19| Remember

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❧


"See?" Midoriya hums, standing up from where he was hiding, "It always works."

You shiver at the implication he's used bombs before, but follow him anyways. The hallway is empty, the landlady retreated and the police rushed to the sound of the explosion.

Midoriya casually rips off the yellow police tape, pushing open the door to your apartment. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look around the room.

Everything is the same, although your brother's body is gone.Β 

You stumble inside, memories hitting you like a typhoon.

The day you moved in the apartment.


Hiroto laughs, tossing you a few pillows from his suitcase. His smile was wide and genuine, the happiest you had seen him in weeks. Maybe moving was the right choice, after all.Β 

"Not a bad place," he says, unpacking, "I want the couch."

"Why?" You scoff, gesturing to the bedroom.

He looks up at you, grinning with his eyes closed. "As a thank you! I don't know where I'd be right now, honestly, if it weren't for you. Mom and Dad would be proud."

You give him a fist bump. "Yeah. Yeah, they would be. We're finally moving on."

"Quite literally," Hiroto agrees, picking up a pillow, "But I just don't think . . . "

"What?" You lift a brow.

"I don't think I like this pillow very much," he says, "so you can have it."

He hits you aside the head with the pillow, laughing maniacally. You grab yours, grinning.Β 

"Oh Hiro," you tease, "you're going to pay for that."


You shake your head, not wanting to grieve in front of Midoriya. He'd probably make fun of you, so you bottle up your tears, clearing your head.Β 

You walk over to the kitchen, avoiding the living room at all costs. Tears threaten to spill when you see Hiroto's cereal on the counter, uneaten. You remember what you told him about the Deku-themed cereal.

". . .you promised you'd eat it if I bought it, Hiroto."

He did, although he spit it out after. Now he'll never get to.

You take a deep breath.

Remembering is hard.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, slightly amused and coming from the living room.

"Well, well, well," Midoriya says, holding something up, "so you didn't murder him."

You shoot up at the statement, forgetting your grief and walking over to him. He grins, turning to you and holding out his hand.

Sitting in the middle of his palm is a small, black, pill-shaped capsule.Β 

"What is it?" You say, looking at Midoriya. He tilts his head, clutching it in his hand.

"I'm not sure," he mutters, "I can't remember, but . . . but I think I've seen this before."

"What did you mean, 'you didn't murder him'?" You ask, leaning forward.

"I don't remember," he says, blinking fast, "Someone . . . someone was here."

You take a deep breath. It's a risk, but it might work. If he's seen this before, that means he probably saw it when he was a hero.

"Deku, where have you seen this before?"

His eyes snap to yours and his body tenses. He speaks, but his voice is shaky.

"He didn't pay," he mutters, "He didn't pay, so they killed him. They killed him."

"What do you mean?" You ask desperately, "who killed him? Who killed my brother?"

"Gone, gone, gone, gone. He's gone, but they're still out there."

"Who, dammit!"Β 

"The Agitator isn't alone," Deku says, looking around the room, "they'll do anything. Anything."Β 

His voice is a whisper, eyes wide and body shaking. "We are not alone here."

Deku falls to the ground, clutching his head and screaming. His body trembles and sweat soaks his clothes, and all you can do is replay his words over and over in your head.

We are not alone here.


❧


Midoriya rolls over on the bed, groaning. Once he sees you, he leans up, holding his head and taking off the rag.

"God," he sighs, "my head is on fire."

You nod. "You passed out. You were sweating a bunch, too, so I tried to cool you down"

You took his shirt off for him, and put a cool rag on his head, although you're not sure how much it helped. His shoulder is still bandaged, but they're red with blood and falling off.

"We should probably change your bandages," you tell him, grabbing the first aid kit you took from the convenience store above. Midoriya nods, turning his back to face you.

"Just do it quickly."

You nod, sitting behind him and carefully unwrapping his shoulder. You gasp when you see the wound.

It's deep, and bone is showing through his skin. The edges around the gaping hole are red and swollen.

"It's infected," you tell him, getting some antiseptic from the kit. "It must hurt like hell."

He only grunts, in what you think is agreement. Has he been in this much pain the whole time?

You clean the wound, Midoriya wincing under you. You hand him the rag to bite down on, and he takes it, whispering a silent thanks.

Once it's cleaned, you wrap the bandage around his arm, trailing to his shoulder. You wrap it a few times, satisfied with the end result.

"There we go," you hum, "do you want some painkillers? It looks like it hurts."

Midoriya doesn't answer, so you take that as a yes, grabbing him a glass of water and some pills. He takes them without a word, drinking the water with the medicine.Β 

You want to ask him. You want to know. He won't tell you, but it's worth a try.

"Who did this?" You blurt, gesturing to his wound. "Why?"

Midoriya looks down at his lap, brows furrowed. He chuckles.

"Who did this?" He looks at you, tapping his chin. "His name . . . "


" . . . was Kacchan."


❧




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