I read forget me not back when it was still updating and loved it so soooo much!!! A couple of days ago I suddenly remembered the "she has your eyes line" and it hit me like a truck
Since then I've spent the past two days binge reading it again and it is just as good as I remember
Thank you so much for this glorious piece of fiction 🙏🙏🙏
awww thank you for reading fmn and enjoying it enough to send this ask in!!! <33 i cant believe its been like 3 years since i finished that fic LOL my baby who i cringe at from time to time bc i wrote most of it while i was in high school :skull:
funnily enough, i think at one point i was editing thru that fic on ao3 and then stopped somewhere around chapter 15 or so LOLL. i think if i could go back and change something, i would condense a lot of the first 4 chapters and also axe out the non-reader chapters. but that wont happen bc im lazy LMAO it's nice for me to be able to look back at that fic and see how far i have progressed from it haha. thank you once again for this lovely ask <33
a/n: as of 8/5/21 on tumblr this entire fic has been mass edited into second pov!! the rest of the chapters are not gna be posted on tumblr (i lazy) so go read them on ao3!!
part nineteen
A deep sigh escaped your lips as you rested against your bed, watching as sunlight danced around your room. Headphones covered your ears, the volume of your music pumped all the way up as you drowned your thoughts in rhythms and beats. Your arms were stretched up into the air, eyes tracing the various scars that lingered on your skin. They weren't that pronounced, having faded a bit with time, but they were still noticeable. Your eyes moved from the tips of your fingers, down your exposed arms, before finally resting on a patch of bandage that was still settled dauntingly on your upper arm.
You hadn't the courage to look at it for long. It always seemed to mock you, remind you of your time in the facility. How weak you had been. How weak you still were. You'd never bothered to take the bandage off, not finding the will to face what lay beneath it. You stared at it some more, then reached your opposite hand over to slowly peel it away. You sat up as you did so, teeth biting into your lower lip slightly as the bandage came off and revealed a neat row of marks etched into your skin.
One, two, three, four, you traced the heavy vertical marks. Five, six, seven, eight. With a deep sigh, you stared at the tally marks, vague memories of... of Doctor Shin carving the lines into your arm every time you misbehaved. Every time tried to use your useless quirk to escape—whether involuntarily, or not. How ironic that it was the same number as your position in the top ten. Or rather, your previous position. Your fingers tapped the second slash, then you turned away, resting your gaze on the empty crib in the corner of your room.
You knew you had to grow more accustomed to facing your trauma head on. But it was little things like these, injuries and marks that held such a heavy burden, that made you feel like you were regressing. Progress was not linear, you knew that. But it still sucked to feel like you were backtracking after all that work you had put into grasping at some semblance of stability.
You scoffed, eyeing the tally marks some more. They were just scars. They would disappear with time and care.
But it didn't stop the sinking feeling that was pushing at your chest.
Letting out a sigh, you tugged your headphones off, pressing the pause button in the process. It was then that you realized there were loud voices coming from your living room. Turning your gaze to your closed door, you stood up on shaky legs, still not used to the wrap that had replaced your cast a few days prior. You recognized one of the voices as your mother's. The other one, however, was an unknown woman's voice, from the sound of it. Though, you couldn't deny that there was some sense of familiarity in it. It tugged at your heart and you frowned, rubbing at your chest a bit as you limped slightly over to your door and pressed your ear to it to listen better.
"What you're doing is not right and you fucking know it! You're purposely withholding shit from her!"
"Who are you to come to my house and curse me out? You aren't welcome here, you'd better leave."
"I have EVERY damn right to be here. You're in for a slap to the face if you think what you're doing will end well. I know you don't fucking like us but that gives you no rig—"
"I said leave Mitsuki. I will call the police. I won't tolerate your words much longer."
"Just try it, I dare you. You think you're helping her, but you're not—"
Your head buzzed with the words that were coming from beyond your door. You couldn't process anything, your head thump, thump, thumping away to a low beat the more you thought about it. You had a vague sense of what they were talking about, but you couldn't say for certain. You didn't want to believe it, but.... You swallowed and cracked open your door, slipping out of it to creep over to the living room. Peering around a corner, you were just able to catch a glimpse of ash-blonde hair beyond the threshold of the front door before your mother slammed it closed, ignoring the curses that eventually died off from behind it.
You watched your mother huff and abruptly turn around, face red with what you assumed was anger. She took a few deep breaths, then turned to head to the kitchen, gaze lifting to catch sight of you huddled around the corner.
"Oh!" Your mother paused in surprise, a hand raised up to her chest. "How are you doing, dear? Hungry?"
"Nah," you responded quietly, your gaze flickering to the closed door before pointedly connecting with your mother's. "Who was that?"
"No one you need to worry about." Your mother brushed off your question, turning to continue her track to the kitchen, likely to let some steam out through cooking. But you weren't done questioning her.
"What were you talking about?" you pressed further, but your mother held up a hand, not bothering to turn back around to make eye contact.
"We are not having this discussion. It doesn't concern you," your mother replied in a voice that exuded finality. "Now please, give me a moment to myself. I've got the nastiest headache." With that, your mother walked away, hands massaging her temples as though to stave off that headache she had mentioned.
You were left alone in the hallway, your eyes glancing once more towards the closed front door. It was quite obvious that your mother and that other woman had been talking about you. You'd had a feeling, from the beginning, that your parents were restricting information from you. Considering their feelings towards heroes and your feelings towards them, you would not be surprised if they had purposely chosen to not tell you things in order to keep you in the dark. But what they could be hiding is what puzzled you. And you knew it would be difficult to get them to tell you in the first place. They were rather stubborn.
This was fine. It just meant you had to work harder to recover and hopefully gain back your memories.
With a deep sigh, you turned on your heel, slinking back into your room and closing the door with a click.
---
"All right, y’said you wanted to work on your quirk again today, right?"
"Yep," you replied, wiping off some of the sweat on your forehead from the sparring session you'd just had with Fukui. Without your cast, you were significantly quicker than before. You took it as a good thing—but you still got your ass handed to you, not that it was surprising. He stood before you, arms crossed as he waited for you to catch your breath. "Parents aren't in, so we can go all out."
"Anything in particular you wanted to do?" Fukui asked, handing you a water bottle after you had tossed your towel off to the side. You cracked it open and took a few sips as you thought about it.
"I was thinking," you began slowly, fiddling with the bottle cap, "that we could probably work on my illusions?" When all he did was raise an eyebrow in question, you elaborated. "Like, I'll cast an illusion around us and work on its realism. It's been hard for me to keep it up for long periods of time while also making sure there are no obvious holes. Y'know?" You took another sip of water before closing the bottle. "And I haven't tried it on other people as well, so I'm not sure what my limits are."
He grunted his agreeance, waiting for you to set the water bottle down before taking a position in the middle of the basement and ensuring there weren't any obstacles nearby that could harm you while you were moving around in the illusion. You stood a few feet in front of him, staring him right in his grey-colored eyes.
"This might take a moment," you told him, keeping your gaze focused on his own. "I need to maintain eye contact while I activate it." When he nodded his head to show he understood, you continued. "Got any preferences?"
He shrugged. "Do whatever you want, I don't care."
"All right then..." You dug deep within your mind and activated your quirk, causing a faint lavender gleam—visible only to yourself—to spread out around your surroundings. You then closed your eyes, focusing all your energy into creating an illusion around the two of you. Already, you could tell the radius of your reach was much smaller than it used to be. It would cause you to constantly move around with Fukui to ensure he would stay within the illusion. You briefly thought about what kind of illusion you wanted to cast, eventually settling on a simple field to start off easily.
You imagined how the sky would look—mostly clear with giant, white cumulonimbus clouds peppering it here and there. The type of clouds where, when one would gaze up at them, they would briefly think about just how small they were in the grand scheme of things. You imagined how wide and open the field would look, grass that brushed along your calves gently swaying in the breeze. Flowers would dot the field here and there, colors of red, purple, blue, and orange popping out against all the green. You imagined how clean the air would smell, one whiff being enough to bring clarity to anyone's mind.
When you opened your eyes, everything you'd pictured appeared before you, expansive and beautiful. The clouds, the grass, the flowers. It was just as you had imagined it.
Except, well, for a few things.
"Something tells me you hadn't meant for those to be there," Fukui said in a slightly sarcastic manner, eyes pointedly looking at the random pieces of furniture from your basement that still surrounded you.
You groaned, holding a hand against your forehead as you glared at one of the chairs that had a few towels thrown over its back. "I guess I'm still a bit rusty." You then let out a sigh, straightening up as you observed your surroundings. While you had managed to get the illusion to be as realistic as possible, there were still a few things that just felt off to you—apart from the furniture. For one, everything was stock still, almost unnervingly so. You could see cracks starting to appear around you, signifying a fault in the illusion. You frowned, already feeling a headache rear up as you let the illusion fall away. It shattered in a manner similar to throwing something at a mirror, revealing your basement once more.
You hummed, rubbing a hand against your chin as you glanced at Fukui. He looked a bit nonchalant, bored even. "You don't look too surprised." Normally people would be a bit more... enraptured at your illusions. But you guessed Fukui was not like most people; you didn't think you'd seen him express more than three emotions during your sessions, to be frank.
His eyes met yours briefly before he shrugged and looked away. "I've seen similar shit."
You hummed again, then let your hand drop to your side. "Let me try again, maybe I can patch it up more." Making eye contact with Fukui once more, you closed your eyes and let your mind wander, eventually settling on a nice mountain view that'd popped into your head. You activated your quirk and focused, painting a vivid picture in your mind of what you imagined it looked like. Then, you opened your eyes.
"Oh, nice." You grinned in approval as you looked around. You were standing at the edge of a small cliff that overlooked a forest to your left. The sky was wide and dyed colors of navy, tangerine, lavender, and pink as the sun just barely winked at you from the horizon. Grass tickled your feet, a few daisies here and there. To your right were trees and bushes, a small gap visible from between a few shrubs that indicated the end of a hiking trail. You breathed in, but still smelled your musty basement air. Damn.
"It's got less cracks in it than before at least," you said after a bit, turning to observe the sky as you noted the cracks that were prevalent on it. You looked around some more, feeling a bit happy that there were no random pieces of furniture laying around. It was still strangely frozen though, but not as much. You rubbed your head, feeling a headache start to thrum at the back of it. You were nearing your limits, it seemed. You turned around to glance at Fukui, noticing he had wandered a bit so that he was standing in front of one of the trees behind you. "What'd you think? Pretty good for a second try, right?"
When he didn't answer, you walked over to him, watching as he stared at a point on the trunk of the tree. He raised his hand to touch the trunk, but just phased right through it. You gently rested a hand on his shoulder, then stepped back as he whipped around to face you. You opened your mouth, then closed it at the sight of his tense jaw, his clenched hands.
"Are you okay?" you asked with a raised brow, finding it a bit strange how he was practically piercing through you with that stare of his. He watched you some more, then eventually opened his mouth.
"D’you recognize this place?" he asked quietly and you could just barely make out the strain in his voice.
"Umm," you glanced around once more, "not really? I mean, I might've seen pictures of it online, but I don't know."
"What made you choose it, then?" His hands were unclenching and clenching, as though he didn't know what to do with them.
"I don't know," you repeated confusedly. You turned your head to stare out at the horizon. You tried raking through your mind to figure out where you'd pulled this environment from, but you couldn't figure it out. You didn't think it mattered anyways. Your illusions were dependent on how well you could picture whatever you were forming—not on whether or not you'd been there. After all, if you'd wanted to make an illusion of something that didn't exist, it didn't rely on you having experienced it in real life. "Does it matter that much?"
His fists went flat and his eyes averted from yours, staring back at the tree once more. He was quiet for a bit, but eventually responded. "I fucking guess not."
There was something strange to his voice, but you couldn't unpack all that right now. Your head was starting to hurt more the longer you stayed in the illusion. You let it shatter away before you, then exhaled loudly. Your headache eased up a bit, but not by much. You massaged your temples.
"You done for today?" Fukui eventually spoke up, his hands thrusted into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was glaring down at the floor, though you had no idea what he was so angry about.
"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked in lieu of replying, warily eyeing him. There was a strange feeling tugging at your gut at the sight of him looking so bothered, but you brushed it away.
"Fine," he grunted and you decided not to pester him about it. "Well?"
You were about to throw in the towel for the day. But then you thought about your progress, how you'd realized that you'd always given up at the first sign of a headache. How you felt like you were regressing even as you trained and trained and trained and trained. Something had to change. And so, you decided that one more try couldn't hurt.
"Third time's the charm." You sighed, giving him a wry smile after. He nodded his head and you both walked back over to your previous position in the basement. He allowed you to make eye contact with him before you closed your eyes and focused. Your mind drifted, searching for something to conjure. Your head hurt, god it hurt. But you pushed through the pain. This was nothing, you just had to endure it. One more time, you told yourself, trying to ignore your headache that seemed to get worse with your quirk activated. One more time.
You opened your eyes.
The walls were bleak, mostly empty.
Painted a white color that only made the lights even brighter. White tiles were arranged on the floor, and the walls themselves looked to be made of a sort of steel.
You froze, mind not yet caught up, headache thumping away.
Click click click click click.
"Wha..." Your voice got caught in your throat as you twirled around, eyes darting all over the place. Fukui said something from behind you, but you didn't pay attention, too busy taking in your surroundings. You were in a hallway, a metal door open a few feet away. When you glanced up, a camera stared at you, a blinking red light on it that made your heart race inside your chest. You grit your teeth, finding yourself staring at the open door. A pit seemed to open up in your stomach at the sight. You didn't want to check it out. But yet, your feet seemed to move of their own accord, and you found yourself standing in the doorway, staring at what was happening within it.
You didn't recognize the room. There was a metal table in the middle of it, a singular camera positioned in the far right corner. A familiar poster hung on the left wall, but you gave no mind to it. Your gaze was focused on the person who lay on the table.
It was you. And yet, it wasn't.
It was Réalité.
Next to the table was... was him. It was Doctor Shin. He was holding a syringe with a dark blue liquid in it—similar yet not similar to the light blue of the Quirk Nullification drugs he had previously injected you with. Your hands clenched into fists as you watched Doctor Shin turn from the cart by his side, attaching a needle to the syringe.
"This one's difffff'rent," Réalité slurred dryly as she eyed the syringe. She was tied down to the table, unable to move in even the slightest way. You took note of the way Réalité's face was drained of color and drenched in sweat. She looked like she was struggling to keep her eyes open—like she’d been injected with a sedative of sorts. "'aven't... perfected it, h-haaaave you?"
"No, not yet," Doctor Shin said, and just hearing his... his awful voice was enough to make you take a step back, your head pound, pound, pounding away. "But that is why we have you, my dear. We're close, I can feel it."
"When I get out of here... IIIII'll fucking kill you, I ssswear," Réalité cursed as she attempted to spit at the doctor. It didn't land very far. He only tutted at her and injected the needle into her arm, filling her with that vile substance. The sight of it made you want to throw up.
"That’s not very hero-like of you now, is it," he chuckled, taking a step back as he waited for the effects of the drug to kick in. "Now, I am still unsure of the side effects it has in its current form, so do not be alarmed if—"
"FUCK you." Réalité's arm jerked as she tried to lunge towards him, but her constraints prevented her from doing so. "I sssswear I'll kill yyyou."
"Must I remind you to behave again?" Doctor Shin folded his hands together and looked at Réalité in a pointed way that made you confused. But whatever he was hinting at was received loud and clear to Réalité, for she glared harshly at him.
"If... if you touch h—"
"Then behave."
Réalité hissed, a heavy frown marring her features. Her arm jerked again, but then so did her legs. You watched in silent horror as Réalité started to writhe on the table, restricted in movements, but unable to do anything about it.
"It burns," Réalité groaned, the table shaking with the force she was using to attempt to get free. Sweat poured down her face, her torso twisting about as she panted and gasped. "It burnnsss!!"
"Hmm." Doctor Shin reached over to the cart to grab his clipboard from it. He jotted down a few notes, occasionally glancing over to Réalité to see the effects the substance was having on her.
You couldn't keep your eyes off of Réalité, watching as she bit her lip with enough force to prevent herself from screaming. Your head hurttt, your head hurt hurt hurt. You were frozen, you couldn't move. Couldn't look away. It took all the strength in your body to tear your gaze away from Réalité to look at Doctor Shin. And once you did, your heart practically leapt up to your throat.
He was looking right at you.
He slowly set down the clipboard, rounding the table with slow, purposeful steps as he approached you standing in the doorway. Your mind was racing with thoughts of No no no, and Don't come closer don't come closer. Your eyes shrunk, still unable to move as he stepped closer... and closer... and closer.....
A hand gripped your shoulder.
You whipped around with a scream, the illusion shattering into pieces around you as you found yourself, once more, in your basement. But you were frozen, your eyes locked onto grey-ones that seemed to burn, burn with an emotion you could not place.
And you realized you were shaking.
Your fingers trembled violently, and you stared down at them so you couldn't see those bright, bright eyes. You realized, quite suddenly, that you couldn't breathe. Your chest heaved and your eyes darted around, ensuring that there was none of that... that unnerving bright white color surrounding you. You couldn't stop shaking, thoughts full of Doctor Shin. How he was going to hurt you. Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt you. He was going to hurt— he was going to hhh—
Click click click click click.
"Hey." A voice attempted to pull you from your thoughts, but you couldn't hear. Couldn't think. Your head hurt, god it hurt so much. Why couldn't you remember that moment? Why couldn't you remember that? Why couldn't you remember, remember, remember? It was bright in here, it was too bright in here. What was wrong with you, what was wrong wrong wrong—
"Look at me." Something harshly gripped at your chin, forcing your head up so that your eyes met sharp grey ones. You couldn't focus all your attention on them, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe—
Something pinched your arm. You flinched back, but it wasn't enough to pull you from the torrential storm plaguing your mind. There was another pinch on your other arm. Then on your cheek. On your hip. And you found yourself getting annoyed enough that you were able to glance up into Fukui's eyes.
"Look at this," he instructed you once he was sure he had your attention, holding up his water bottle he'd managed to snag sometime while you were drowning in your thoughts. Your gaze focused on it, unsteady yet still there. "Describe it."
You were quiet for a moment. "I-it's—" You had to search a bit for your words, your voice coming out strained as you attempted to get your breathing under control enough to answer. "Black. With white str-stripes around the top. And.... and a red sticker on the side."
"Good," he complimented you, one of his hands still gripping onto your trembling ones. He pointed to an analog clock on the wall, your gaze following his finger to land on it. "Now describe that."
Again, you did as you were told, shakily sprouting out details of the clock that'd caught your attention. Fukui did that a few more times with you, waiting as your breathing and trembling leveled enough that you went slack in his hold. Your head sank down, and with it, the rest of your body. Both you and Fukui ended up on the floor, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt as his arms held you against him in a hug so tight. As though if it were any looser, you would shatter into a million pieces. And you certainly felt like doing so, with your forehead resting near the crook of his neck as you squeezed your eyes shut.
You were lost. You were confused. You were embarrassed.
But most of all, you were terrified.
There was a moment where all you could hear was your hitched breathing. Then you spoke.
"I couldn't remember," you croaked out so quietly it almost wasn't there. You didn't think you could be any louder. "I couldn't remember."
"You're okay," he said back to you just as quiet, one of his hands rubbing circles into your shoulder. He pulled you closer, hair brushing against your neck. "We're okay."
"It hurt," you choked out, biting your lip when you felt hot tears slip down your cheeks. "It hurt so much."
"I know," he whispered, one of his hands clenching into your shirt as he closed his eyes. His jaw tensed, eyebrows furrowing as he held the back of your head. "I know."
There was the ticking of a clock, succinct and quiet, that seemed to echo around the room. With your hands clasped together on your lap, you waited, watching as the second hand continued its perpetual movement about the round face of the device. You hadn't been sitting there for long, thankfully, and the couch you were on was rather comfy, so it didn't bother you that you'd been left alone. You expectantly glanced back and forth from the clock to the open doorway that led out of the small room. The room itself was pretty cozy-looking, painted a warm orange color with a few green plants scattered around. Paintings lined the wall, abstract in nature, with an oak desk positioned somewhere to the right in front of the curtained windows.
Fiddling with your fingers, you ruminated on a few things that had been swirling around your mind for a while now. You'd contacted Hinata to get the details on the dinner Ashido had mentioned at your little meetup last week. It'd turned out there was indeed a shiny new invite sitting in Réalité's work email, details about the dinner enclosed within it. You had yet to decide on your course of action, thoughts awry with the faces you knew you would see if you dared to step foot in the building the dinner was being hosted in. But to refuse would cast a bad image on Réalité, and you couldn't have that. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place for sure.
Then there was an entirely different issue that you recently realized you had: the more you thought about your time in the facility, in the hospital, the more you realized your memories of those times were fogged up. Muddled. The days blended together. You could barely grasp at certain images, details slipping through your fingers like water. It was worrying, yet somehow you found yourself unsurprised. In addition to not particularly wanting to think about those instances, you were also hopped up on medications and heavy trauma at the time. It made sense that your brain would choose to forget. There were still specific things you remembered, however. Flashes of phosphorescent eyes, the White Room, syringes, spiky blond hair, pain, pain, pain, pain pain—
You shook your head slightly. There was no use in falling into that rabbit hole now.
You still ended up asking your doctor about it though, when you went for your check up. Doctor Akira speculated your quirk might be reacting to your experiences, your trauma, in unhealthy ways. That is, through memory suppression, or even Retrograde Amnesia. It explained why you couldn't remember being questioned by the police while you were in the hospital, like Tsukauchi had told you a while ago. Why you couldn't recall the bits of information Kirishima had told you about the rescue mission when you’d first met. Why you didn't remember being specifically informed that Doctor Shin was still out there while you were being questioned. And it made you wonder if you were missing anything else, if there was a way to stop your quirk from fucking with your mind even now.
Luckily, you had an idea of where to start.
"Sorry about the wait." A crisply dressed person hurried through the open door before closing it, fixing the cuffs on their sleeves as they bustled over to the desk. Shuffling some papers around, they spoke again, "I was just finalizing some of your paperwork. I trust you weren't too bored?"
"No, not at all," you replied politely, watching as they gathered some papers in a clipboard, then walked over to the small armchair settled directly across from you. There was a matching oak table with a few drinks and a bowl of candies set in between you. The therapist, Doctor Ackerman, sat down then crossed their legs, warm eyes immediately finding your own.
”Good. Now I am obligated to tell you that these sessions are to stay between you and I only, unless something arises that I am legally required to tell the police,” they said, offering a small smile. “Nothing will reach the general public, or any ears outside of this room for that matter. I want you to feel comfortable; it will make it easier to talk. Understand?”
You nodded in response, rubbing the skin around one of your fingers in an almost anxious manner. This therapist in particular was given to you by the Hero Commission. Doctor Ackerman was trained specifically for pro heroes, which made all of this much easier to converse about since they were well versed in the intricacies of hero-ing. They'd also been debriefed already about your situation—well, they were given as much information as the Commission was willing to release. It was still an ongoing police investigation after all.
"All right. Now I just want you to relax, help yourself to anything." They waved a hand to the table and its contents. "My quirk is emotion-based. It will allow you to feel calm and ease tension in your mind to help you with talking." That would definitely come in handy. "The first thing I want you to do is tell me anything. It doesn't have to be related to your time while kidnapped, though you are welcome to talk about that if you would like. Just talk."
You remained quiet for a few moments, still fidgeting around a bit as you pondered upon your possibilities for conversation. Now was your chance to finally begin to unpack the thoughts that swirled relentlessly around in your head. You didn’t want to beat around the bush, not really. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for this, willing to finally unlock that burdensome chest in the back of your mind. You could do this. You could do this. It would be the best for your path towards recovery. So with a few more mental encouragements to simply get it over with, you opened your mouth.
You talked about the facility, what you remembered about your time there despite the murkiness of your memories. The pain, the testing, the torture. You talked about the conflicting thoughts and feelings you had regarding your amnesia and interactions with heroes you supposedly knew. You talked about your worries, your constant sense that something was missing, but you didn’t know what. On and on, you let the words just escape from your mouth, not bothering to censor any details. As you spoke, you felt your shoulders loosen up from their tense position. Your fingers stopped fiddling with each other and came to rest on your thighs. It became easier to talk, and you supposed it was in part due to Doctor Ackerman’s quirk. It felt like you were slowly tearing down this thick barrier in your head, ripping it apart mental brick by brick. And it felt so good. So satisfying.
Your throat had gotten hoarse with how much you spoke. Your tongue, dry. You were given a glass of water, which you gratefully chugged down before continuing your word vomit. Doctor Ackerman was nothing but patient, occasionally jotting down a few things as they listened. You eventually found yourself stalling and contradicting yourself as you talked about... Bakugou. You just didn’t know what to think anymore, especially after meeting up with Hitoshi. His words had led to many restless nights, confusion forming a dark cloud over your mind.
"I just— it feels like I don't know anything anymore," you sighed out in admittance as you clutched onto your refilled glass of water. "I'd been so certain that he was the source of all my... problems. But I— I'm not sure now. Not after what Hitoshi told me, and I trust him. I really do. There's no reason for him to lie to me. Right?"
"There's not," Doctor Ackerman replied calmly. "You've been using Dynamight as a sort of scapegoat for what you'd been through for that half year. You have to come to terms with the fact that it was not him who hurt you in the facility. It was Doctor Shin."
"I— I know that, but—" You fumbled with your words, a headache starting to pound away at your temples. Your mind was trying to rebel against you, you realized, and you did not like it one bit. "But it feels wrong to think that. It feels like—" You gulped heavily, tapping your fingers against your glass. "Like something bad will happen if I think otherwise."
"Again, that is all the result of what you underwent," Doctor Ackerman repeated, glancing down momentarily at the clipboard in their hands. "You mentioned that one of your friends informed you of your brainwashing?"
"Hitoshi, yeah," you confirmed with a small nod of your head. You were uneasy, thinking about the implications of... brainwashing... even as you still attempted to wrap your head around it. "Why do you ask?"
"What are your thoughts on his claim?"
You frowned, reminiscing about the meetup that had occurred not too long ago. Uncertainty plagued you like a malevolent virus, corrupting the very programming that you were composed of. "I don't know. I... Part of me doesn't believe him but—" You bit your lip, thinking about the way Hitoshi had seemed so firm, so sure of what he was saying as he stared at you unrelentingly in the eyes. "But... what he was saying… made sense?" Your mind felt like a puzzle set with missing pieces. Pieces that you were so desperately trying to find. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that things just... didn't fit together. Didn't add up. And that bothered you so fucking much.
"The key to undoing the effects of brainwashing is to first acknowledge it," Doctor Ackerman told you gently, not even refuting Hitoshi's previous persistence. "From then on, progress can be made. You have to come to terms with it: Doctor Shin brainwashed you. Say it."
You took a deep breath, willing your mind to cease its frantic thoughts. You hadn't realized it before, but your fingers were digging into your palms, crescent indents appearing on your skin. You forced them to relax. "Doctor Shin brainwashed me," you said quietly. Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight..... Right?
Click click click click click.
You weren't too sure anymore.
Doctor Ackerman nodded in approval, interlocking their fingers over their clipboard. "I'm going to assign you a little homework, if you don't mind." When all you did was raise a questioning eyebrow, the therapist continued. "I want you to start small with acknowledging Dynamight. Nothing too big, maybe just give him a little Google search." They then frowned a bit, a small crease appearing between their knitted eyebrows. "It might help you out in the long term as we figure out why you... dislike him, of all heroes." Why you had been conditioned into disliking him went unsaid.
You pursed your lips, but agreed with the therapist's words. There was no denying the fact that something was wrong when it came to Bakugou Katsuki. But you didn't know what, and if you dwelled too much on it, you only felt terrible inside. Your head would start to hurt, and you would just be reminded of pain, so much pain, so much pain pain pain. This was all important for your recovery, you kept telling yourself. You were going to need to do things that you didn't want to do, and that was fine. You could handle a few news articles, maybe some pictures and videos. It was nothing.
And yet, as you continued on talking with Doctor Ackerman, you couldn't help the sinking feeling that appeared in your chest.
---
Not too long after you got home, you found yourself resting on your bed, your legs hanging off the side as you stared up at a familiar ceiling. You had another session with Fukui in an hour or so, but you found yourself with nothing to do as you waited. Well... there was something, but you couldn't help but procrastinate, not looking forward to the emotional turmoil you knew you were going to have to deal with. A sigh left your lips, your head turning to stare at your phone that rested innocently on your pillow.
You were reminded of the evening you had looked yourself up, along with a selection of other heroes. That day had been immensely confusing, contradicting. You bit your lip, weighing the pros and cons of picking up your phone. But in the end, it didn't matter how much your stomach churned, or how much your head was starting to throb. You reached over and picked up the device, turning it in your hands so that you could stare at your reflection in the black mirror.
Let's just get this over with.
Turning your phone on, you went straight to the Chrome app and entered the name 'Bakugou Katsuki'. With only the slightest trace of hesitation, you hit enter and immediately started scanning the articles that popped up. Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight by most people, was the number two hero. The explosion hero. He mainly dealt with raids on villain hideouts, seeing that his quirk was so loud and eye-capturing. Though he did play his part in assisting with disasters and rescues. He did what he could to help as many people as possible, constantly vying with Deku and Shouto—the number three hero—for first place. Though... many articles seemed to refer to him as some sort of Symbol of Victory. Hmm.
It was a bit impressive how young most of the top heroes were, actually. You recalled the ages of some of the heroes you had researched a while ago. They were all in their early to mid twenties and had already made such big names for themselves. You supposed each advancing generation was stronger than the ones before it.
You scrolled through a few media outlets, trying to grasp at his character as they detailed the numerous missions he had completed over the years. He wasn't as outgoing as Deku, who tended to visit hospitals and fans a lot. Actually... the media kind of portrayed Bakugou as a bit mysterious. Hot-tempered, at times. Though, he'd gotten caught up with the League of Villains a lot when he was younger. You could vaguely remember—
[ You let out a huff, squinting your eyes at the poster. "That's Dynamight, otherwise known as Bakugou Katsuki. Or so I've been told."
"Yes," Doctor Shin responded, tilting his head slightly. He shifted his feet. "Do you recall anything about him?"
You pursed your lips, trying to make sense of the tingle of familiarity in the far recesses of your mind. "He... He goes to U.A. doesn't he? Actually he should have graduated by now, I don't know, I've never met him."
"That's correct," Doctor Shin replied in a pleased manner, making another note. He watched you with a calculated look, making you suddenly feel self conscious of your answers. You told the truth -- you really didn't know much about the boy except that he went to U.A. and was involved with the Kamino Ward incident a few years ago. He was kidnapped, wasn't he? You weren't sure, your memory was still struggling to eradicate the few patches of fog in your mind. "Listen to me carefully Miss; you hate him."
"I hate him," you repeated in slight confusion, remembering the voice that drilled itself into your mind earlier. Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate Bakugou Katsuki. ]
—him getting kidnapped. You shook your head a bit with a grimace that you quickly brushed away, turning your attention back to your phone.
There were a lot of articles criticizing Bakugou as well—some even went as far as to compare him to a villain, with the way he acted at times. His quirk, apparently, also led to the destruction of a lot of property. This was especially frequent when he was just starting out as a hero, but he'd gotten better at it in recent years. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read an article about the destruction of an entire abandoned building in one of the more impoverished districts of Japan. He paid for damages, of course, but it was a bit alarming all the same.
Exiting out of the article, you went straight to his Instagram account, deciding that maybe the media wasn't entirely a good source to rely on for information. It was pretty bareboned, a couple of pictures posted of himself or with some friends. As you scrolled through his posts, you realized that you hadn't really seen any connections between him and Réalité. It was weird... It was confusing. After all, if Réalité hadn't really interacted with Dynamight, then why were you having a hard time dealing with the idea of Bakugou Katsuki? Where was the link?
Your head hurt.
You did a bit more digging around and found out that he used to intern for Best Jeanist. Then he worked as a sidekick under said pro-hero for a bit before making a name for himself, eventually managing to land his own agency. This was the connection; it was faint, but it was there. He had worked as a sidekick around the same time you did. But other than that, there were no mentions of any of your exchanges—public or not—especially after he broke away from Best Jeanist's agency.
You were confused. The longer you spent staring at article after article, contemplating your emotions when thinking about Bakugou.... the harder your head seemed to pound. Part of you wanted to recoil away, tuck yourself under your blankets and forget you had ever decided to do this. Part of you wanted to stick a villain label on Bakugou and call it a day, blaming him for all the trouble you had gone through. It would be easier, so much easier. But you couldn't—not after your beliefs had been shaken so much and glaringly obvious evidence was right before your very eyes.
This just didn't make any sense. There weren't really any articles showing that Bakugou was a villain either. Was a terrible person. Sure there were criticisms, but that was to be expected for a hero. Still... if they compared him to a villain, then maybe there's some basis for a claim like that? Maybe there was something he did that wasn't covered by the media? God, you didn't know. You didn't know and there was no way to find out about things like that through the internet. You needed opinions.
Opinions from people who weren't clearly biased.
....And you had an idea of who to ask.
---
"You're distracted."
"Was it that obvious?" you huffed out as you ducked below another carefully aimed punch from Fukui. You were getting more and more accustomed to fighting with your cast on. At least, it no longer hindered you as much as it did within your first few sparring sessions. You pivoted on your heel to send a kick to the back of his knees, but he evaded with a quick step to the left.
"Yeah," he grunted as you punched him on his forearms that had been raised to block his face. "You didn't even notice that I've backed you into a corner."
"Huh—" Just as you turned your head to glance at the walls that were much closer to you than you expected, you felt a hand grab onto the front of your shirt. With a yelp escaping your lips, you could only surrender yourself as Fukui pulled you forward and to the side, using his leg to sweep your feet from below you as he all but slammed your back onto the floor. You groaned at the rough impact, then let out a wheeze as Fukui sat sideways right on your stomach, pinning you to the floor.
"Jesus, you're heavy," you grumbled as you half-heartedly slapped at his back with your left hand, trying to get him to move. He was going to squish you flat into a pancake at this rate. "Get your fat ass off of me."
"Shut up." He rolled his eyes down at you, his head moving to glance at the clock on the wall to his left. "Maybe if y’got good you wouldn't be in this situation."
You squinted your eyes up at him, a retort ready on your lips, before something caught your eye. Just barely visible, behind Fukui's right ear. There was a small tattoo of a sun, nearly hidden within his strands of dark hair. It tugged at your mind. Something about it seemed so—
[ "Would you ever get a tattoo?" you asked out of the blue as you shuffled your way down the streets. It was cold outside, so you were both bundled up in your jackets, arms linked together with your hands in your pockets. You both had scarves wrapped around your faces to conceal your identities with beanies nestled comfortably on your heads. The sun had set a while ago, inky darkness overtaking the sky; it was pretty late. There were hardly any other people out and about, what with the cold weather and all. He hummed thoughtfully, eyes focused on the path before you.
"Maybe," he said with an indifferent shrug, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Already got a piercing." And it looked great on him for sure—not that you would admit that to his big head.
"We should get matching ones." You grinned, tilting your head forward so that you could peer up at his blurry face. He quirked an eyebrow.
"Of what?" At least he hadn't refused.
"I dunno," you frowned as you contemplated it, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess."
"Where would we even put the damn things?" He rolled his eyes, tugging you out of the way as a few teenagers rushed by, laughs echoing in your ears. "If any of the stupid paparazzi sees 'em, they could make the connection."
"Then we can get different tattoos or something." You scratched the side of your cheek with your free hand, then buried it back into your jacket pocket. "We can get it..." You raked through possible places to put it. Not on your arms—that would be too noticeable. It couldn't be on your torsos, since your hero costumes tended to get ripped a lot. Your ankles, maybe? Or— "Behind our ears! That's a good place, right?"
He hummed lowly, thinking about it. You waited in anticipation, your eyes brightening when he finally gave a shrug. "Okay, whatever." ]
—familiar. But you couldn't quite place your finger on why.
As you blinked back to awareness, you felt Fukui finally shift off of you, standing over your sprawled out body. You rubbed your stomach, still feeling his weight on top of you as though he had never gotten up. A hand stuck itself into your face and you grasped at it, letting him pull you carefully to your feet. You grumbled a bit as you fixed your clothes, not noticing the way Fukui was observing you.
"Well?" he asked almost impatiently once you had finally glanced over to him. You raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight so that it wasn't entirely on your cast.
"Well what?"
"Gonna tell me what the hell's on your mind?" He crossed his arms as he fixed you with a piercing stare. You rubbed the back of your head, mulling over a few things. This was your chance. You nodded slowly, gaze drifting off to the side.
"Okay, can I ask you something? About your job?" you started off easy, still trying to phrase what you wanted to say in your head. Fukui gave you a look that told you you could. You hesitated a bit, then opened your mouth. "Have you worked with... Dynamight?"
He shifted, uncrossing his arms to stick his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You've asked me that already, shouldn't you know?"
You blinked, a bewildered look sliding onto your face. "I have?? When?"
He shrugged, eyes drifting upwards as he thought about it. "Fuck if I know. It was during one of our sessions." He then eyed you warily. "You don't remember?"
You only stared at him with wide eyes, raking your brain through all the sessions you'd had so far to think about when you could have possibly asked about Bakugou. This wasn't good. A sinking feeling nestled itself deeper within your chest. Was your memory getting worse? Were you forgetting things even after your time in the facility? In the hospital? You were going to have to talk to Doctor Ackerman about it—if this continued, there was no telling what other things you could have forgotten. Important things.
For now, though, there were other things to focus on.
"That's besides the point." You shook your head, waving a hand around. "I just wanna know what you think of him."
"What I think of him," Fukui repeated, raising an eyebrow. You nodded your head in response. "Why does it matter? Don't you hate the guy?" It sounded like he was a bit disgruntled.
You sighed. Loudly. "Why’re you asking all these questions? Just answer me. What's your opinion on him?"
Fukui remained quiet for a moment, his eyes staring down at a point somewhere on the matted floor. You waited patiently as he collected his thoughts on the matter, not wanting to rush him. You had time. "I think he's a good hero," he finally said quietly. You shifted all of your attention to him. "Heart's in the right place. Sure he's got a bit of a temper but," he swallowed, "he means well."
You hummed, taking his words into careful consideration. That sounded similar to the views many people had of him—which included both the authors of articles you'd read online and his friends from U.A. "Would you say he..." You hesitated, still trying to find the right wording, but pressed on anyway. "Would you say he's... villainous? Like... has he done anything bad? Hurt people?" At the look on Fukui's face, you felt the need to explain yourself further. "It's just—I've read a lot of articles online and some people really don't like him...."
A loud scoff escaped his lips that had pulled into a harsh scowl. "The media doesn't know jack shit. Dynamight ain't a villain at all, they're jus’ tryna pick at him for no fucking reason, like they do with every damn hero." His voice then lowered a bit. "He... Maybe he's hurt people when he was a stupid kid, but t’say he's villainous?" He scoffed again. "Gimme a fucking break."
There was something odd about the way Fukui was speaking, but you couldn't quite figure it out. You let out a weak chuckle. "Sounds like you know him quite well, then."
He let out a short bark of laughter, eyes shifting to the side. "Y’could say that."
"Well, in any case, thanks for telling me," you yawned out as you stretched your arms, already feeling them getting sore from the beating you took in the last hour. You felt like you owed him a bit of an explanation. "I'm just trying to sort through some things. I appreciate it."
For a second, it looked like Fukui wanted to press you for more details. But he bit his tongue and only gave you a short nod, turning in the direction of his water bottle. You watched him for a moment, then drifted into your thoughts, trying to sort through what he had told you. Despite hearing his opinion, you still felt very conflicted. You didn't really know what to think anymore. Your head had been hurting, your legs aching. You'd been trying to suppress a tremble in your fingers. Part of you knew that the only way you could determine if.... if Bakugou really was innocent, that he wasn't the source of your agony, was to meet him in person. Talk to him.
But the mere idea had your heart stuttering in your chest, your fingers clenching into fists.
You weren't sure if you could do that. But your progress couldn't stall for long. It had to happen.
You just hoped you wouldn't combust on site when it did.
A gentle breeze that hinted at an oncoming thunderstorm wafted through the air, ruffling through your hair. Your hands were getting slightly sweaty from gripping at your crutches for so long, using them to amble down the quiet streets. Sunglasses and a cap adorned your head as usual, offering some form of anonymity among the few people that milled about. You squinted as you looked around for a place to sit, noticing an open bench a ways in front of you that was under the shade of a large sycamore tree.
With your growing comfort in interacting through text with Kirishima and Kaminari, you had found yourself easily agreeing to meet up with them on a day where you weren't too busy with training. They'd told you a few others would be joining, and it hadn't taken much for you to figure out who. A week or so ago, they'd added Pinky and Cellophane—whom you'd learned were named Ashido Mina and Sero Hanta, respectively—to the group chat, and you'd gotten to learn more about them and their history with you. It didn't take much to convince you to meet up with all four of them at a quiet area near Fatgum’s agency, seeing that he wasn't too far (but still far) from your parent's house. Kirishima, you'd also found out, still worked for the large pro-hero—which had been slightly surprising since you’d assumed he had his own agency, being the number six hero and all. You guessed you should've paid more attention to his job detailing while searching him up on your phone.
Thankfully, your parents hadn’t questioned you much when you’d announced you were going out for a walk. They'd been busy cleaning the house, and while you had felt slightly bad you were just leaving them without helping, you'd realized you couldn't really do much with your cast still on your foot. That, and they'd practically shooed you away, not wanting you to overexert yourself. The gesture had made you roll your eyes—you weren't that helpless—but you'd still taken the easy opportunity to slip away without being heavily questioned.
You sighed out in relief as you plopped down on the bench, placing your crutches to the side so that they were propped against the seat. Slipping your phone out of your pants to glance at the time, you frowned slightly when you saw you were about half an hour early to the meeting. You'd overestimated how long it would take you to hobble your way to the rendezvous point—which was a small café just down the street from where you were sitting. It was one of the few in-the-wall café's that pro-heroes were able to take a break at without anyone passing by recognizing or bothering them. Hopefully that held true. Pocketing your phone, you glanced around, content with some people watching as you waited—though there weren't many around anyways.
Part of you felt slightly nervous at physically being in a group of people who knew more about you than you even knew yourself. There was no reason to be anxious, you kept telling yourself. These people were kind and helpful. They had no reason to trick you.... No reason... You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point, with how repetitive your thoughts were becoming. It was frustrating, but you couldn't find it in you to stop overthinking everything and spiraling back down into previous thoughts that you'd assumed you'd already settled. Apparently you hadn't. Subconsciously, at least.
Relax, just relax. It's just a friendly gathering. You could trust them.
You could trust them.
...So why did you still feel like you couldn't?
You suppressed a groan and rubbed at your head, hoping that you wouldn't get a headache today. They'd been happening more and more frequently lately and you didn't know why. You supposed it was natural since you had amnesia and all. Thinking about it still felt surreal to you. That and with all the nightmares.... You really didn't want to think about it. You slumped back against the bench, watching a few birds pass by overhead. You felt tired... But at least it was nice to actually be outside in the open air instead of... trapped. In a room. You didn’t know how long you sat there swimming in your thoughts, before a sudden voice to your right caught your attention.
"No calls... no texts..." You turned your head, eyes widening slightly as a tall figure walked towards you, his hands buried in his pockets. You recognized that drawling voice, recognized the deep purple eyes with white pupils that were directed right at you. "Not even an email. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."
"Hitoshi!" you gasped, sitting upright as the man stopped right next to you, looking down at you with raised eyebrows and a small, crooked smile. His indigo hair on his head was shorter than you'd remembered, but still unruly. Heavy bags no longer lined the area beneath his eyes, but he did sport a bit of scruff along his jaw. He was wearing regular clothes: some jeans and a hoodie that was partially covering his head. He looked so.... different. He was more buff than you'd expected and much healthier-looking, too. It made you feel strange—and that was what prevented you from latching onto him in a hug (plus your cast). "How the hell did you know I was here??"
"A little birdie told me." He shrugged as he sat down next to you, slumping down and tucking himself further into his hoodie. You didn't miss the way he eyed your injuries, focusing on your cast before moving to look at the bandages still wrapped around your arms. You raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look at his words. He rolled his eyes. "A little birdie with yellow hair and an annoying flirting addiction." Oh.
"Were you... invited?" You were hesitant to elaborate any further in case he wasn't, but you visibly relaxed when you saw him nod. It made you wonder who else had been told.... and what they'd been saying about you behind your back. "I didn't know you knew Kaminari and the others."
"Well, you did know," Hitoshi said as he looked at you. If you watched him carefully enough, you could almost see a sort of exhaustion that still lingered around him; in his slouched shoulders, in the lines along his forehead, in the faint bags beneath his eyes. You wondered..... if you were the cause. Or part of it. "Apparently now you don't, huh? Haven't really heard much about it. Guess I'm not close enough to you to know." His words had a slight teasing lilt to them, but it still made you feel guilty.
"Who told you?" you probed quietly, turning your gaze away from him to stare out at the street. As far as you were concerned, only a select few people knew about your amnesia: some doctors, your parents, the heroes you’ve interacted with.... Had they been spreading the news to others? You didn’t know how to feel about that.
“You realize you’re friends with a lot of heroes in the top twenty, even top thirty, right?” he pointed out to you instead of answering your question. You averted your eyes, fiddling with your fingers as you listened. “Even if you don’t remember them, they remember you. And a few of them might go looking for answers as to what happened to you when you never returned to work.”
“That includes you, huh?” you asked with a slight smile, meaning it to be rhetorical, but when he gave you a deadpan look and nodded anyways, you felt your smile drop. You slouched forward a bit, suddenly feeling the guilt from before increase tenfold. "Hitoshi, I... I'm sorry I didn't contact you. I didn't have my phone and I've forgotten... a lot... but I did go back to our old apartment building and—"
"It's fine," he cut your ramble off, waving off your pitiful excuses. His eyes glanced at your face before moving away to stare down at the pavement. "I'm just glad you're not in a ditch somewhere," he breathed and you swallowed thickly, silently agreeing with him. A silence settled around you after his statement. You wanted to ask him about how he's been, how it's been like being a pro-hero.... but you knew he had questions, and you knew he would be expecting you to answer them. You wondered if you would be able to.
"So," Hitoshi spoke up after a few minutes of you just sitting next to each other. You rubbed the skin around one of your fingers in slight anxiety. "How much do you remember?" It was just like him to dive right into it. At least that hadn't changed about him, you thought wryly.
"Curious, are you?" You sighed out, reaching a hand up to rub at your temple. You could trust him, you knew this. "I've forgotten six years." Your voice was no louder than a whisper.
Hitoshi hummed, closing his eyes as he processed your answer. It must've been hard to hear this right from you. "Did your doctors say anything about getting them back?"
"They said my quirk's repressing my memories." You scratched your head, shrugging your shoulders when you saw him look at you with a raised eyebrow. "So I guess I'd just have to figure it out on my own for the most part.... It's not much to go off on."
"Well that sounds like bullshit." Hitoshi frowned slightly, crossing his legs at the ankles as he leaned his head back. "Mind-quirks are tricky," he said as he pointed to his forehead. Then he added on dryly, "I would know."
"I know." You sighed again, thinking about what limited information you had in regards to getting your memories back. "I can only try to train it, I guess. It's the only thing I can think of doing anyways." It was a very delicate situation. Delicate, and completely new territory for you and for the people supporting you—and that made it frustrating.
"What about therapy?" he inquired slowly. You bit your lower lip, thinking about how adamant your parents had been on the matter. Not that you cared what they thought.
"I'm working on it," was all you said. You needed to message Hinata later to ask if the Hero Commission had approved a proper therapist for you. Bless that woman and her access to Réalité's financial resources. Your parents didn't need to know about that... and you'd prefer to keep it that way. You looked at your friend, noting the way he chewed slightly on the inside of his cheek as a contemplative look crossed his face. You knew what that meant. "You can ask me more questions.... you know. I don't mind." Just don't ask about specifics, you pleaded to yourself.
"What..." He hesitated for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he should continue on. But he did anyway. "What did they... do to you?"
You licked your lips, suddenly feeling them get dry. You wanted to tell him everything, confide in your friend about all the troubles weighing down on your mind, on your body, on your soul. But.... just looking at him, at the way he'd changed so much.... You just, couldn't. You didn't know if he was the same person that he had been when you knew him six years ago. That younger version of Hitoshi... the one with sleeping problems and a lanky figure.... was the one you felt comfortable with. Not this one.
But you knew you could still trust him, at least with some things.
"Drug testing," you muttered, rubbing a hand along your arm as you felt a slight pain come from your forearms. "They... kept me in a room, strapped me to a chair. Took my quirk away. It's all still... fuzzy. I— I can't talk about it." Not now. Not in public like this. But when? was the constant question on your mind. You wished you knew.
"I heard you were brainwashed," Hitoshi commented almost offhandedly, and you shot a questioning look at him, the corner of your lips pulling down into a small frown. Brainwashed? That was ridiculous.
"Where did you hear that?" you almost snapped at him, but managed to soften your voice. There was no need to get riled up. Right? "I haven't been brainwashed."
"Yeah you have." He gave you a piercing look, his eyes locking onto your own strictly. He sounded so sure of his statement, so firm. You couldn't look away, you came to realize, as he seemed to read you as easily as an open book.
"No I haven't." You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. He gave you a look that you recognized as the one that signaled he was getting exasperated. You only raised an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to continue on with his accusation.
"You hate Bakugou," he remarked in a somewhat bored manner, phrasing it more as a statement than a question. The mere mention of his name was enough to send a shiver scuttling down your spine, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to figure out what your friend was getting at.
"Okay, and what if I do?" you spat out defensively. "He's hurt me. He's a villain." Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight.
"And that's how I know you've been brainwashed." Hitoshi closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts as you quietly seethed beside him. Don't tell you he also defended that— that bastard of a hero? Were you the only one around here who knew who he actually was? It was aggravating. You could feel a dull throb near the back of your head.
"I haven't been brainwashed!" you grit through your teeth, only to jump slightly as Hitoshi grabbed your wrists and tugged you so that your body was twisted and facing him. He firmly held on to you as he forced you to look right at him, one of his hands releasing one of your wrists to tug your sunglasses off before assuming its original position. You blinked at the sudden brightness, but focused your gaze on his own, slightly surprised at his actions.
"You've been brainwashed," he emphasized once you locked gazes, eyes piercing through your own with solid conviction.
"I hav—"
"No, listen to me," Hitoshi asserted, tightening his grip slightly on your wrists. It wasn't painful, but you were starting to get irritated—and confused. What was he trying to do? "I know a thing or two about brainwashing." Well, you knew that.
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Yeah, but I h—"
"No, you've been brainwashed. Acknowledge it," he repeated again. You were really starting to get frustrated with him. Why was he being so persistent?? It was starting to make your head hurt, a steady pounding that originated from the back of your head and made its way to your temples. Hurting, always hurting.
Click click click click click.
"But—"
"Would I lie to you? Don't you trust me?" Hitoshi asked quietly, eyes boring into your own with such an intensity that you had to close your eyes and look away for a moment.
"I do trust you, but—"
"Then accept it. You've been brainwashed," he said for a final time before he released your wrists and slumped back down onto the bench, burying his hands in his pockets. You watched him for a moment before slowly settling down and slipping back on your sunglasses, your headache still rearing its ugly head. You were confused, a plethora of emotions convoluted in your mind. You were frustrated, part of you still struggling to determine what he really meant. You were irritated, wondering why he was acting this way when you hadn't done anything wrong.
...Had you?
Before you could even start to deliberate upon what he was saying, a voice had called out your name, a sudden weight landing on your upper torso that had your breath hitching in slight surprise.
"[Name]!!! Girl, it's been so long since I've gotten to see you!!!"
"L-likewise..." you gasped out unthinkingly, feeling relief when the person on your lap pulled away to instead hold you by the shoulders. It was Ashido, you realized, recognizing her pink skin and equally pink hair. Behind her stood Kirishima and Kaminari, along with a black-haired individual with large elbows who you assumed was Sero. They were all dressed in casual wear, with either a hat of sorts, hood, or sunglasses obscuring their faces. It was strange, in a way. You all looked like you were part of some ragtag group of miscreants with a terrible sense of fashion.
"Hey [Name]! Hitoshi! Been waiting here long?" Kirishima raised up a hand to wave at you, Kaminari shooting you a wink while Sero smiled and let out a “yo!”
"Nah, we were able to do some catching up." Hitoshi shrugged, hoisting himself off of the bench to stand by the others.
"Catching up, huh?" Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows before letting out a yelp as Kirishima punched him on the shoulder, a wide smile still on his face. You would've laughed at their interaction, but Ashido was looking you all over, turning your head this way and that.
"Have they been feeding you? You look like Small Might!" The pink female frowned, only to have her hands pushed away by you as you sat up and reached for your crutches still resting at your side.
"I'm fine. I've been training," you replied, using your crutches to push yourself up so that you could stand next to the group of your.... acquaintances? Friends? Who knew at this point...
"Oh yeah, with Tatsuo, right?" Kirishima questioned, and you recalled the time he'd stumbled upon you both at the Naruto Ramen place. Once you nodded your confirmation at him, he asked another question. "How's that been going?"
"It's a work in progress," you sighed out, following the red-haired male as he gestured to you all to start walking down to the café. You set off at a slow pace that had you feeling self-conscious, aware that you weren't able to travel as fast as them with your cast.
"Tatsuo's pretty good as a trainer, isn't he?" Ashido trotted next to Kaminari, a sly smile on her face as she looked at you. "Pretty good-looking too, am I right?" Now both Ashido and Kaminari were looking at you, their eyebrows moving up and down in sync. What the fuck.
"I... guess?" your voice pitched upwards in a questioning manner, wondering why they were behaving like this. Did they all know who Fukui was? Well... he did say he'd trained quite a few pro-heroes. "He's beaten me up a lot sooo.... Mixed feelings about him."
"Typical," Hitoshi sighed out, eliciting a chuckle from Kirishima and Sero.
They struck up some more idle chatter as they arrived at the café, entering through the front door. It was nice and quaint, with walls painted a lovely rose color and vanilla scented candles placed on top of each table. A display case at the front held a wide variety of pastries: cupcakes, croissants, crêpes, cakes, anything and everything. Kirishima spoke with one of the waitresses who greeted you all near the entrance and guided you to a remote booth near the back of the café, away from any windows. Everyone slid in, with you being at the edge so that you could stretch out your leg with the cast upon it. Your crutches were propped up right next to you along the side of the booth.
After everyone ordered from the small menus that were already on the table, they settled down and turned to look at you. You raised an eyebrow at their inquiring looks, already knowing that they would likely want to ask you questions as well. You did expect all this, but it still made part of you feel tired.
"I still can't believe you're here," Ashido spoke up first from her position directly across from you. She'd lowered the hood on her head and slid her sunglasses up so that they were perched on her pink hair. One of her elbows was propped up on the wooden table, her cheek resting on her rosy fist. "It feels kinda surreal, not gonna lie."
"Man! Tell me about it!" Kaminari exclaimed, sitting up straight from right next to Ashido. The big sun hat he was using to cover his bright hair had been pushed back so that it was behind his neck. "Eijirou found you at that villain's attack with the big dragon dude. Nearly had an aneurysm when I saw you there!"
"I nearly had an aneurysm watching the news," Sero sweatdropped, sitting right next to you. He turned his scarf-adorned head to look at you. "Weren't you fresh out of the hospital? Imagine taking on a villain that soon..."
"Respect!!" Kirishima grinned, flexing his arms from next to Kaminari. "Bunch of people were buzzing about it, actually. Called it impressive that a hero still in recovery was out kicking villain ass!"
"Got some major P.R. points for that!" Kaminari pointed out, though you could only listen on in slight awkwardness.
“I hadn’t realized...” you mumbled just loud enough for the others to hear. You weren't watching the news as often as you should be. You still needed to get used to the idea that people were aware of who you were, and were actively seeking information on how you were doing. The more you thought about it, the stranger you felt, but you should've expected this. It was the life of a pro-hero that you'd been training to become for all those years.
“You were the talk of the day on a lot of channels,” Hitoshi told you, though you could barely see him from his slouched position next to Sero. “Especially when you just showed up at a hospital.”
“Yeaaahh, speaking of, how the hell did you even get there??” Kaminari asked, all of them turning to look at you expectantly. You eyed them warily, rubbing your upper arm. You could talk about this, you tried to reassure yourself. It would be fine. This was nothing.
“I just snuck out of the facility.” You shrugged in what you hoped was a nonchalant manner, trying to think of a way to explain it without talking too much about what you’d actually gone through. “Used my quirk to slip by the doctors to the exit, then walked through the surrounding forest for a few, um, days.”
Sero let out a low whistle. “Why didn’t you escape sooner, then?” Two thuds from under the table caused the black-haired man to let out a yelp, Kirishima hissing out a “dude!” while Ashido muttered “insensitive much?”
“It’s fine,” you said awkwardly, causing the heroes to settle down and instead turn to you to continue to listen to what you had to say. Your voice got smaller. “I hadn’t been, well, strong enough to.” There was a small silence after your response that was only interrupted when the waitress returned to set down your orders. You were thankful for the convenient timing. It didn't take a genius to see that your companions were heavily deliberating upon your words.
"You know," Kaminari started up again once the waitress had left. He slung an arm around the redhead next to him, who nearly dropped the milkshake gripped in his hand. "Kirishima was actually on the team sent out to rescue you! Right, dude?"
"Yeah!" Kirishima smiled as he pointed his thumb to his hoodie-covered chest. "I think I'd mentioned it before. It was a small group of pros and some of Best Jeanist's sidekicks. We'd gone to check out the facility, but you were long gone along with some of the head honchos running the place." He then gave you a sheepish smile. "I know I apologized for it already, but I am sorry about that."
Suddenly, your throat felt all too dry.
You tuned out the rest of Kirishima's story, focusing on the tiny bit of information he'd said regarding what you assumed was about the boss and Doctor Shin. You remembered Kirishima telling you about him being on the rescue team back when you'd first met. But he'd never mentioned the fact that the two running the facility were gone. No one had mentioned it to you. If you thought about it hard enough, you could just vaguely remember Kirishima apologizing to you when you had first met, but you couldn't really remember why. Was it because he'd told you about the missing villains? You'd always just figured they'd been captured when the rescue happened. You'd tuned out any information regarding them in the hopes that if you just didn't think about them, they wouldn't harm you and your progress towards recovery.
Now that you knew for sure that they hadn't been captured, however.... and were instead out roaming around freely...
You had to suppress a violent shiver from running down your spine.
Who's to say they weren't looking for you at this very moment?
Just as you felt yourself spiraling down into a sea of worrisome thoughts, a voice shook you out of your stupor. You blinked a few times, looking up to see the pro-heroes looking at you with mixed looks of varying concern. It made your cheeks flush, a heat crawling up your neck at the fact that you'd lost yourself so easily. You really needed to get a hold of yourself.
"Sorry, did you say something?" you asked, deciding that it wouldn't do you any good to think about those two villains being on the run. You needed to train harder. To be prepared in the case that they appeared before you. You needed to be strong. You weren't going to cower before them. All heroes needed to deal with villains like these, you told yourself. This wasn't anything new.
"I asked if you were going to the dinner coming up," Ashido reiterated, carefully watching you with those darkened eyes of hers. You avoided looking at Ashido, instead glancing around at the others.
"Dinner?" you probed in confusion, wondering what the woman was talking about. There was a dinner?
"Yeah, every year this charity hosts a dinner for the top twenty heroes," Kirishima explained, his milkshake already halfway done. In fact, as you glanced around the table, you saw that you were the only one who hadn't eaten anything from your plate yet. Yikes. "To thank us for our services. It's a nice get together on top of this fancy building!"
"I... wasn't aware." You furrowed your eyebrows. Were you expected to go? You didn't think so, especially since you weren't technically in the top twenty anymore. Were you?
"I'm pretty sure you were invited," Hitoshi said, his hand twirling around the drink he had in his glass. "They'd be idiots not to."
"Especially if they're following the official rankings," Sero added on. "The Hero Billboard awards haven't happened yet, so you're still in the top ten. At least until they update them later on."
"Besides, it would be an insult to you to not have you there after what you've been through," Ashido huffed out as she crossed her arms, seemingly getting offended by the mere thought.
"Well, even if you weren't, you can always come as my guest~" Kaminari winked, only to get slapped upside the head by Ashido. "OW! Okay, okay, you KNOW I'm only jokin— OW! Stop that!"
"I'll look into it," you hummed, adding the dinner on to the list of things to ask Hinata about later.
The rest of the time was spent chatting about hero work, and giving stories about all the numerous activities the little group of heroes had done in the past. They told you some stories about their U.A. days, never really addressing the fact that you had amnesia. You were glad for that, finding it nice that for once, you didn't have to think about your lack of memories. They showed you some pictures on their phones of things they'd done—whether it be poses, stupid pranks, or parties. They seemed like a really fun group of people, you decided. Fun and trustworthy. Right?
Of course, you didn't fail to notice that— that Bakugou had been in some of their pictures. But they didn't really point him out.
It was refreshing. Though, you'd kind of expected them to mention him since you were aware they were all friends with the, the villain.
Hitoshi's earlier words came to your head. “Brainwashed.” While you didn't like the idea, and you were pretty sure you weren't brainwashed... the logical side of you did have to admit that his words were something to consider. He wouldn't lie to you like that. Would he? No, he wouldn't. And the more you thought about your time in the facility... the more you realized you couldn't really remember precise details. You weren't brainwashed. You weren't. Right? Right? But it was not something you wanted to think about at the moment. You still got a heavy feeling in your stomach at the mere thought of— of him.
You just needed to enjoy this little outing while you still could.
It wasn't long before Kirishima groaned that he had to return to work, the others sighing out about their own patrols as well. You supposed that was expected; a hero’s work was never done, after all. Everyone paid for their respective meals before steadily making their way out of the café, tugging on their small disguises once more.
"You sure you don't need us to walk you home?" Kirishima pressed worriedly as Ashido swung you around lightly in a hug.
"I'm sure," you gasped out once the pink female let you go. You settled back down on your crutches, unable to swat Sero's hand away as he ruffled your hair before fixing your hat back on your head. "It's not a long walk."
"We gotta hang out again!!! Okay? Girl time!" Ashido gave you a closed-eyed smile and a thumbs up, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. Yeah, you could do that.
"Can I come?" Kaminari clasped his hands hopefully to plead at Ashido, but she only rolled her eyes. "Pleaaaase?"
"I said girl time! Not girl and Denki time!"
"Here," Hitoshi suddenly voiced from beside you as he held out his phone. You glanced down at it and took it with one of your hands. "Give me your new number. That way you have no excuse to not message me."
"I told you it wasn't intentional," you grumbled, but gave him a small smile and balanced on one crutch to input your number. Your chest felt lighter than it had in days, and you knew it was because of all of them.
Maybe... you should be more open to interacting with the people you supposedly knew.
"Get home safe!!" Kirishima waved and called at you as he and the others started to walk their separate ways. You had to grin at the shawl he had wrapped around his spiky head of hair. You leaned on one crutch to wave back at them, trying not to fall over.
"We'll text later!" Ashido jumped up and down, shooting you a wide grin. You watched them turn and walk in the opposite direction as you. Seeing them all walking away together from you gave you an odd feeling in your stomach. One that made you feel strangely isolated. You watched their receding backs for a moment longer before turning around to make your way back home. The whole outing hadn't taken more than a few hours, so your parents shouldn't be too suspicious.
A sigh left your lips as you paused at a crosswalk, your mind sorting through all the thoughts and feelings you'd gone through for the day. You still had a lot to do, a lot to investigate and figure out for yourself. This had served as a nice distraction from all your worries, but now that it was over.... You could already feel the stress coming on from everything you'd learned.... everything you'd been enlightened to. And you wondered if it was a good thing.
Just as you looked up to check if the stoplight had turned red yet, a figure from across the road caught your eye. He was standing directly opposite from you, his hands tucked in his lab coat pockets. A mask was on the lower half of his face, a splash of red on it that was a stark contrast from the surrounding grey. Dark hair was swept over phosphorescent green eyes—eyes that stared right at you. You paused, unable to avert your gaze from his. From Doctor Shin's.
He was here.
Why was he here?
Click click click click click.
You took a step back, your throat feeling dry. Why was he here? Why was he in public? Why did he appear on a day where you'd just found out he was on the run? Why why why why why. You could see his eyes crinkle in a way that told you he was smiling. Your mind started to race with the possibilities of what you could do. Could you even do anything? What should you do? What should you do what should you do—
A bus passed between you on the road. When it rolled out of sight, the doctor was gone. As though he'd never been there in the first place.
You blinked heavily, relaxing your tensed shoulders as you stared at the empty spot that Doctor Shin had been standing before. And you wondered if you were going crazy. If you'd just been imagining the whole thing. The way your heart pounded in your chest told you that this was not a good thing, real or not. A sinking feeling was growing more and more in your stomach, and you found you couldn't ignore it no matter how hard you tried. The previous light feeling you had from hanging out with the others was gone, extinguished with a snap.
You took another path home and locked yourself in your room for the rest of the day.
mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au, trigger warnings for nightmare, choking, some gore, panic attack. buckle up y'all shit's getting real(er)
part sixteen part eighteen
It was dark.
You weren't exactly sure where you were. All you knew was that you were surrounded by a deep, abysmal darkness that seemed to envelope your figure. It raised goosebumps along your arms, the coldness trailing sharpened fingertips up and down your figure. You tried looking around, but you couldn't tell if you were moving your eyes. You didn't even know if your eyes were open, for that matter. All you knew for sure, was that you were alone. And it was so, so dark.
You didn't know exactly what to do. You were sure if an outsider were to be peering over at you, they would see you floating in the inky black that stretched on for god knows how long. But you could feel yourself standing on something, rooting you to the nonexistent ground. You didn't dare test the sturdiness of it, too afraid that it would shatter into a million pieces of glass and leave you drowning, drowning in oblivion. With nothing to do, however, you did the only thing you could think of.
You began to walk.
You couldn't exactly tell if you were moving anywhere, but you knew you were putting one foot in front of the other. You could feel yourself doing it. But you couldn't see yourself. You looked down, expecting to see some sort of outline of your hands, of your body, but there was nothing. It was strange. You didn't know what was happening, so you just walked, hoping to find some explanation for where you were and what you were doing.
You couldn't tell how much time had passed as you walked. You'd been counting the number of steps you were taking, but once you had hit a number well past three hundred, you'd stopped. It was unnerving. It was kind of boring, too, now that you thought about it. It didn't help that you felt you were being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling from the tension. Or was it because of the cold? You didn't know. You didn't dare stop walking, however, too scared of the possibility of inky hands reaching up to grab at you in your moment of hesitance.
Eventually, you saw something in the distance. It was a small pinprick of white light, but it appeared so bright in the darkness that it was nearly impossible to miss. You squinted your eyes at it before picking up your pace, curiosity gnawing at you as the speck grew larger and larger in size. It was almost as though it was beckoning you over, enticing you to reach it so that you could grasp it within your hands, and hold it near your heart. But once you got close enough, you realized it wasn't a light.
It was a door.
It wasn't facing upright in front of you. Rather, it was lying down on the ground. The door was a very white color that almost hurt your eyes that had gotten accustomed to the miles and miles of oppressive obsidian. You paused before it, observing the smoothness of it—like it was made of metal. You walked around it so that you were standing at the side with the doorknob. Squatting down, you reached your fingers out to grasp at the knob, feeling the cool metal nearly burn your skin. With a twist of your wrist, the knob turned, and you were able to open the door, allowing it to swing 180 degrees away from you so that the front of it would be resting upon the ground.
But the door didn't stop opening. Instead it opened a full 270 degrees, hanging down from the frame in the shape of an upside down ‘L’. You paused for a moment, but didn't question it. Bracing your hands on the edge of the frame, you peered down into what looked like a room. Though it was far, far below you, painted a bright white color. If you squinted, you could see something in the middle of the room that was too small to properly make out. You felt like Harry Potter, staring down at the pensieve in Dumbledore's office. And like Harry, the moment you tipped yourself forwards to try to see what was happening more clearly, you fell.
The door slammed shut.
You felt yourself falling, felt the wind rushing through your hair and scattering it all over your face. You felt weightless, your arms and legs moving around as you tried to grasp onto something, anything, to no avail. You wondered how long you would be falling for. But the moment the thought crossed your mind, you found yourself in a chair.
A very... familiar... chair.
In a very..... familiar.... room.....
Click click click click click.
Eyes widened, breaths quickened as you attempted to get up. Something was latched onto your wrists and ankles, however, and when you looked down, you saw thick, metal bands wrapped around them. You struggled. You pulled. You pushed. You tried flinging yourself out of the chair. You tried using your quirk. But you were trapped. You were stuck. The poster in front of you seemed to almost leer evilly at you, so you avoided looking at it, instead electing to sporadically let your eyes observe the room.
Not again, you gulped down a whimper at the sheer emptiness of the White Room. The threatening loneliness. Not again. You had escaped, you were sure of it. You had escaped. But no, you were still here, still trapped. In a small, square room. Painted a white color that only made the lights much brighter. The same shorts and tank top adorned your figure. The floor was still cool against your bare feet. The camera still clicked away in its corner. Click click click click click. Just nonstop. Please, anything but this.
A sudden crackle of a P.A. system. A familiar voice echoed around you, battering down on your eardrums a sentence that was all.... too.... familiar....
"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight."
"Shut up!" you hissed out, struggling against your bindings once again to no avail. They chaffed the skin of your ankles, cut into your wrists like a knife through butter, sending oozing blood dripping to the floor. "Shut the fuck up!"
"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight."
"Go away! Leave me alone!" You tried leaning forwards, but found that there was something attached to the back of your head that prevented you from moving too far.
"How rude. And here I thought you would be delighted to see me again, Miss."
Your eyes snapped up to the side, flinching back slightly at the sudden appearance of a man with phosphorescent eyes that were the bane of your existence. Doctor Shin's eyes crinkled as he held a syringe filled with the dreadful light blue Quirk Nullification drug in his hand, the grey mask on his face hiding the wide smile stretched beneath it. You shrunk into your chair, but your eyes narrowed at him, daring him to step closer and inject you with that foul substance.
"Why am I here? What did you do? I thought I—" The words got caught in your throat, choking you without mercy as the doctor let out a humorless laugh. It sent shivers skittering your spine, and you realized you were in trouble. So, so much trouble. You were in trouble for attempting to escape. You were in trouble and there was no one to help you. You were in trouble and you couldn't even defend yourself.
"You thought you escaped?" His mocking words were followed by another chuckle, and before you could see what he was doing, he plunged the needle of the syringe into your arm, injecting the liquid into your body. You bit back a groan as a headache you hadn't realized you had started pounding away at your temples. Beat after beat, just hammering away to a vigorous song you were forever destined to dance to until your feet bled with the effort to keep you standing. "Thought you were able to easily slip by without us noticing?"
You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear your hair from your head in the wistful hope that it would alleviate the pain you were feeling. You were trapped, trapped in a small box that didn't let you go no matter how hard you pounded your fists against the white walls. Agony, it was agony. Your fingers trembled like leaves in a breeze, your breaths quickened to match the staccato thumps of your heart. Your mind was frenzy with the thoughts of what would happen to you. You were in trouble for escaping, so, so much trouble. He was going to torture you, he was going to—
A gasp got caught in your throat as Doctor Shin ripped the glove off of his hand and slammed his palm against your neck. Glowing fingers gripped harshly, a choked sound coming from your lips as he lifted you from the chair and suddenly slammed you into the wall. Stars erupted from a volcano in front of your eyes, dancing around and whispering taunts in your ears. You choked and gasped, desperately clawing at the burning hand that gripped your throat, setting each and every nerve on fire.
"You thought you were strong enough?" Doctor Shin asked calmly as his fingers squeezed, and you hated how smooth his voice sounded. Hated him with every fiber of your being. You tried kicking out, tried using your nullified quirk, tried reaching out to break his glasses and scratch his eyes. But his hold didn't relent, and before you knew what was happening, he started.... to melt.
His skin dripped and slid down his figure, chartreuse eyes glowing bright, bright, brighter than ever as he stared right at your watering eyes. The smell of burning flesh attacked your olfactory cells, and you watched in horror as his face sagged down, skin dropping onto your exposed hands and arms as it slid to the ground. Another face was emerging from behind the shredded skin of Doctor Shin, though it still spoke with his voice. His words.
"You, the number eight hero, who couldn't even prevent yourself from getting kidnapped?" A villain with slitted, green eyes hissed at you, dark green scales littering the arms that still pinned you against the wall. You gasped for air, trying desperately to kick out and get the villain to let go. But he took all your kicks to his chest with a grain of salt, not relenting in the least bit as he grinned a sharp grin and melted like Doctor Shin.
You wanted to look away. You wanted to breathe. You didn't know how much longer you could last. But you could only stare straight ahead at the melting villain, whose dripping skin revealed scarred hands. Whose bright green eyes liquefied to reveal burning crimson ones. Whose dark hair fell to the ground to reveal spiky ash-blond. And you were scared, so desperately scared at the wide smirk that stretched across his tanned face. His hand that wasn't squeezing the life out of you, slammed against the wall next to your head, an explosion coming from it that sent your ears ringing.
"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight."
Click click click click click.
"You're weak! Pathetic!" Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight, snarled at you in Doctor Shin's voice. Eyes, crimson eyes, burned through your very soul, and you choked, gasped, clawed, screamed. He was going to hurt you. He was hurting you. He was hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt— "You're not a hero. You can't ever be a hero. Recovery? Training? Don't make me laugh! You think you can become what you once were? That easily?"
You're wrong, you wanted to gasp out. Your limbs felt heavy, your feet dangling above the burning, burning ground. Your hands weakly gripped at the arm that still had you against the wall. Darkness was starting to blur your vision, hot tears streaming down your quivering cheeks. And yet, the crimson was still unrelenting. Still burning.
But he was right. He was right. How were you going to be a hero like this? You were broken. You'd been mauled beyond recognition by a man with a syringe. There was no way you were going to be able to regain yourself, to stand in the shoes of Réalité. You were useless. You were hopeless. Forever designed to remain a slouching victim in a world where only the strong could stand straight. You were weak, you were weak. Everything hurt, your head hurt, you were so fucking weak—!
You woke up with a gasp.
Trembling hands gripped at your throat, clawing at an invisible force that sent you floundering for mouthfuls of cool air. Everything was dark, the quiet of night interrupted by the quick inhalations you made in your attempts to calm down. But no matter how much you gasped, you still couldn't breathe. Your chest felt stifled, like there was something heavy sitting upon it. Your heart felt like something was squeezing it, preventing it from beating in the natural way it was supposed to. You curled up on your side, biting down on a finger as you tried to stifle the small heaves and cries you gave out while trying to breathe. Just breathe.
Your head pounded. Your throat was parched. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that only seemed to get deeper the longer you lay there. You squeezed your eyes shut, stuffing your face into a pillow in the hopes of not disturbing any others sleeping around you. You weren't sure how long you lay like that, trying to get your breathing under control and preventing yourself from toppling off a cliff into never-ending distraught. It took all of your remaining energy to just soothe yourself into a somewhat calming state.
When you finally sat up, you felt more exhausted than you had in years.
Bleary eyes blinked around at your darkened room, moonlight shining through the window onto the floor. You wiped at your eyes, feeling the stains your tears had left as you had cried—in your sleep or not. Your blanket pooled around your waist, your skin itching where the cast rested upon your foot. You cleared your throat as softly as you could, staring down at your bandaged arms. Arms that were adorned with the scars of the torment you'd gone through under a man with no morals.
A sigh left your throat, eyes shifting to look at the crib against the wall near your bed. You could see Saki slumbering peacefully away, undisturbed and untouched by the plight that you were going through. Your lips tugged upwards for a moment, but fell back into a neutral position.
You tore your gaze away from the baby's small face and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling until the sun started poking its way into your room.
---
"You look like shit," was the first thing Fukui said to you once you'd opened the front door to let him in.
"Really? I didn't notice," you quipped sarcastically as you closed the door behind him. Your parents were out for the day, getting another appointment done for Saki. It gave you and Fukui the perfect opportunity to train your quirk without their prying eyes and ears. You waved him off when he opened his mouth to retort, telling him to go downstairs before starting an argument with you. He reluctantly complied after giving you an odd look, making his way to the basement door where he disappeared down the stairs.
You crutched your way to the bathroom before you followed him, splashing your face with water again to wake yourself up. Dark circles lined the bottom of your eyes, a small wrinkle on your forehead making you seem more tired and older than you felt. You'd been getting nightmares for a while now, but they'd never been as bad as last night before. You'd gotten sleeping pills to help, but you were already taking copious amounts of medications to deal with your injuries already. So you'd tried to avoid using them, instead attempting to deal with the nightmares. It didn't work. You were exhausted, but that wasn't a valid excuse to ditch your training session. You gave your reflection a pointed stare, then turned to head down to the basement. Moping around would do you no good.
Once you stepped off the stairs and set your crutches against the wall, you turned to face your trainer who was eyeing you with a look in his austere eyes that you couldn't place.
"Y’get any sleep last night?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watched you take your place across from him on the mats.
"What are you, my mom?" you shot at him grumpily, not wanting to talk about it—much less with someone you've known for a few weeks now. You didn't notice how his jaw clenched at your words.
"Well fuck me for asking," he shot back just as grumpily, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Let's just get this shit done with. You said you wanted to train your quirk today, right?"
"Yeah." You nodded, starting to stretch out your limbs when he gestured at you to copy his motions.
"Well, what specifically? You're gonna need to tell me shit about your quirk before we can get started.” He rolled his eyes, drawing a huff from your lips.
"My quirk is illusion based, but I also have an aura that I can manifest," you explained as you stretched your arms out. "I can warp reality around either myself or others to make them see different things, though I'd need to make eye contact with someone first before I can trap them in an illusion."
"And your aura?" Fukui asked, his eyes seeming to pierce through you.
"I can manifest it to do offensive attacks.” You shrugged, thinking it would be obvious what your quirk was since you'd been a hero and all. "They can take on the appearance of hands, but they can also be beams or a shield."
He nodded as he processed the information, and you continued to stretch for a few more moments. You wondered what he was planning. His face was impassive, making it difficult to get a read on him. Once you finished stretching, he instructed you to back away to the opposite end of the basement. You did so with an eyebrow raised, watching as he positioned himself as far away from you as possible.
"So what are we doing?" you called out to him, watching him crouch down into a fighting stance. An explanation would be nice.
"I want you to try to pin me down," Fukui told you, his eyes never once leaving your body. You scratched your head. Well how the fuck were you going to do that from all the way over he—
"Using my aura?" you asked once it hit you. That didn't seem like a fair match for him, but you supposed that was the point.
"No fucking shit." He rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing. You huffed. "Just don't move from there and try to pin me before I reach you."
"All right then." You shrugged, readying yourself by crouching slightly and holding your hands out in front of you. There was a moment of silence as you concentrated on building your aura. Your eyes narrowed as his legs tensed.
"Whenever you're rea—"
Before he could complete his sentence, your purple aura shot out of your palms, taking on the form of hands as you aimed to wrap him in them. You had to be wary of the surrounding area, seeing that your aura was strong enough to decimate hard structures—though your sustainability time was certainly sub par now compared to.... before. You put in all your focus to trap Fukui, but to your surprise, he dodged your attack by leaping up and doing a front flip out of the way. Your jaw would have dropped if it wasn't clenched so tightly to combat the headache starting to rear up again.
He shot you a crooked grin—a look that practically boasted about his athletic skills. "That all you got?!"
Your response was to shift your aura again, plunging it into the ground in an attempt to catch him off guard. He evaded your attack again with ease when your aura attempted to grab him from behind, constantly taunting your pathetic attempts. You had to admit, he was definitely much faster than you'd thought—and agile beyond all comprehension. He just kept leaping out of the way! It was like he could read your moves before you could even execute them. It was irritating. It was also starting to aggravate you, the way he yelled out watered-down insults to try to motivate you. It wasn't the best way to get someone to push themselves to their limit, but by god, it was somehow working.
"Oh, what the hell??" you grit out as you attempted to corner him against a wall, but he just ran towards it and used it as a platform to push off of, flipping in the air once before landing on his feet. Okay, now he was just starting to show off.
"Keep your guard up!" Fukui barked out at you, bending backwards to avoid another grab at his torso. You were trying, you were really trying. But your headache still continued to pound away. It had started as a dull throb near the back of your head, but as the minutes had gone by, it slowly made its way to your temples. Your limbs were starting to feel a bit sluggish as well, your eyes hurting every time you darted them around to focus on his swift figure. You didn't have much longer until you would lose your grip on your quirk.
At one point, you had just barely managed to get a hold of his arm with your aura, tugging him down to the ground until he was on one knee. A sound of triumph left your lips as he struggled to escape your grip, but just as you prepared to slam him fully against the floor, a burst of pain cleaved through your head and your aura weakened to the point where he was able to shake it off and lunge forwards. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at how sudden and steadily worse your headache was getting. You just hardly had time to set up a shield as Fukui shot towards you, but he was able to wave off the weak bit of defense you'd formed and grasp you by the shoulders.
"Wai—!" you yelped as he gave a crooked grin and used his arms to twist your body towards him and capture you in a headlock.
"Too late!" He smirked as you clawed at his arms wrapped around your neck. Your neck. Let go let go let go let go, he's holding your neck, your neck, your neck—
"I-I give!" you gasped out, trying to level your breathing. You tapped on his biceps with the flat of your palm. There was a sinking sort of feeling that was starting to crawl up from your stomach to your chest. Don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic—
He released you from the headlock and you dropped down onto your knees, trying to take in deep breaths without making it blatantly obvious. Your fingers were trembling, so you clenched them into fists, still trying to push down the steadily rising hollow feeling. You kicked and punched at it, attempting to lock up any thoughts about your neck your neck your neck choking choking choking hero you were no hero—
A hand suddenly landed on your head, snapping you out of your spiraling stupor as you glanced up at Fukui. He was watching you with a soft look in his gunmetal eyes, glancing at your clenched hands and heaving chest, before connecting his gaze with your own.
"Not bad," he said simply, ruffling your hair around. "Don't sweat it—"
[ You frowned as you pounded a hand on the floor, frustration building up inside of you. You were mad. You were irritated. You were angry. All at yourself. What kind of hero were you, if you couldn't even apprehend one villain? Damn it. You were lucky that there was no one else around to see your pummeling out your frustrations on the ground beneath your—
"The fuck are you sulking for?"
...Never mind.
"I'm not sulking," you lied as you lifted your head up to watch him walk over to your curled position on the gym floor. His hands were positioned on his waist, his blurred face tilted towards you. He let out an audible scoff.
"Yeah right and I'm All Might." He clicked his tongue, moving his arms in front of his chest to cross them. There was a small pause. "Is this about the villai—"
"Yes this is about the damn villain!" you groaned out, untucking your legs from beneath you so that you could properly sit your ass on the hard wood beneath you. "I can't believe he escaped! I let him escape, I'm so mad—"
"Hey.” A hand landed on your head and you looked up to his blurry face with a heavy scowl plastered on your own. "It's just one stupid villain. You'll catch 'em next time and beat the shit outta him, ya hear?"
"I guess..." You sighed only to flinch when he started to aggressively ruffle your hair. "Stop! My hair!"
"Don't sweat it, idiot." He snickered as you attempted to swat his hands away to no avail. You sighed out and gave him a small smile, feeling just a tiny bit better. Because of him.
"Thanks." ]
—all right?"
"Yeah." You nodded numbly, settling yourself more comfortably on the floor. You breathed in as deeply as you could, then released it as a big sigh, slouching down and pressing your palms into your eyes. Your headache was still thumping at your temples, but at least the hollow, sinking feeling was starting to slowly ebb away. "Fuck, that sucked."
Fukui made a noncommittal grunt, squatting down so he could sit besides you. He leaned forward to let his elbows rest on his crossed legs. "How'd your quirk get so damn weak?"
Your breaths paused, your lips curling into a frown. How blunt. While you knew your quirk had definitely gotten weaker from all the testing and... stuff... that you'd undergone at the facility, it felt different to hear it actually be spoken from someone else's lips. It was like a confirmation that you were no longer as powerful as you used to be. And you didn't know how to feel about that anymore.
"If it's all right with you," you began, turning your head slightly away from him as you pressed your hands harder into your eyes, "I don't wanna talk about it." Back and back and back you pushed all the memories and feelings away, making sure to lock it with chains and bolts. "Not now," you added on when you felt him tense up slightly.
You both entered a comfortable silence, listening to the silence that surrounded you and your deep breaths that occasionally disrupted it. You focused on steadying the racing of your heart and the jittering of your fingers. Your headache dulled down to a low thrum, and it was only then that you finally felt how exhausted you were. Doing a simple quirk exercise had drained you this much.... it wasn't reassuring. You let your hands fall to your lap, staring down at the bandages that still adorned them. While the skin there was finally healed, you hadn't found the will inside you to take the white material off yet. You just didn't want to see the scars that decorated your arms, the awful reminders they gave you.
You tore your gaze from them to look at your trainer. Your eyes traced over his unblemished features: the sharp curve of his jaw, the beauty mark near his eye, the long eyelashes. There were a few beads of sweat on his face from the workout you had put him through. He was staring off into the distance, but upon feeling your gaze at the side of his face, he turned to look at you with a raised brow.
"I never asked before, but," you started a bit hoarsely once your eyes met. You cleared your throat slightly. "What's your quirk?"
He paused, and you could see he was deliberating whether or not to tell you in his head. You waited patiently, just observing his expression. And when he opened his mouth to tell you, you dropped the subject with a thoughtful look on your face.
mentions: pro hero au, female pro reader, i gave u a quirk myself oop, written in second pov, angst w a happy end, amnesia fic, lots of trigger warnings before chapters pls heed them!!
summary: When you first woke up, you found yourself in a white room, lights blinding you from all directions. A bit disoriented, you squinted and looked around, realizing you were chained to a chair, your arms locked behind you. In front of you was a poster of a man, muscles rippling throughout his body, a spiky mess of ash blond hair nestled on his head, and striking crimson eyes glaring right at you from behind a black mask. In the upper right corner was the name "DYNAMIGHT" in black and orange letters. As you observed the poster, the sound of a P.A. system suddenly rang into existence, the deep, hoarse voice of an unknown person echoing around you.
"Your name is [Name] [Surname]," the voice said without emotion, "and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki."
can also be found on ao3 and quotev
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
(i’m too lazy to post the final 9 chapters so go read them on ao3 😭)
