Once Again From Better Days

With nothing else to use to stop the bleeding, Katsuki rips off his school uniform jacket and shirt. Izuku gives him a questioning look, and he feels his face heat up.

"Just take it," he snaps, pushing his balled up shirt into Izuku's hands.

Izuku's fingers fumble to clasp it for a second. The crisp white of his shirt is quickly stained red. Izuku settles to the floor and crosses his legs. Katsuki mirrors him. Their knees are almost touching, but Katsuki is sure he's the only one who notices just how close they are. 

Izuku lets one hand drop to his side, but keeps the other pressed to his neck. His breathing has relaxed somewhat, though it's still quicker than normal. The collar of his shirt is opened and his tie is nowhere to be found. There's a stray trickle of blood that traces over the curve of his collarbone. Katsuki follows its progress with his eyes for a moment.

"You need to put more pressure on it," Katsuki says.

Izuku adjusts his hand. "I know."

"You're not pressing hard enough, dumbass."

"You do it then," he says, lifting his hand half out of the way.

Katsuki scowls but does as he's told. He struggles to keep his hand steady as he replaces Izuku's with his own. There's a sharp intake of breath as he presses down, but Izuku doesn't try to move away. Katsuki concentrates on his task as much as possible, because he knows that if he doesn't, he'll probably do something he'll regret. As he they sit in silence, Katsuki can feel the exhaustion of the day coming back as the adrenaline rush ebbs away. After being caught red-handed, there's no way that 20th can come back to UA, and that, by itself, is a huge weight off of his shoulders.

He checks the injury, lifting his crumpled shirt out of the way. The bleeding has visibly slowed. He goes back to putting pressure on the wound after trying to find a less-bloody patch of fabric.

"How does it look?" Izuku asks.

"Could be worse."

Izuku nods in acknowledgement. "It doesn't hurt that much." He looks up at Katsuki. "You don't usually act like it, but you're really a kind person, Kacchan."

Whatthef.u.c.k . "I–no, I'm–shut the f.u.c.k up," he says loudly, but then he mutters, "I wouldn't do this kind of thing for just anyone."

"What?"

Oh, no, he is not going to repeat that. "What?"

Izuku sighs but doesn't push the subject. They return to silence, and, a couple minutes later, Togata comes back with a couple of teachers in tow. 

Izuku sits up straight when the door opens, and Katsuki suddenly remembers he's not wearing a shirt and scrambles to at least put his jacket back on. They walk back to the main building and the front gate. Izuku uses one hand to keep pressure on his neck, and Togata puts a supportive hand on his other shoulder. Katsuki walks a step behind them, and he can't keep from glaring at the third-year.

The police meet them at the front gate. After Izuku is checked over briefly and given an actual bandage, the questioning begins, and Izuku tells his side of the story–

Izuku skids down the hallway. He does feel bad about leaving Kacchan so suddenly, but he did promise. Today is just for sparring. He makes his way to the storage warehouse to get his bokken before going to the meeting place, but as he's walking away from the door, he gets the feeling that someone is watching him. Izuku stops walking. His senses have gotten sharper ever since he started training as a hero, so he doesn't doubt that his gut feeling is correct.

"I know you're there," he calls out.

For a minute, all he's met with is silence, and he almost thinks that he imagined the feeling. Then he hears something slide across the floor and the sound of quiet footsteps. Izuku wh.i.p.s around to see that the door has been blocked and one of his class-A classmates is standing in front of it–Himura. The uneasy feeling in the back of his mind that bothered him starting when he switched classes makes sense now.

"Aw, you found me," she says.

Her tone of voice is different than it's been in all their previous interactions. If he remembers correctly, which he's sure he does, she only gave a vague answer when he had asked about her quirk. She said something about strength enhancement and then changed the subject. He wonders now if that was a lie. But if it was, then what is her real quirk? He doubts she'll answer if he asks.

"What do you want?" He says instead.

Instead of answering, she launches herself forward at a rapid pace. Izuku blocks her with one arm. She pushes against it with equal force–he hasn't activated One for All yet. Her mouth curves into a smile.

"Isn't this closeness wonderful?" She jumps back, distancing herself. "But I guess I have to leave for now. Izuku, dear, I'll see you again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says. "But it's clear you've been lying for a while."

"Yes, yes, you're right, but it's a little late to notice now."

They exchange blows a couple more times. He manages to push her into one of the stacks of boxes, and he hopes the loud noise will attract someone else's attention. There should still be a teacher or two around in charge of watching security for a bit and locking up. As they continue to push back and forth, it becomes clear that she was holding back during the Sports Tournament. Her movements are refined and more flexible than even a UA student's at 15 or 16. Izuku is reluctant to activate his quirk, since he doesn't want to completely wreck the space.

She manages to push him against the back wall. "There's one more thing I want before I go," she says.

Before he can fully process what's happening, she lunges for his neck. The pain blossoms from two distinct spots. If he tries to push her away from him now, he risks getting his neck ripped open. He tries to pry her off, but his fingers are soon slick with blood. She only releases her hold when the door is blasted open, and with an explosion like that, there's only one person it can be. He's finally able to throw Himura off of him. Even though he's still breathless and his head spins from blood loss, the relief washes through him.

Kacchan. Izuku presses his hand to his neck. Kacchan's here.