Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There it was. 

His stupid alarm, signifying the start of a stupid day at a stupid new school, where he’d have to wear a stupid uniform and pretend to be friends with his stupid classmates where they’d all dance in a stupid circle singing stupid kumbaya. Fucking fantastic.

If it wasn’t obvious yet, Katsuki had very strong opinions about his new station.

It was true. He, Bakugou Katsuki, a model student on the honor roll and former class representative; thought that this was, in fact, stupid.

Did he forget to mention that the uniform was stupid? It was. Dark pine green slacks and a white button-up with a medium gray blazer that had embellishments in the same color as the slacks. To top it all off the stupid thing had toned down maroon epaulettes and a matching tie. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the gold buttons. God forbid the cuff links be left out.

He felt like a Christmas tree from The Nutcracker. An unnecessary extra, if you will.

How his parents, who moved here as a part of their career in the fashion industry, thought that this was passable was completely beyond him.

It didn’t help that his old school had been burned down.

Nevertheless, he wore the stupid thing anyway, swung his black and orange randoseru over his shoulder, and was off to school. 

Needless to say, the school was huge. Uncannily gigantuous. Luckily he had a map and found his homeroom with no hitches. Room 3-A, the honor students. 

They didn’t look like honor students.

Circus clowns, more like.

When he walked in they all quieted and stared. So much for no hitches. He glanced around the classroom, noticing a suspicious hole in the wall behind the door, but it was whatever. The first kids to approach him were a guy with shitty, spiky red hair and red eyes followed by a girl with warm umber skin, a fluffy pale pink afro, and bright honey/amber eyes.

“So you’re Mineta’s replacement, eh?” The girl said, leaning towards him with her hands clasped behind her back.

Katsuki grunted, “I ain’t no one’s fuckin’ replacement, Pinky.”

She only giggled, “Whatever you say~ I’m Ashido Mina, by the way, but you can just call me Mina. Shark boy here is Kirishima Eijiro.”

The aforementioned ‘Shark Boy’ waved at him with a bright smile, revealing a set of very sharp-looking teeth. The nickname suddenly made more sense.

He must have noticed the blonde staring because he explained, “It’s a genetic mutation. I’m one of the few on earth quite like me!”

“Uh-huh,” Katsuki hummed, “Also, I think you have some hair in your hair gel- or is that a genetic mutation, too?”

Surprisingly the guy took no offense from Katsuki’s sharp tongue and continued smiling, “Your hair isn’t much different from mine, y’know!”

The blonde rolled his eyes and took off to find a seat. The only one that appeared open was right in front of some plain-looking green kid. Not too ideal, but it would be fine. 

Soon after he’d settled into his seat, the classroom door opened suddenly with a ‘ bang’, slamming roughly into the wall behind it. That explains the hole in the wall. 

“Hey, Kiddos! Some of you remember me as the student teacher from last year, some of you don’t, but that’s alright!” A husky voice shouted enthusiastically, “My name is Todoroki Touya, but you can call me Dabi-Sensei, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher this year!”

The most handsome man he’d ever seen walked up to the lectern in the front of the room, both hands in his pockets and a confident smirk on his face. He had dark purple mandala tattoos drawn from the crease of his lip up to the top of his ear. Each elegantly stretched under his jaw and along his throat where they disappeared beneath his t-shirt and reappeared down his arm, looping to a fine end like a one-finger glove on each of his hands. That, including the half-circle mandala stretching under each of his eyes like permanent eyebags. 

He had three nostril piercings all on the same side, dimple piercings, a vertical labret, a pointed bridge piercing, quadruple helixes on both sides, plus his primary and secondary lobes. His eyes were a familiar shade of blue and his hair was black with extremely visible white roots.

Long story short, he was a parent's worst nightmare and a teenager’s wet dream. 

A brunette girl with a round face raised her hand, to which the teacher pointed a marker at her for her to speak, “Where’s Aizawa-Sensei?” she asked.

“Uh… maternity leave. Yeah, maternity leave,” Dabi-Sensei answered, though not without sounding incredibly unsure of himself.

“But Aizawa-Sensei’s a man!” Shouted a different girl who had choppy, incredibly short jet-black hair and almond-shaped indigo eyes.

“Eh, it’s still maternity leave,” He shrugged despite how everybody around the classroom looked unsatisfied. Katsuki swung his feet up on his desk, catching the teacher’s attention who cocked an eyebrow at him, “Is there something you want to say?”

The blonde hummed, “Yeah. I’d like to know what kind of shitty nickname ‘Dabi’ is.”

He only laughed, much to Katsuki’s chagrin. Everyone in this blasted classroom was too damned smiley. He didn’t like it.

“Some of the kids here know, but when I did student teaching last year I tried to be the example in the chemistry experiment,” Some students, Katsuki figured were the ones who know the story, stifled their laughter, “The thing is, I did it wrong, and the entire project when up in bright blue flames. It only lasted for a few seconds but it left nothing behind besides ashes. Hence the name, Cremation, a-k-a Dabi.”

A honey-blonde boy, with a black streak much like a lightning bolt staining the side of his hair, cackled. Loud and obnoxious, it grated on his eardrums, “Must run in the family, since- ha- Shouto over here ended up making the same mistake!”

Some kids looked back towards a boy with white and red split hair plus a nasty burn scar on the left side of his face. He seemed completely unperturbed by the implications, “Kaminari that wasn’t very scholarly of you,” was all he had to say on the matter.

“Yep, a family of pyromaniacs, alright,” Dabi laughed. It was a soft, warm, and overall pleasant sound. Katsuki found he wouldn’t mind crowds as much if everybody had a laugh like that, “Anyway, when I call your name for attendance tell the class three things about yourself and then we can spend the rest of the day playing games to make sure we’re all acquainted.”

Katsuki couldn’t believe his ears. They were going to play games?! This was the most prestigious high school in all of Japan. They were in the honors class at the most prestigious high school and they were going to spend the first day playing ice-breakers?!

The teacher went through the list, complimenting each student on various things about them like their name, haircut, hobbies, etc. He also gave a few of them nicknames.

Then it was Katsuki’s turn.

“Bakugou Katsuki?” Dabi-Sensei looked at his clipboard and up, glancing around the room in question.

The blonde grunted, “Here.”

The teacher instantly locked eyes on him. Red to blue, like fire to ice. The attention made a shiver he’d rather not acknowledge shoot up his spine. Must be a draft. 

Dabi-sensei then smirked, “The name Katsuki as in ‘I win’, eh? Must have ambitious parents.”

Katsuki scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I’ll probably win more than you, Patches.”

The entire class went stock-still at his words. They weren’t sure how this teacher would take banter. Aizawa-Sensei, their previous teacher, was very quick to expel any student as he saw fit. One year he’d even expelled his entire class within the first week. They hoped for their own sake that Dabi-Sensei was different.

Everybody’s shoulders relaxed when the teacher laughed.

“Ah, what a mouth you’ve got on ya, kid. So, what are you planning to win, exactly?” Dabi’s laugh faded to a chuckle as he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

“Nobel Prize for Chemistry,” The blonde replied apathetically.

“Ooh, fun! Any particular kind?” Sensei leaned forward on his lectern, an easy smile on his face.

“Thermodynamics.”

“That was my dual major in university, alongside teaching, of course.”

Katsuki cocked an eyebrow at the dual-white-and-black-haired man, “And you still managed to cremate your example for high school Chemistry how exactly?”

“Alright, change of subject,” He stood straight abruptly, “You never stated three things about yourself.”

Shucks, he thought he’d managed to wiggle his way out of that. The entire class looked at him expectantly, though the honey-blonde kid from earlier was asleep.

“Uh… I like rock music. Two of my hobbies are hiking and cooking,” The blonde shrugged.

“Seriously, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to steal my identity,” Katsuki only raised an eyebrow at him to which he chuckled, “What are your favorite bands?”

He shrugged again, “AC/DC, Nine Inch Nails, Linkin Park, Mother Mother, Nirvana… the typical ones, I guess. Rob Zombie… ABBA, Mindless Self Indulgence, MAXIMUM THE HORMONE. Eminem, too, he’s not rock but I like Eminem.”

“Nice, I really like those bands too,” His smirk looked different despite how he’d been wearing the same one this whole time, “You should try GRLwood. Pierce the Veil, Get Scared, STARSET… heck, I’m surprised you didn’t say Skillet. Also, if you like Eminem, you might like NEFFEX.”

“Whatever,”

“Hey, now, don’t sass me,” Dabi replied though without any venom, “You’re lucky I didn’t flag you for breaking the dress code, Mister.”

That made Katsuki snort, “That gaudy tie was cutting off the blood flow to my brain. How do you people expect us to learn if our brains are out of commission?” He chanced a small glance at the still-sleeping yellow kid, “Well, some of us, anyway. Pretty sure he didn’t have a brain, to begin with.”

That comment made the whole class laugh, even the teacher, and the poor yellow kid (candy-cane had called him Kaminari, earlier, like that electric car company) woke up.

With an almost drunken look around the room, he mumbled, “Izzit the end of the world?” which only made everybody laugh harder before the kid eventually shrugged and laid his head back down on the table.

When the cacophony of laughter died down the teacher resumed attendance, though the weight Katsuki had been carrying on his shoulder’s since that morning felt just a tad bit lighter.

Then it was onto the games. He learned many things about his classmates, like how Pinky (Ashido Mina) and Shitty Hair (Kirishima Eijiro; ‘my hair isn’t that different from yours!’) were dating and how the girl with the choppy black hair, Jirou Kyoka, played pretty much every instrument imaginable. 

The girl with the round face, Uraraka Ochaco, wanted to go into Architecture while the plain-looking green kid he sat in front of wanted to be a WWE wrestler. Apparently, he was actually incredibly stacked beneath his uniform. Katsuki didn’t believe him, or the others who vouched for him, because there was absolutely no way that somebody with such an innocent face was capable of bench-pressing Katsuki himself. He refused to believe it until he saw it.

A few of the kids here were legacy kids, too, like how Ponytail (Yaoyorozu Momo)’s family owned the second largest manufacturing company in the world, and how Glasses (Iida Tenya)’s family designed racecars used in professional Nascar racing. Candycane (Todoroki Shouto) and Dabi-Sensei (Todoroki Touya) were siblings and their father, Todoroki Enji, had won the Nobel Prize in Engineering the year prior. As it turned out, the yellow kid, who he was now calling Dunce Face because of his lacking brain, was actually Kaminari Denki, and the reason his name reminded him of the electric car company was that his parents were the founders.

So thus, Katsuki supposed, that maybe this new school wouldn’t actually be that bad. While annoying, his classmates were more than capable, and he even had a lot in common with some of them. Hell, he had the most in common with their teacher. Their young and attractive teacher. 

As he was headed home he found that the day had completely lifted the weight from his shoulders bit by bit and instead left a warmth pooling gently in his gut. It felt like perhaps he’d swallowed sunshine. Even the usual furrow in his brow lacked its usual intensity. If his parents noticed, they didn’t say anything, only smiled at him.

But it was true. He, Bakugou Katsuki, a model student on the honor roll and former class representative; thought that this would be, in fact, quite alright.

He was in for a pleasant school year.

Or so he thought.

Chapter Text

Touya had student-taught for this class before. 

At least, most of them, anyway. That kid with the dark purple hair in a large ringlet-curl mohawk (really, it was in such poor taste) had gotten expelled the year prior for sexual assault. It had been multiple incidents, honestly, he was surprised the kid lasted as long as he did.

It was easy to tell Touya had been in the classroom before since he has a nasty habit of kicking doors open. He’d grown up in a Minka, the doors he was used to were loud when you opened them in a hurry and he was always in a hurry. Normal doors could still be quiet even when opened fast. He didn’t like that. If the door was left to him to open, he wanted noise. He needed the door to announce his presence for him. 

It was funny, really, because the first time he’d kicked the door open to this very classroom, Aizawa-San looked just about ready to kick him out on the first day. The door handle ended up getting stuck in the wall plaster; since then the hole has grown ever so slowly with each passing day. 

Suddenly Aizawa-San just- expected him to take over his class. Something about adopting a little girl from an extremely abusive home and needing to be there for her while his wife, Aizawa Nemuri, who was also a teacher at this same school, worked. 

Touya was pretty sure it didn’t usually work that way but he wasn’t one to complain. He’s shown up in stilettos before (the look on half of the kids' faces the first time was priceless) and regularly wears women’s clothing (the kind that compliments his hips and waist, particularly). So he didn’t fucking care if they decided one of them was better at taking care of small children than the other and adjusted accordingly despite what others would have to say. If he cared about gender roles, he would be a very different person.

The only immediate downside to flipping over gender roles at this current moment was he not only had to take over being the homeroom teacher, but he would also be taking over Chemistry, English, Art, and Physical Education. What fun.

Anyway, he was getting off-topic, the matter at hand was although he knew most of these students to some degree, there was one he didn’t know at all. The new kid, the one who’d managed to slide into the singular open spot in the top class of the most esteemed academy (high school. It was a high school) in the entirety of Japan with an almost perfect score on the transfer exam. Yes, Touya had read the kid’s transcript, but he hadn’t expected this.

He imagined what this kind of child prodigy would look like but all that came to mind was his own younger brother, who was already in the class. So the next bright idea his brain went to was the stereotype of a nerd. Unruly hair that’s just slightly too long, thick round glasses that made someone’s eyes unrealistically bulbous, acne, braces… then he remembered that very few people actually look like that; nerd or otherwise. 

Even so, he didn’t expect anybody of actual interest. 

The truth of the matter was he didn’t remember each individual student well enough to place who was new and who wasn’t, which probably said something about his qualifications as a teacher, but he didn’t care.

One head of ash-blonde hair did look rather unfamiliar, but he couldn’t be certain. He’d gotten to introducing himself when the same blonde kid kicked his legs up on the desk and scowled in his direction like he’d insulted his mother. Touya knew he didn’t remember any kid having the personality of a rather prickly porcupine, so he focused more on that student just as the student seemed to be doing to him.

Spikey ash-blonde hair, stunning ruby-red eyes, and flawless light apricot skin. He had light eyelashes perfectly overshadowing his eyes and well-maintained darker eyebrows. Warm peachy lips jutted into a scowl. His gaze was, needless to say, intense. He reminded Touya of that female model his sister used to talk about. Maybe they were related. 

They ended up having a discussion about his chosen nickname as a teacher, Dabi-Sensei, which was endearing. The kid was cute, needless to say, and by the looks of it; wicked smart.

Then came attendance as he called names both familiar and vaguely reminiscent, none stood out as straight-up new but then again he sucked at names. The kids thought he gave nicknames in a friendly sense but it was more so he simply worried he’d forget their stupid name. 

Suddenly it was the new kid’s name, as he found out. Bakugou Katsuki. Why did it sound familiar? 

Turns out all of his surface personality matched perfectly. He didn’t appreciate how he’d found himself so attracted to a student yet at the same time the kid was eighteen going on nineteen. Touya himself had just graduated college. The gap wasn’t that wide- but he would get fired if this happened. It was hard to tell if it was mutual, the kid was all thorns and no roses. 

He watched the rest of the first day as the kids he’d dubbed Red and Pinky smothered the new kid. He again found himself with his illegal yearning but this time not just for the new kid, but to keep him all to himself.

Though he had an idea who to call if it came down to it.

Getting ready for dinner at the family abode would be the same as always, though now he had something to ask Fuyumi about other than problem students and grading homework. 

Just as he and Fuyumi finished cooking, he asked, “Yumi, what was the name of that female model you used to like so much?”

She turned her head, her glasses sliding down her nose as she gave him a questioning look, “Bakugou Mitsuki, why do you ask?”

“Well, I think I have her little brother in my class or something,” Touya shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nii-san, she’s almost forty, do you mean her son?” Fuyumi cocked an eyebrow at him as she pushed her glasses back up.

“Ah, maybe?” He shrugged again, “His name was Katsuki. Looks like a doll on the outside but has the personality of a fuckin’ firecracker on the inside, I tell ya’.”

His sister seemed to ponder this, “Her son always looks rather, err… stoic in his photoshoots, so-”

She paused at the intensity with which Touya leveled her, “He models, too?”

Fuyumi nodded, “Yeah. His name is going to be revealed after he graduates, do you, ah… want one of his most recent issues?”

“I’d appreciate that, yeah,” Touya nodded. This new kid really was coming for his skin, after all. Same hobbies and interests, crude humor, fashion sense, famous parents, childhood in modeling. Either they were soulmates or some cruel other-worldly being thought it would be funny to make two people so similar. 

Fuyumi came back, smacking a magazine that had his new student plastered on the front in tight-fitting workout clothes directly into his face, “That him?”

He nodded ever so slightly, otherwise at a loss for words. The kid was buff. Not like body-builder jacked, he still had a soft touch. Touya pictured himself falling asleep there but then remembered his sister was right there.

“Yeah, that’s-” he smacked his lips when he spoke, when did his mouth get so dry? “That’s him, alright.”

“That’s nice. Ask him to get me an autograph from his mom, will ya?” Natsuo, since when had Natsuo been there, asked from the kitchen doorway.

He did his best to glower back, “No. Legally, I am not allowed to do that, as his teacher.”

Natsuo scowled at him, “You’re no fun sometimes, Touya. Becoming a teacher put a stick up your ass.”

Touya rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re becoming a doctor, Natsu, maybe you could help me remove it.”

“I’m going into Medical Health and Welfare, Touya, I’m not becoming a doctor,” his little brother sneered, though there was no malice behind it.

“What a shame, guess the stick up my ass stays there, then.”

Touya continued to think about his new student. He just kept getting more fascinating, didn’t he? He remembered the pout etched into his soft features, his pale coral lips. And those eyes. Suddenly he found himself not quite minding being expected to teach half of the classes. 

Perhaps he would make that phone call, after all. She’d make a better Art Teacher than him, anyway. 

He found himself kicking the door in with more energy than usual, come Tuesday. All the students shot their heads up but one. Katsuki. The blonde seemed more interested in his notebook and Touya found himself smiling slightly at the sight. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he stressed his lower lip between his teeth. 

Yet with the wide window to the left-hand side of his desk, his pale hair was illuminated in a soft golden halo. Like an angel, but not quite. No, if angels existed, there wouldn’t have been a thing Katsuki could have done wrong that would make him fall. No, if he were an angel he’d still be in Heaven. The only other thing he could be to warrant such beauty and innocence would be a doll. Yes, that works. A doll of warm porcelain, as fragile but simultaneously strong as glass. 

“Hiya, kiddos! Are ya ready to learn English?” Touya cheered, slapping down the folder with his lesson plans onto the lectern before he leaned forward on his elbows.

A few kids gave unenthusiastic cheers. Katsuki was still focused on his orange spiral notebook as if it were mere seconds away from granting him the secrets of the universe.

“I can’t hear you!” He called, quite like that one kid’s show his siblings used to watch.

They hollered this time, breaking Katsuki’s concentration. Instead of being confused, however, he just glowered at Touya pointedly. Cute.

“Okay, today we’ll be analyzing a poem by Takatsuki Sen titled Blood Red. Can anybody here tell me about the author?” He looked at his students, who looked at each other with soft whispers. The blonde who very quickly claimed his place for Favorite Student raised his hand, “Yes, Doll?”

Katsuki scrunched up in nose in distaste at the nickname but otherwise didn’t comment on it, “Takatsuki Sen was born on August 12th in Heian Japan, he was a Samurai who was also well-loved for his poetry and paintings. However, most of his work was lost to a fire brought on by citizens after he’d broken Bushidō, or the Samurai’s Code, and ran away with his lover, a Spaniard by the name of Mateo Lorenz-Flores.”

Most of the class was staring at the blonde with wide eyes and Touya felt a swell of pride rising in his chest, “Very good, Doll. Now, everybody should have grabbed the poem on their way in after reading the board. Who would like to read first?”

The girl he’d dubbed ‘Pinky’ raised her hands to which he nodded,

“Till death do us part,

Be it mine or yours,

Connected at the heart,

By the Church’s double doors.”

He watched her cast a glance to the spiky kid he’d dubbed ‘Red’, her eyes dopey and lovesick. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Toga Himiko sneaking in, completely unnoticed by the other students. She took a seat in the back, a grin on her face as she set her duffle bag down and adjusted her light bangs.

“Thank you, Mina. What connection can be made from line four with the rest of the stanza?” Nobody raised their hand, “Katsuki, do you wanna answer this one? I bet you know it.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but spoke anyway, “ ‘Till death do us part’ is used in wedding vows. While it is common practice to be married at a church, it is also common practice for a funeral service to be held at a church. The ‘double doors’ represents one door that makes the connection and the other that breaks it.” 

A few kids made a point to cheer, but Touya only smiled. He was definitely making this kid his.

He just had to clear the way, no trouble at all. Himiko caught his eye and he caught hers, she winked at him.

Yes, it was only a matter one time.

Chapter Text

Katsuki was excited for Tuesday. Excited. He’d never admit it out loud but it was true. Suddenly the uniform seemed the slightest bit less stupid as he hurriedly put it on and rushed out the door.

Dabi-Sensei started the class the same as the day before, by kicking the door open. They were reading a poem today, Blood Red, by a Samurai he both respected and loathed. Respected because of the courage it took to run away with someone, leaving all familiarity and honor behind for a singular person. Loathed because the guy ran away. He didn’t face the consequences. He left his side so easily that one could question where his loyalty lay, if anywhere at all. 

Takatsuki swore on his life to be a Samurai and he abandoned that. Even if he swore on his life to the guy he ran away with, would it really mean anything? 

Dabi asked the class who could tell him about the author. Nobody raised their hands and Katsuki found himself once again remembering why he found he may not like his classmates. They didn’t even know classic literature. He raised an exasperated hand and so he gave the basic facts, withholding his personal opinion on Takatsuki’s cowardice and what he thought about Mateo Lorenz-Flores.  

Mina was called to read the first stanza, but Katsuki ignored her in favor of the girl he noticed sneaking in with a large red duffle bag. Her hair was a similar ash-blonde to Katsuki’s, if not a little darker, held in tight but messy space buns with a forehead/curtain bang combo. She had bright yellow eyes that looked almost predatory and sharp canines that pressed into her lower lip when she smiled.

She looked to be around twenty and was wearing a long crimson skirt that went down to about mid-shin with an oversized warm pine brown cardigan. Underneath the cardigan she had a white button-up with a large red decorative bow and for shoes she wore plain brown penny-loafers with white socks.

Suddenly Dabi-Sensei was calling on him to explain the first stanza. He knew the answer, since this was one of his favorite poems. He’d spent a lot of time analyzing the poem. That being said, he couldn’t understand the fifth stanza. He figured the reason he couldn’t understand it was because Takatsuki wrote each stanza after murdering one of the people who stood in his way. In theory, he had less and less of his sanity each time until the stanzas became nonsensical. First stanza was easy, though, so he rolled his eyes and explained it.

The same warmth from the day prior made it’s home in his chest once again when the teacher smiled at him. He wanted to shove it down and forget it, he knew he couldn’t be with a teacher whether he wanted to or not. Not to mention the fact Dabi-Sensei most definitely didn’t see him that way. There would be no reason for him to.

“Alrighty, kiddos, who wants to read the next stanza?” He looked around the room before pointing to a student behind Katsuki, “Shouto.”

He turned in his seat to the dual-haired boy in question. He noticed now that he also had heterochromia, one mocha colored eye and one turquoise,  

“I’ll fight the sun and sea,

My love made of sand,

For you belong to me,

In this life made so bland.”

The teacher smiled, “Anybody other than Katsuki want to explain this stanza?”

The brunette with the round face raised her hand and Dabi-Sensei nodded to her, “Does it mean that Takatsuki will fend off vast forces for his love?”

“Mmm, close,” Dabi tilted his hand in a ‘sort-of’ way, “Katsuki, do you want to take it from here?”

The blonde in question rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever. The sun and sea do represent unopposable forces. The love is the sand, or the middle ground, sand isn’t one being- it’s many tiny pieces and each piece is a different trait of Takatsuki’s love. The sea drags these pieces of the sand away and the sun makes the sand hot; untouchable. Takatsuki is saying he cherishes every part of his love and will not allow them to be changed by others. That with them life will never be boring and that is something worth fighting for.”

His classmates stared at him again until Dunce Face ‘Kaminari’ spoke, “Dude, are you secretly Takatsuki reincarnated, or something?”

Katsuki scoffed, “Please, I wouldn’t run from my people to chase something as silly as love. Takatsuki was a coward. If you love somebody, you’ll take the consequences because they’re worth it. A metaphorical shield, if you will. You’re supposed to take the arrows, not run from them; if you run then you’ve turned your back to the enemy. Which is both stupid and cowardly.”

“Dude… who hurt you?” 

He didn’t grace him with a response, only flipping him off.

Dabi-Sensei shook his head dissapprovingly, “Thank you for that, you two. Next stanza?”

Nobody of the class raised their hands, but the strange blonde girl in the back of the class did.

Dabi-Sensei sighed, pointing to her, “Yes, Himiko?”

She stood excitedly, everybody turning in their seats to watch her as she half-skipped to the front of the classroom. A few whispered amongst themselves, none of them having noticed her entrance earlier. 

When she reached the lectern, she happily usurped the paper from the teacher’s hand all the while he glared at her entirely unimpressed,

“Your attention is mine alone,

Those dare steal it pay in blood,

For this sin they cannot atone,

Lest their body be left in mud.”

Her voice was airy and she had a dreamy expression on her face when she read, meanwhile the class looked disturbed. Katsuki had read the poem too much to be bothered and the Candycane kid adjacent to him mirrored that expression.

When she was done she, having handed Dabi-Sensei his paper back, half-skipped all the way to the back of the class again and reclaimed her seat at the ventilation system along the wall.

“I know what everybody is thinking, ‘Who is this crazy lady and why is she here?’. That is Toga Himiko and she’ll be my assistant art teacher for the rest of the year,” The teacher exuded an air of disinterest when he spoke, which was far different from the zeal he used when teaching.

A boy with bluish black hair in an undercut and rectangular half-frame glasses raised his hand, “Todoroki-Sensei, I must ask you, is she approved to be teaching us?” he chopped his other hand through the air as he spoke. 

Sensei blinked lethargically, “It’s Dabi-Sensei, and she’s approved by me.”

“I meant by the distri-”

“She’s approved by me, if you have a problem with my authority, you can request a formal meeting with me about it, otherwise my word is final. Are we clear?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“...Yes, sir.”

It was like the teacher switched between two masks. The lazy, serious, and borderline intimidating air he’d briefly taken on instantly disappeared with an energetic clap of hands, “Who wants to tell me what the third stanza means?”

He looked to the kid who’d questioned him earlier, who only shrugged. Katsuki would have been amused had he not known it would fall on him to explain.

With a bone-deep sigh Dabi-Sensei’s blue gaze fell on Katsuki again, “Sorry, Doll, but it seems this one is left to you again.”

The blonde could feel the muscles in his eyebrow twitch, “Stop calling me that! And what’s wrong with you people?! This stanza is so easy! Takatsuki is saying he’ll kill anybody who gets too close to his lover, be them friend or foe!”

“Doll, I’m beginning to think you’ve read this poem before,” The teacher chuckled. If the class hadn’t been staring at him already, they definitely were now.

“Duh, Patches, of course I have! It’s classic literature! You’d have to be an idiot to not study it!” Katsuki yelled, jumping out of his seat and planting both hands on his desk.

The teacher gave a lighthearted scoff, “Alright, alright. Next stanza, kiddos.”

Jirou tentatively decided to read this one,

“Over blood sea; under red moon,

Crazy are the; for you make me swoon,

When it’s just me; I’ll sing like a loon,

For everyday you are gone far too soon.”

Then on cue, Katsuki explained how the sea and moon represented the blood of everybody Takatsuki killed. How he’d hoped he would have more time to spend with his lover now that the people in the way were gone. That a loon was a type of bird with a very haunting call but can also represent somebody crazy. Representing that Takatsuki was crazy in love. 

Dabi-Sensei surprised Katsuki when he asked him to read the fifth stanza. The one he didn’t understand,

“Fine porcelain; your doll-like face,

In my mind; you leave little space,

I’d really like just a little taste,

To see you in blood-stained white lace.”

He found he didn’t mind not understanding the fifth stanza because the teacher gave him an approving smile anyhow, a small hint of other emotions Katsuki didn’t know lay just underneath.

“Now, no theorist has been able fully comprehend what the fifth stanza could mean,” Sensei began, pacing by the lectern with the poem in his hand, “It was thought perhaps Takatsuki was too far gone to make much sense of his writing, but we cannot know for sure.”

Kirishima raised his hand, “Can I read the last stanza?”

“Sure.”

The redhead smiled and cast a glance at Mina,

“That red means ‘I love you’,

And love you, I do,

Believe me, my dear, for it is most true,

There is not one on Earth I love more than you.”

Sensei clapped his hands again, another all-familiar smirk making it’s way onto his face, “Your homework tonight is to write an essay about what this poem means to you, it means anything at all, and how it makes you feel. Be sure to use M-L-A format and do not plagarise because I will know and I will find you.”

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” The Spanish kid with the knobbly elbows whispered to Dunce Face. All too soon, because the teacher instantly looked at them and raised an eyebrow.

“I, the Bourgeoisie, will keep a lookout for the Spanish Inquisition,” Dabi-Sensei smirked at them, pointing two fingers to his eyes and then to them.

“Aww, fiddle sticks,” The two said in unison.

“Now! Art class! Single file, everybody, let’s go to the art room!”

Toga Himiko was just as creepy as Katsuki thought she’d be, if not more so, she played slightly worrisome music during class. Dabi-Sensei said ‘driver gets to pick the music, and right now she’s driving,’. There was one song on there that he vaguely recalls being titled ‘Love Taste’ that was in English, so only about half the class even understood it to begin with. Most of it was vocaloid, which was fine, but there was one chorus that was difficult to interpret the lyrics.

He couldn’t tell if the lyrics were saying ‘They don’t love you like I do’ or ‘They don’t kill for you like I do’. He never thought kill for and love could sound so similar but suddenly they did. It was rather unsettling, if he was being honest.

Apparently for art they would be painting an experience that left a mark on them, good and bad, in one color from ROYGBIV for each day of the week. Obviously, since it was her first day teaching, they started with the ‘R’. Red. They each had one tube of red, black, and white paint. Toga-San had a container that was too liquidy to be paint and when asked, she just smiled and said ‘Don’t worry about it!’

Dabi-Sensei assured everybody it was just pig’s blood from the market. Katsuki was still a little suspicious but otherwise didn’t press. 

Katsuki painted his old school on fire. The wound was recent and he’d heard painting to be therapeutic, so it was what he went with. 

“Bakubro, you’re really good at painting!” Kirishima smiled to him.

Katsuki looked over at Kirishima’s painting only to find pretty much his entire canvas was just red. He wanted to say he was surprised, but it made sense the more he thought about it. He’d even bet the guy would marry the color red if he could.

Mina turned her easel towards him, too. Hers just looked like a red line.

“It’s the red string of fate!” She smiled proudly.

Katsuki didn’t laugh. He didn’t. Nope, “You suck at painting, Pinky.”

She closed her eyes and smiled confidently, “I only accept positive reinforcement, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, “My bad. You are very good at sucking at painting.”

“Ah- Bakubabe!” She gawked, smacking him on the shoulder which made both him and Kirishima burst out laughing to which she soon followed ensuite. 

Dabi-Sensei and Toga-San were both very impressed with his painting. A few other kids in his class came close but his was still the best. Katsuki’s ego had been thoroughly stroked for the day, that was for sure. 

As they were packing up, Kirishima approached him, “Yo, me and Mina are heading to the arcade after school, you wanna come?”

“Nah, Shitty hair, I have studying and homework to do. I’d really like to turn it in on time, unlike some of us,”

Kirishima just laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Bakubro! Have fun with your homework!” he started to walk away before he spoke again, “Oh! Before I forget! Here!” he handed Katsuki a shark tooth necklace, “Now we match! Mina has one too!” He smiled, pulling another shark tooth necklace from under his uniform.

“...Thanks,” Katsuki smiled at the necklace in his hand before putting it in his pocket. Kirishima smiled and waved to him before walking away hand in hand with Mina.

That was the last time Katsuki saw Kirishima alive.

His body had been found mangled behind an arcade. The murderer was still at large. It was said the attacker had strangled Kirishima with his own necklace before using it to stab out his eyes, cut his lips away from his teeth, and draw deep ‘X’s all over his body. His entrails had been pulling from his body, tied around his neck, and used to hang him from a lamp post.

Katsuki suddenly found his newfound excitement for school dying.

Dabi-Sensei had met with each of his students individually to comfort them and give them instructions for staying safe after school. He’d even lent him his hoodie. There was a strange stain on it, but he just said Toga-San had spilled some of her pig’s blood on him by accident and he couldn’t wash it out.

Mina was the only one who refused to speak with their teacher. She’d been completely inconsolable about the death of her boyfriend. Two days later she was announced dead, having hung herself with a matching necklace to the one Kirishima had given him. 

The necklace he still had.

His first two friends died in his first week at a new school.

The school year no longer seemed stupid or pleasant.  

Chapter Text

Touya smiled to himself.

Himiko had done a good job, studying the students' schedules and where they’d be on specific days. It was amazing what one could pick up about somebody just by stalking them for a singular day. His first targets: Red and Pinky, or Kirishima Eijiro and Ashido Mina, would be at the arcade for most of Tuesday night.

Those particular students were always so eager to make friends and therefore their friendships progressed faster than average. He would have to make his move now. If he waited too long they would be too close to Katsuki by then and he knew the emotional impact would be far too large for his liking. It was now or never. For Katsuki’s sake.

After he’d said good night to his family, Touya dressed in all black, besides his gray hoodie, with two layers of grocery bags over his shoes and made his way to the Duck Duck Arcade at 22:42. It was sandwiched between a 24/7 Konbini and Suwarochen Kitazawaten Dry Clean. It was surprising how often a couple of honor students broke the curfew, but hey, he wasn’t complaining.

It made his job easier.

Himiko also managed to gather that Kirishima had a necklace he never removed. A necklace he happened to match with Ashido and Katsuki. When asked nicely, Ashido was more than happy to show it off. The only difference in hers was the pink and red heart beads on each side around the tooth, otherwise, they were perfect matches. Strong wire cord and a large shark tooth. 

He had a lab set up in his classroom that will be used to dispose of the grocery bags he was using to hide his footprint and the gloves he stole from the gardening club to avoid any of his DNA being left on the murder weapon. The shark tooth necklace. He didn’t know if his feet would be sinking into any mud or trash, so the grocery bags were necessary. It wouldn’t hide his shoe size, but it was rather average, so he didn’t care. 

Along with the gloves, he also clipped some red tulips from the school garden and made a bouquet. A toast to the relationship between the two and a toast to his own future relationship with Katsuki.

He loitered by the door, careful not to touch anything that would leave threads from his clothing or particles of food/dirt behind. He made sure if anything got left, it would be too standard to trace to any singular person, and he had an alibi with his family. 

“Hey, babe, my phone’s dead, do you know what time it is?” Touya heard Ashido’s voice as she exited the arcade, the sound of her shoes skipping along the pavement softly.

“Hm, let me check,” He heard Kirishima fiddling with the zipper of his jacket pocket, “It is- ah, shoot- I must have left mine at school-...”

Ashido sighed exasperatedly, “Classic Eijiro…”

“We probably broke curfew, let’s take an alley so we don’t get caught, okay-?” The redhead took Ashido’s hand, swinging them back and forth.

She giggled, “Ooh, sneaky! Eiji, when did you get so sneaky?” 

He shushed her with a smile, “It’s a secret.”

Touya followed the both of them into the side alley, where he went completely unnoticed as the two were only focused on each other. He wanted to laugh at how easy this was. Ashido dropped Kirishima’s hand and skipped ahead.

“Eiji~ look! It’s a stray kitty!” Kirishima chuckled in endearment as she squatted down to pet the cat.

He took that opportunity to strike, grabbing the necklace around Kirishima’s neck and pulling it tight, using the force to quiet his attempted shout while Ashido was distracted. The teen fell limp in his grasp after struggling for a few moments. He kept the necklace where it was, ensuring that the boy was well and truly dead.

There was a gasp.

Touya looked up quickly to where Ashido was staring at him with wide eyes, stepping back slowly, her hands actively shaking as she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“D-d-d-d… D-dabi-S-s-s-... Sensei…” She tripped over a spilled trash can before stumbling and catching herself, turning to run. It seemed she was too shocked to scream for help, only running.

He cursed under his breath, dropping the body in his grasp and wiping the gloves against one another. He figured there was no point in chasing her, in case she ran into a populated area, as that would lead to more witnesses and would require leaving the body unattended, where it could be found. It wouldn’t be worth it in the end. 

Though it did warrant a change of plans. 

He’d originally edged on sitting the two adjacent to one another on the bench by the lamppost, hand in hand with the bouquet tucked in between. He knew if they were dead their hands wouldn’t have any grip, so he’d devised to pulling out their small intestine and using the unraveled strands as a rope to tie their hands together. The remaining length would be tied around each of their necks. He would use the necklace to carve out their eyes, draw a singular teardrop on opposite sides of their face, and draw upward lines from the crease of their lips to mimic a smile.

Obviously, since Mina ran away, he couldn’t do that. He knew there would still be a way to send a message and a new plan had already formed itself in his mind. Yeah, that would work.

With a smile, he grasped the necklace by the tooth and gouged out Kirishima’s eyes. Right for looking at Katsuki, and left for not cherishing Katsuki’s presence. He cut away Kirishima’s lips. Top for smiling at Katsuki, and bottom for talking to Katsuki. Following the original plan, he carved a wide smile from the crease of his now nonexistent lips and a fat teardrop. Touya had to keep himself from giggling. Even though this plan was last minute, the entire thing was far more exhilarating an experience than he thought it’d be. 

He cut deep ‘X’s all over the teen’s body, each one for words spoken to Katsuki. Katsuki was his. His and no one else’s. No, they didn’t deserve his attention.

Despite his best efforts, a giggle escaped his throat, more breaking through the surface in a maddening symphony until it was all he heard. He knew he was insane, but he was smart enough to pass psych-evals with no issue. For Katsuki.

For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki. For Katsuki.

  For Katsuki.

Touya cut a slit through Kirishima’s abdomen, pulling out bits of his small intestine in ropes before tying it around the teen’s neck. He used the remaining length to drag his body towards the sidewalk, glancing both ways and noticing nobody. He didn’t care if bits of the glove got on Kirishima. The gloves in question were going to be burned, and all the tiny threading would give the Forensic team was the material used to make the gloves, perhaps the manufacturer, and fluvic soil from the school garden. Which was one of the top three most common soils in Japan.

He knew what evidence he would be giving them and he also knew it wouldn’t help them one damn bit. 

Tucking the bouquet of red tulips into the pocket he’d made in the boy’s abdomen, he gathered himself to tug again. Touya dragged Kirishima out the remainder of the way and threw the length of the guts over a lamp post, grabbing the end on the other side and pulling Kirishima up to where he was hanging limply. He tossed the intestine over a few more times, each tightening the hold- all while being careful of nobody around- before he knew he was done.

He wasn’t going to take the time to admire his work, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time, and headed straight for the school to burn the gloves and bags on his shoes. He took the first pair of bags off so any evidence from the scene wouldn’t be tracked back to the school. It didn’t matter that Ashido had escaped.

Nobody would believe her.

In the chemistry lab, he tossed the gloves and the grocery bags onto the pan he had prepared beforehand. The school security system was faulty at best, half of the cameras were novelty fakes for intimidation purposes and he knew the blindspots of the real ones. He easily repeated the same experiment that got him the name Dabi-Sensei. It again left nothing but ashes. The heat made him sweat, so he took off his hoodie and placed it in his messenger bag along with his grade book.

The next early morning he was greeted by his siblings watching the news with horrified looks on their faces. Even Shouto looked mildly disturbed. Touya pretended to be tired, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he sauntered over.

“What’re you guys watchin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He slurred his words easily with little effort.

Shouto stood slowly, walking up to him and wrapping his arms around from behind, his face pressed between Touya’s shoulder blades. He didn’t have to feign looking worried- he was. Not for what was upsetting his brother, since he already knew the reason, but for how Shouto seemed to be taking it. Shouto was easily stressed by social situations and had few friends, so losing a classmate like this must’ve been hard. He needed to pick better-

“I know it was you,” Shouto mumbled just loud enough for him to hear.

He felt his eyes widen likely imperceptibly as he slowly turned to face him, “Sho, what’re you on about?”

His little brother raised his head, looking completely unbothered to the untrained eye, but Touya knew better and saw the somber look in his gaze. The pale mocha of his mom, quietly disappointed. The bright teal of his dad, avid with worry, “I won’t tell. I just want to know why…” he whispered.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “... Later, okay?” 

Shouto looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded slowly instead, swiftly hugging Touya again and burrowing his head into his shirt. He could barely register as the fabric wet, but it made him feel a pang of guilt that had been entirely absent when he’d actually killed someone. He always knew he’d never regret taking a life, only the pain it caused those close to him in the aftermath.

So he hugged Shouto back, resting the side of his head atop his hair. Closing his eyes and inhaling the faint way his brother smelled like how he’d imagined lightly toasted pine would smell. There was a hint of peppermint if you focused on it. No, Touya lied earlier, he knew he would regret taking certain lives. He was grateful his parents managed to intervene in his attempt at murdering Shouto when he’d been just a baby. He was only six at the time, an obvious sign that something was psychologically wrong with him, but his parents made little move to set him on the right path.

He’s just a kid, he doesn’t understand.

Touya scoffed lightly at the thought, still hugging Shouto while Natsuo and Fuyumi continued being abducted by the news, because those were the same excuses they used on bullies. Even in high school. He had gone to UA Academy, too, and still managed to be the odd one out amongst the class of kids entirely dictated by the fact they were different from others.

They’re still learning, you can’t blame them for what they don’t know.

It’s like the phrase ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks’. There were two sides to the same coin, really, because you also can’t teach a defective dog new tricks. Even if it seems like they learned the tricks, deep down they’re still defective.

Deep down they still have the urge to tear you limb… from limb… from bloody fucking limb. Deep down they still imagine what your eyes would look like as the life inside slowly withered and faded. What your lips would look like as you coughed up your own blood. What your hands would look like after scraping against the concrete and the metal for hours and hours and hours trying to escape. 

Deep down they still want to see what face you’ll make when you realize that any and all hope is entirely lost. Fear? Sadness? Would you cry? Would you laugh hysterically, because you spent all that time in your capture realizing exactly what got you here? Realizing how easily you could have avoided your own demise?

Would you be angry? Defensive? Would it break you?

What would it take to break you?

A defective dog may learn your tricks, but deep down he’s still just a defective dog. He’ll never fit in with the other dogs, never qualify, because he would never be functional. 

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If you have one vase that’s different from the rest, even if you broke it and pieced it back together from the ground up, it would still be different from the other vases. The pieces will still fit the way they did before and it will never be the vase you want. He felt a few tears trickle sideways down his face and across his nose, softly landing in Shouto’s hair. Shouto hugged him a little tighter.

“Touya,” Fuyumi’s voice broke his train of thought. The news was no longer playing, ironically in its place was an ad for a family-owned butchery, “Was… was he in your class? In… in Shouto’s class?”

Shouto didn’t budge or show any sign of wanting to talk, so Touya sighed and mumbled, “...Yes,” he swallowed thickly, his line of sight hazy and slanted.

Natsuo threw himself up from the couch angrily, Fuyumi still sitting rigidly next to him with a shaky hand over her mouth and tear streaks obvious on her cheeks. The sudden movement made Touya flinch; his brain was still foggy from the thoughts cycling through moments prior—the mix of sorrow and regret. The simmering darkness lying just underneath, already beckoning him to execute the ways he could kill those who dare get close to Katsuki. It was so distracting.

“What kind of sick bastard would do shit like this?! He was a good kid, do you see this bullshit?! I hope they find the monster that did this! I hope that motherfucker gets sentenced to death by electric chair knowing nobody will defend him!” Natsuo shouted angrily, his lip quivering, as he tended to do when he felt strongly about something.

Touya tried not to let it affect him. Natsuo didn’t know what he was talking about, he didn’t. Shouto turned his head a little to face Natsuo, so Touya lifted his own so as to not tug his hair, “Natsu, the electric chair is widely outlawed as cruel and unusual punishment, it’s inhu-”

“I don’t care if it’s cruel and unusual, dammit!” His voice raised an octave as he cut him off, to which Shouto’s grip grew stronger around Touya until it was almost vice-like, Natsuo pointed to the news screen which had come back, “That shit is fucking cruel and unusual! That cunt-”

“Enough!” Fuyumi snapped, catching all their attention, no longer in her previous stupor, “Enough. That’s… that’s enough, okay? We’re all stressed, just stop-…!” She took in a shaky breath to lower her voice, “Stop making it worse. … Please.”

Shouto turned to rest his head in the crook of Touya’s neck, tugging at his shirt, “He didn’t mean it, Touya,” Shouto whispered.

“I know, I know. I’m not going anywhere, Sho,” He whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his little brother’s temple in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

Fuyumi walked over to them and joined their hug, Natsuo followed ensuite to encase them all in his signature bear hug, “Stay safe out there… please,” he whispered as he pulled them tighter. Touya let out a shaky sob when Natsuo grasped his sleeve, willing it to stay close like a rope he had used to tether them together. Meanwhile, Natsuo tied the rope unknowingly around his neck each time he condemned the killer. Each knot hurt Touya because he knew when the trap door fell the only pain he’d feel was the look of betrayal on his younger siblings' faces. 

Where had the time gone? 

He remembered when they were little, round little faces feigning innocence while he took the fall with their parents. The cookie crumbs would be all over their cheeks but big brother Touya insisted he was the one who stole from the cookie jar. 

There was no big brother Touya to take the fall this time.

The family cuddled with one another drinking warm cups of green tea for breakfast, basking in the other’s presence. Touya received an email on his phone regarding the murder of Kirishima and how he was expected to make home visits to the affected students. He decided to get Shouto’s over and done with first, pulling his youngest brother to his study.

“Why?” Was Shouto’s choice of first word once the door had shut, “I knew you were bound to kill somebody eventually, I’m just- confused, I guess- I don’t know-”

Touya pulled him into a hug, effectively shutting him up, “I’m sorry- I know this is hard, I know, but I just- I need to do this. I’m not sure why but I do, okay?”

Shouto sniffled, “It’s the new kid, isn’t it?”

“...Maybe,” He chuckled, “Thoughts?”

The teen gave him a blank look before shrugging, “And prayers, bitch. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Your blessings?! Or something? I don’t know, I expected more from my little brother!” Touya flailed his arms expectantly.

He just looked unimpressed, “He has the personality of a walking hand grenade. I know you like blondes, but seriously?”

“He’s a bombshell blonde, like sexy dynamite.” 

“Why are you quoting a song? I hate you,” Shouto tried to push himself out of Touya’s hug, “I wish you’d killed me as a baby!”

He gave an overdramatic gasp, “Don’t say that! I’m glad my weak noodle arms hadn’t succeeded in spawn killing you.”

“Wow, thank you, that makes me feel so much better,” Shouto successfully wiggled free and fled out the door.

“Boo!” He called after him, not making any real effort to continue the conversation as he grabbed his teacher messenger bag and made his way to each student’s house. He made little point to dress formally, though he did uphold wearing all black in grievances. 

As he reached Ashido’s door, her parents gave him weary looks. The girl herself sat blearily on the living room couch surrounded by used tissues and looking like an empty shell. She screamed upon seeing him, shouting expletives among her tears and yelling for him to stay away. She called for her parents to call the cops but they ignored her in favor of smothering her with a blanket and weakly making shushing noises.

Her mother apologized and said she’d been like that since the morning news. When Ashido had arrived home the night prior she was stock-still and wouldn’t speak to anybody. All she said was ‘The necklace’ over and over again, tears flowing freely from her eyes and her gaze unfocused. 

Next up was Katsuki’s house. Neither of his parents was home and Katsuki was cuddled on the couch much like Ashido had been, swaddled in a monotone tie-dye blanket with a bloody skull on it that read ‘Howl-O-Scream’.

Katsuki wordlessly opened the side of the blanket in a quiet invitation for Touya to sit next to him, which he hesitantly accepted. 

“...Maybe I just bring bad luck,” He’d whispered.

Touya gave him a side hug, “Don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” It’s mine.

“If I had gone with him, maybe he’d still be alive-” Katsuki had tears in his eyes though none dare fall.

“And what? You’d be dead instead? Katsuki, look at me, there was nothing you could have done differently that would guarantee he be here, okay? Am I clear?” Katsuki nodded minutely, one tear breaking the dam, the rest following quietly after. “Please don’t talk like that, it won’t help anything. Would Kirishima want you to be sad? No!”

Katsuki sniffed, nodding.

Touya took his hoodie from his messenger bag, just now noticing a small blood splatter on it. Whoops, “Here, when you’re sad wear this and remember what I said, okay?”

Katsuki nodded again, his fluffy blonde hair falling over his eyes. Touya brushed some of it back to make sure the blonde saw what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He smiled back, it was faint but it was there.

“Also, don’t mind the stain, Himiko spilled her stupid pig’s blood on me and not even hydrogen peroxide could get it out,” Katsuki tittered in response. 

The moment didn’t last when the news blared with Ashido Mina’s apparent suicide. They skepticized it was grief.

Like a game of hangman, really. 

If you say the wrong thing too many times it costs somebody a life.

He knew it was because nobody believed her. Even if her parents looked at him wearily, they didn’t truly take her word for it. He knew nobody would.

He knew the answer to ‘Who killed the boy with red hair?’

It wasn’t a name.

No, just a two-letter word.

‘Me.’

Chapter Text

Katsuki ran his thumb over the pig’s blood stain on Sensei’s hoodie.

It’d been a month since Kirishima’s murder and Mina’s apparent suicide. Class had resumed only a week after both events, but only now did he feel he was coming to terms with what happened. 

Only now did he put his uniform on over that damned necklace and not wince at the implications of how the necklace was the murder weapon, how Mina used her version of the necklace to hang herself. It was hard not to think about, but he was finally managing to pull it off. 

They still didn’t even know who the murderer was.

He pulled on the uniform that he still found stupid after staring at it in his hands for too long. He walked to school despite the smell of smoke that still seemed to follow him everywhere and the sound of sirens that rang like tinnitus in his ears. 

Katsuki couldn’t look at the color red anymore. If he looked at the color red he’d think about it and that was something he couldn’t bear to do any longer. If he looked at people with red hair he’d think about how much they might look like Kirishima if they spiked it up with too much gel. If he looked in the mirror he couldn’t make eye contact with his reflection because his eyes were just a little too red. A little too much like the friendly gaze he’d never see again because his own eyes weren’t like that. 

Katsuki couldn’t look at the color pink anymore. It’d make him think of what he didn’t do. He’d been so caught up in his own grief he didn’t think about the grief Mina would be experiencing. Her own boyfriend had been murdered. She’d been there when it happened and he didn’t even think to ask her what she saw. He wasn’t there to comfort her or listen to her or something. Maybe, just maybe, he could’ve saved her life but he didn’t because he was too selfish to even think about anyone but himself. That was what cost him his first friends at his new school. Because he was too selfish.

It was why he was glad he didn’t wear the tie to his uniform because that gaudy red would remind him of it all.

He sat at his desk, not bothering to look at the one empty seat. Some kid from a few classes next door transferred in at the ‘opportunity’, Shinsou Hitoshi, or something weird like that. Kirishima’s seat didn’t stay empty for long enough.

He didn’t like that he was forgetting, but he knew it had to happen for him to move on.

Dabi-Sensei burst the door down like usual, immaturely yelling, “What’s up, mother truckers?!”

Candycane then responded; hands cupped around his mouth, “This is why mom doesn’t fucking love you!”

“Watch yo’ profanity!” 

Katsuki had begun to learn this was to be expected of the two. He wondered if he’d ever have a bond like that. Maybe one day. Maybe.

The brothers proceeded to glare at one another. The class was silent for all of two minutes until a few of them stifled laughter. Dunce Face and the Spanish kid he’d dubbed ‘Soy Sauce Face’ laughed the hardest.

Sensei slammed the thick manila folders with his lesson plans down on the lectern like he did every morning, “For English class today… partner project! You and your partner have to pick a book you share from your childhood and turn it into something darker and more serious. You get to pick your partners, once everyone is settled I’ll hand out the rubric and you can get started. You have one week to complete this, so take time out of class to work on this as well.”

Everybody groaned but Dunce Face happily sidled up to Katsuki’s desk, “I heard that you needed a partner, partner.”

“No.” Was his eloquent response. Like hell he’d work with one of the lowest-ranked kids in class. Not over his dead body.

“C’mon dude, I make people happy and you obviously need the happiness right now. There isn’t an ‘I’ in ‘ Happiness’, bro, think about it,” The honey-blonde gave him this butchered version of the look moms give when they’re silently willing you to listen to them.

Katsuki scoffed, “There is if you spell it correctly, Dunce Face. How did you even get into this school?”

The boy shrugged, “My mom asks me that question all the time. Pleaseeee, Bakugou, I ne~ed this grade,” he got onto his knees and pleaded with his hands clasped together. Katsuki stared in judgement.

“Yeah? Well, I ne~ed to keep my sanity intact,” He retorted, whispering then to himself, “God knows I’m already losing it.”

It was after somebody tapped him on the shoulder, gathering both boys’ attention, that he looked to see the walking Candycane, “I’d actually like to work with Bakugou, if that’s alright.”

Katsuki never really gave the boy the time of day, but seeing that he was also one of the top students, he figured this would be his best option, “Sure, whatever, half n’ half.”

Dunce Face frowned and slowly walked back to his seat all droopy, like a wilted flower, melting on his desk while Soy Sauce Face pat him on the head like a scared horse, “It’ll be okay, Denks, he didn’t deserve you anyway. We can still work together, y’know? The good ol’ days.”

“It’s not the saaammeee,” He whined, “I miss Kiri.”

Those words made those who heard sad, but the black-haired boy gave his friend a sympathetic look, “We all do, Denks, we all do.”

The bicolored boy cleared his throat to gain back Katsuki’s attention, though before he could speak Dabi-Sensei whistled through two fingers, “Now that everybody has a partner, one of you from each pair come up and get your rubric!”

Katsuki grunted and stood, lightly snatching the paper from the teacher’s desk who just smiled his perfect smile at him, eyes crinkling. God, he was so whipped. The guy gave him his hoodie as a friendly gesture but nope, that was all it took to whisk his own heart out from under him. 

The moment he sat down, Todoroki ‘Candycane’ Shouto fixed him with the firmest glare he’d ever seen apart from his own.

“Let’s do ‘All my friends are dead.’ by Avery Monsen and Jory John,” The boy stated as if to leave no room for argument.

Katsuki scowled, “No. I don’t know what books you read as a kid, but it has to be something we have in common and I’ve never fuckin’ read that. Besides, it’s dark sounding enough…”

“A Bad Case of the Stripes?” Todoroki shrugged.

Katsuki shook his head, “What about No, David! Would that work?”

“Isn’t that only for kids with behavioral issues? I haven’t read it.” 

“…I don’t think it is.”

Todoroki chewed on the end of his pencil, “Well… what was your favorite book as a kid?”

Katsuki twiddled his thumbs. His parents always read him books they thought might teach him manners. His favorite book as a kid was…

“The Giving Tree.”

“Oh, that was one of my favorites, too. My other favorite was Biscuit Goes to School.”

“The one with the golden retriever? Why?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow.

The boy shrugged, “Was homeschooled. Wanted to be with other kids my age…”

That… explained a lot, actually. The blonde looked between his Candycane-colored classmate and his tetchy two-toned teacher. Suddenly a lot more things began to make sense in Katsuki’s head. Oh, wait, the peppermint boy was still talking.

“... You could imagine my surprise when nobody broke into song and dance on the first day of High School.”

He prayed the murderer would perhaps claim either himself or the life-sized stocking stuffer as the next victim, though he knew he’d never get so lucky. It was going to be a long ass week. The rest of the class ensued with a lot of yelling on his part.

“What the hell, you wack-ass punky knuckle-fuck! Do you wanna die? Stop naming children’s books I don’t know! I don’t know what the fuck this leapfrog interactive stories shit you’re talking about is, but it ain’t happenin’!” He flicked his partner on the forehead again. 

Before Katsuki could continue his lecture, however, the sound of desks being tossed lightly to the side caught his attention. A classmate he hadn’t paid attention to, some girl who couldn’t keep her tongue in her mouth it seemed, had approached him. She had waist-long dark green hair tied in a low-hanging foxtail and large eyes with black irises.

“Stop it, kero.”

What? “Hah?” He was just trying to work on the stupid project for Christ’s Sake. And why did she fuckin’ croak? Like a fuckin’ toad?

“Stop yelling. Get some control over your anger issues, it’s disruptive to the rest of us. Kero.”

Whaaat?! “I don’t fuckin’ have anger issues, you filthy toad! Half n’ half just has issues and I’m fuckin’ angry about it, mind your own business!”

She frowned, turning towards where Dabi-Sensei was reading some book titled Make-Out Violence, “Dabi-Sensei, are you going to do something?”

A judgemental frown etched its way to the side of his mouth as he looked up from his book, “Like what, Asui-San? He was very clearly minding his own business; so what do you want me to do about that?”

Her face wasn’t very expressive, but she seemed angry at his reply. Despite this, she sat back down in her own seat with a quiet huff. 

Katsuki cleared his throat, “Anyway, as I was going to say before being so rudely interrupted, it seems like The Giving Tree is the only thing we can agree on.”

The bicolored boy nodded his agreement and they continued to work on the project in silence; jotting down notes of ideas on how to make the story dark… -er. They’d decided to continue working on it at the Candycane’s house since Katsuki still had moving boxes littered in random places at his own. 

The rest of the day went without consequence and the blonde soon found himself outside of a very fancy minka. Of course, they were rich, their father was a renowned scientist after all. He honestly didn’t know what he’d been expecting, really. It’s not like they’d live in a shack.

With a sigh, Katsuki knocked.

A young woman with white, red-speckled hair and glasses answered the door. Suddenly he was sitting at a fucking chabudai. Apparently, the woman was his classmate's older sister, Fuyumi, who was a teacher like their older brother. She was a saint and God in the kitchen. She practically force-fed him at first but the food is good enough that he gave in.

He and Shouto got to work on discussing their notes’ common points, deciding to keep certain ideas and discard others. Though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why their teacher, who was off-duty now, was watching them from the kitchen doorway. Katsuki stared at their teacher in casual clothes- a ratty, loose but somehow still too small white t-shirt with low-rise tight black leather pants. He couldn’t imagine how it would be comfortable, but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Hey, Touya!” Shouto called, effectively knocking Katsuki out of his daydreaming.

Dabi-Sensei merely hummed his acknowledgment. 

“You’re our teacher, so why don’t you help us?!”

The tattooed man laughed, “Not right now, I’m not! I’m just the creepy and annoying older brother spying on my lil bro and his classmate,” he gave them a shit-eating grin as if to reinforce his statement. 

Shouto scowled, “Fuckin’ simp.”

Sensei rolled his eyes, “You’re such a bitch.”

“What did you say?” 

“I have an itch.”

Katsuki snorted at their banter, somehow not catching either brother's attention. Sensei wasn’t too different than how he was at school, but it was still funny to watch uninterrupted.

Dabi-Sensei sighed, “Okay, whatever, Sho,” he waved a hand dismissively, “What book did you guys pick?”

“The Giving Tree,” They said simultaneously.

The teacher blinked, “Really? Why not ‘All my friends are dead.’?”

“You Todorokis and your weird children’s books…” He exasperatedly mumbled under his breath.

“Katsuki doesn’t know that book.”

“...Oh,” Dabi-Sensei looked at his wrist, absent of a watch, before smacking both hands to his thighs, “Welp, that reminds me that I have things to grade, so I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Without further commentary, he left the room. Sadly all that did was make way for another Todoroki to bother them. Another boy with short white hair and a muscular build walked up to his side of the table. Shouto seemed to ignore him entirely so Katsuki hoped if he did the same that they’d be left alone.

“Sooooo, you’re Bakugou Katsuki, yeah?” He gave them a wide grin, “I’m Natsuo, but you can just call me Natsu.”

“I don’t care.”

Natsuo sucked his teeth, “Yikes, tough crowd. I’m gonna get straight to the point here, then; can I get an autograph from your mom?”

“No.”

Apparently, ‘no’ means something else in this household because the older Todoroki kept bugging him the rest of the time they worked. At least he and the Candycane got some good work done before Katsuki had to head home.

He was glad things seemed to be going back to normal. At least, as normal as they could be with everything that had been going on. He didn’t need the stress.

Obviously, it didn’t matter either way, because the body of his classmate Asui Tsuyu had been found the next morning.

He could never catch a break, it seemed.

Chapter Text

How dare she?

How dare she, how dare she, how dare she, how dare she?!

Anger issues?

Anger issues?!

She was upset about Katsuki’s anger issues?

It was almost funny to Touya. Almost. Ironic, too. 

If she wanted anger issues, he could show her anger issues. As she turned to him, her stupid tongue on the corner of her lips, he tried hard not to grasp the cover of the book he was reading in anger. Why was she like that? Why? It made him want to cut her tongue off. Maybe then she’d stop saying stupid shit. Maybe.  

“Dabi-Sensei, are you going to do something?”

Oh, I’ll do something, alright. I don’t think you’ll like it, but we’ll just have to see, won’t we? It’d be fucked up if you were into it, though.

Touya leveled the student with a withering stare, the pages of his book crinkling under his grip. He frowned, trying not to let his judgment seep through, “Like what, Asui-San? He was very clearly minding his own business; so what do you want me to do about that?”

The girl seemed surprised at his unwillingness to step in, stepping back a half step, her low-hanging foxtail swaying at the movement. She furrowed her own brows slightly in a display of indignancy, swiveling on her heel and sitting back in her seat with a huff.

Little bitch.

The rest of the class went as quietly as it could’ve with Katsuki’s presence. Even so, Touya found he didn’t quite mind all that much. It was endearing. To him, anyway.

It’d surprised him to find Shouto had chosen to work with Katsuki, but he supposed he didn’t care all that much. He’d just have to ask the kid later.

Come lunch time, he made sure to text Himiko that he needed her to “assistant teach” art class again. All she sent back was three heart eye emojis and a thumbs up. He sent back a frog emoji. 

When he’d first brought up his plan to her, they both knew a texting stream of their plans would get them both in jail before either of them could say hatchet. So, to combat this, he’d assigned each student an emoji. It was a code he’d written in Pig Latin since nobody in Japan would understand it even if the page was found. One could never be too careful…

Obviously, the code for the murder of Asui Tsuyu was the frog emoji. Just as Kirishima Eijiro had been a red heart plus a shark and Ashido Mina had been a pink heart plus an alien. Anyone else of interest outside of the class he taught would be marked with a target emoji, which was a signal for Himiko to call him, where he’d supposedly complain about the recent behaviors of a few students. The second name he said was the one she needed to gather information on.

For himself, Touya took to stalking the hallways during study hall and lunch. It was always tedious, as he had to keep an eye out for anybody bad-mouthing the blonde or too focused on him in general. He also kept a skeptical focus on that Kaminari Denki kid. The student in question seemed too stupid to really pose a threat but his inherent interest in Katsuki definitely frayed his nerves.

Speaking of the Devil, the blonde was seated at a picnic table just outside the cafeteria with his Hispanic friend, Sero Hanta. Apparently they noticed they had his attention, as Kaminari turned to Sero and they both giggled before he shushed him. The boy looked at him and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Dabi-Sensei, I need your help for a minute!”

With a resigned sigh, Touya sauntered over to their table only slightly annoyed.

“Yes, Sparky?”

The kid frowned at the nickname but otherwise didn’t seem offended, side-eyeing his friend with a smile who stifled another giggle which coaxed one in response from the blonde.

He turned back to him, “Could you answer a question about the menu, please?” Kaminari fluttered his eyelashes in false innocence.

…

The kid was trying to see if he’d humor him with a meme.

…

Yeah, this kid wasn’t a threat. Alright, okay, sure, whatever. He’d bite.

Touya did the same thing with his eyelashes, modestly stating: “The men I please are none of your business.”

Both teenagers burst out laughing and he smiled. Sure, he was breaking, like, at least fifty rules in the student/teacher handbook, but, like, truthfully, what rule had he not broken? He was pretty sure murdering students was frowned upon. Even if not explicitly stated in the handbook.

He rolled his eyes, “Alright, kiddos, that’s enough. You only get one dirty joke from me per day. I could be fired just for indulging you, y’know.”

“Thank you, Sensei~” They said in unison, which only made Touya himself laugh.

Nah, Kaminari Denki wouldn’t be on his kill list.

When art rolled around, Himiko dutifully compiled all the information he’d need to get the job done by nightfall. 

Asui Tsuyu had chosen to partner with Uraraka Ochaco for the project. Asui’s parents were out of the country as part of their career in Marine Biology, so they’d be doing the project at Uraraka’s house. Which meant Asui would be walking home alone that night. 

He’d already been formulating the plan in his head. Murder weapon? Her own damn hair. Well, partially, anyway. 

Touya had made a habit of doing arson jobs for side cash under a broker who went by the name Giran. So, naturally, he had a shed also under his broker with gallons of his own special lighter fluid perfectly hidden from the world. Then there was Himiko, who’d lent him one of her smaller knives; one that could be easily hidden. A flammable one.

If Asui wasn’t going to die tonight, she at least wouldn’t dare utter another foul thing about Katsuki ever again.

Too bad she was most definitely dying tonight.

After he’d excused himself from openly admiring Katsuki’s beauty and writing it off as just being an annoying older brother to, supposedly, grade papers; he quickly put the three small containers of lighter fluid into his messenger bag and a few assignments for grading. He snuck out the window of his room in inconspicuous clothing (a hoodie and jeans) to make his way to a nearby alley. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the thin and translucent gloves he’d decided on for this excursion. They were cheap, so he didn’t need to use a credit card, and didn’t even have a brand name to them.

Just as promised, Himiko had left him a pair of sleek black jazz shoes, tucked neatly behind a garbage can in the alley between a small mom and pop shop and cat cafe. Touya tugged them on, leaving his boots in their place to retrieve later.

Uraraka’s house was surprisingly not far from his own, and so he sat at a bench in the nearby park he knew Asui would have to pass on her own way home. Luckily enough for him, the camera there had been struck by lightning in a storm a few weeks prior and had yet to be repaired.

Not to mention he actually did have papers to grade, so he did that to pass the time. 

Touya wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard the soft sound of footsteps, which paused not too far from him.

“Dabi-Sensei-? Is… is that you…? Kero.” Asui.

He pretended to be startled, looking up at her with falsely widened eyes, “Asui-San? What are you doing out this late? You know it’s not safe,” he frowned to show his very real concern.  

“I- I was leaving Ochaco’s house- why are you out here? Kero.” She seemed rather bemused at his presence.

Touya shifted, slowly closing the grade book in his lap, “I like visiting nearby parks to grade papers at night. It’s relaxing,” which wasn’t even technically a lie.

Asui hummed and the both of them sat there awkwardly for a minute or two.

It was him who broke the silence, “Uh, as your teacher, I feel as though I should walk you home? I don’t feel right knowing you’re out here and then letting you walk back by yourself… what with recent events and all,” He averted his gaze to show he was perhaps just as affected by the awkwardness as she was. Build trust. Don’t let them know your intentions.

She re-adjusted the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, “If you don’t mind… that would make me feel safer, yeah. Kero.”

With a nod, Touya gathered up the papers he’d scattered around him while he’d been grading and slid them into his messenger bag right next to the lighter fluid.

He and Asui walked in silence for a bit until he spoke again.

“I’d actually like to have a word with you, if that’s alright, Asui-San. I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow, but since you’re here now we might as well.” 

She stopped walking, turning to him with her tongue still obnoxiously stuck out the side of her lips, “Yeah, Sensei? Kero.”

“It’s about my response to what happened in class earlier today, with Katsuki.”

Asui nodded slowly and Touya side-eyed the alley he’d purposefully stopped in front of. Alleyways would always be a blessing for people like him. From the two quick glances he’d gotten, there weren’t any cameras. Perfect.

He looked her over, she, who was clearly waiting for him to speak again. Instead he quickly pressed his left hand tightly over her mouth and used his right to pull her by the foxtail into the alley. 

She muffled a scream against his gloves but it was no good. Using the force from his left arm, he pushed her to the ground and planted a foot onto her abdomen while kneeling with the other. Touya leaned in close.

“What I wanted to say was I hope you have fun in the afterlife.”

Asui stared at him, panicked and wide-eyed, entirely unable to struggle all that much. She wasn’t a fighter. She knew she’d die here.

Sliding the small knife Himiko had given him into his hand from his sleeve, he used the extended handle to crush her vocal cords.

The sounds she’d been making only turned to labored breaths and he removed his hand from her mouth with a manic smile.

“Tell me, Asui-San, do you want me to stop?”

She nodded frantically. Touya tutted disapprovingly.

“Use your words, Asui-San.”

So she opened her mouth, only for no words to escape. Instead all that came out was a pathetic croak. Tears streamed from her eyes as she didn’t dare look away from him.

He laughed softly, “I didn’t take you for a masochist, young lady. I’ll keep going then.”

Asui imagined all the things that happened to teenage girls at the hands of older men. She feared what he’d do, and though he wasn’t going to do what she thought he would, one could argue what he had in mind was much worse.

There was a weak attempt at escape, rocking side to side under the firm foothold restraining her. It didn’t work in her favor, as Touya used the hand previously covering her mouth to harshly pull her up by the roots of her hair.

“I suggest you don’t do that. Unless you want this to hurt more than it already will.”

A new wave of tears made their way down her face but she went still. He smiled.

“Good girl,” he said, dropping her hair and instead digging his gloved fingers into her jaw to hold her face still. 

He grabbed one of the small containers of lighter fluid and unscrewed the cap, dumping the contents over her head and all in her hair.

“Oh, you might want to close your eyes,” he warned too late as the fluid rolled into her eyes. Asui thrashed her legs in pain as a weak sob racked her lungs. She blinked rapidly to ease the feeling but it only seemed to make it worse.

There was the urge to laugh at her pain but he was only getting started. Touya pushed her head back into the concrete and forced her mouth open. There was the soft tell-tale pop and dull crunch that signified he’d dislocated her jaw. He released his grip and her mouth hung open completely slack. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open at that point as tears continued to pour down her face. 

He flipped the small knife in his hand, grabbing her tongue and pulling it free to roughly cut it out. Her sobbing intensified though it was still quiet due to the damage to her vocal cords (and no doubt other important things in her throat). He tucked the removed tongue down her throat and she attempted gagging only to stop at the protesting from her mouth and throat.

He uncapped the second container before dumping a small amount down her mouth and the lower ends of her hair that weren’t thoroughly soaked. Once again, Touya yanked Asui up by the hair in her scalp, taking the knife to cut the entire length of her dark green hair off too close to her cranium. Some of the fluid in her mouth leaked out due to her dislocated jaw, but be wasn't worried about it.

Taking the hair that was still held together at the end, he stuffed it and the knife in her mouth, which by this point she was in too much extreme pain to complain. As a last minute addition, he tosses the gloves in there, too.

He opened the third container, dumping it all along her clothing and anywhere that looked dry, really. Taking the single match from his pocket, he lit it on the concrete and unceremoniously tossed the flame into her mouth, it catching like flashpaper.

Oh, how Touya wished he could stay to watch her burn.

How was that for anger issues?

He gathered the empty containers and his bag, texting Himiko.

‘Thanks for helping me grade papers.’

It didn’t take too long for her to heart the message.

The aftermath that followed was the same as before. His siblings were upset about it, though Shouto didn’t even bother asking. 

Though he did have to do home meetings again. 

Shouto leveled him with an unimpressed stare, “Nii-San, do you have to be so dramatic?”

His only response to that was a cheeky grin. His little brother crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Touya did the same, “How about you tell me why you chose Katsuki to be your partner?”

Shouto shrugged, “Was curious what you saw in him, decided to find out. Still gotta keep looking.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, okay Mr ‘I’m dating a walking broccoli’.”

His brother scowled but otherwise didn’t say anything, decidedly leaving the study.

Then came having to visit Katsuki. He didn’t seem as affected as last time, still wordlessly inviting Touya to share a blanket with him. His parents were home this time but they didn’t bother them.

He found it hard to be upset about his actions when the reward was so, so sweet.

Chapter Text

To say Katsuki was on edge would be the understatement of the century. 

It’d been… what, five/six months? They still didn’t have a single clue about who the killer was. The only profile they’d gotten was that the killer was male based on his shoe size. The tracks were hidden so they couldn’t even get what brand of shoe he wore. Just the outline of a foot. 

In that time period, they’d lost five more students. Some Monoma Neito kid from the class next door was first to go. The only reason Katsuki even knew who he was is because the day before he’d turned up dead, the guy came over to scope out the ‘fresh meat’ and basically insulted every aspect of his existence- which, frankly, made the guy annoying in every aspect of the word. He couldn’t even say he was too upset that the guy died. How fucked up is that?

The kid was blonde with pale blue eyes and reminded Katsuki of a Danganronpa character. He’d been murdered like one, too. It was hard to think about it.

Next was Tokoyami Fumikage. The kid was emo beyond all belief and he didn’t even know him really. He pissed him off to high Heaven with all his ‘revelry in the dark’ bullshit.

Tokoyami had been found blindfolded in an alley with his mouth sewn shut. When the blindfold had been removed, it was discovered his eyelids had been melted shut. 

Wonder how much he liked the dark, now? It was… like some kind of dark joke. Which was just ironic in Katsuki’s opinion, but in such a way he couldn’t bring himself to be amused by it.

The third, fourth, and most recent were some girls a few classes over. Their names were hella basic and the single reason he remembered them was because of their names being broadcast on the news. Hagihara Miko, Imai Shiori, and Asaoka Chiyo. The only interaction he’d even had with them was overhearing their conversation.

He couldn’t find himself upset about their deaths, either… because they thought it was him killing the students.

It was stupid to be butthurt about, because they didn’t know him and he knew it himself that he was innocent. Nonetheless, it did hurt. They’d said it had to be him because of his awful personality and how all the students that died so far were ones that got close to him in some way.

Which wasn’t even true. Dunce Face, Soy Sauce Face, Kyoka, and Half n’ Half got close and they were just fine. But it worried him. What if the next day Katsuki woke up to find they’d been killed? And that it was his fault? Half n’ Half dragged his friends into it, too. Even then only two of them decided to stick around. Ochaco and the green kid he’d decided to call Deku.

Ochaco was chill, hell he was at the gym with her and Deku right now. Deku got on his nerves but Ochaco was alright. She was strong and nice. Nice to him-  

Apparently the toad girl- Asui Tsuyu- who’d died a few months prior was her girlfriend. If he was her, he’d blame himself for her death. But she didn’t. She just smiled at him kindly and invited him to the gym with her every time she went. Speaking of, the only reason they’d been able to identify Asui’s body at all was the student ID that’d fallen out of her skirt pocket just outside the alley she was found in and her dental records. Her body was completely unrecognizable. Burned to a crisp.

There was only one thing that let them even connect all the murders together, besides from the fact how they obviously went to the same school. One way or another, their mouths had all been mutilated. They called the killer The Silencer. Dumb name if you asked Katsuki. They’d even given each individual murder a name.

Kirishima Eijiro and Mina’s suicide, as it had been determined by the red tulips found on his body and her having been present, that she was intended to die too. He didn’t like whoever had been naming them. It was like they found it to be a joke, or maybe they were so desensitized to it at that point they couldn’t be bothered. They called it Romantic Homicide. They named it after a fucking song. 

Asui Tsuyu, Trial by Fire.

Monoma Neito, Pacified. Why? Because the killer stuck a fucking pacifier in his mouth, that’s why. They couldn’t even detect what killed him. Virtually, it looked as though he’d had a heart attack but he was way too young and healthy for that to even be a realistic possibility. Katsuki guessed it was potassium chloride. 

Fumikage Tokoyami, Dark Silence. Shitty, emo, bullshit name.

Then the girls he’d never actually met… they were called the Gruesome Gossip Girls. Which was the stupidest one yet. It was based on their reputation as gossips at school and the gruesome nature of their murder. It was considered the reason behind their murder was the fact they gossiped so much but that possibility was shot down as most of the other students targeted weren’t gossips. 

On the other hand, they’d been found together and their time of death was estimated to be practically the same. Considering Mina had escaped the killer, that goes to show how little these three girls paid attention to their surroundings. ‘ Oh, wait, my friend’s dead? Wait does that mean-‘ and then bleghhhh. Stupid extras. Sometimes Katsuki wonders how his peers got into this school.

“Hey, Katsukii~ c’mon, come back to us,” Ochaco snapped her fingers in his face to which he blinked confusedly and furrowed his eyebrows.

The brunette crossed her arms with a pout, her pink cheeks puffing, “I can’t spot you if you sit there staring at the ceiling the whole time.”

He grunted, “Whatever, Round Face. I’m tired anyway, I’m just gonna go home,” Katsuki murmured, sitting up from the bench press. 

She uncrossed her arms, casting a glance to Deku who shrugged from where he was alternating dumbbells. Ochaco sighed, “We’re worried about you, Katsuki. You’ve been, like, super spacey lately. Everything alright?”

Katsuki huffed, “Your girlfriend was murdered and you ask if I’m okay?” He said gruffly.

“I’ve been attending therapy and I’ve learned not to blame myself for not walking her home. I get it, but I’m concerned about your support system- or, lack thereof.” She frowned.

“I’m fine,” He said, waving her off, “Just thinking about something.”

Ochaco’s frown intensified before her shoulders sagged, “Whatever you say, Katsuki. Just know Izu, Shou, and I are here for you. You’re not alone. Willing to bet Denki, Hanta, and Kyoka are, too.”

He snorted, “Oh, please, what advice could Dunce Face and Soy Sauce Face provide? Nothing mental health related, that’s for sure.”

She sighed again, “Katsuki…”

“Like I said, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Pink Cheeks.”

Ochaco threw her hands up, “That’s it! At least I can say I tried.” And she walked back towards Deku, who tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was more apprehensive if anything. 

It was true, he really was just thinking about something. Albeit something related to the murders, but still thinking. The only one he’d remotely blamed himself for was Kirishima’s alongside Mina’s suicide, but Dabi-Sensei had managed to help him out of that mentality.

Katsuki gathered his gym bag and walked back home, mind never once leaving the speculation behind. He barely cast a glance at his parents when they’d greeted him, heading straight to his room to search for articles on The Silencer, as dumb a name as it was. He clicked the first link, which was mainly just the profile the police had. 

Unknown AKA: The Silencer

SEX: M RACE: (Spec.) A? TYPE: Pre-Med S MOTIVE: Unk. (PC?)

DATE(S): 20XX VENUE: Musutafu, Japan VICTIMS: (Cur.) Seven

MO: Year 3 UA students, mouths/vocal instruments mutilated; Occasional use of fire

DISPOSITION: Unsolved

Attempt on the life of [Ashido Mina] who later committed suicide

Katsuki clicked off the website, heading to a page that listed the current victims and details of the murder. He skimped out of the details, not wanting his head to get an idea of the scene. He did want to get sleep that night, after all. 

Kirishima, Eijiro (17) AKA: Romantic Homicide

CoD: Strangulation ESTIMATED ToD: 23 HRS LOCATION: Alley between 24/7 Konbini and [Best Jeanist’s] DATE: 27/04/XX

Asui, Tsuyu (17) AKA: Trial by Fire

CoD: Asphyxiation by Smoke Inhalation ESTIMATED ToD: 21 HRS LOCATION: Alley between [Bi-Rite] and [Hello Kitty] Cat Cafe DATE: 13/05/XX

Monoma, Neito (18) AKA: Pacified

CoD: Unk. (Symptoms of [Heart Attack] ) ESTIMATED ToD: 22 HRS LOCATION: Kōen Park DATE: 15/06/XX

Fumikage, Tokoyami (17) AKA: Dark Silence

CoD: Brain Hemorrhage ESTIMATED ToD: 2 HRS LOCATION: Alley between [Hot Topic] and [Hawks’ Aviary] DATE: 08/07/XX

Hagihara, Miko (17) Imai, Shiori (18) Asaoka, Chiyo (17) AKA: Gruesome Gossip Girls

CoD: Asphyxiation ESTIMATED ToD: 1 HRS LOCATION: Alley between [Moonbucks] and [Uwabami’s Beauty Salon] DATE: 19/10/XX

It was obvious at that point everything the killer gave them was just something he wanted them to find. Cocky bastard. The blonde frowned, thoroughly unsatisfied, but before he could continue his search his mother called him down for dinner. With a sigh, he turned his laptop off and closed it, heading down the stairs. 

“Hey, brat,” His mom greeted as he sat down at the Western-style dining table. His father just nodded to him with a soft smile.

“How’s school been?” She asked after taking a seat.

Katsuki shrugged. Was there really an acceptable answer to that question?

His mother, Mitsuki, frowned but didn’t press. They murmured their prayers and thanks for the food, a simultaneous ‘itadakimasu’ before gathering food into their plates and eating in a comfortable silence.

It was his father who broke it.

“Katsuki, about your teacher…” Which was all it took to make the blonde choke on his curry. He coughed and sputtered, and his father waited while he cleared his throat.

“What about him?” He said hoarsely.

Mitsuki and his father, Masaru, shared a look.

“It’s obvious you have a crush on him, son,” Masaru continued.

His mother nodded solemnly, despite the coy smile on her face.

“It’s glaringly obvious, Katsuki,” She confirmed. Her gaze, which was identical to his own, studying his reaction.

He coughed, setting his spoon down, “Well, what’s your fucking point? It’s not like anything will happen.”

At that, Mitsuki’s smile widened in an almost sadistic manner, “I say go for it. He’s cute, from a rich family, and he’s really not that much older than you.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened in surprise, “What?”

She huffed, “You heard me, brat.”

“But- the age gap is fucking- he could get arrested- I’m a student.”

That’s when his father joined in, “Obviously it would be after you graduate, we just wanted you to know you have our support.”

Katsuki was at a loss, “He doesn’t- he wouldn’t even look at me like that.”

His parents shared another look before his mom turned back to him, “Hun, he’s been looking at you like that.”

The blonde felt his face warm up. God, had he? There was no way, right? 

“You’re fucking lying.”

She shrugged, “I thought the same about your father. He was in college already when I was in my first year of high school. I thought there was no way, but look where we are now.”

Masaru nodded his assent, “We didn’t do anything until she graduated, but you see the point.”

Katsuki blinked. Fuck, he did see the point. But- did Dabi-Sensei really look at him the same way? He couldn’t believe it.

When he went to bed, he was unable to sleep for an entirely different reason. Dabi-Sensei liked him… did he really? He spent his whole night staring at the ceiling thinking of the possibilities.

Strolling into class that morning, grumpy and running on fumes, he was greeted with Dunce Face kneeling in front of Kyoka holding a coffee-stained scroll which he unfurled dramatically with the entire class watching.

Kyoka in question was facepalming and shaking her head in embarrassment.

Dunce Face cleared his throat and pulled out a megaphone (everyone covered their ears at that), “HEAR YE, HEAR YE! ART THOU SINGLE, DEAR BARD JIROU KYOKA?”

She shook her head fondly before looking at him with a smile, “Yes, I will go on a date with you, you idiot.”

His smile lit up the room but before anybody could say anything, Dabi-Sensei (who they didn’t hear kick the door open over the megaphone,) shouted at them, “Okay, Shakespeare, sit your ass down or it’s detention.”

Dunce Face’s smile instantly disappeared as he shuffled to his seat in mild panic. Katsuki sat down and propped his chin in his palm, looking at Sensei curiously. The teacher caught his gaze, smiling at him softly. It wasn’t his usual smirk…

Huh, maybe his mom was right.

Maybe there really was something in the way he looked at him.

Chapter Text

Touya watched as Uraraka approached Katsuki and asked him to go to the gym with her. That was the third time this week. 

They’re getting too close, do something.

Himiko was here that today, so he stayed behind with her to talk about it. The classroom was dark, as the lights had been turned off when the students left for lunch. He leaned against the windowsill by his desk, looking out the window until she made her presence known.

“Tenko’s going to be visiting the class later,” Was the introduction he gave.

She nodded, “That’s nice. Tell him I’ll be at the next game night,” To which he nodded back.

“I’ve also noticed you’re close to that Uraraka girl. Do you have any information on her?”

The blonde narrowed her eyes, “Why do you wanna know?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“She’s been getting too friendly with Katsuki lately, I’m disposing of her,” Touya also crossed his arms in a challenging gesture.

Sadly, challenging Himiko wasn’t enough to catch her before she had a knife at his throat, a deranged grin on her face but her eyes menacingly glaring at him and her eyebrows raised sadistically.

“You’ve forgotten you’re not the only killer in this room, Dabi-Sama,” Himiko’s grin fell from her face, “You’ll leave Ochaco-Chan out of this, or I’ll have yours and Katsuki’s head on a platter.”

He chuckled nervously, though he stopped when the blade pressed further into the skin of his neck, nearly drawing blood from his jugular. Touya raised both hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Calm down, I’ll leave the brunette alone."

The nineteen-year-old studied him for a moment more before lowering the knife and skipping back happily, returning to her enthusiastic personality with all remnants of her previous mood gone.

“I’m glad!” She smiled, “Also, you said Tenko-Kun would be visiting today, didn’t you?

He rubbed his throat where the knife had been moments ago, wiping away the small dribble of blood she’d drawn, “Yeah, he will be. There was a decision made to raise the student curfew to before sunset. He’s just going to be making sure the students are informed.”

Himiko nodded with a hum, pocketing her knife. She opened her mouth to say something but the bell rang, so she simply left, turning the lights on as she waltzed through the door. 

Soon, students began to pour in, each taking their assigned seat. He watched Katsuki closely. The boy seemed more subdued than usual, more thoughtful in his mannerisms. It was odd and it worried Touya, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do past his usual comforting words. If only you could hold him, tell him what he means to you.

The tattooed man leisurely strolled up to the lectern, plastering a smirk on his face as he so often did, “We have a visitor today, kiddos. Chief of Police; Shimura Tenko, a friend of mine, will be giving a speech.”

A few students cheered, a few murmured, and a few didn’t care one bit. Silence hit the room when the door handle jiggled, grumbling clear as day to be heard on the other side. When the door finally opened, a disheveled young man with messy medium-length black hair, brown/red eyes, a beauty mark below his lip on the right-hand side, and very visible eczema stumbled through. He wore an ill-fitting police uniform and continued to grumble as he made his way to the lectern. When he reached it, he shooed Touya away.

Touya cleared his throat awkwardly, “Class, this is Shimura Tenko. Say hi.”

The class did so with mixed levels of enthusiasm. 

Tenko rolled his eyes, “Listen up, brats!” He started, making Iida Tenya have a constipated look on his face which was rather funny, “Due to the number of murders as of late,” He side-eyed Touya, “The Mayor and I have decided to raise the student curfew. You will be expected to be off the streets by 19 hours and no later! Those caught out past that time will be fined and escorted home. This is for your safety, so listen or get murdered. I, personally, don’t care. But because it’s my problem if something happens to you, I’d prefer if you chose to listen.”

Katsuki looked rather perplexed at Tenko's admission of not caring.  

Tenko cleared his throat, “Does anybody have any questions?”

Only Kaminari raised his hand, but the Chief of Police next to him was unable to call on him because Sero smacked the blonde over the head, causing him to lower his hand. There was a brief silence before Touya coughed.

“Okay, everyone, please thank Chief Shimura for coming in today-”

“Wait, Dabi, I got a question for you,” Tenko interrupted him, rudely.

He sighed, “Yes, Tenko?”

“Since when did they let homos teach, anyway?” The man stuffed his hands in his pockets, overall seeming disinterested. Some of the students gasped and a couple started talking amongst each other or overall out loud. 

Touya blinked at him, utterly flabbergasted, “You- you did not just ask me that. In front of my students.”

His friend sneered, “You heard me.”

He looked over to Katsuki, who seemed about five seconds away from bursting a blood vessel, then to Shouto who appeared vaguely amused. He looked back at the Chief of Police.

“You can’t be homophobic and a Nine Inch Nails fan, it simply isn’t done. Plus, Shouto and I both have caught you with Natsuo, you know. I know you think your fake homophobia is funny but, I mean, try harder.”

“Simp!” Yelled Shouto.

“You know that’s not my point,” Tenko rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother’s shout from the back of the classroom.

“You cried when we all watched Nimona. Twice,” He held up two fingers to emphasize his statement.

His friend scowled, “You can’t be the oldest of four children and still single. That’s just sad. What happened to your boyfriend, anyway?”

“Keigo’s dead to me.”

The raven scoffed, “Literally. Tell Natsuo I said hi, by the way.”

“Mhm. Go listen to The Collector like a good boy.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You are the worst best friend I could’ve asked for.”

“Himiko’s gonna be my best friend soon if you don’t get out of my classroom.”

Tenko merely saluted him wordlessly and left.

“Tell your sister I said hi!” He called, to which his friend flipped him off without sparing him a glance.

He was about to comment on it when one of the students laughed and laughed and laughed. He expected to see Kaminari as the culprit but was surprised when he found Katsuki bent over his desk, cackling hard enough to cry.

Touya leaned into the lectern, trying to keep a smile from slithering its way onto his face, “Something funny, doll?”

The blonde looked like he was going to reply, but whatever he wanted to say only made him laugh harder. The laughter was contagious, really, because soon he was laughing, too. That was when Kaminari joined in, followed by Sero and then Shouto (albeit, quietly).

They didn’t get much done for the rest of class between the two of them randomly giggling like girls at a sleepover. 

By the end of class, Touya was surprised to find a letter slid onto his desk. He hadn’t a clue how it got there or when, but the contents read to meet behind the school after the final bell. Sounded an awful lot like one those confessions but he knew better than that. Somebody knew something they shouldn’t know. Not good.

The letter was blandly written, bordering on scam-email formal. The truth of the matter was that he intimately knew the handwriting. It was the student whose essays always angered him because of the incessant babbling of right and wrong. Personal opinions. Not like in the way Midoriya included his own theories, as that was at least endearing in some slight. He had a feeling this kid would get on his hit list sooner or later, he just didn’t think it would be like this. 

So there Touya found himself, behind the school until the sun started to hang low in the sky and the clouds were painted coral. Nobody showed, of course. They never did. This was a trap to get the victim to let their guard down. He had a few knives discreetly hidden in his clothes for this purpose and a syringe of potassium chloride at the ready. He’d used that method already and it would be suspicious for it to occur twice, but since he didn’t have the opportunity to premeditate this one, so he got what he had.

He knew the perpetrator wanted to corner him in an alley as he made to leave, that was how every overconfident dumbass handled potential serial killers, too bad serial killers are almost always smarter than that. Even when they didn’t seem like it. 

Touya walked into one of the darker, more hidden alleyways. The young man who thought he’d catch him off guard probably thought something like ‘I’ve got you exactly where I want you,’ not knowing it was the other way around.

He’d sensed the kid approaching already, if the crunch of track shoes on trash was anything to go by. Feigning surprise was still easier.

“I know that it’s you, Todoroki-Sensei.” Said none other than Iida Tenya, one of his least favorite students.

He turned his head, trying his best to look utterly confused (and not immensely piqued at Iida’s insistence to avoid his nickname), “Well, I’d hope you’d recognize me. I’d like to think I have a unique mug,” A nervous chuckle for panache. 

Iida scowled, “I know it’s you that’s been doing it.”

“Ah,” Touya sighed, “You caught me. I’ve been stealing an extra donut from the teacher’s lounge every week. Don’t tell anyone!”

The scowl deepened, “Why did you kill my peers? Your students?”

“...Oh, I see. What makes you think it’s me, Iida-San? I’m offended you think I’d do such a thing,” He gave a hurt frown.

“I heard your conversation with Toga-San. I’ve had my suspicions from the start but that just confirmed it.”

The tattooed man hummed, “I think I’ve failed you as a teacher. You think somebody’s a serial killer and you went to confront them alone, in a private space, without any means of backup. I thought you knew better.”

Iida seemed taken aback at that statement, but he quickly regained his composure, “I did some digging, too. That ex Chief Shimura mentioned. You said they were dead to you and Shimura-Sama seemed to confirm the statement as genuinely true. I looked up the obituaries for a Keigo and found that a pilot named Takami Keigo; aged twenty-two, was found dead under mysterious circumstances. I hardly doubt that was a coincidence, Sensei.”

“It’s quite sad he passed, really. I’d already broken up with him before his passing though. Had been broken up for a year, actually. That’s hardly grounds for accusation of murder,” Touya turned to face his student, smug as all hell. So naïve. It was almost sad he’d have to kill such innocent youth. 

The boy tutted, “I beg to differ, Todoroki-Sensei. Your cleanup isn’t as good as you think it is. You’ve only gotten this far because no one’s suspicious of you. I have evidence.”

“Yet another thing you’ve done presumptuously, Iida-San. Telling the killer you have evidence before actually turning it in.”

Touya’s admission barely had time to register in the boy’s eyes before there was a knife buried to the hilt in his throat. I grade your essays, kiddo. Don’t believe for a second I don’t know how you think.

“How sad. Another funeral I’ll have to attend, I’m sure,” He pulled the knife out harshly, pushing the boy back who staggered to the ground, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down.”

He stomped hard on both of the boy’s knees at a bad angle, the resounding snap ringing against the empty trash cans along with Iida’s cry of pain. He took the knife tight in his grip, stabbing it into the boy’s chest once more just to watch the light fade from the overconfident eyes of a young man he’d never once liked.

Just how he didn’t like the sound he’d heard next. Premeditated murder or not, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he turned around to face. Stunned ruby eyes meeting his own sapphire ones.

Katsuki took a shaky step back as Touya’s head whipped around to face him.

“...Dabi-Sensei?”

Chapter Text

Katsuki tried to recount how he got here.

He did, truly.

So he recounted his day, failed to see how it reached such a preposterous outcome, and then decided to recount the school year as a whole. Yet there he still came up short. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t add up in any definitive fashion of the phrase, and it certainly wasn’t a puzzle he had every- if any- of the pieces to.

Even he couldn’t solve a puzzle he didn’t have at least one of the pieces to.

Nevertheless, his day had started like any bad omen, really. A hole in the left big toe of his favorite pair of socks. Not hearing his alarm and barely making it to school on time (a first he hoped to never repeat). The black cat that he nearly tripped over on his mad dash to the school. The red spider lilies that blossomed in bunches with the middle of Fall (those should be gone soon…) The smell of smoke that only lingered around him on days of disaster that he didn’t dare name. The Chief of Police making a crude and unprofessional statement in front of the impressionable youth that was frankly rather childish. 

Although; Katsuki supposed, that last one had been brushed off rather gracefully by Dabi-Sensei. If he remembered correctly, the Natsuo that Sensei had mentioned was the buff guy who wouldn’t stop bothering him for the old hag’s autograph. The two deserved each other if he had anything to say about it. An annoying match made in hell.

Overall he couldn’t connect the dots, let alone find any dots in the first place.

Heck, the only reason he’d even found what he’d found was because Ochaco lost the pencil pouch they’d won for her at the arcade. It’d been decided to give it to her because the pencil pouch she’d had at the time was falling apart at the seams from when she was in grade school. Why did he even offer to go back? Stupid Deku should have gone back instead, dammit!

It was weird, too, that he wasn’t upset by what he saw. Glasses was a prick, sure, but he should be more upset by seeing him get murdered, right? Be disgusted by the sight of the blood and the knees bent in the wrong direction, the bones barely visible amongst the muscle and the flesh. The bits of trachea torn by the flow of crimson as it gushed out… that wasn’t what got to him. 

What had gotten him was the sight of the manic glee in his teacher’s eyes as he took a life. Those eyes shining so prettily like droplets of topaz, alight above a flame. But it was the change. Why did Katsuki have to say something? Open his stupid mouth? Suddenly that gaze was directed at him and any happiness there died. Morphed into horror, thousands of thoughts running a mile a minute. It terrified him, yet he didn’t fear for his life. No, no, he feared he’d never see it again. There was something so beautiful to be taken from deranged delight. He wouldn’t have known, he’d never seen it before, but now that he had? He wanted to feel that kind of freedom.

Katsuki thought about the copy of Blood Red he’d stopped to read on his desk that morning. He had already been running late, but… something about his annotations called out to him. He understood the fifth stanza, just now. Fine porcelain? An illusion of something beautiful. Was Takatsuki saying the life he lived was fragile and fake? That it looked beautiful to those on the outside looking in, but was a mirage easily broken? Or was he saying Mateo Lorenz-Flores wasn’t what he truly wanted, but it was too late to go back? Too late to change what he’d already done in the ‘name of love’?  

It was so odd, looking back. The fifth stanza was so simple, wasn’t it? Sensei pretended not to understand it. But he did, didn’t he? That was why he assigned the poem in the first place, wasn’t it? ‘In my mind; you leave little space,’ Space for what, he wondered? Was it some kind of analogy for losing one’s mind? In both love and insanity, thoughts are not clear… 

Katsuki’s mind wandered with all the different things he was thinking about. What things did he not see, what clues was he given… Sensei was the killer. He knew that was what he’d do before he even did it. Assigned a poem about murdering to stake a claim. That was what he did. All those people who were killed around him… was he claiming Katsuki? He ran over what he knew of the fifth stanza. 

“Fine porcelain; your doll-like face,

In my mind; you leave little space,

I’d really like just a little taste,

To see you in blood-stained white lace.”

Fine porcelain isn’t just an illusion… ‘ your doll-like face’ Sensei calls him doll, doesn’t he? He is staking a claim. From day one, he was. How did he not see it? How was he so blinded? By beauty, by sorrow, by the smoke that filled his lungs ever since that stupid fire…

He was openly admitting obsession. Openly admitting his plans to kill. Wasn’t it too soon? It was the second day, how was it not too soon? ‘Blood-stained white lace…’ White lace as in Western wedding dresses? Did Takatsuki even know anything about Western weddings? Did they exist at that time period? Katsuki couldn’t even recall. Weddings were new beginnings, weren’t they? But the blood… tainted new beginnings. Beginning of the school year? No, weddings were of love… What was trying to be said? An agreement of sorts? Entrapment? Why, why, why? It doesn’t make sense. Katsuki was losing sense over his thoughts, they moved too fast.

He couldn’t find a way to word it in his head. Love, love, love… new beginnings with you, love, but it’s tainted… Katsuki willed himself to calm down as he ran, he couldn’t think. When was he running? Why was he running? Where was he running? He couldn’t see. He touched his face, it was wet. Did he get blood on him? No, he wasn’t close enough… tears? Were those tears? Was he crying? Why was he crying?

Where was he running and why was he crying? What was he thinking about? Was this what it felt like to lose your mind?

The poem. Dabi-Sensei wanted to marry him? No, that didn’t sound right… but, well, if he loves him, that’s an eventual, isn’t it? He’s willing to kill for him, he has killed for him. Anything they do from here on out is tainted in blood. The tainted new beginnings? Blood-stained white lace? Sacrifices, sacrifices… 

Katsuki pinched himself, his mind was starting to sound like the ravings of a lunatic. He was no lunatic. Was he? No, don’t start now. He couldn’t start now, he’d lose himself again. But did he even have a grasp on himself to begin with? Grasping at straws, maybe? Maybe he left himself on the couch, since the first murder, huddled in his Howl-o-Scream blanket. Halloween is coming up soon, isn’t it… less than a week, isn’t it? With the horror movies about serial killers, and the fake blood and guts. Oh, how fitting.

Line three, stanza five… he still doesn’t get it. ‘I’d really like just a little taste,’ taste of what? Love? Is he going to eat the wedding dress? Absurd. Katsuki wanted to laugh at his own thoughts. Absurd, absurd, absolutely absurd. Taste of blood? Of murder? Maybe a taste of life beyond the confine. Beyond the sins of wrath, greed… gluttony? Or maybe lust. Is it really to taste love? Does love even taste? Oh, Love Taste. Like that song that they listened to during art… if love tastes, he wonders what it tastes like. 

Too bad he’ll never know. He’s dying before even being murdered. He still doesn’t fear for his life, but he knows he will die. Maybe he doesn’t fear for his life because he loves him, who knows? Maybe when he chokes on his own blood, he’ll know what love tastes like. Who knows? Who knows. Pray tell, who knows. He soon will know.

He needs to get himself out of his head. Out of his head before he’s gone completely out of his mind. Back to an earlier question… where is he running? His legs hurt. Feels like his femur is going to break in half by his hips. Slip right out of the joints, causing him to fall forward. It’s a weird detached feeling. Focus less on the internal, more on the external. Get out of your mind, but stay in your body. His feet hurt. His steps are too heavy. He’s running harder, not faster. That won’t get him anywhere… he still doesn’t know where he’s going. Away maybe? To safety. Where is safe, if he has to go back to school anyway? Is he even in danger? He can’t call the police if he isn’t in danger… but his classmates are in danger.

But if he calls the police he loses Dabi-Sensei… no, Katsuki, what did you just tell yourself? Stop thinking. His feet hurt, his femurs hurt, …his hips hurt? Did his hips hurt? They do. They ache. It’s faint, but it’s there. His guts feel tight. Like they’re entangled and knotted around each other. Those aren’t very useful… his heart lurches. Is it painful? He can’t tell. Is it the butterflies of love or the gnawing dread of impending doom? Is there supposed to be a veritable difference between the two? Usually they’re not supposed to intertwine into a situation where it could be either, he imagines. But it’s just his luck that he finds himself in a position where it’s possible to be either/or.

His shoulders hurt. He’s moving too much as he runs. His biceps feel like they’re going to wither and tear away until he’s left an armless, legless heap of mumbling drabbles on the ground. That doesn’t sound pleasant. His lungs constrict around his lurching heart. How it hurts, how it hurts… when did Katsuki’s breathing get so fast? Is he hyperventilating? Oh, and still crying, too. A panic attack, maybe. Are thoughts usually this misconstrued during a panic attack? His head hurts. Maybe he’s still thinking too much. He can’t even see where he’s going. Is that dizziness or crying, or both?

He’s running through the courtyard now, he can tell. His guts still hurt. Was that how Eijiro felt when he died? Or was he dead beforehand… the tulips. Red tulips mean love… and despite his best efforts, after dinner he did go back and look to see the details. Gardening gloves, fluvic soil, and red tulips. Red tulips do mean love in floriography, don’t they? The fluvic soil is pretty common… does the school use fluvic soil? Likely. Does the school grow tulips? It’s too late to tell, now. Too late in the year. But the murder was in late April, soon after Katsuki’s birthday… around when tulips bloom. It was a possibility.

Keep running, you’re not safe. Not yet, not yet. Not yet, keep running. It hurts behind his eyes, behind his ears, behind his nose. Dehydration? Maybe. He wants to throw up but he’s dry heaving. His throat hurts. Maybe he’s screaming, maybe not. He can’t tell. With the pain behind his ears comes an all-encompassing ringing. He can’t hear, his head is light, and he feels so dizzy he might pass out. Is this fear? How can people be brave when fear is this overpowering? 

He wants to crawl out of his skin. It’s itchy and clammy, sweaty… he feels like a wrung-out sponge. Katsuki badly wants some water. Like a sponge he could soak it up and feel better, maybe. He barely registers himself barreling into the door of one of the instructional buildings, running down the abandoned hallways like a madman. There’s no clubs tonight but it’s still eerie, so empty like this. He’d come here for something originally, hadn’t he? If it was important he would have remembered it. Oh well, too late now, he’d either die of his own ramblings or choking on blood when he’s eventually murdered. Because let’s be real, he will get murdered, right? He’s not special.

Oh, and his parents thought he was. Named him I Win. Told him the teacher he had a crush on loved him right back. Hell, they gave that relationship their blessing. And at his funeral when Dabi-Sensei gives a speech, his parents will probably comfort him and he’ll comfort them. Think they both lost somebody they loved when in reality Katsuki is unloveable. If he were loveable he wouldn’t be in this mess, questioning himself and reevaluating his life. Wouldn’t be running from a serial killer he’s so hopelessly in love with and led himself to the illusion that it was requited. He’s running, but is he being chased? He doesn’t want to look behind himself and find out.

He opens the door to one of the classrooms, sinking to his knees by the desk near the window. There’s a pot of lilies. Oh, right, Dabi-Sensei put those there on Monday… funny, how he found himself back in that classroom. Muscle memory, maybe. His legs carried him there on their own. How silly is that? The room where he met the man he imagined spending the rest of his life with is the room he’ll die in by that very same man’s hand. He really did end up spending the rest of his life with him, didn’t he? If not literally, then in spirit. The last thing he’ll see are those man’s eyes, too, if he decides to get really poetic. Maybe that poem was a good choice, even if it didn’t do its job. What job, though? It’s not being paid…

Man, he’s really losing it now. To the hysteria and dehydration, mayhaps. When his throat gets slit he’ll know what love tastes like, mayhaps. Like blood. Or iron. Copper? Or will the sentiment make it sweet? He doesn’t want to wait, but maybe he doesn’t have to if the sound of the door being kicked open is anything to go by. Oh, it’s music to his ears. Yes, today is the day he finds out what love tastes like. It’s an odd question, one he didn’t know he had. But it’s a simple one all the same.

How does love taste?

Chapter Text

Touya fucks up sometimes, he’ll admit. 

He fucks up sometimes, but it’s always been fixable damage. It’s reversible. It’s okay.

Other times when he’s fucked up he couldn’t change it but it’s never that bad. It’s a small fuck up. He’s only human; humans make mistakes.

Some things he does other people would consider a fuck up, but that he thinks is completely fine. He doesn’t need to fix that problem because to him it’s not a problem.

This is not one of those times.

This is more on par with the ‘I got somebody pregnant and they didn’t tell me until it was too late to get an abortion’ level of fuck up. This is probably a bad analogy, but he’s freaking out right now and this about sums it up.

Hell, even when he’d accidentally burned down the entirety of Sekoto Peak, it wasn’t as big as this. Trees grow back, animals reproduce and repopulate, and it will recover. 

He’s not sure if this is something that will recover. 

Oh, man, he’s going to jail, isn’t he? Tartarus, maybe? He tries to recall other prisons he’s heard about before. Nanba, Azkaban, Impel Down, Crown Hill, Shawshank, Nova Prospekt, Toluca… any one of them, really. 

Prison is the only option he’s willing to accept. The other option would be to kill Katsuki- and then himself out of guilt, and that would get so messy… he can’t kill Katsuki. He wouldn’t be able to, it’s inconceivable. And there’s no way Katsuki would accept his feelings. How could he? Katsuki is so pure and Touya… Touya killed his friends. He lied to him and he traumatized him. Katsuki wasn’t supposed to find out. What happened to pulling the strings from behind the scenes? Fuck.

When Touya slammed open the door to the room he saw the blonde run into, his eyes anxiously scanned every centimeter until they clocked him by his teacher’s desk. Katsuki was squatted below the vase of lilies, one hand pressed against the sleek mahogany backing of the desk and the other to the floor. He was hyperventilating and fat tears were rolling down his face onto the back of his hand. He felt his heart break at the scene. He did that, he put that look on his love’s face, he hurt him.

As he stepped forward to the blonde, who eyed him warily through his peripherals but didn’t move, he looked at the vase of lilies. 

“Katsuki, I- fuck, I didn’t mean for it to go this far-” Touya couldn’t meet the red eyes, shining with tears like rubies. 

He inhaled shakily, standing with a hand clenched in his shirt, over his heart, but he stayed quiet anyway.

Touya keeps talking, “You don’t have to keep looking at me. I know it’s probably hard- you’re not scared, probably. You wouldn’t need to be, you know I can’t hurt you- I… you probably want to hit me, don’t you? Cuss me out… you can, I get it. I don’t mind,” He looked down at the floor, and at his white t-shirt stained in blood.

Katsuki turned his gaze to the wall, “The flowers,” is all he says, taking another breath, “First it was tulips, now white lilies-” He looked back. His gaze didn’t seem angry. It was usually so angry, but right now… all Touya could detect was sadness.

The tattooed man studied his student’s features, how he was carrying himself, where the muscles in his face pinched with emotion or deep thought, “The tulips… it was a toast, I guess. Those kids loved each other. Thought I’d honor that… and my own love for you.” Touya finally looked at Katsuki, just in time to see and hear as his breath hitched, how he froze up and closed his eyes for a moment.

He didn’t reopen his eyes, but his posture slowly relaxed.

“And the lilies? Honestly, it was an impulse buy,” He walked past Katsuki, with his back turned to him, over to the vase of lilies. He hovered his free hand over them, not touching or grabbing, not willing to taint the white purity with blood, “D’ya know white lilies are both funeral and wedding flowers? I thought it was ironic… then I remembered lilies don’t bloom this time of year.”

“The florist said they were a special hybrid, that it’s the only reason she could sell them this late in October. And so I thought… I’m not supposed to love you, I know, but I do. These flowers aren’t supposed to be in bloom, I also know, but they are,” He huffed a self-deprecating laugh, “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Wordlessly, he plucked one of the lilies from the vase, approaching Katsuki. The blonde’s eyes flicked to the bloody knife in Touya’s hand, and he tightened and loosened his grip on the handle in repetition self-consciously. He handed the flower, now with faint spots of blood on it, to Katsuki. He reached out to the flower, hand flinching back at the barest of touches before he pulled it back entirely, wrapping his arms around himself and looking down.

“Why?” Katsuki mumbles, “Why do you love me? How can you even tell?”

Touya shrugged, “I dunno. I’m pretty fucked up, mentally, so I’m not sure I even feel what love actually is. But to me, this comes pretty close. It’s my own twisted version, maybe, but love nonetheless. And… I know because it’s directed at every little thing you do. The facial expressions you make when studying, or listening to somebody talk, or… trying not to laugh. The faint quirk of your lips when you don’t want to admit something is funny, the pinch in your brows when you’re deep in thought.”

“It came to me when I first saw you. I thought, man, he’s pretty, and I figured that would be it, until… you spoke. Every behavior, every mannerism I noticed, all of it endeared me to you. From how you use your words to the things we have in common, it’s so damn attractive,” He chuckled to himself, “That’s pretty messed up, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be your teacher, and on the first day I fell for a student, and on the second I killed two- well, no, one- student. It’s my job to protect you, and man, I failed at that badly.”

He steeled himself, looking down at the flower that he still held out for Katsuki, “But it’s true. I love you, and… I understand if you don’t feel the same.”

There was a silence that permeated the room, only Katsuki’s breathing could be heard.

Katsuki’s thoughts were racing. My parents were right, he truly does love me. What am I supposed to say? Find out. Ask questions. He said he won’t hurt me, right? Yeah, but how can I really trust the word of a serial killer? He wouldn’t lie to me. But he’s been lying to me.

It all made his head hurt. He scrutinized the man before him. The way he held himself screamed of anxiety. He just poured himself out to him with terrifying sincerity and now he’s waiting to be stabbed through the heart (although not literally).

He didn’t let his gaze linger on the bloody knife or his blood-stained white shirt. He did, however, study the tattoos lining every inch of his skin. They weren’t all mandalas, Katsuki realized, only the ones around his face were. Had he really only ever been looking at his face? Fuck, that’s embarrassing.

There were spiderwebs, butterflies, music notes, flowers- the line of the horizon amongst a city. Odd patterns, eyes, and a faded Ouroboros circling around the number 7. What does 7 mean? Above that was 666- not as hard to discern. By his wrist- in the hand holding the knife. Oh, God, don’t look at the knife- read ‘The Past Never Dies’ and by the other, there was a cow being abducted by a flying saucer’s tractor beam. There was so much life and personality to be seen in the ink on his skin- how had he not noticed? Well, there was a lot he didn’t notice, it seemed.

“Dabi-Sensei-” He began.

“Touya,” His teacher corrected, voice awfully hoarse despite how he wasn’t the one who was crying earlier, “Please, call me Touya.”  

“... Touya. The rest of my friends… will they die? Will any more of my friends die? Will you kill them?” Katsuki did his best to control his breathing, but he could feel his grip slipping.

The man before him shook his head in silent deniance, still not meeting his gaze, “... No. No matter what, I will not kill anybody else. Not unless you ask me to.”

He mulled that over in his head, “What will you do if I reject you?” Please, let nobody else be hurt. Not even you.

Touya shrunk in on himself, as if to him that was confirmation of something inevitable, but answered anyway, “I’ll turn myself into the police. I know I’ll probably be hung for my crimes, but… it’s what you would want, right?”

No, no, no. I didn’t want any of this- why couldn’t this be peaceful? Why couldn’t I have fallen in love normally?  

Katsuki didn’t answer the question, instead delegating to ask another, “And the blood stain on the hoodie?”

That’s when he looks up, into his eyes with those gorgeous Caribbean blues, “... It’s not pig’s blood.”

And that’s all he needs to say, isn’t it? That’s all Katsuki needs to know to figure out that it’s his friend’s blood. Based on the timing? Eijiro’s blood. God, he’s been running his thumb over Eijiro’s bloodstain every day.

Touya doesn’t maintain eye contact long enough, looking down again, “I-... I’ll go, I can understand a rejection for what it is. You don’t need to say anything.”

And fuck, he sounded so dejected. As he was turning to leave, Katsuki grabbed his wrist, “Wait!”

He turned, startled by the blonde’s objection. Hell, even he was startled by what came out of his own mouth. Even more so by what he said next.

“I do love you.”

Touya’s eyes widened imperceptibly, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. He looked like he was about to say something, argue with Katsuki, question him. He didn’t let him, though. Katsuki used the other man’s surprise and the grip he had on Touya’s wrist to pull him forward, fisting another hand in his shirt- don’t look at the blood, don’t think about the blood, it’s not there- to pull him down for a languid kiss. 

He froze momentarily, the knife slipping out of his hand and clattering on the floor. When he started kissing back, he used his now free hand to weave his fingers through Katsuki’s hair, lightly tugging the blonde strands. 

Katsuki’s never kissed anybody before, but he’d like to think that he’d get it right the first time. He let go of Touya’s wrist, favoring putting his hand behind his neck to pull him closer even though he knew there wasn’t any closer they could get. Why am I doing this? What is wrong with me?!

They parted only to gasp for air, instantly pulling back together, lips moving against each other with a passion words could not describe, saying a thousand things yet nothing at all at the same time. Conveying a medley of emotions they couldn’t begin to decipher and at the same time didn’t want to.

Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they? Katsuki hoped this was the adequate response to what Touya had been silently screaming at him this whole school year. After all, all’s fair in love and war.

When they broke apart for good this time, they still held their faces close enough that their breath mingled with one another’s, and their gazes were practically connected. Touya’s eyes sparkled with lots of different things, but Katsuki would like to imagine the one he saw the most was adoration. He wondered what his own looked like.

He leaned his head down to press his forehead into Touya’s chest, letting go of his shirt but one hand still gently pressed behind his neck. Don’t look at the blood, don’t think about the blood, it’s not there. He closed his eyes, using this moment of silence to allow his thoughts to catch up to him.

There was one sentence playing on repeat.

He killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends, he killed my friends.

He killed my friends, but I love him.

At least he thinks he loves him. He can’t think of any other emotion as painfully confusing as this that isn’t the textbook definition of love. He’s not scared. Even when he was running for his life, he wasn’t scared of the risks. Touya makes him feel content. And calm. Whenever he’s been at his lowest points, Touya was a sturdy rock for him to get his bearings with. He’s never once been belittled or scolded for the explosive aspects of his personality or his behavior- even the things his parents struggle to handle. They aren’t flaws in his eyes.

And he’s choosing him, in this moment he is choosing him. Over his friends, he killed my friends, over his safety, over his parents, over all of it. He chose his comfort and his words of advice over it all. A love like this? A love that breaks the laws of the psyche and the world? There’s no going back on that, it lasts. Together they overcame life’s hurdles, the ones that sow fear; he killed my friends; and the ones of self-doubt; he killed my friends. He needs him- does he?- and he wants him.

Katsuki pulled Touya down for another chaste kiss, favoring being held close over his brain’s chastisement.

Love tasted less bitter than he thought it would, though any sweetness there is rather too faint to be sure. It’s almost like honey, overwhelming in the burn.

Maybe it was just his imagination. Like the smell of smoke and the blaring red sirens that have been following him around. Was that his imagination?  

All he had to do was ignore it and it would go away. He’d been trying to do that this whole time, though.

The only thing he needs to think about right now is that he knows what love tastes like.

It’s fruiter than he’d imagined.