Everybody's changing
The reunion between old schoolmates ended earlier than expected due to an urgent call that involved everyone.
All together, just like old times.
They often found themselves on missions, or simply on the streets, patrolling and making sure that crime did not take over again, as it had eight years earlier.
They were just aspiring heroes still attending their first year at Yuei, all in the same class, the famous 1A.
They had been through a lot, perhaps too much, but they had arrived intact, or almost intact, at the milestone of twenty-five years of age, during which they had grown a lot and gained a wealth of experience.
Each of them had embarked on a path and made important choices: some worked in pairs, while others preferred to opt for a solo career. Still others chose to support other heroes or insecure kids who needed guidance.
And then there were those who had fought against themselves to still be there with them.
Katsuki had chosen to be a fighter, as usual, in the role that had suited him best since he was a child and since he had discovered the Quirk that would accompany him for the rest of his life.
Explosion.
A fierce, uncontrollable, and explosive power, just like his temperament.
Who knows if Quirks reflected the character of those who possessed them?
Katsuki had always asked himself that specific question, but he could never find an answer since his memories were always the same.
He had always been that way and would probably remain so until he breathed his last breath.
In fact, he had come very close to it.
Because on that fateful day, it was his heart that exploded.
It wasn't easy to fight against a battered body whose vital source was no longer “his” for 70%.
Someone had snatched him from certain death, his condition was unequivocal after that terrible attack.
Edgeshot had played the hero, giving a large part of himself to a person he was supposed to protect as a young boy and, secondly, to safeguard the future of the new generation of rising Heroes.
Katsuki was one of those young people sent to the front line to defend their future and protect those who could not do so themselves.
But what price did he have to pay for not being strong enough?
Was the human limit, despite sacrifice, truly incapable of countering all that endless evil?
He realized once again that he wasn't ready, and in some ways he truly believed it would be the last time.
But the ninja hero gave him a second chance, and this time he did not fail: he felt unspeakable pain, spat mouthfuls of blood, and wished he were really dead.
But he did something incredible.
Something he never would have believed could give him so much energy and so much will to live, because he had become the savior of his lifelong myth.
It was the only certainty that consoled him at the end of that terrible and devastating war.
There were those who had lost everything, those who had lost something, and those who had lost their lives.
And he had lost himself for a while.
It hadn't been easy for a seventeen-year-old boy to have a rather close encounter with death.
The helplessness of being useless.
The excruciating pain in his chest.
His blurred vision.
His last memories.
His last thoughts.
The fear of never waking up again.
The doctors listing the prognoses and explaining the possible alternatives.
No, for Katsuki there were no alternatives.
He wanted and needed to be a hero.
He had the skills, and someone had placed their life and trust in him, right inside that patched-up heart that was like that of a 90-year-old with heart disease.
“It's going to be tough, Katsuki.”
Everyone kept telling him that.
Absolutely everyone.
But for that stubborn boy, perseverance was not a utopia, but a solid and tenacious constant.
Katsuki, Mina, Eijiro, Kyoka, and Denki walked peacefully through the streets of the city at night.
Izuku had just left them to meet someone he absolutely had to talk to, which worried the explosive boy, since he had to give him a ride home.
His talkativeness annoyed him, but he hoped that he had finally grasped the gist of his speech when they were in the car and about to reach the restaurant.
He knew that nerd always needed a more substantial push to wake up, otherwise he would remain at the same point for years.
“What a great evening, guys! For a moment, I felt young again!” exclaimed Mina, who was walking in front of the group with her hands clasped behind her back and a carefree air about her.
“What are you talking about, we're still young!” Eijiro corrected her, looking the others in the eye. “Isn't that right?”
“Sure, we are, but the taxman certainly isn't the same anymore!” Kyoka reflected sternly with her usual cheeky air.
“What are you all complaining about?” Denki, the life of the party, jumped up, pushing past the others to stand right in front of them with his arms spread wide. "We're young, beautiful, and— "
“And idiots. You more than anyone.”
Katsuki dampened the enthusiastic blond's enthusiasm with his usual “grace.”
“Yeah, right, you're the one who's offensive, Mr. Fifteenth Place!” he mocked him, sticking his tongue out at him. “Next time we meet, we'll need a microscope to find you in the rankings!”
He ignored his silly provocations and, with his hands hidden in the pockets of his comfortable tracksuit, walked on without even glancing at him: “You think you've impressed me with your bullshit about that fucking ranking? Tsk, I'm not what I used to be.”
“Maybe...,” muttered Eijiro, passing by him and hitting him on the shoulder with the palm of his hand, “but I smell something burning.”
“Oh yes, Kat, smoke is coming out of your right pocket!” said Mina, pointing to a small cloud of smoke coming out of the boy's side.
“Are you done pissing me off?” he railed against the others, who were already laughing hysterically.
“Months, seasons, and years will pass, but you will never change, no way!” Kyoka said through her tears, while he was already threatening to blow them up.
“Hey guys, why don't we have a drink before we leave?”
Eijiro made the suggestion, which was welcomed by everyone except one of them: “No, I said I'm getting up early tomorrow,” Katsuki reminded him again, even though he kept shifting his feet because he already wanted to be home, but Deku was driving him crazy.
“What about Izuku?” Eijiro asked.
“I'll call him now! I can't wait around for him!”
He grabbed his phone and urgently pressed the green button, waiting on the line:
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?”
“Kacchan, I'm sorry, but... I... Well...”
“SPEAK!”
“Well, I'd like to stay a little longer...”
“Oh, what the hell! Did it take that long?”
“You're right, sorry. And thanks again for the ride!”
“Tsk. Just do what you have to do, got it?”
“Y-yes, I will! Thanks!”
And Katsuki hung up on him.
“Aaah, they're staying a little longer, huh?”
The mischievous face of the pink-haired girl said it all. She immediately understood the reason for that hurried conversation.
“Shut up, gossip! - he yelled at her, finally seeing his beautiful, polished sports car in the distance - Here, I'll stop here.”
“Wow, what a hot rod! Being an asshole pays off, I guess!”
Denki sneaked around Katsuki's car, examining it from top to bottom.
"Idiot, that's called ‘saving up’! Instead of going out and acting like an idiot, spending money left and right, you stay home and buy yourself a hot rod. But yeah, you don't understand shit."
The girls also looked at it in amazement: a latest-generation supercar with an attractive design, a glossy black so bright it was blinding even in the dark; the spoiler dominating the rear to improve the aerodynamics and performance of the car itself; ergonomic black leather interior seats, comfortable and pleasant to the touch.
" It's okay that you've always been crazy, but this! WOW! Can I try it?"
Denki tried, but of course, his silly pleas fell on deaf ears: “Forget it.” The owner of the shiny car shattered his dreams, opened the door, and got in. “If you don't mind, I'm going to go. I'm a little tired.”
“Sure, don't worry about it!” Eijiro smiled, bending down a little to see his face. “I'll stay with the guys, you go get some rest, Kat!”
“Good night, Katsuki, see you next time!”
The others said goodbye too, and he waved his hand, took his leave, and roared off down the main road.
Another day had come to an end.
His right hand gripped the black leather steering wheel, which felt like velvet under his rough, damp palm, while his left elbow rested on the soft rubber of the fully lowered window.
And he drove, relaxing.
He thought.
He hadn't minded seeing them all together for one evening.
He had found them pleasant, all smiling, calm, and at ease.
Who knows what they thought of him.
For Kyoka, he was always the same, and she had no problem telling him so with her usual bluntness.
And perhaps it was the same for the others.
His head tilted slightly to the left and rested on his clenched fist as he contemplated the street lit by streetlights, the headlights of cars traveling in his direction, and the glow of the moon immersed in the dark night sky, in a sea of shining stars.
A small sigh of relief mixed with apparent joy, but still very restrained, made him lift that cheek, which for some time now was no longer alone, but showed a beautiful scar.
One of many.
One of those that, in all likelihood, hurt less.
After less than twenty minutes of walking at a fairly leisurely pace, Katsuki arrived at the building where his apartment was located.
After years of living in a miserable studio apartment on the outskirts of town, he had finally found a new home, in a good location relative to his workplace and at a bargain price.
It was sixty square meters, with a small terrace accessible from the living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom.
Small, modest, but perfectly suited to his needs, it had a functional open space with a modern kitchen overlooking the living room, his favorite place.
With a lazy gesture, he climbed the stairs, feeling very tired that day.
When he reached his front door, he put the key in the lock and immediately smelled the scent of his home and his upcoming rest.
He took off his shoes, put on his slippers, and walked down the small hallway that served as an entrance, where there was a coat rack, a shoe rack, and a small chest of drawers with the classic key holder full of loose change on top.
He arrived in the living room and noticed that the lamp next to the sofa was on.
He paused.
Then, her brown eyes peered out from behind the back of the sofa.
“Hi. I finished my shift early and thought I'd stop by to say hello.”
He had given her a copy of the keys, he thought, but she usually always warned him.
Katsuki took two steps and joined her, standing behind the sofa. “You could have told me,” he muttered, a little annoyed.
“You're right, I'm sorry.” She smiled slightly, lowering her head as if she felt guilty. “I always forget that you don't like surprises.”
“Yeah.”
The girl straightened the blanket and folded it, putting it back in its place. She got up and walked past him: “Sorry, I just wanted to see you. I'm leaving now...”
Katsuki immediately noticed her sadness in her long brown hair and gloomy gaze, as well as the corners of her mouth, now completely turned down.
She hadn't even looked him in the eye.
He took two steps after her, then held her back by her small, elusive arm: “Where are you going, Kiyo?”
“I... - but all Katsuki could see was her profile - I'm going home. Talk to you soon.”
She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he added another hand and took her trembling shoulders to hold them between his palms: “Could you look me in the face?”
At first, only one of her eyeballs was visible, and she sought contact, but then she plucked up her courage and looked at him.
Katsuki was serious, as always.
But he didn't seem angry.
“It doesn't bother me to see you here. Really,” he said as calmly as possible, rubbing her bare shoulder with his thumb.
“Really?” she asked, and her big eyes sparkled again, as they always did when he looked at her.
It had always been that way.
“Listen, I've made some nice herbal tea if you want some. One of those relaxing ones!” She immediately ran to the kitchen to get the kettle and cups.
“Ah. You think I need it, then?” he teased her as he watched her bustling about between the kitchen cabinets.
“You know it helps you sleep. It's the good kind, the kind that doesn't give you bad dreams...” She kept opening every drawer and cupboard. “But where are they?” she muttered, as she couldn't find anything.
Katsuki came up behind her: “They're here, scatterbrain. Have some yourself, you seem quite agitated tonight.” He moved her long strands of fine hair and left a small kiss on her bare shoulder.
He let her finish her chores and noticed two large red patches on her cheeks: “I'm not agitated. It's just that you were a little rude earlier!” She turned abruptly and pointed her finger at him, her lips curled in an offended pout, just like her forehead, now furrowed and full of wrinkles.
“Huh? Who entered my house without saying anything? Should I name names?” He looked down at her from his height of 182 centimeters, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised defiantly.
“You're wicked.”
She turned back to pour the hot tea into the cups, but every now and then she turned her head to see what he was doing and caught him watching her.
He often did this, without saying a word, but his expression was always calm.
Perhaps he really did enjoy her presence.
But it wasn't easy to get him to say so, and Kiyo knew that well.
She had learned it.
“Here.” She handed him the cup and scrutinized his anonymous expression once more, which perhaps concealed something positive. “How was the reunion? How thoughtful of Shoto to organize a dinner to celebrate his new achievement!”
“Yeah, it was okay...”
He blew on the hot drink without taking his eyes off her.
He knew how happy she was to see him go out and spend time with his old friends.
To live.
He needed it so badly.
“And Izuku? What did you think of him?”
“Maybe he's learned to walk on his own. It was about time, at twenty-five years old.”
Katsuki had had doubts about his career as a teacher and hero. But his enthusiasm in talking about his lessons, his students, and the path their old coordinator Aizawa had taken before him made him realize that you could be a hero on multiple fronts.
And perhaps, thanks to that last push, Izuku would finally overcome his stutter and find the courage to express his feelings out loud.
He was the only one missing, because she, from the very beginning of their journey together as companions, had already amply demonstrated her feelings.
“I'm sure it's the right path for him. He has a lot to tell and teach those who are still groping in uncertainty and fear. You should teach a few lessons too, Katsuki. You have plenty of stories to share...”
She tried to encourage him to go ahead.
To really do it.
But he was stubborn as hell: “Please don't start with this again,” he snorted, walking away to sit on the sofa.
She sighed quietly so he wouldn't hear her.
She didn't want him to perceive any negativity in her words, she just wanted to help him and be there for him.
She would have done anything to see one of his rare smiles and how he blushed when he gave her one.
She joined him, sat down next to him, and touched his knee with her hand: “Hey, don't get mad.”
“And don't insist! You're annoying when you do that!” he yelled, fidgeting and spilling a few drops of herbal tea from his cup.
But she didn't fall for it this time: she put her drink on the table and moved closer to him, who was pressed up against the corner. Her hand smoothed his battle-scarred cheek and pressed down to delight her with that crimson glow she loved so much.
Because yes.
She loved Katsuki.
But she had never had the courage to tell him openly.
She was afraid he might run away, that he might not be able to bear the weight of a feeling he had never known and probably had not yet truly experienced.
Kiyo didn't expect anything from him, didn't want him to run any marathons.
He would take things slowly, giving him his space, his time, even if it was probably biblical.
But he would wait for him as long as he allowed him to.
After all, love was also waiting and sacrifice.
“And why is it that when I insist, you get more heated?”
He rubbed his nose against her cheek, slightly prickly with blond stubble, then kissed her gently on the lips, before returning to sit demurely and sip her herbal tea.
He remained unperturbed, sprawled in his corner, staring ahead.
I wonder what he was thinking, she wondered, between sips.
“Did you take your medicine?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“How does your arm feel? Shall I massage it a little?”
She touched it with her fingertips, feeling the skin beneath her, which was sometimes sunken, rough, and seemingly lifeless.
It was painful every time to see how much cruelty his brave young body had had to endure, and the worst of it, she hadn't seen with her own eyes yet.
His chest.
But it was tangible proof that he was still there.
They hadn't yet had that kind of relationship, the intimate one, where, along with love, they also experienced the pleasures of the flesh and the spirit.
Just a few kisses, nothing more.
“No, I think it's fine.”
Katsuki clenched his fist and watched his muscular forearm swell and fill with raised veins: the result of years of blood, sweat, tears, and the return to hope after fearing the worst.
Kiyo stroked it a little more, moving higher up to that defined bicep, smooth as fine marble. A smile escaped her: “We were a great team, don't you think?”
He looked at the long, tapered fingers that were giving her pleasure and relaxation, and his eyes immediately shifted to her, who did the same at the same moment: “Yeah, a nice team up.”
Katsuki and Kiyo had met in the hospital.
After the war, Katsuki's injuries were so deep and severe that the worst was feared for his future, and the rehabilitation that followed proved to be exhausting and psychologically devastating.
Furthermore, Katsuki had refused to have his injured arm amputated because he didn't want to take any shortcuts: he was sure he would be able to return to how he was before.
They therefore proposed a longer and more tortuous path, aimed at restoring the destroyed cells and gradually bringing them back to life.
That was how he met Kiyo, a nurse who worked at the hospital thanks to her Quirk: cell regeneration.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked him, never stopping to gently caress the arm she knew so well.
“What are you thinking about now?” he muttered, frowning as he watched her nails move continuously over his skin.
“Do you remember...” she replied, throwing her head back on the back of the sofa and continuing to look at his face. “You were crazy! You yelled at me and even pushed me away with your hand!”
“I had to do it on my own. That's why I reacted like that.”
“Yes, I know. Luckily, you realized that you can't do anything on your own, right?”
That same hand moved up to his sullen, curious face, stroked it, and he tilted his head and rested it on her hand.
“And you were the one who made me understand that once and for all.”
That sentence, spoken in a very low and calm tone, melted her heart for the umpteenth time.
“Yeah. It only took me two years to get to that little bit of consciousness hidden by anger!” She tapped Katsuki's head with her finger, but she had struggled hard to win his trust.
She still remembered that face pretending to be strong.
But his eyes were too sincere to hide what he was struggling with inside, and she saw the torment and fear that clouded that brilliance she hadn't noticed yet.
Some time passed, and after several attempts and encouraging words during each weekly session aimed at bringing that poor mangled and weak limb back to life, Katsuki began to open up.
It was not an easy task: his arm felt nothing but pain, and those endless hours seemed to go on forever.
It wasn't a walk in the park for Kiyo either.
In order to use his Quirk in very complex situations, he had to consume a lot of energy, and one day, when he decided to push himself further because he had noticed small movements in his fingers, he fainted.
When he woke up, he saw her worried face and her mouth moving as she called his name, and his healthy arm pulled her close.
She smiled because she was already well aware of the emotions she felt when she was with him.
The first phase of treatment lasted two years, during which Katsuki had to go to the hospital twice a week until he finished school.
When he graduated, he was able to close his fist and move his arm slowly.
There was still a lot of work to be done.
So they moved on to the second phase, another three years with three sessions a week, in the evening, after he finished his shift at work.
He had started as Jeanist's sidekick during his “convalescence,” achieving excellent results, so much so that he even began to use his Quirk with ease.
Then came the third phase: two years, twice a week, and at the end of this last journey, his arm was as good as new.
The difficulties would remain, but he could use it as if nothing had happened, and so he had to say goodbye to Kiyo and thank her for the seven years she had taken care of him.
Considering that he would never see her again.
“Even though, once our team-up was over, you were about to leave forever...” she reminded him, and how much pain she had felt in her chest when, that evening, he had dismissed her with a curt thank you and a quick handshake.
But the handshake was the result of their work together, and it was also quite strong.
“Of course I left! What was I supposed to do, excuse me?” He raised his head abruptly from Kiyo's welcoming palm as she looked at him smiling. “But it felt strange to think I wouldn't see you anymore. But at the time, I couldn't understand what it was...”
“And now you understand a little more?” she asked, massaging his hair at the nape of his neck.
“Maybe I don't mind having a petulant woman buzzing around me.”
He teased her and got a slap on the neck, but then, when he saw the slight happiness that lit up her face, he instinctively raised his upper lip, showing some of his white, sparkling teeth.
Kiyo missed a beat and paused once again to try to imagine how beautiful that boy could still be.
But this time she couldn't resist: she gently cupped his masculine face in her hands and kissed his lips, eliciting a bewildered look, caught completely off guard.
But he didn't push her away and encouraged her, running his fingers through her long, straight hair and pulling her closer, moistening her soft lips with his.
They exchanged a few more tender moments, and then she put an end to that moment of intimacy.
“What was that?” he pressed, his eyebrow raised and his lips moist and slightly reddened.
“I have a weakness for your teeth, okay?” she muttered, now looking like a ripe tomato.
“Ah, just that...” he said, cowardly grabbing the back of her neck to bring her back to his lips, touching them twice more.
Kiyo was stunned: he had never taken that kind of initiative before; he had never done so on any of the occasions they had been alone together.
She had always been the one to make the first move: “What does this mean?” she repeated her own question, terror in her eyes and a Ferrari in place of her heart.
Katsuki looked at her with his head tilted to one side, his eyes slightly narrowed and his mouth straight, like a line. He raised his arm and placed his large palm on her cheek: “My own business,” he said. “But good things.”
How was she supposed to interpret those sparse, mellifluous, mysterious words?
In the almost a year they had been seeing each other, he had never committed to anything.
They talked a lot, confided in each other, but he never revealed anything.
Their first kiss, which they had shared in the courtyard outside the hospital when he had his monthly heart check-up, had been initiated by her.
Like all the ones that followed.
But what had changed in a single evening?
“Did you mention me to anyone?”
She couldn't understand it, so she made demands: she just wanted to understand.
“No, I didn't.”
Her hand never left his doubtful face and wanted to stay there a little longer. It felt good.
“Of course, why would you?” she laughed hysterically, trying to mask a growing pain and a gradual fear that they would never move on from this situation.
But Kiyo wanted something more; she had wanted it for so long that she had even forgotten about it. However, she was afraid he might run away.
She looked down, feeling a weight in her stomach and a desperate urge to cry.
How much longer would she have to wait?
But Katsuki promptly lifted her face with two fingers, which levered under her chin and established an unbreakable eye contact: “My name is splashed across those fucking newspapers every day, for better or worse. For once, I'd like to enjoy something beautiful in peace.”
“Explain, Katsuki. I don't understand you...”
“Kiyo, you're important to me. You're one of the most beautiful things I've learned to appreciate, along with life.”
Tears streamed down the face of the girl in love, and Katsuki found it impossible to hold back the wave of emotion: she was so beautiful and happy that he didn't want her to stop.
She threw herself around his neck and hugged him with incredible strength: “You are too, to me. You have been for so long...”
And when she lifted her head to look him in the face, he smiled at her again and brought their lips together once more.
Then he collapsed on the sofa, exhausted, and she curled up next to him. They stayed like that until Katsuki closed his eyes to rest.
Kiyo kept staring at him and caressing him while he slept, until he kissed her on the head and lay down on her chest, close to her heart.
That evening, Katsuki had given a friend a push to change his life, but he didn't realize that, unconsciously, that same encouragement was also directed at himself and his own happiness.
“Change doesn't always mean improvement, but to improve, you have to change.”
