🍓☀️ The Strawberry Sunshine team wishes you a happy Pride!! The summer of KiriDeku loving is just around the corner, and we can’t wait to celebrate with you! ☀️🍓
Summary: Satoru Gojo liked walking around his school's campus at night. To him it was normally peaceful. However, one night he hears a familiar voice behind him and it's not an ally. It's an old enemy and he wants a rematch.
Satoru liked the night. The gentle glow of the moon and twinkle of the stars made him feel at peace. He liked wandering his school's campus for the same reason; peace. The memories he had made there would chase him some nights, making him smile.
It had been a good day in the way of training. Other than Panda having to go see his father to fix a small hole left by Demon Dog, everything went smoothly.
Gojo reached Toge’s garden. While not officially his, Toge tended to it the most. He could talk to the plants If he wanted to. Gardening was his student’s favorite hobby. His care for it showed in the beautiful flowers that were planted there mixed with the vegetables, herbs, and berries.
Walking over to a Strawberry plant, Satoru picked a red one off and ate it. Toge’s strawberries were the sweetest ones Gojo had ever found. It wasn't often anyone else got any.
“I want a rematch.”
Gojo froze before grabbing another berry. “That voice,” he whispered. Shaking his head he took a deep breath. “What's up, Meg?” It wouldn't be the first time he heard his father's voice when Megumi spoke. It didn't help that they looked so similar.
“Meg?” The voice asked, amused. “Who is Meg?”
Quickly, Satoru turned around to face the voice. His body went colder than he had left the man a few feet away ahead of him. He eyed him up and down, searching for any indication of a cured technique. Curses couldn't get inside Tengen's barrier so the only logical condition was a sorcerer. “What are you?” He asked, his voice shaking more than he wanted it to be.
The man laughed, “does the sight of me really scare you that much? And they call you the strongest, pathetic.”
Doubling down, Gojo asked again, “what are you?”
Toji Fushiguro started to walk towards him. “I'm sure you know who I am. I killed you, after all.”
“And I killed you.” Gojo said before Toji could continue. “Speaking of that, what the hell are you?”
Toji chuckled, amused. “I'm human, but you wouldn't know much about that, would you?” He started to walk closer to Gojo with slow and deliberate steps.
Standing his ground, Gojo watched him move closer. “You're not human. I killed Toji Fushiguro; sent him straight to hell. What. Are. You?”
The man shrugged, “Sayonced.”
“Sayonced? Really?”
“I'm not lying, they brought me back.” Fushiguro’s walking pattern shifted to one that circled Gojo like prey, forcing Satoru to turn with him to watch him.
A pit formed in Gojo’s chest, “who brought you back?”
“Your owners.” Toji said as if it was the most normal thing to say; as if it was a fact. He stopped walking in a circle. Instead he opted to quickly move in to be only a few feet away from him. Moonlight barely eliminated his action.
Steading himself, Gojo moved his fingers to the symbol for blue. His infitady was raised and has been since he had started to talk; even when he thought he was speaking to Megumi. “My what?”
“The upper brass wants you gone,” he said, smirking, “so they brought back the only person who's been able to kill you. I’ve got to say, as much as I hate to say it, they had a good idea for once. Never thought that would happen.”
Putting a hand to his head, Gojo whispered to himself, “this can’t be fucking real. There is no way I'm not hulsanting.” He moved his hand back down and looked Toji in his gunmetal blue eyes. “You can’t kill me, I’m untouchable to you. Plus it's not like I couldn't take care of any of the injuries anyway.” Satoru made his voice as cocky as he could.
Calmly, Toji walked up to him, standing closer to a foot and half away from him. “Do you really think they would have sent me without something to euthanize you?”
“I’m not a damn dog.”
“Could have fooled me. You sure do bark like one.”
“What did they send to “euthanize” me? I destroyed everything capable of reaching me.”
A sly smirk spread across Toji’s face. “Everything you knew of.” I'm a flash the monster was only inches away from Satoru. He pulled a large knife from his shoe and flicked it open. Metal sliced though his infinity, entering his side effortlessly.
Pain shot through his body. Normally, pain never bothered Gojo, but this pain was burning, the blade warm. He tried to move back but Toji slammed his other arm on his back and pulled him closer, forcing the blade deeper into him. It felt like a hug from hell. Where the handle met the blade had started to sink into the wound.
Trying to get away, Satoru bit into the man’s shoulder, tearing away some flesh. Angrily, Toji pulled the blade out and slammed it further up. Gojo felt it pierce his lung and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He yelped, which made Toji laugh. “You really are like a damn dog.”
“Get away. Get away from me,” was the only thing going through Gojo’s head. Toji held him close, twisting the knife. Satoru scanned him, looking for any weakness he could exploit. His neck was easily extensible. With no better option he sunk his teeth into his neck, aiming for the carotid. Their blood mixed together as he moved to tear more of his skin away.
Reacting, Toji moved the hand on Satoru’s back and tangled his fingers in his white hair, forcing him to stay still. He pulled the butterfly knife up, carving into his body all the way to his shoulder.
Satoru bit down harder, muffaling his screams. Slamming his hands into the man he jerked his head back to free himself. He felt Toji tighten his grip on his hair, yanking him back and making him unstable. His knees buckled as he grabbed Toji's hand. The knife left his shoulder.
Blood poured from his shoulder and mouth. Activating his revered curse technique, Gojo gasped as he felt his lung recover. It was slower than normal which made him nervous. He coughed violently, throwing up the blood that had gathered.
“Isn't this a pretty sight?” He forced his head up. Looking at him, he saw the cruelly amused look on his attacker’s face. Satoru tried to stand. “Stay down.” Shoving him back to his knees, Toji smiled. “Good boy.”
Gojo shot back, “I’m not a dog,”
In response the man stepped closer, making him stare up, forcing eye contact. He was uncomfortably close to Satoru. “Fine, you're just a weapon who forgot its place. You don't fire when you're told. You don't shoot when pointed at a target. A broken weapon is thrown away.”
It wouldn't be the first time someone has called Satoru a weapon. When he was younger he would hear people call him one. They'd say he was worthless aside from his techniques. He used to believe them, that was until he started at Jujutsu Tech. With the help of his classmates and his teacher, by his second year the idea was nothing but a distant memory.
Fear paralyzed Satoru. He knew he needed to escape, yet he couldn't break his gaze. Shaking he spoke, “I'm not a weapon! I'm a person, I'm human!” Tears gathered in his eyes. His words came off more desperate than anything else.
Toji flicked the knife again, showing it to the sorcerer. It was a large, curved butterfly knife. Mat black handles accentuated the silver of the blade; his blood coating the weapon. “Are you telling me, or yourself?” Before he could answer the man he had pulled his head back and forced the knife down towards his mouth.
The blade cut into the corners of his mouth. Teeth against metal created an unpleasant currant to run though Satoru’s spine. Little streams of blood joined the blood already on his face and ran down his chin and neck. Gojo rushed his hands to Toji’s arm and tried to force him off. Despite the tugging on his hair, he pulled his body back as well.
Instead of freeing himself, Satoru accidentally pulled Toji to the ground. He let his hair go but had him pinned under him before he could move. The blade sliced though his right cheek, the curve having caught the lower corner of his mouth. “That's not what you meant to do, is it? If it was, it sure was stupid of you. Are you that scared of me?”
Satoru didn't answer. His whole body was trembling. Not giving him a chance to heal himself, Toji slammed the knife into the bottom of his chest cavity; slowly he pulled the blade up. The sorcerer’s screams echoed through the garden. He tried to activate his blue only to find an empty hand. Tears mixed with blood.
Grasping at the attacker's neck, he put all his energy into trying to choke him. Red scratch lines appeared on Toji’s skin. Satoru kicked and scratched, yet the man didn't move.
A click rang in Satoru’s ears. Silver entered his vision as Toji flicked open a much smaller switchblade. He set his sights on Gojo’s right eye. The butterfly knife reached his lungs, once again suffocating him. Blood pooled in his mouth as he attempted to cough. Switching his focus from Toji’s neck, Satoru caught his arm before the blade could reach his eye. Under him he squirmed, trying to do anything to move him.
A chilling, low laugh came from Toji. “Give in.” He brought his face closer to his victim’s. “No one wants you. You're broken. There is no place for a broken weapon. Six Eyes, you're all used up now. Die, like you're meant to!” Venom laced every word he said. Satoru felt like an insect stuck in a spider's web, or maybe a snow leopard stuck in a snare trap.
The knife was now inches away from his eye. Turning his head, crimson spilled from his mouth. It stained everything it touched. Everything started to become fuzzy. Tired, he turned back to see Toji. It was clear to him, the hatred that Toji exhibited was genuine. Every word he had said, heeant without a shadow of a doubt.
In the distance there was a voice Gojo couldn't quite recognize. It sounded like his name was being called, though he wasn't sure who was there.
Suddenly, Toji was gone. Satoru felt his body start to heal itself. It still felt impossible to breathe or move. His body was exhausted, forcing him to stay laying down as he started to vomit blood, his lungs trying to expel the liquid.
“Gojo!” Footsteps ran over to him. The first thing he saw was gunmetal blue eyes staring back at him. Ice water rushed through him as he flinched away. Then he realized they were much kinder than the ones that had been glaring at him. Gentle hands moved him to his side to make sure he didn't asphyxiate. “Hang on.”
Through his coughs Satoru tried to speak. “Me- Meg?”
The time has come to announce who all has been working tirelessly behind the scenes to bring you this super secret, top notch, confidential zine 😎🕵️ Please peruse through each of our lovely creators pages to get to know their work, and learn more about what is to come…
Merch Artists
@bcxsanson
@dullorangepulp
@fiirekat (also a page artist)
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@.bonkayays on twitter (also a page artist)
@unhappy-sometimes (also a page artist and writer)
Summary: Muichiro Tokito's memory had its ups and downs. When Ginko is unable to accompany him to a hashira meeting, Muichiro has to navigate a bad day alone while trying to remember what he needed for the meeting.
Hashira meetings proved to be a challenge for Muichiro Tokito. His memory had been failing him for years which made incident reports hard to give. Now standing in the garden waiting for the master of the demon slayer corp he attempted to focus on the last few weeks. With his crow, Ginko, sick she couldn't remind him of the demon activity in his territory.
The hashira tried to help him. Over time they had given him some suggestions for memory. Tengen Uzui had given him a blue notepad with a matching pen he had bought in a town he visited while away. While the gesture was appreciated, Muichiro quickly lost the pen, forgetting where he had placed it. The notepad stayed with him for a week. It stayed in his pocket, its pages blank other than the short note from Uzui. A notepad can only help if you remember it's there.
Shinobu’s contribution was puzzles. The puzzles were meant to help strengthen his brain. When she had talked to Rengoku, Kanroji, and Igoro, Kanroji worried that he might find them insulting in some way. “What if he thinks you’re babying him?” She stated.
Tengen responded with, “he might not remember to be offended.” While the puzzles weren't overly difficult for the teen, there was no progress in his memory.
While some of the hashira had tried to improve Tokito’s memory, others just tried to make his life easier. Kyojiro made sure he had snacks with him for meetings. It took a few months to get them right but he had found things the kid seemed to like, konpeito and mochi. Muichiro wasn't a picky eater but Rengoku wanted to make sure he had something he knew he would like with him. Shinazugawa had caught onto the flame pillars habit and started to bring food to Tokio as well.
“The master of the mansion had arrived.” A kasugai crow announced to the hashira. Quickly they all kneeled in a line; the previously noisy garden had become silent in an instant.
“Hello my children. The weather is quite nice for our meeting today.”
Once Kagaya Ubuyashiki had stepped outside Sanemi greeted him. “Good morning master, it brings us great joy to see you in such good health. We pray for your continued good fortune.”
Looking up, Muichiro realized the weather was enjoyable. White clouds created creative dotes all over the sky. They made interesting shapes that captivated the mist hashira. Forgetting about the meeting he stared at the sky, watching the clouds shift into new shapes as the wind blew softly. Birds flew high above the garden. Tokito tried to remember what breed of bird they were. Large black birds tended to be crows, however the bird was higher in the sky so the color of the bird might be a different dark color. They were flying in a circle around the area which did not indicate anything about the-
“Muichiro, are you alright?” Kagaya asked.
“Oh” Muichiro looked at the garden. Most of the hashira were looking at him. He felt his face get warm before he turned his attention back to the master. “Yes?”
“How is the demon activity in your territory?” Kagaya asked softly. The slightest bit of worry flashed onto his face for a moment. Tokito had lived with him when the boy first joined the corp. While he cared for all of his children, Muichiro held a very special place in his heart.
A few seconds went by. A few seconds turned into more as he tried to remember how active the demons had been lately. “I- um.” Why can’t I remember? Muichiro thought. What was the demon activity? How many have I taken care of since the last meeting? When was the last meeting? Ginko will know. Looking up, the teen realized his crow was missing. Quickly he looked beside him to see she wasn’t there either.
Distressed, he forgot the original question. “Where is Ginko? She should be here.”
“Kid,” Tengen started, “Ginko is sick, remember?”
“No, I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember the demon activity in my territory. I don’t remember what I did yesterday or what day it is. I don’t remember to eat most days so someone has to tell me” Muichiro’s voice started to rise as he got more upset. Tears formed in his eyes but none fell down his face. His shoulders were shaking and his breathing was sharp and heavy. “I don’t remember anything bad that’s happened. Not remembering anything bad seems good until it means I can’t remember anything good either. It took me a long time to remember your names. I can’t even remember who loved me before I became a slayer and I don’t even know if they did, so no, I don’t remember!”
Silence fell across the garden. Hesitating, Tengen opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. Shinagawa hit Uzui on the shoulder before sighing. “Tokito, are you okay?” He said. Mitsuri, who was sitting next to Muichiro, put a hand on his shoulder.
The previous look of hurt and confusion that had been on Muichiro’s face had completely disappeared other than his face still being a little red. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?” The hashira looked at each other, not understanding what had just happened.
Without missing a beat, Kagaya answered his question, “We were talking about the demon activity in your territory.” Kagaya always looked calm; kindness never left his eyes when he spoke with them.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
Once more, the hashira looked between each other trying to understand what had just happened. Tengen and Rengoku, who were sitting next to each other, both shrugged.
“That’s alright, I’ll have someone figure that out.”
“Okay.” Then he looked back up at the sky.
Once the meeting had ended, most of the hashira went their separate ways. Sanemi, Kyojiro, and Obanai talked as they left the garden, sharing their concern over the mist hashira.
“Today was a bad day for Tokito.” Gyomei Himejima said softly as tears slid down his face. “His memory loss has ups and downs. Some days are worse than others. It was a terrible day to be without Ginko. He calmed down quickly because he simply forgot what he had gotten frustrated by.”
Hello all! Since erasermic week is over I wanted to know if there are any other weeks or events anyone would be interested in? As long as I have some knowledge on the subject, I'm down to host any other event such as ship weeks, character weeks, rairpair weeks and so forth. Don't worry if something seems to niche, just have fun with it Under the cut I'll put fandoms I have information on. Thanks!
My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Star Wars, Spy x Family, Fnaf, The Dragon Prince, Arcane, Miraculous Ladybug, Percy Jackson, EPIC: The Musical, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, and Nimona!
As long as everything is legal when it comes to ships!
Summary: After Oboro's death Aizawa stops spending time around people. This is until he's surprised on the later day of the second semester of his second year.
Time doesn't stop when you lose someone. It would be much easier if you could freeze until you were ready to start moving again. Shouta Aizawa stared down the clock on the wall of his fourth block class waiting for a turn so he could leave the school. Nothing had been the same since Oboro Shirakumo had died.
October felt like it had lasted forever. On the third of that month a villain attack caused a building collapse, killing one hero in training; his best friend. Then it was the middle of November. In three weeks he could get away from everything for winter break.
Ever since he lost Oboro he had been avoiding everyone who cared about him. Self insolation worked for him in middle school when people watched him like he would turn on them so it would work now. The bell rang and snuck out a back door to hide and walk home alone.
Days passed before he went back to school. Skipping days was easier than sitting through agonizing classes. Staying in his room he laid down with the orange cat Oboro had taken to school. Hizashi, Nemuri, Oboro, and him had been taking care of the kitten; bringing him to class or to the agency since none of them told their parents about her.
Sushi always knew when Aizawa needed comfort. She would curl up on his chest or by him. It had been a while since she had moved to a different place, the other two deciding it was best for him to hold on to her for a while.
That next Monday he walked back into the UA with his head down. Thirteen missed calls with six voicemails from his friends felt like a loaded gun was pointed at him.
Teachers looked at him with concern when he was in class. Social introductions had never been a string suit for the student but he had drawn so far inside himself that even they couldn't talk to him for long before he looked exhausted.
Since that day Eraserhead hadn't returned to His Purple Majesty's agency. It took a few weeks for the hero to get out of the hospital. When he was released he went to visit his student. Even though Shouta knew it wasn't his fault he would say more than one word at a time to him. Nakaoji understood why he didn't want to be around him, still he left his work study position open to him. It would be awhile before the man would want anymore students anyway.
Winter break was one week away now. Yamada had been trying to talk to Shouta enough to figure out a gift for him. The boy hid in the training rooms or in the crowd of the halls. It was getting tiring, trying to work his way under Aizawa's shield and pull him out of the isolation he put himself in. Hizashi would wait forever if he had to.
The last day before school let out for the winter Shouta opened his locker. A red card looked like it had been slipped in. Curious, he opened the car carefully. It was a cat Christmas card for Tensei. When he opened the car a smaller piece of paper fell out of it. On it was a small note from Kan wishing him a happy holidays and reminding him he was there for him. From Tensei he had a short note as well as a gift card for a coffee place he liked. For the first time in months, Shouta smiled softly at the efforts of his friends.
When he went to put the card in his bag he found a small but tall box wrapped in yellow paper. Setting the bag back on the floor he grabbed the box. Slowly he took the paper off and put it in his locker. There were two things inside the hand sized box: a folded red scarf and a bag of treats for Sushi. Still in his bag was another Christmas card he knew would be from Kayama.
Running his thumb over the red scarf he found it was smooth and soft. He remembered talking about get one multiple months ago. She remembered him telling her about it. It was a cold day so he wrapped it around his neck.
Leaving the paper in his locker, he closed it. When he turned around he saw Hizashi standing there; a small red box in his hand. "Hey Sho."
Aizawa didn't say anything at first. He watched Yamada take a few steps forward. He felt cornered. "What?"
The sharp tone of his voice surprised the blonde. Softly, he smiled at him. "I got you something."
Sighing Aizawa leaned up against the wall. Hizashi motioned for him to put out his hands so he did. The box wasn't very heavy. He could tell a lot of effort has been put into making the paper look nice, still it had tape everywhere with corners that stuck out. There wasn't a bow on top since he never liked them.
Carefully he unwrapped the present. Sliding the top off he handed it to the other boy. He shifted the paper until he found what was inside. A framed polaroid stared back at him. Oboro had loved taking pictures on his light blue polaroid. The picture was one of the group on the roof. While the main focus was on the three boys Nemuri and kan had been in the corner. Tensei stuck his hand into the picture; his fingers barely visible on the left side. Shouta remembered it being taken since Sushi was in Yamada's lap.
"Where did you get this?"
"His mom gave it to me. I went to the house to check on her. She told me to go through the pictures. She's looking for you; wants you to go through some stuff before she starts to donate things and pack them away."
"I don't think I could face her."
"Sho, it's not your fault."
"I could have done m-"
"You'll drive yourself crazy if you keep saying that" Hizashi interrupted, "you know he wouldn't want this. Come back to us Shouta. Maybe we could help you?"
"It's better this way."
"Do any of us look better? Taking a few more steps closer to him his eyes watered up. "I know you don't look any better. Let me back in."
There was always something about Hizashi that made Shouta feel safe. He didn't know what to do. "I miss him" his voice broke as he spoke. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his face.
"I know Sho, I miss him too." Gently Hizashi put his arms around Shouta and held him close to him. "I miss him too."
Warnings: Major character death, graphic depictions of suicide
Summary: Bakugou goes to visit Best Jeanist one day to bring him lunch. When he knocked on the door and no one answered he thought it was strange. Hakamada always turned the lights off when he left.
Ao3: All Lights Turned Off
It was a Tuesday afternoon when Katsuki Bakugou decided to pay his mentor a visit. After the war he would take him to his apartment to meet for some patrols. It was closer than his agency so it would be easier for his mentee to get to. At first it was strange, going to his home but after the first few visits Bakugou started feeling at home there.
The student had made lunch for the two of them. Some noodles and rice balls were in a bento box wrapped in fabric. It was a nice street; the one Jeanist lived on. Tall apartment buildings lined the road and the walkway was decorated by some flower chalk drawings a child who lived in the building next to Hakamada's drew.
Walking up the pavement stairs he used the key he was given for emergencies to get inside. Bakugou's shoes clicked against the wooden stairs that lead to the top floor. Over and over Jeanist told him to take the elevator, however, Bakugou was stubborn and insisted the five flights of stairs were nothing.
"Why not move to a bigger place?" Katsuki asked once.
"I have no need to. I'm tied to this home by my own preferences and by my neighbors, breaking that thread now seems unreasonable." Bakugou always wondered why he used fabric metaphors. They were just a part of him he guessed.
Hakamada's door was a simple wooden door with a wreath for Christmas hung on it. The same brown welcome mate was at the door. Raising his unoccupied hand he knocked. A few seconds went by and there was no answer. After almost thirty seconds he knocked again, this time louder. "Jeanist?" He projected to make sure his voice would be heard.
Light came from the bottom of the door which was strange because Hakamada always turned the lights off when he left. A pit started to form in his chest, something was wrong. The boy fiddled with his keys again and unlocked the door. As he walked in he announced his presence. "I brought lunch."
Taking the food to the kitchen Bakugou set the box down on the counter. "Jeanist?" Katsuki decided he needed to explore the apartment. There were no dishes in the sink, there never were. His mentor's shoes were at the door where he entered. In the living room his wallet was set in the coffee table. That was the last indicator that Hakamada was home.
From the living room there was a hallway that led to three rooms; a bedroom, office, and the bathroom at the end of it. Putting one foot in front he entered the hall. "Jeanist?"
From the end of the hall there was a faint glow from the barely open bathroom door. His heart sank as he walked to it.
Nothing could have prepared Katsuki for the sight behind the door. Tsunagu lay limp on the floor against the tub wall. Blood pooled around him; crimson contrasting the blue tile. Red eyes traced blood to his slit wrist. The kid felt like he had opened a door in a horror movie. A switch blade haunted him on the floor.
Slamming the door the rest of the way open, Bakugou slid to the ground. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with his left hand to call emergency services while his right went to check for a pulse. Blonde hair fell over Hakamada's face. There was no gel to keep it styled.
Before he even had the chance to apply any pressure on Tsunagu's neck, he knew he was dead. Cold skin made Katsuki's breathing catch. He set the phone down on speaker as he shifted Jeanist to lay flat on the floor. Quickly he moved to place his ear in his chest.
"Hello, this is 911. What's your emergency?"
The room fell silent. Tsunagu Hakamada had no heart beat but his mentee already knew that when he laid him out. Staring in disbelief Bakugou's eyes scanned over him again, looking for anything that might indicate that this was an attack and not a suicide.
"Hello, are you there?"
Sharply, he snapped his head to look at his phone. Thoughts that weren't cohesive flooded his mind before talking. "I'm here." He paused. "I have a suicide victim with me."
"Okay. What's the address? I'll have someone with you soon."
Bakugou told her Hakamada's address and explained what had happened. "Do you want me to stay on the line with you?" The operator asked sweetly.
"No, I'll be fine."
"Okay. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." Without the call, the appointment had a heavy quietness to it. Kneeling by your mentor's body was strange. Bakugou understood that not too long ago he had forced Jeanist into a similar position. Thinking about it the boy wondered if that was something that led Hakamada to his death.
Over the months that it took to heal he remembered Jeanist checking in on him. When he was still in the hospital he saw how his eyes would focus on the heart monitor. The war was vicious and cruel; it was still taking lives long after the battles had ended.
Knowing it wouldn't make a difference, Katski tried to lay Tsunagu in a more comfortable position. It was always strange seeing him out of his hero costume or a suit. Jeans and a gray button down had been deemed a good final outfit, though Bakugou thought he would wear something more eye-catching if he knew he was going to die.
It was half an hour before anyone arrived to take Hakamada's body to a funeral home. They were kind paramedics who respected his remains. "Who was he to you?" One of them asked.
"My mentor."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks."
As the door closed Bakugou was left in an empty apartment. Everything was still in the same place it had been. He noticed smaller details about how neat Hakamada's home was. The blanket Edgeshot had given him was folded and placed on the back of the couch. The curtains were still open. On the coffee table the remote sat straight towards the tv.
Hakamada kept a clean home but never this clean.
Walking back down the hall Bakugou opened the door to his office to see that it had also been reorganized with everything being perfectly in place. Pictures of fellow heroes and of past students had been lovingly placed on the walls and on his desk. Focusing on one specific picture he realized they had taken it together right before the war.
Closing that door he walked over to the bedroom. There his bed had been made with an extra blanket folded at the foot. A note sat on top of the bed right in the middle of his light blue blanket. It wasn't addressed to anyone.
Picking it up, Katsuki thought about sitting on the bed. He couldn't undo the precision it took to make it look so neat so he sat on the floor. Tears welled in his eyes as he brought his knees to his chest.
Making paper feel heavy was difficult but the white envelope felt like a boulder in his hands. The thought of opening it made his head spin more than it already was.
Standing again he walked back out of the room, turning off the light as he went. Reopening the bathroom door he started at the red sticky mess that was still on the floor. He grabbed a towel from the door hook and cleaned the floor. The room smelled like iron.
Before doing anything else he went and grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen counter. Uneaten rice balls and noodles sat on the counter which he now realized stood out in the tidy apartment.
In the bathroom he stared at the switch blade and the towels that he had already started to clean with. The blade had a shine to it in the LEDs of the room. Grabbing it he threw it into the trash bag with some towels he had already used. With the blood being cleaned up he turned off the light to the bathroom. The trash bag was set down when he got to the office door. He opened it long enough to turn the light off before closing it again. In the kitchen he realized even the trash had been taken out. "Geez okay" he muttered to himself.
Grabbing the box he came with and the trash bag he looked into the apartment. There was nothing else to do there. Pushing the light switch down he watched the lights turn off. Then he walked outside, tugging the door handle and quietly closed the apartment.
Note: This is posted on Best Jeanist's birthday so happy birthday Hakamada!
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