he knew he probably never would be.
But he was running on fuel and adrenaline right now – the zone the ten minute fucking walk had put him in.
“I’m doing this…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly as the throbbing in his chest slowly began to wane. He had to. At the very least, he owed it to what remained of his sanity. He couldn’t do it at one go of course, but no matter how long it took him, he needed to know he was doing something.
Something, rather than just waiting around.
—
“It is totally not worth it!”
“Well, I think it's impressive!”
Katsuki couldn’t help chuckling as Kaminari stuck his tongue out at Sero, before shifting across the floor to settle on Katsuki’s side, throwing his arms around his neck. He pressed a long kiss to Katsuki’s cheek, “It's brave,” he continued, “Plus, Katsuki knows his limit.”
This time it was Kirishima who raised his eyebrow at that and Kaminari groaned at his choice of words, “That was one time!!” he argued, half clinging off Katsuki’s shoulders as if the stance made his argument any better. Katsuki was glad really that at least one of his three boyfriends seemed to support his decision to start working on his fitness during physiotherapy – but then, Kaminari was usually the one who was more prone to side with coolness than safety so Katsuki didn’t know what to make out of it.
“I’m not saying it's not brave or anything,” Sero objected, “I just think it's been very little time since you’ve actually been declared to be in the safe at all, and it's too soon to be getting into the fray of things.” He gave him a sheepish look almost, “I just… want you to be safe, you know?”
Kirishima, who’d been playing mediator for most of the argument, chose to take up his role again.
“That’s enough, thank you!” he announced as he got up, stepping across all the books scattered around the floor, planting himself between Kaminari and Sero, before pulling Sero into their little huddle, “We have ice cream, and I don’t know about late or early but ice won’t wait for no one.” Katsuki had to agree with that statement.
He usually wasn’t one for sweet things – usually spicy or savory were tastes he liked but he’d been asked to eat more healthy (as though he didn’t already have an immaculate diet).
But today called for comfort ice cream.
Even if it was the sugar-free, really shitty stuff Sero had stolen from Mina’s half of the fridge door. He needed it after the hard reality check he’d been given earlier this evening. The three around him had managed to shift in an odd way, kind of sandwiching him in between them. It was oddly calm for how panicked they’d been when Katsuki had told them his chest had been hurting a little since the training. It hadn’t worsened any further, and he’d found peace with the fact that this was something he’d have to tolerate if he was pushing his body, even in the most minimal way possible.
“Seriously though,” Katsuki ended up saying, almost immediately cursing himself for having spoken, “Do you think I’ll ever get back? To where I was?”
“Nope.”
Katsuki, Kaminari and Sero’s eyes all immediately turned to Kirishima, who didn’t look as guilty as he should over a comment like that. Kirishima had never been one for beating around the bush, but he also usually liked cushioning blows which could hit someone as hard. His eyes widened though – he shook his head vehemently.
“No, no… not like that!” he said immediately, “I mean…” his expression softened as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from Katsuki’s face, “You’ve been through a lot. Not a lot of people can say they actually returned from the dead. The physical part of that is obvious but the mental part…” he paused as he saw the other two smile, “You’re not supposed to go back to what you were. None of us ever will. It would be… an insult to the memory of everything we went through if we simply went back to our lives as usual.”
Katsuki agreed with all of that. He listened, oddly entranced.
“But that doesn’t mean you won’t grow into something better,” Kirishima concluded with a smile, “You’ll recover. I know you will. It will take longer than you could imagine, but you’ll get there and we’ll all be there for you throughout the whole thing. I promise.”
Promises.
Katsuki would settle for that over the stupid medical advice for now.