Bakugou Katsuki's POV:
The harsh click of metal scraping against metal rang through his ears, and Zero's attention flicked up just in time to see a pair of regretful red eyes stare at him as Aizawa's thumb clicked the button.
A fraction of a millisecond went by before the pain hit. Zero didn't have time to think, to act, even to breath before a bloodcurdling howl wrenched itself from his lips as the light of a thousand suns light up his eyes.
And then it was black.
— — —
"Hello honey."
"Hi Mum." Katsuki said with a small smile, though he knew his parents couldn't see it through the phone.
The boy was standing in the corner of his grade five classroom as he took his parents call, having decided that it would be best if he extracted himself from the hustle and bustle created by his busily working peers.
"Have you had a good day, Katsuki?" Came the deep tenor of Katsuki's father's voice through the slightly distorted speaker.
"Yeah." The boy replied instantly, as was his habit.
"Oh that's wonderful sweetheart," Spoke his mother. "I don't want this to impact too badly on your mood then, but we've been called to have one last-minute meeting with an inspector tonight."
Katsuki's grin faded.
"He's from very high up in the ladder, and has taken notice of our business. He said he thought it looked promising, and is coming in with a possible investment." Claimed his father.
"T-That's great." Katsuki said, though his mouth felt as dry as a desert.
"Unfortunately that means we won't be home for tonight as we're going to have to stay in town, just in case he decides he wants to come back tomorrow morning." Came Katsuki's mothers consoling voice.
"But we've called in, and your Uncle is all clear to take care of you tonight." His father chimed in.
"We just wanted to tell you so that you wouldn't get a scare when you get home tonight. Okay honey?"
The blood drained from Katsuki's face as he felt bile crawl up his throat. Choking on a sob, he whispered a shaky 'Okay,' before they told him they loved him and hung up.
— — —
Walking back from school that day Katsuki's feet dragged along the sidewalk, and not because of the soccer match he'd taken part in that lunch. Rather, it was the looming sense of dread that weighed him down, and he endeavoured to take as long as possible. Here Katsuki didn't have to worry about how heavy his footfalls were, whereas once he stepped inside the normally inviting threshold of his home he knew it'd be equivalent to walking on eggshells.
But all too soon he'd arrived at his house, just as he knew he would have to at some point. He stood in front of the rich brown door, fingers lightly resting on the handle, not pulling it open.
Katsuki was being 'looked after' by his Uncle. For a whole night...Normally it was bad enough, but now Uncle didn't have to worry about whether or not Katsuki's parents would see anything. They wouldn't be coming home at all, and he'd be off at school well before they came home. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Katsuki braced himself and walked inside.
— — —
"Hello, Katsuki."
"G-Good afternoon, U-Uncle."
His Uncle clicked his tongue. "Katsuki..." He tutted with a sigh. "What have we said about that nasty stuttering?"
Hot tears burned under his eyelids but Katsuki kept his eyes respectfully on the floor, staring at his own white socks.
"Sorry, Uncle. It won't happen again."
"I'd hope not." Katsuki flinched harshly as a hand was placed on his head, rubbing his ashy tufts of hair in an almost affectionate way. Except there was no feelings of kindness at all, or if there was, it was drowned out by the way his Uncles nails dug into his scalp.
"Now, your mother told me that there were leftovers in the fridge?" Uncle trailed off.
Eyes widening as he uncovered the coded message, Katsuki hurried to answer. "Yes, I'll go heat them up Uncle."
"Good boy."
This was why Katsuki hated and feared his Uncle. There was no shouting like his mother occasionally let out if he'd done something really wrong. To be frank, Katsuki preferred it when he was shouted out. Then he knew clearly with no confusion what he'd done and why it wasn't okay, so that he could avoid it happening again.
Rather than this...Being passive-aggressively ordered around. Having threats hidden under layers and layers of complex words, so sickly sweet and sugar coated that nobody else ever noticed. He'd rather be told to his face instead of having to infer and read between the lines where miscommunication and misinterpretation were both possible. And his Uncle didn't take well to mistakes...Ever.
Katsuki hurried through the hallway, straight into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he began rummaging through the food to try and find what his Uncle had been talking about.
Not to mention this treatment left him feeling awful, even if he wasn't being hit physically. Always believing he wasn't doing well enough, always being in the wrong, existing in a perpetual state of fear and apprehension. It made him sick just thinking about it.
It'd be all false praise, kind words, and then suddenly...Katsuki would be on the floor. There wasn't anything to let the boy brace himself before the hits started falling like rain. They'd both be using soft voices and quiet movements before suddenly his Uncle would lash out. And the worst part was that Katsuki never knew what he'd done wrong.
The leftovers from last nights dinner was some noodles, and Katsuki grabbed the cold container it was in and poured the contents into a ceramic bowl before putting it in the microwave.
If he ever caught his breath enough, he'd ask his Uncle in between his cries. What had he done? Why did he deserve this? It was always the same kind of round-about blaming answer, but it didn't help his confusion.
"Because you're a monster, someone who can't even do the simplest of things right. Why do you think your parents only ever had one child? Because they didn't want your terrible antics to rub off on their other children like it does to your friends at school."
It was those kinds of 'critiquing facts' he'd receive. Katsuki almost preferred being hit, in all honesty. It was his Uncle's words that had driven him to get such good grades in school, to become a perfectionist. It was his Uncle that had fanned Katsuki's fear of other people. Because he wouldn't want others to have his horrible nature rub off on them, right?
It contradicted what his parents told him. They said they loved him, almost every day. At first that had gotten him through it. Because Uncle had lied about so many things, he could be lying about nobody caring for him too, right? But then he'd realised...What if Uncle was telling the truth? What if his parents were the liars?
The metal and plastic radiator let out a buzz to let him know it was done, and Katsuki pulled the dish out. He checked the temperature and, deciding it wasn't quite hot enough to be to his Uncle's liking, put it back in. Katsuki grabbed some place mats and began setting up the table for dinner, still lost in his thoughts.
If his parents had loved him, they wouldn't have continued to leave him at the mercy of his Uncle. They wouldn't have to take so much time away from him at work. And it wasn't like Katsuki could defend himself; the outbursts were so unpredictable Katsuki could never tell when it was going to happen.
But even if he could it wouldn't make a difference. He'd tried dodging once, and it had only resulted in worse treatment than normal for a good few weeks. Katsuki would never even consider trying to hit back though, not when is Quirk always seemed to desert him whenever he needed it most.
And it was strange that he could barely even stand thinking about rebelling as well as that. Normally, Katsuki was more than willing to speak up against what he thought was wrong, but whenever his Uncle was involved all he could muster was silence.
That puzzlement hadn't lasted long though. It had only taken Katsuki a few of the first initial weeks of torture to figure out why this diverse personality switch occurred. It was because of his Uncle's Quirk, which Katsuki found that -after discreetly questioning his parents- allowed him to control people's moods and actions once the substance his body secreted soaked into his victims skin.
But after a while, Uncle no longer needed it to make Katsuki docile, submissive and repressed. It became habit, then instinct, then second nature, and had been bordering on the automatic threshold for a long period of time now.
The microwave beeped again just as Katsuki finished putting out the cutlery, and he returned to the kitchen before pouring the food in to a new bowl. He wouldn't want his Uncle burning his hands on the hot terracotta, because if he did it could result in any form of retribution. Two minutes later, Katsuki sat opposite his Uncle on the dining room table. His Uncle was the only one eating though, as Katsuki needed to keep the rest of the food in case his Uncle was still hungry after his first serve. He'd eat later, if there was food left.
"Did you make this, Katsuki?"
"No, Uncle."
"I didn't think so. Who made it?"
Katsuki's eyes widened as his grip on the edge of his seat tightened. It was a trap. Either way, he'd be in the wrong. If he'd lied and said yes, his cooking skills would've been insulted. And now that he'd said no...
"Mum did."
Uncle's eyes narrowed. "You know, Katsuki, your mother has already put up with working these late nights to pay for your existence. Are you incapable of being something more than a financial burden to her? Why do you not help your poor mother?"
"I offered, but she said that since I had h-homework-" Katsuki hastily cleared his throat to cover up the stutter that his Uncle hated so much. "I should go do that instead."
And it was true. But Uncle wouldn't assume the best from Katsuki, and so it went as it always did. The screech of wood scraping on the floor hurt his ears, but Katsuki sat still as his Uncle stood up and slammed his fist on the table.
Despite his body language, Uncle's voice was deathly soft as he spoke. "What have we said about those excuses of yours, Katsuki?"
"They're just another form of lying." He replied timidly.
"Now you say that, but I don't think you really know it. Do I have to teach you another way?"
Katsuki looked up with wide eyes as his Uncle moved around the table towards him. "No Uncle, please-"
"I don't think you get to decide." Uncle cut in. "You see, Katsuki, repeating things like a brain-dead moron is one thing, but understanding them is another. And I've found that little children like you tend to only really learn properly when there are consequences for not doing the right thing. Tell me dear boy; do you know what the world's best teaching mechanism is?"
"No..." Katsuki trailed off timidly.
"Pain."