Chapter Text
Katsuki isn’t really expecting his life to change today. He’s at a small police precinct, giving his report about a case. Pretty standard stuff; boring even. Most people would think the famous hero Dynamight wouldn’t even bother with such mundane bureaucracy, but Katsuki has already accepted that as part of the job.
When he’s done, an officer calls him, asking for a favor.
“Can we come with us to check on a situation?”
“What situation?” he asks, unimpressed.
“Dead body found inside an apartment,” the officer answers seriously, piquing Katsuki’s interest. “Landlord found them, said it looks like natural causes but we need to make sure before the body can be moved to the morgue. Usually, I’d go alone, but the apartment complex in is the middle of gang territory. The police showing up there may start trouble. If you come with me, it’s probably going to be enough to ward off the crooks.”
That sounds as boring as giving his statement about petty theft, but Katsuki didn't reach Number 2 on the ranking by doing the least or leaving another law enforcement worker in need. He didn't have to think twice before accepting to go with the policeman.
They ride a police car to the outskirts of the city, an abanded industrial district, festered with gang activity. The apartment complex is pretty rundown, old and unkept. The whole neighborhood is dirty and falling apart, so Katsuki wasn’t really expecting a mansion.
However, when they opened the door to the apartment they came to see, Katsuki gags, almost throwing up. The smell is awful. The body clearly has been there for a while, a couple of weeks maybe. The stench of it is enough to make sure Katsuki didn’t take a single step inside the apartment. And that’s not the only thing stinking.
The place is a mess. Litter over every surface, everything is dirty. It’s hard to imagine a human being living there. It’s hard to imagine any creature living there. The place looks worse than any garbage dump Katsuki has ever seen.
“Yeah. I can’t see any signs of violence,” the officer says, breaking Katsuki out of his stupor.
He’s already checking on the body while Katsuki is still stunned by the door.
“I think it was natural causes, but the morgue guys will probably run some tests. There’s no mark of foul play on the body or the apartment, though.”
“No foul play?” Katsuki asks, confused. “This place is trashed!”
The officer shrugs, “Yeah, but this is normal in cases like this.”
“Like what?”
“Hikikomori. The shut-ins,” the officer explains. “The landlord said this one hasn't left the room in years. He had all his food delivered. No one came and he never left. That's why it took so long for people to realize he passed away.”
Hikikomori.
Katsuki's brain is immediately taken to the last time he heard this word.
He was having dinner with his parents some years ago. His mother was gossiping about the neighbors as usual. Katsuki wasn’t really paying much attention—not until a name had been dropped.
“I saw Inko at the grocery store,” Mitsuki had said.
“Who the fuck is that?” Katsuki had grumbled.
“Inko! Midoriya Inko! The mother of your old friend, Izuku!” Mitsuki explained, clearly bothered that Katsuki couldn’t remember who she was talking about.
“Oh yeah.”
Deku, the quirkless kid who wanted to be a hero. Katsuki always wondered what happened to him.
“She was buying so much. She said she was going to take it to Izuku. It seems he still doesn't leave his home,” Mitsuki said with a sad tone.
“That's awful to hear” Masaru agreed.
“Why the nerd doesn't leave his house?” Katsuki asked, confused.
“He became one of those shut-ins after high school,” Mitsuki answered with a heavy tone. “Inko is always worried, the poor woman. She's afraid that if she doesn't take food to him, he's going to starve to death.”
“The hell? Why the fuck does he do that?”
“Hikikomori syndrome is an awful disease,” Masaru offered with his usual understanding. “It's a mental health issue, son.”
“That's loser talk” Katsuki retorted, unbothered.
It was hard to reconcile the memories he has from Deku as a young boy at school with the idea he doesn’t leave his house even for food.
“If you're not going to be kind, then why ask? That family already went through enough without your judgment!” Mitsuki yelled at him.
Katsuki thought of yelling back, but his father was quick to change the subject, asking him about work. Then Katsuki let the issue go—maybe he shouldn’t.
From time to time, Katsuki thought about Deku and if he still was a shut-in. He never asked his mother again, though. Now his stomach twists itself in knots, wondering if the body deep down that apartment is the one of his childhood friend.
The policeman is busy on his phone, talking to the people at the morgue that will come and other bureaucracies. Katsuki can’t interrupt him right now. He needs to see for himself.
He walks slowly towards the end of the apartment. The place is small and he steps over trash the whole way there—instant ramen cups, beer cans, wrappers of all kinds, some cockroaches. Katsuki feels like he’ll throw up every second he stays there.
And yet, he can’t help taking a big breath in relief when he sees the dead man doesn't have green hair. It’s an older man, probably late forties, straight black hair. No way it’s Deku.
After seeing that, Katsuki runs out of the apartment. He couldn’t stay even one more second inside that dump, seeing and smelling the rotting corpse. In the hallway, he takes several deep breaths, trying to free his lungs from the stench. He even coughs a gag.
The officer comes to check on him.
“It's truly awful,” he says empathically. “The first time I saw a hikikomori dead, I almost passed out. It never gets easier.”
“They often die?” Katsuki asks with a shaky voice.
“Unfortunately,” he nods. “These people don't see many reasons to keep on living. Many of them just… Give up.”
The officer pats Katsuki's back in support but he doesn't feel it. No, Katsuki's mind is far away. He's making a plan to talk to his mother and Midoriya Inko. He needs to go see Deku.
***
It wasn't hard to get Inko to give Deku’s address and phone number. All Katsuki had to do was find her phone number in his mother’s phone once and give her a call. The woman seemed way too happy to have someone ask for her son at all.
I t was much harder to come up with what to say to Deku when he reached out. “Hey, just making sure you're not dead under a pile of trash” didn't feel like a good line to start.
Rationally, Katsuki knows that he has no business getting involved in Deku's life. He was an absolute nightmare to the boy when they were kids—Katsuki has to wonder if his bullying didn’t play a part in turning Deku into a shut-in. Still, there's something inside him that won't leave him alone until he checks on Deku. He needs to see with his own two eyes that the man is alive.
So, now, he finds himself facing Deku’s door without a good action plan.
Deku's place is in a cheap apartment complex, but it doesn't look as rundown as the one he went to with the police officer. Katsuki can’t help feeling some comfort in that knowledge. The downside of Deku living in a better place is that the neighbors are finding it weird to see a guy standing in front of his door for the last half an hour.
If anyone recognizes Katsuki as Dynamight on his first day off in 15 days, he's sure the media will have a field day making up theories. As an old lady checks on Katsuki through her window for the third time, he decides he can't wait around any more. He knocks on the door, hoping that this will not blow up in his face.
“Just a second!” Deku's voice sounds from inside the house. “Hi, how may I—”
It takes barely a second for Deku to recognize him, and he instantly goes silent in surprise.
“Hey Deku.”
“Kacchan?” Deku asks as if he’s not believing his eyes.
Katsuki hasn't heard this nickname in about ten years. It feels terribly nostalgic.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
Straight to the point. Deku really gives Katsuki no chance to bypass that question. Still, he tries to make some time.
“Can I come in?”
For a second, it looks like Deku will say no. He looks unsure and even glances back inside his place.
“Ah…I—...I mean— Yes, of course. Come on in,” Deku finally offers, taking a step to the side.
Katsuki releases the breath he didn't know he was holding.
“Thanks.”
Izuku’s place is just as small as expected, but it’s tidy enough. A couple of water bottles out of place, a big blanket twisted on the couch, almost dead plant on the corner and that's it. The rest seems to be in place. Cheap furniture, hero posters everywhere, a big bookshelf with books, manga, and all kinds of figurines and knick knacks. The place looked lived and cozy—something that can't be said about Katsuki's.
His own apartment is clean enough to look sterilized. And daily 12-hour shifts, seven days a week make sure the place doesn't look lived at all. Half the time he doesn't even go home to sleep, preferring to crash on the agency’s bunk beds.
“I'm sorry for the mess,” Deku says, haphazardly folding the blanket on the couch. “I wasn't expecting anyone and—well, can I offer you some tea?”
“Sounds good,” he accepts. Anything to delay the awkward conversation they have to have.
Deku’s kitchen is just a tiny wall on the other side of the living room, but he pulls out an electric kettle, and, in a couple of minutes, he has two cups of steaming tea. No one says anything as Deku works, but the silence can't last long. When Deku offers him the cup of tea, the question of “what are you doing here?” comes silently attached.
“Thank you,” he takes the cup and blows before sipping, buying time. The seconds don't offer much enlightenment, but when Katsuki opens his mouth, somehow, what to say comes easily. “I came here to apologize.”
“What?” Deku asks surprised.
“I was a shitty brat and did and said some fucked up things to you,” he states the obvious. He didn't think about apologizing as an excuse to come, but now it’s clear that’s the only thing Katsuki could say. “You didn't deserve that and I'm really sorry.”
“Oh, Kacchan… I—I'm...” Deku's eyes fill with tears but he manages to keep them at bay. “Thank you. It—It means a lot.”
“Should have done this years ago,” he grunts, ashamed. “Took longer than it should for me to get my head out of my ass and man up.”
“It's alright,” Deku gives him a gentle smile. “You're here now and that's what matters. And it was not only your fault.”
“The hell it wasn't” he grumbles.
“It truly wasn't. You weren’t the only one. Even the teachers were mean sometimes. It's just… The reality of being quirkless,” Deku says, his smile turning sad and resigned.
“Still doesn't excuse—”
“But the fact I forgive you does,” Deku interrupts him. “You don't need to carry this guilt anymore, Kacchan. It's alright, I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you years ago.”
Now, Deku's smile grows a bit.
“I've been watching you! Er—I mean, not in a creepy way! Just in a normal way! Following your career, I mean! Look I—”
Deku turns to the bookshelf and brings a little figurine of Dynamight's merch line. It’s the first one Katsuki approved to be made and it’s a limited edition one. It does weird things to Katsuki’s heart to know Deku has it.
“I bought it on preorder! And I have your hoodie as well! And some charms and—I'm very proud of the hero you became, Kacchan.”
Warmth blooms on Katsuki’s chest and he can't help offering a smile of his own.
“Always the fanboy, hm?” he teases.
“I guess?” Deku chuckles, unbothered. “I always will appreciate heroes and their work, even if my life hasn't taken me to this route.”
“And what route did it take you?” Katsuki asks before he can stop himself.
The need to know more about Deku still burns inside him. He wants to know why his parents called Deku a hikikomori, why Mrs. Midoriya worries so much.
“Ahn...” Deku fidgets with his cup and averts his eyes. “I tried going to college, but it didn't work out... Quirk assessment is a part of the selection for most universities and the others I couldn't afford...” Deku takes a deep breath as if the memory still hurts him. “Then I—I honestly don't know. You know how I always liked reading and writing and drawing… And since I had time and spent so much time online, I started drawing? Made some money creating heroes fanart, if you believe,” Deku chuckles. “Now, I have my own webcomic and some subscribers to my story.”
“Shit, that's cool,” Katsuki says honestly.
He remembers Deku was always scribbling away and drawing on notebooks. Still, it’s quite impressive he managed to make a career out of it without any formal training. It’s been years since Katsuki picked up a comic, but he has fond memories of them from his childhood.
The two men keep talking while sipping tea until the sun goes down. It's truly one of the best conversations Katsuki has had in years. Deku talks about his webcomic and Katsuku finds himself absorbed by it.
It's about a vampire girl who doesn't have a quirk because no vampire does. But she wants to go to school so she tries to pass her vampirism as a quirk. Her family is against her going to school because they're afraid she's going to get hurt and she's always having to hide things from her friends, but she has fun and falls in love.
It's a cute plot and Katsuki finds himself wanting to read it even though he can't remember the last time he read a book not related to hero work. There’s something so honest and engaging about the way Deku talks that it makes Katsuki eager to listen to him no matter the subject. Every time Deku tried to get Katsuki to talk, he managed to turn the questions back to him because Katsuki was fascinated by everything that came out of Deku’s mouth.
When Katsuki left Deku's place, he promised to text and they agreed to see each other again soon. A part of him wonders why Inko was worried at all, because Deku seems to have everything handled.