The bathroom was small, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic and soap. Bakugou stood in front of the mirror, his hands gripping the edges of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white. His reflection stared back at him, a gaunt, hollow version of the boy he used to be. His spiky blonde hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and his crimson eyes burned with a mixture of anger and disgust.
The scars faded quick, just as Recovery Girl had said they would. The cuts and bruises that were just on his skin were now faint lines, pale prints that wouldn't ever fully disappear. Good, he thought. But also bad.
It was a reminder of his weakness. His eyes lingered on the most prominent scar, carved into his stomach the name of the maniacal girl that had spent the most time tormenting him. The name, one which he doesn't want to whisper, it was faint now.
He could still feel the cold bite of the knife, the searing pain as she carved her mark onto him. His stomach churned, and he looked away, his jaw clenched.
"Weak," he muttered under his breath, his tone was laced with venom. "you're so damn weak."
He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to wash away the memories. But they clung to him like a second skin, refusing to be scrubbed clean. He could still hear Toga's laughter, high-pitched and manic, echoing in his mind. He could still feel her hands on him, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered her twisted affections.
He shuddered, his hands trembling as he gripped the sink tighter.
A knock on the door startled him, and he straightened, his expression hardening. "What?" he snapped, his voice was sharp and defensive.
"Katsuki?" His father's voice was soft, hesitant. "Can I come in?"
Bakugou hesitated, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. He quickly pulled on a loose t-shirt, hiding the scars from view, before yanking the door open. His father stood there, his hands clasped awkwardly in front of him, his expression a mix of concern and uncertainty.
Masaru Bakugou was a quiet man, his demeanour a stark contrast to his wife's fiery temperament. He had always been the calmer, more patient parent, but his quiet presence often felt more neglectful than comforting to Bakugou.
"What do you want?" Bakugou asked, his tone clipped as he brushed past his father and headed to his room.
Masaru followed, closing the bathroom door behind him. "I just wanted to check on you." he said, his voice was gentle. "You've been in your room a lot since... since you got back. I thought that maybe you'd want to talk or something."
Bakugou sat on the edge of his bed, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm fine," he said, his voice flat. "I don't need to talk."
Masaru hesitated, his gaze flickering around the room before settling on his son. "Katsuki, I know you've been through a lot. And I know you're strong, stronger than most. But... I think you're rushing too far ahead of yourself. You need to take a step back and process everything that's happened."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened. "I don't need to process anything," he said, his voice rising. "I'm fine. I don't need you or anyone telling me what to do."
Masaru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just... I think it might help to talk to someone. A therapist, maybe. Someone who can help you work through everything."
Bakugou scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "A therapist? You think I need some quack to tell me how to feel? I don't need help. I don't need anyone."
Masaru's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Katsuki, I know you don't like to admit when you're struggling. But it's okay to ask for help. It doesn't make you weak."
Bakugou's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I'm not weak," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't need your pity or your advice. I'm fine."
Masaru hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I just... I want you to know that your mother and I are here for you. Whatever you need, we'll support you."
Bakugou's chest tightened, a flicker of something raw and painful bubbling up inside him. He pushed it down, burying it beneath layers of anger and pride. "I don't need your support," he said, his voice cold. "I don't need anything from you."
Masaru flinched, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Katsuki, I know I haven't always been the best father. I know I've let you down in a lot of ways. But I'm trying. I just want to help you."
Bakugou's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and something else, something he couldn't quite name. "You can't help me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No one can."
The room fell silent, the weight of Bakugou's words hanging heavy in the air. Masaru looked at his son, his expression filled with a mixture of sadness and regret. "Katsuki... I," he hesitated, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.
Bakugou looked away, his gaze fixed on the wall. He doesn't like to look at people pitying him. He didn't want to hear concerned voices. He just wanted to be left alone.
Masaru sighed, his shoulders slumping as he turned to leave. "I'll let you rest," he said quietly. "But if you need anything... just let me know."
Bakugou didn't respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the wall. He heard the door close softly behind him, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands were trembling, his chest tight with a mix of anger and... he didn't know.
He stood abruptly, pacing the room as his mind raced. His father's words echoed in his head, fueling the fire of his rage. "Weak," he muttered under his breath, his hands clenching into fists. "You're so damn weak."
He stopped in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with hollow eyes. He hates how he let so much bad happen to him. For not being able to fight back. He hated Toga, for marking him, for taking away his control. He hated the League for kidnapping him, for making him powerless. He hated the heroes for not saving him sooner. He hated everything.
His chest heaved as his rage boiled over, his hands trembling at his sides. He wanted to scream, to destroy something, to make someone pay. But there was no one there to take his anger out on, no one but himself.
"I'm not weak," he growled, his voice hit a dangerous low. "I'm not."
He sank into the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as the weight of everything crashed down on him. He felt claustrophobic, trapped in his own mind, in his own body.
Another knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he straightened, his expression hardening. "What now!?" he snapped.
Masaru opened the door, his expression hesitant. "I forgot to mention something," he said quietly. "We got an email from your principal. UA is being rebuilt, but they've given parents the option to transfer their kids to other schools if they want. Your mother and I... we thought maybe it would be a good idea for you to go somewhere else. Somewhere safer."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists. "I'm not transferring," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not quitting."
Masaru hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor. "Katsuki, I know you're strong. I know you can handle yourself. But... after everything that's happened, we just want you to be safe."
Bakugou's chest tightened, his rage boiling over. "You think I'm some coward who runs away when things get tough. I'm gonna be the number one hero, no matter what it takes."
Masaru flinched, his expression filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Katsuki, I'm not saying you're a coward. I just don't want to see you get hurt again."
Bakugou's hands trembled at his sides, his vision blurring with rage. "I don't care what you want," he snarled, his voice shaking. "I'm not dropping out of UA. I'm not quitting. And I'm not weak."
Masaru opened his mouth to respond, but Katsuki cut him off, his voice rising to a shout. "I'm gonna be the number one hero, and I'm gonna make those bastards pay. Every single one of them. I'm gonna string them up and burn them alive. I'm gonna make them regret ever laying a hand on me."
The room fell silent, the weight of Bakugou's words hanging heavy in the air. Masaru looked at his son, his expression filled with a mixture of sadness and fear. "Katsuki..." he began, his voice trembling.
But Bakugou didn't wait for him to finish. He turned away, his hands clenched into fists as he stared at the wall. "Get out," he said. "I don't want to talk anymore."
Masaru hesitated, his gaze lingering on his son for a moment longer before he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Bakugou held his breath in and listened to his fathers heavy footsteps trail down the stairs. He counted with every breath and when he was sure that he was far enough away, he got up, walked to his door, and opened it ajar... but only slightly.
***
Minoru Mineta sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a mountain of manga volumes, snack wrappers, and a few strategically placed posters of female heroes in... lets just say, dynamic poses. His room was a shrine to his two greatest loves, laziness and the admiration of women.
The walls were plastered with posters, the shelves overflowing with figurines, and the floor was a minefield of discarded clothes and empty soda cans. It was a mess, but it his mess, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
He leaned back against his pillow, flipping through the latest volume of Crimson Heroines, his favourite manga series. The protagonist, a busty heroine with a penchant for dramatic poses, was currently in the middle of a climactic battle. Mineta sighed dreamily, his eyes glazing over as he imagined himself in the hero's place, saving the day and winning the hearts of adoring fans.
"Ah, if only real life were like this," he muttered, tossing the manga aside. "Heroines, action, and no actual danger. Perfect."
His thoughts drifted to his parents, who were downstairs probably arguing about something trivial. His mother, Yumi, was the worrier of the family, always fussing over him, always reminding him to eat his vegetables and stop ogling women. She had a sharp tongue and an even sharper glare, but her love for him was undeniable.
His father, Hiroshi, on the other hand, was the laid-back jokester of the family. He egged on his kids antics, often laughing at his son's perverted remarks and telling his mother that it was "just a phase." Mineta loved them both dearly, even if they drove him up the wall sometimes.
"Minoru!" his mother's voice called from downstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Dinner's ready! And don't even think about bringing that manga to the table!"
Mineta groaned, reluctantly dragging himself off the bed. "Coming, Mom!" he shouted back, grabbing a crumpled shirt off the floor and sniffing it experimentally. "Eh, good enough."
As he made his way downstairs, he couldn't help but smile at the familiar sounds of his parents bickering. His mother was scolding his father for something, probably forgetting to take out the trash which he tried passing on to his son walking down the stairs. His father laughed it off with his usual carefree attitude.
This was his home.
"Minoru, sit down," his mother said as he entered the kitchen, her hands on her hips. "And for heaven's sake, put on a clean shirt. You look like a hooligan."
Mineta rolled his eyes but obeyed, plopping down at the table. His father winked at him, holding up a spoon like a microphone. "So, Minoru, any new crushes at school?"
Mineta's face turned red. He was fine with his dad's jokes but sometimes when he got into the act of things he cringed a little, he was just glad he never done it outside as much.
His mother groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hiroshi, stop encouraging him. Minoru, you need to stop objectifying your classmates. It's disrespectful."
Mineta pouted, stabbing at his food with his fork. "I'm not objectifying anyone! I'm just... appreciating their beauty. There's a difference."
His father chuckled. "Always looking on the bright side."
His mother shot them both a glare. "You're both impossible."
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and the occasional scolding from his mother. Mineta loved these moments, the easy banter, the warmth of his family, the feeling of being... normal. But as the meal ended and he retreated back to his room, his thoughts turned to a decision he was going to have to make about his future.
His mom brought it up. That his principal had said the school will be rebuilt and a decision needs to be made about if they will return or not.
Mineta sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling. The question had been weighing on him for days, ever since Nezu's email had arrived. Did he want to go back to UA? His parents had made it clear they didn't want him to. His mother had cried when he came back the day of the plane attack. She begged him to quit and think of a "safer" option, like hero work was supposed to be easy.
But then again, Mineta feels that he somewhat expected it to be so. But how could he not, there hadn't been such big attacks in all his time of living, they seemed to only pop up out of nowhere.
"Minoru," his father was in the room telling him goodnight, he'd placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've been through a lot. It's okay to take a step back. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."
But Mineta wasn't so sure. He thought about his time at UA, the good, the bad and the downright terrifying. He thought about the USJ attack, the Hosu Game, the plane attack... every time, he'd been scared out of his mind even if he wasn't close to danger.
He'd run, he'd hide, he'd done whatever it took to survive. And every time, he'd felt like a failure.
His classmates weren't like that, Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki, the strongest picks but still. They were everything he wasn't. Strong, brave and confident when it counted. They also just had quirks that were made for battle, bodies built for action.
They would become the kind of heroes people would look up to, the kind who saved the day without a second thought. And then there was him. Mineta Minoru, the grape-headed pervert with a quirk that was... well, lets just say it wasn't the flashiest, especially compared to the other three.
He envied them. He envied their strength, their confidence, their ability to face danger head-on. He envied the way they fit in, the way they belonged. He didn't feel like he belonged. Not really. He was the comic relief, the sidekick, the guy who made everyone laugh but never took seriously. And as much as he tried to brush it off, it hurt.
He thought about the fun times too though. The sports festival, he enjoyed that. Dorm life was fun too, the late-night study sessions, the joking around with Kaminari and Sero, the pranks they pulled on their dormmates which landed them in detention one too many times.
But then the attacks. The fear, the chaos, the feeling of being utterly powerless. He thought about Bakugou, kidnapped and tortured by the League, even though they got confirmation that he was back now, alive and well, it still happened, a villain group nabbed a hero student right from under them.
"Why did I want to be a hero?" he muttered, staring at his hands. "Was it just for the attention? For the girls? Or was it something more?"
He didn't know. He'd never really thought on it before. Being a hero just seemed fun, fantastical, a way to get famous, to be someone important. But now, faced with the reality of it, he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't like Midoriya, who just wanted to save people and make them smile, or Uraraka, who wanted to earn money and help her family, his family was fine and relatively well-off.
He wasn't like Bakugou who had an endless drive to be number 1 in everything he done. Or Todoroki and Iida, who both wanted to prove something to themselves and their families. He was just... Mineta. And he didn't know if that was enough.
The next morning, Mineta found himself standing in the kitchen, his parents sitting at the table, their expressions a mix of concern and anticipation. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Mom, Dad," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I've made my decision."
His mother's eyes filled with tears, and she reached out to take his hand. "Minoru..."
His father nodded, his expression serious. "We're listening, son."
Mineta took another deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. "I... I don't think I'm cut out to be a hero. I'm not strong like the others. I'm not brave. I'm just... me. And I don't think that's enough."
His mother's tears spilled over, and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh Minoru, you're more than enough. You're my son, and I'm so proud of you."
His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his soft voice carried through. "You're brave in your own way, Minoru. It takes courage to admit when something isn't right for you. And no matter what you choose, we'll always be here for you."
Mineta felt a lump in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. "I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice was breaking.
His mother hugged him tighter, her tears soaking into his shirt. "You don't have to be sorry, Minoru. You've done more than enough. We just want you to be safe."
Safety, with his mother and father. He didn't know what his future would be anymore, he was lucky just to get into UA in the first place. His heart was heavy but his mind was clear.
He will be fine, this is just a minor setback in life, he'll continue to move forward.