𝓐 𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷 𝓔𝓷𝓭 | Katsuki Bakugou x Male Reader

Chapter 7

(M/N) stepped through the curtain and his senses were assaulted. His first impulse was to cover his nose to block out the stench of soiled linen, putrefying flesh, and vomit, all ripening in the heat of the warehouse. They had propped open skylights that criss-crossed the high metal roof, but any air that was managing to get in couldn't make a dent in the fog below. The thin shafts of sunlight provided the only illumination, and as (M/N)'s eyes adjusted, he could make up row upon row of wounded, in cots, on pallets, on the floor because there were so many to claim the space. The moaning of people in pain and the sobs of their attending loved ones had combined into a wrenching chorus.

They had no real hospitals in the districts. They died at home, which at the moment seemed a far more desirable alternative to what laid in front of (M/N). Then he remembered that many of these people probably lost their homes in the bombings.

Sweat began to run down his back, filling his palms. He breathed through his mouth in an attempt to diminish the smell. Black spots swam across his field of vision, and he thought there was a really good chance he would pass out. But then he caught sight of Sasaki, who was watching him closely, waiting to see what he was made of, and if any of them had been right to think they could count on him. So (M/N) let go of Shoto and forced himself to move deeper into the warehouse, to walk into the narrow strip between two rows of beds.

"(M/N)?" a voice came from his left, breaking apart from the general din. "(M/N)?" A hand reached for him out of the haze. (M/N) clung to it from support. Attached to the hand was a young woman with an injured leg. Blood had seeped through the heavy bandages, which were crawling with flies. Her face reflected her pain, but something else, too. Something that seemed completely out of sync with her situation. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah, it's me," (M/N) said.

Joy. That was the expression on her face. At the sound of his voice, it brightened, erasing the suffering momentarily.

"You're alive! We didn't know. People said you were, but we didn't know!" she said excitedly.

"I got pretty banged up. But I got better," (M/N) said. "Just like you will."

More people began to notice (M/N), and he heard his name rippling through the hot air, spreading out into the hospital. "(M/N)! (M/N) (L/N)!" The sounds of pain and grief began to recede, to be replaced by words of anticipation. From all sides, voices beckoned him. He began to move, clasping the hands extended to him, touching the sound parts of those unable to move their limbs, saying hello, how are you, good to meet you. Nothing of importance, no amazing words of inspiration. But it didn't matter. Mashirao was right. It was the sight of him, alive, that was the inspiration.

Despite his controversial interview with Toshinori, many asked about Katsuki, and assured (M/N) that they knew he was speaking under duress. (M/N) did his best to sound positive about their future, but people were truly devastated when they learned he had lost the baby. He wanted to come clean and tell them that it was all a hoax, a move in the game, but to present Katsuki as a liar now would not help his image. Or (M/N)'s. Or the cause.

(M/N) began to fully understand the lengths to which people had gone to protect him. What he meant to the rebels. His ongoing struggle against the Capitol, which had so often felt like a solitary journey, had not been undertaken alone. He had thousands upon thousands of people from the districts at his side. He was their Mockingjay long before he accepted the role.

A new sensation began to grow inside (M/N). But it wasn't until he was standing on a table, waving his final goodbyes to the chanting of his name, that he defined it. Power. He had a kind of power he never knew he possessed. Nezu knew it, as soon as (M/N) held out those berries. Kan knew when he rescued (M/N) from the arena. And Kaina knew it now. So much so that she had to publicly remind her people that he wasn't in control.