HE FOUND HER HUDDLED AGAINST THE WALL OF THE MUSIC SHOP. The alley was dark and cluttered with cardboard shipping boxes that had been tossed out. Her head was low to hide her face, arms crossed tightly over her knees. She was shaking, he noticed.
Too many thoughts and feelings raced through his head. Was this girl, small and trembling, really the same Kendria Smith that was never intimidated by him? The Smith that scored only three places lower than him in the entrance exams? That ignored the rules and saved others and herself, even at the cost of life -- at the cost of her own life? Was this the same girl that had disappeared before his very eyes, only to be found glassy-eyed and bleeding out onto the broken concrete floor?
The girl that he'd carried out to the ambulance, watching as the last bit of life in her vanished?
He'd seen her broken. And the guilt and sorrow he felt was unexpected and something he never wanted to feel again.
"What'd you run out of the hospital for?" His tone came out angrier than he expected. Force of habit, perhaps. Nevertheless, it gained her attention. Her head shot up, a wall of blue encasing her in a protective bubble, tear-stained face void of any emotion.
It suddenly occurred to him that Smith had just woken up from dying.
"Tch." He leaned against the wall opposite of her, hands hidden in his coat pockets. "I'm not here to mug you, if that's what you're thinking." She watched him, unblinking, and he stared back. There were still bandages around her neck. She'd been asleep when he and his classmates visited. They just assumed more like hoped that she would be fine when she woke up. He briefly wondered if she would have a scar, or if the doctors had done a good enough job fixing her up.
She spoke so quietly, he almost didn't hear it. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was brittle, as if she was able to cry and the only thing holding back the tears was her stubborn determination to never show any emotion, why does she do that? It bothered him, that he couldn't read her like he read everybody else. And that fact that it bothered it, bothered him even more.
Katsuki could have grunted, said "None of your business," but the privacy of the alley and the rather awkward silence brought him to tell the truth. "My cousin," he said, sliding down to sit on the ground. "She had a checkup, and my old hag made me go with her to the hospital. Then Kirishima showed up on the way, and those two idiots blabbered the entire time." He flicked a blade of grass growing from a crack in the concrete. "I told that Hair-for-Brains to take Yasu home when you rocketed past us."
"Then you followed me." It was more of a statement than a question. Her eyes narrowed in an almost distrustful way. He felt heat rise to his face, and was about to retaliate when he saw it: her eyes flickered from side to side, as if watching for an attacker.
She was afraid, even if she hid it well.
Well, I can't just leave her here. He sighed and stood. "Come on. Get up." She blinked at him in confusion, then slowly began to rise. He grabbed her backpack before she could heft it up. "You just got out of the hospital, idiot. Don't hurt yourself again." Katsuki avoided her odd stare and nodded back in the direction he'd come from. "Don't you need to be discharged or something?"
"Already did," Smith mumbled, glancing back at the alley. "But my uncle is still ... recovering, and I don't have the spare key to the apartment. Must have lost it." She fumbled with the bracelets on her wrists seriously what's with the bracelets? and stepped closer to him, looking over her shoulder once more.
"Well ..." He frowned at his shoes. An idea came to mind, one that brought a flush to his cheeks that, hopefully, was hidden by the rapidly growing shadows. It had grown dark quicker than he expected. With a sigh, he swung the bag over his shoulder and pointed away from the hospital. "My old woman would kill me if I left you out here. Follow me, we're going to my place."
Smith raised her eyebrows, but one more glance at the dark alleyway was apparently all the incentive need. She nodded, and they set off in the direction of his house.
Few words were spoken between them, the sounds of busy streets and evening crickets filling the silence. He told himself not to, but every few moments he would sneak a look at Smith. Her gaze was unfocused, like she was too busy trying to remember something to notice the real world.
They were a couple blocks away when she said, "You were right." It caught him so off guard, he almost tripped over a rock. "You told me that I would mess up. And I did." The blank mask that she'd been too stubborn to take off, finally cracked. Frustration and anger and sadness flooded her features. "I couldn't save the class. I couldn't save myself." She stopped walking, her eyes shut tight and fists clenched at her sides. "And I couldn't save my uncle. All I could do was watch. Watch as everyone was thrown into battle. Watch as a man died in front of me. Watch as Aizawa was mauled and still tried to rescue me." Her voice cracked. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and before he knew it he stood in front of her, a hand on her shoulder.
"It wasn't your fault." How do I do this, I don't know how to comfort anyone but Yasu, and she's insane! "None of us were prepared. And that smoke-dude messed with your Quirk, it wasn't you." Her eyes were open now, hazy and staring at him as if she didn't quite believe him. "Just ... don't beat yourself up over it." He swallowed and turned around, walking once more. A few seconds later, the sound of her footsteps told him that she was following.
Mitsuki, of course, yelled at him about returning so late and leaving his cousin behind, but stopped in her tracts when she saw Smith shrinking behind him. He rolled his eyes and shouldered past her, pointing towards the sofa. While the girl took off her shoes, he trudged into the kitchen and filled a kettle with water.
"Who is that?" his mother asked, eyeing his classmate. He shrugged and set the water to boil, grabbing a mug and a tea bag. "Katsuki."
He sighed and mumbled, "A friend." With a satisfied nod, his mother left him alone, but not before telling Smith to yell if she needed anything.
When the tea was ready, he brought the hot mug over to the quiet girl. "Here." Katsuki flopped down on the other end of the sofa, closing his eyes and finally relaxing.
" ... Thank you, Bakugo." Bakugo, not Cauliflower.
