WARNING: Mentions/Descriptions of nightmares, panic attacks, PTSD, triggers etc. up ahead. You have been warned.
___________________________________________
Bakugou Katsuki and Hoshiko Tsuyasha were scarred.
In the more physical sense, Katsuki now had five scars on his face, one from each of the bastard's fingers.
The one on his right temple that stopped just shy of his eyebrow was from the index finger. The gash marring vertically down the middle of his forehead to the bridge of his nose was courtesy of the middle finger. The scar streaking on his left cheekbone was from the pinky. The scar on his right cheek was courtesy of the thumb.
The worst one was courtesy from the ring finger. It started from his left temple and went on across his brow ridge all the way to his left eyelid. Had circumstances been very different, he would've been proud to bore such a badass scar.
Now? Looking at his own reflection and seeing those ugly @$$ scars made him want to punch the fu$king mirror.
Fortunately, while it would scar, the damage could've been worse, especially to his left eye. Thankfully, according to the doctors, his left eye was miraculously not blinded. Surgery may be needed to prevent lasting droop of the damaged eyelid but still, he was 'lucky' they said.
They were dumb@$$es. He was anything but lucky, how the fu$k could he be feeling lucky of all things after all the $hit he's been through?
Tsuya was scarred too on her left arm. It started from below her elbow and the scarring covered practically half of her forearm.
She always had to impulsively swallow down the bile in her throat everytime she saw her arm because even if it was covered by bandages or sleeves, she's seen it. She's seen the stark contrast the scar had against her skin and it was sickening to her.
The scar was spread out across her arm, the same way one would get an accurate shaped tan line after sunbathing in an elaborate swimsuit. But cracks spread out on the edges like the roots of a tree trunk, reminding her of cracked porcelain.
(She felt ready to shatter like porcelain and simply stay that way instead of pointlessly piecing herself back together with cellophane tape.)
Fortunately, her muscles and tendons weren't too badly damaged. The doctors and healing quirks managed to fix it so she'd be able to keep using it and move it like normal without any problems.
She would gladly sacrifice a whole arm and a leg- literally and metaphorically- if it meant she could undo all this. If it meant Auntie Inko would be alive and Izu happy and alive and safe, it'd be a small price to pay.
But no. She could offer her mcfu$king heart or her goddamn brain or her whole @$$ body and it still wouldn't be enough. Nothing would ever be enough to change what's happened.
No amount of doctors or healing quirks, no matter how experienced or talented or effective they are, will ever be able to heal the scar Bakugou Katsuki and Hoshiko Tsuyasha will have to carry to their own graves.
(Maybe they won't have to carry them for long if they go there themselves first.)
^^*************^^
Katsuki thought he knew what cold felt like.
He thought cold was that chill that sent goosebumps prickling and the hair on your arms and the back of your neck standing with a tingly feel. He thought cold was the feeling you get when you felt the coolness wash over your skin like a rock immersing into a river.
He thought cold was the sensation he didn't like because feeling cold meant he couldn't sweat as much for his quirk and that meant he was weaker and he hated feeling weak because being weak meant being helpless and that was horrible.
God, he was such a whiny baby for thinking he understood just how cold one could get to the point it numbed your being and simply burned underneath the dullness, crackling and shimmering like static.
Because that was exactly the type of 'cold' he felt.
It stayed with him, covering his entire being like the plastic wrap people used to cover leftovers. It stretched taut and stuck to him, clinging onto him no matter where he went or what he did. It wrapped around his core like chains and each time it rattled, he felt the vibration shudder through its length until it reached his heart.
If he focused on the numbness, he can ignore the biting cold and blistering agony underneath it all. If he focused on the numbness, he can ignore the world around him. The world that quite frankly could fu$k off in his eyes.
Because why should he give a damn to the world when it didn't even bat an eye after it took away two amazing people who were honest to god the best beings this universe could create for this cruel twisted world?
It was like he was drowsy yet acutely aware of everything around him at the same time.
At times, he'd blink and stare blankly at something and nothing in particular, allowing himself to be lost in his flow of thoughts as he thought of god knows what. Noises became muffled and intangible like his ears were stuffed with cotton and his head was underwater, his senses dulled to the point he was simply there. He'd blink and suddenly he was somewhere else with someone else doing something else.
Other times, he could hear noises he never bothered to pay attention to or even notice for that matter. There were times where he could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat; the slight squeak of wheels rolling by his hospital room's door outside; the footsteps both light and heavy, slow and hurried; the opening and closing of another door; the shuffle of a curtain being drawn.
And the words and looks.
He hated it. He hated the empty consolations and condolences those extras gave, the pitying looks they'd offer, the patronizing slow tone they used when talking to him, the exaggerated care in some of their movements, he wanted to shout at them, blow them up or just release some steam- or an explosion- in general because how could they?
How could they act as though they understood what it was like to watch someone you loved like a second family get coldly murdered in front of your eyes, another kidnapped and now MIA, only to then turn their back on their body and leave it to be further desecrated by flames?
Katsuki knew that they would have to cremate her....body again anyways but the thought of having to have her body consumed by fire twice made him taste bile.
Time lost its solidity to him and he couldn't care less if ten whole years passed right then and there or if an alien apocalypse came upon the earth.
Because a whole @$$ century could pass and it wouldn't change a thing. The world wouldn't spare the Midoriyas a glance because what did two more lost lives matter to them in a world filled with billions of other people who would wind up the same eventually anyways?
The world didn't care about the Midoriyas.
Katsuki did and if the world didn't then they could go screw themselves, simple as that.
Next thing he knew, him and Tsuya left the hospital and went back home. They didn't go to school but overdue homework was the last thing on their minds.
Life became a monotonous cycle of waking up- if he felt like it- dragging himself out of bed and trying to get used to doing small normal things like brush his teeth and wash his face.
It was hard to do so with only one eye visible. Even harder without using the mirror.
(He couldn't look at his own reflection because if he did, he'd see the scars- he'd see the mocking reminders of his failure he'll have to carry for the rest of his life- and shatter the mirror with his bare fist.
(The mirror would shatter and his fists would bleed, just like him)
Eating became....pointless. More of an annoyance really.
Food tasted bland on his tongue. Even his favourite super spicy curry that his old hag cooked up tasted bland on his tongue. Chewing it made the scars on his face stretch and protest, sending stings of pain that brought tears to the corner of his eyes; swallowing it was like swallowing a metal ball and feeling it go down the lump in his throat and into his knotted stomach made him want to hurl.
Sleep became either one of two things- the best thing in the world or the worst thing in the realm of unconsciousness.
Sometimes when he was lucky- those times were very few and far behind now actually- he would sleep and it'd be blissful. It felt like all he had to do was keep his eyes closed for a few seconds longer than usual and when he opened them again, an even bigger longer amount of time would've already passed without him having to do anything other than simply exist.
Other times- which were sadly becoming much more often- he'd dread to close his eyes for too long and allow himself to fall asleep because if he did, he'd be pulled into another world of pain.
He'd be standing there in that flat again. Fire crackled ominously, its flickering tongues greedily licking at anything that came too close, the smell of smoke invading his lungs and stinging his eyes.
He'd see Auntie M's cold lifeless body lying limply on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, dull green eyes staring blankly at nothing but he could see the storm of disappointment underneath the dimness directed straight towards him because it was his fault, why didn't he do anything- why couldn't he do anything? - what kind of a big brother was he?
Then he'd see Tsuya's body next to hers, just as battered and broken and dead. The floor stained a darker shade of red than her hair and once he could remember in morbid detail just how mutilated her left arm was as though someone stuck it in a blender and slapped it back on.
The worst part was always saved for last.
Izuku would be there. He'd be there, crying and begging for someone, anyone to save him- he'd call out for Katsuki to come save him. His tearful green eyes would beg his big brother to save him and be his hero.
Katsuki wasn't his hero, he couldn't be his hero. He couldn't run forward and grab Izuku, he could never reach him in time no matter how fast he ran because it felt like he was simply stuck running in the same spot as the dark purple mist swirled in, their tendrils wrapping around Izuku and taking him away.
He'd see crimson eyes peeking through the gaps of a hand, an eerily white grin stretched across his face, taunting him over his failure, mocking him for his helpless weakness.
The hands would stretch out, long and spindly and endless and reaching out towards him. They'd grab him in an iron grip like a python, so tight he could feel them pressing against his bones while the fingernails dug into his skin.
He'd scream and shout until his throat gave out, the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He'd struggle and fight against the hands but they just kept coming and latching onto him like shackles, pulling him down- pulling him away from his family.
Then he'd watch in horror as his body slowly disintegrated before his eyes. His skin would crack and chip like porcelain to reveal the muscle and tendons that would slowly shred like paper.
But that wasn't even the worst of it.
The worst part would be when he'd come face to face with a being wearing his Auntie's face, glaring at him with so much hate and disappointment and resentment, it burned him more than any of the flames surrounding him could.
"HOW COULD YOU?!" she shrieked into his face like a banshee. "HE NEEDED YOU! WE NEDED YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU DO ANYTHING?! YOU WERE HIS BIG BROTHER! HOW COULD SOMEONE AS PATHETIC AND WEAK LIKE YOU CALL YOURSELF THAT YOU WORTHLESS CHILD?!"
It hurt, god it hurt to hear his own Auntie M say that. To see such a wrong expression on her kind motherly face- to see her eyes blazing with such unbridled rage so raw, it scraped against his heart like jagged rock.
(The worst part was that she's right. He's worthless, he's a pathetic excuse for a brother.)
That's when he'd finally reach his limit and wake up. He'd shoot out of bed, hyperventilating, his body covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his heart pounding against his chest, the blood roaring in his ears and his stomach performing acrobatics.
The first time it happened, it was so vivid and felt so morbidly real that he threw up on the spot. His parents had rushed in and he didn't know how long they spent holding him, whispering reassurances that they were there and that it was a nightmare, rubbing circles on his back and gently patting it while he dry heaved and tried to get his breathing back under control, the cold air that was forced down his throat prickled it like needles.
Fu$k he was pathetic. He couldn't do $hit without some form of prompting with any form of purpose. Even doing the basic things to take care of himself such as brushing his teeth, taking a shower and changing his clothes felt like pushing a boulder up a steep mountain.
One moment he was getting out of bed and the next, the old hag was fussing over him, making sure his suit was neat and-
Wait, why was he wearing a suit? He hated those, they were stuffy and uncomfortable and annoying to put on.
The droning chants of a sutra from the Buddhist priest reached his ears, resonating through the sullen silence of the room he was sitting in, reminding him that he was at the wake.
The wake for Midoriya Inko........
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but already, his eyes were stinging as a treacherous tear slipped down. Through his blurred tears, he saw the old hag reach out and place her hand over his, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Glancing to the side, he saw Tsuya sitting beside her father, her hand clutching his like a lifeline.
Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from all the crying, her cheeks looked gaunt and the bags under her eyes evidently from lack of sleep. The black kimono she wore made her look worryingly thinner and frailer than he last remembered. Then again, he was probably looking no better, even if he didn't look into the mirror that often.
(He tried not to look into a mirror at all these days.)
Suddenly, Katsuki belatedly realized he now had to offer incense three times to the incense urn in front of.....Midoriya Inko's deceased body.
The moment the smoke from the incense reached his nostrils and truly registered in his no longer numb mind, Katsuki's eyes widened as he suddenly saw nothing but dark crimson of his auntie's blood, green eyes pleading for help, orange fire burning too brightly too close and sickly pale skin with spindly fingers, a maniacally grinning face with malicious crimson eyes-
He dropped the incense as though they burned him- they might as well have- and stood up with a gasp.
Thankfully, by then the sutra was over but that didn't stop some people from giving him looks. Ashamed- he was at his auntie's funeral for fu$k's sake and he couldn't even at least give her the proper respectful etiquette for her departure- he sat back down.
"Katsuki? Son, are you alright?" Masaru asked worriedly. He didn't miss the way his son's eyes had widened, the pupils rapidly dilating and horror flooding through him earlier when he dropped the incense.
"Peachy." Katsuki spat out, harsher than he intended. God, he just wanted to get this over with and leave before he suffocated. He just wanted to go back to his bed and try to sleep, to selfishly allow himself to temporarily forget about all the pain and guilt and regret that intertwined into a noose that gradually became tighter and tighter each passing day.
(He wanted to run again like the coward he truly was.)
^^*************^^
Tsuya didn't like funerals.
Even back when she was 5 and still didn't fully grasp the depth of death, she had already decided that she didn't like funerals.
She had been there to attend her mother's of course. Her dad had asked her to wear the black kimono even if she didn't like how hard it was for her to move in it and to be on her best behavior. He looked sad and she didn't want him to feel worse so like the filial daughter she was, she promised she'd do as such.
But even then she couldn't deny that standing amongst the crowd of sullen sad faces, some openly crying and sniffling, had been suffocating. It felt like a weight pressing down on her, a lump in her throat making her want to cry too and the knot in her stomach becoming so tight, swallowing became difficult.
She couldn't stop the tears. Her throat had reached its limit so the raw wails and body wracking sobs had stopped but god, the tears didn't. Salty hot tears kept dripping down her face if not in a waterfall than in fat drops like a leaky faucet.
She was....tired. Not the same kind of tired she felt after a strenuous workout or difficult homework but the kind where everything just felt like it didn't matter, where you simply felt numb and couldn't feel or care about anything and everything around you.
Well.....not fully numb.
The numbness actually stemmed from the pain. In truth, Tsuya was in pain. All of them were in pain. The Bakugous, her dad, the handful of friends and co-workers who were also there to mourn the death of Midoriya Inko......
She was dead.
She was never coming back.
"Now then." Inko said, clapping her hands, a bright smile- a genuine one- one her face. "Who wants katsudon for dinner?"
"Oh! Me! Me! Me!" Izuku cheered, enthusiastically raising his hand and bouncing on his toes.
"Can we have mochi for dessert?" Tsuya asked.
Inko laughed. "Of course, sweetie."
"Yah! Katsudon and mochi!" Izuku cheered.
A choked sob tore out of her throat, her body shaking like a house of cards ready to collapse.
Her dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, his large strong body giving her some form of an anchor in this hurricane mess of emotions she was.
Her left arm felt detached from her body. Yes it was there, attached like any other appendage but at the same time, it felt like it wasn't there. It was so numb it stung to the point it felt like it was burning all over again.
Then again....considering the brunt of injuries/ scars Katsuki has in comparison......well, who was she to complain?
When the cremation happened, she was no longer numb. The world around her wasn't dull and intangible like she was underwater. No, she woke up and became acutely aware of what was happening.
Fire.
There was fire.
Midoriya Inko was being consumed by fire again.
Suddenly she couldn't breathe, everytime she did the air seemed to be tinged with smoke and her left arm flared, the fabric of the kimono felt like sand rubbing against open wounds and the despairing fear crushed her heart, oh god, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything again, she was going to die, Katsuki was going to die, they were all going to burn and die-
"TSUYA!"
Her dad. It was her dad, her strong, loving, supporting, sometimes overprotective but still trusting dad. He was there with her and there was no fire, no burning, no blood, and no death. She was safe.
(She shouldn't be safe; she didn't even deserve to be alive right now.)
"Breathe starlight, can you hear my voice? Nod if you can." He continued, voice soothing while his hand clasped her shaky right one.
She nodded.
"Ok, that's good. Now follow my count, it's just like practice." He added.
Right, just like practice. Just like the martial arts/ self-defence training they did together. She just had to go with the flow and trust him to guide her through the currents.
"1...2...3...let it out. 1...2...3...let it out, you're doing great, starlight. 1...2....3...out." the trembling stopped, the blazing pain gradually faded to a dull throb and she could breathe air without tasting the tinge of smoke choking her lungs.
"I......I'm sorry." She choked out.
Goddamn it all, they were supposed to be there mourning, grieving and crying with all the others but here her father was, having to waste extra time and energy to try and coddle a broken doll like herself.
It was unfair, all of this was so fu$king unfair she wanted to just flip the whole world off and tell it to go fu$k itself.
(She wanted to just end it all already)
It was unfair that fate had to label Izu as quirkless- something discriminated in their society only to then kidnap him on the same frickin day as though to rub salt into the wound and then as though that wasn't enough, they had to go ahead and take Auntie Inko away from them all too.
The bloody cherry on top must've been her and Katsuki. Getting scarred, beaten, broken and nearly killed must've been one helluva bonus credit.
And to make matters worse, her own dad- who considered Midoriya Inko family as much as she did- didn't have time to mourn over the same loss he too had to endure because he had to take care of his weak helpless daughter who couldn't even glance at remotely anything, no matter how trivial and subtle, that reminded her of Midoriya Inko without hiccuping and sniffling away.
"Go back." She croaked out. "Please, I have to go back." She pleaded.
She had to go back to pay her respects in person. It was the least she could do for her auntie/godmother now.
Her dad looked hesitant, clearly conflicted on the best course of action considering the state she's in but relented.
"Okay." He said simply, no more words needed.
By the time they were back, they were just in time to see the ashes respectfully put into the urn.
(She didn't want to question if the professionals could've possibly left some ashes behind in ruins of the flat.)
^^*************^^
It was raining now.
It started raining at some point. It started as a slight drizzle that persisted and gradually increased to a heavier torrent that formed puddles and soaked through clothing, making the fabric heavier as it clung onto your skin, making you feel clammy and miserable.
Katsuki thought it was fitting. This dark dreary depressing setting was fitting for all this. For a brief moment, it almost seemed as though the universe did seem to give some damn to what it's lost.
He was wet and cold and he'll probably catch a fever but he couldn't care less. Normally, he would be cursing up a storm because he despised being wet and cold as it made him vulnerable and weak but.....did it matter anymore? Wasn't he already vulnerable and weak? What was the point of hiding it now that it's out in the open?
A hand tentatively touched his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He turned around, dull red eyes blankly staring at his mother.
"Katsuki we....we're gonna go wait in the car. Do you want to stay here a bit longer?" Mitsuki asked.
He nodded.
"Do you want to stay with Katsuki, starlight?" Seiki gently asked his daughter.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
And so their parents walked off, leaving the two of them, alone in the rain and in front of Midoriya Inko's grave.
In front of their failure.
Katsuki blinked, trying to play off his tears as rainwater but they were distinctively salty. He was drenched to the bone and the wind howled, sending a breeze to further send a tingling chill across anyone's skin.
He welcomed it.
Maybe that's why he couldn't care if he stood in the rain. Maybe if he stood amongst in the pattering droplets long enough, the downpour might be able to wash away the sins he felt tainted his body.
Maybe it'll wash away the constant feeling of fire, soot, grime and blood clinging onto his skin.
"Katsuki?" he heard Tsuya croak, voice stuffy and hoarse and so tired, so broken and fragile.
He slowly turned around and looked at Tsuya. He looked at her tired eyes still bloodshot and puffy; the dark bags that made them look sunken; how her complexion looked so pale, it was sickly; the black kimono draped across her body made her look frailer than ever and her red hair looked like it hasn't been properly combed in weeks giving her a haunted look.
He tried to ignore how Tsuya never braids it anymore, the same way Auntie M and Izu would do it for her.
(He tried to ignore how she looked like a broken porcelain doll ready to be thrown away.)
"What?" he asked, his voice lacking the gruffness, tone deprived of any heat. He just sounded as tired and broken as her.
"You have the right to cry in front of others too, y'know." She said. "Don't." she said before he could protest.
One of the reasons why she's his BFF- when she has a point to make to him, she can and will get it through.
"Drop the tough guy act, Tsuki. You're mourning, you're grieving and you're in pain, just like me. If you want to cry, cry already. If not here right now with me....then where else?"
Every word struck a chord in Katsuki, chipping away at the dam until it finally cracked.
First a tear.
Then two.
Then three.
And then they kept coming in a steady stream down in his face and he couldn't stop. The tears came and his body curled in on itself as the body-wracking sobs came back full force.
His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the ground, uncaring of the pain his kneecaps felt from the impact. He just sobbed and covered his scarred face with his own hands as though the pressure from his own appendages would numb the agony spreading on it.
He heard sniffles and hiccups mixed with the occasional word trying to stutter out through the despaired sounds beside him. Tsuya was there, kneeling beside him, crying just as hard as him.
Katsuki wasn't the 'touchy feely' kind of person.
But that day, he turned around and wrapped his arms around Tsuya, holding on like a lifeline. He buried his face in her shoulder and fu$king wailed.
He wailed while she sobbed. He hugged her and she hugged him back.
They needed this. Just the two of them, they needed each other now more than ever.
One was just as broken as the other; one was suffering just as much as the other but that's okay because that meant one understood the other better than anyone else and empathy was what they needed, not sympathy.
Katsuki didn't know how long they both knelt there embracing one another, anchoring one another to the soul-crushing reality of it all as the rain continued its relentless torrent of water. At some point, the rain lessened to more of a drizzle.
"We'll find him." Tsuya said. "Izu's brave, he's smart and he's strong, he'll be okay, he'll hold out until he's saved and he will be saved."
That was the longest most assertive sentence she's ever said to him since they both woke up in the hospital to hear the devastating news.
And for the first time since then, Katsuki felt something spark in him. It was small but sharp amongst the cold numbness that's taken over his core.
Hope.
He felt a spark of hope.
And finally, he felt something blossom inside his chest. He didn't feel as hollow as before, his eyes were no longer dull as they alighted once more because now he had a drive to push him on and support him.
He had a purpose.
He had a mission.
"WE'LL SAVE YOU IZU!" Katsuki managed to shout out through the pain and smoke. "I PROMISE! I'LL SAVE YOU!"
"I'll find him." He said-no....he vowed right then and there in front of his auntie's grave.
Tsuya jolted, surprised. She slowly turned to look at him, eyes wide as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Katsuki stood straighter, taller, stronger, his eyes were burning not with rage but with determination, his stance firm, his voice unwavering with a mission, a vow.
He was a man hellbent on a mission.
"I'll find Izu. I'll find him even if I walk through he!l and I swear on my life that I'll protect him. I'll take care of him, I'll do my goddamn best as his big brother and I'll protect him in a way we both couldn't. I'll raise him quirkless or not and support him all the way. I'll become the hero he needs, the hero everyone needs.
"I......" he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, resisting the urge to breakdown again as he confessed his biggest sin. "I know I fu$ked up, god I fu$ked up so....so bad that night." He choked. "I'm so....so sorry, I wasn't strong enough, I'm sorry I couldn't do anything but I....." he paused to wipe away the tears before they could fall again.
"I'll make it up to you and Izu. I promise, I vow that I'll become a hero both of you can be proud of. Maybe I'll screw up again, I'll make mistakes, I'll do stupid things, I'll make choices I'll regret, he!l I might even hurt people along the way or....or maybe next time, I won't lucky and I'll kick the bucket.
"Maybe something will happen and I won't be able to make it that far but I swear that I won't rest until I find Izu and bring him back. Even if it's the last thing I do.
"I'll work my @$$ off to become a hero. I'll become a symbol of hope. A symbol that you and Izu can look up to, a hero the old hag and old man, Uncle Seiki and Tsuya, to everyone."
"We." Tsuya said.
That one word was spoken so firmly, it nailed Katsuki like a stake.
"What?" he croaked out.
She looked at him and suddenly, she was an entirely different person. She wasn't the sobbing hiccupping broken porcelain doll anymore.
She stood straight up with a purpose, her mouth was set in a firm line and her eyes were brighter than he's ever seen, they were blazing with a strength he hasn't witnessed in a long time.
She didn't look hopeless and broken anymore. She was still cracked but for once, there was hope.
"We will find Izu. We will protect. We will become the heroes he and Auntie M need." She stated, each word enunciated firmly to let him know where she stood. Then her face softened.
"These demons aren't just yours to face." She said. "We're both doing this for the sake of Izu and Auntie M, we're doing this for the sake of our parents and ourselves, we're doing this for everyone's sake.
"It's not your choice to make. I just wanted you to know that I'm with you on this. We....." she swallowed. "We both owe the Midoriyas that much after....."
Katsuki wordlessly nodded.
Then Tsuya composed herself. "Sides, god knows you're gonna need someone who can put up with your $hit to watch your back." She said. "And well, you're a little $hit and I can be a bit of a bish so....yeah. Dynamic's already established at least." She said the last part with slightest quirk of her lips.
For the first time in days, Katsuki felt his own lips quirk up into a smile. It was small but it was there and it was genuine and it didn't pull at the scars on his face. In fact, his face felt better than it has in days.
It was a start. A much needed start for the long journey ahead.
Tsuya grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers together in a silent agreement between the two and squeezed.
Katsuki squeezed back in solid affirmation.
A thousand words were spoken but they all gathered into one single thought.
A vow.
They both bowed their heads in respect, silently thanking Midoriya Inko for all she's done, for every gesture of maternal love, warm kindness, selfless compassion and unwavering acceptance she showed them no matter how small or trivial or grand or deep.
They paid their final respects and farewells to the woman who was their second mother in all but blood yet loved them as much as she loved her own flesh and blood.
Another gust of wind blew, making Tsuya's hair look like a flickering flame. Thunder rumbled in the background as though questioning their challenge.
In reply, they both gazed up into the stormy sky, looking into the unknown horizon dead in the eye.
That was the day they both made a vow they will forever carry to their grave with the rest of their scars and shadows.
"We're coming for you, Izu."
^^*************^^
Midoriya Inko burned to ashes.
Bakugou Katsuki and Hoshiko Tsuyasha did not.
They were singed by flames. They are incomplete and damaged.
But they're not dead.
They didn't die.
And they refuse to do so until they save their little brother, Midoriya Izuku.