Chapter Text
Blinking my eyes into focus I tried to move, only to hiss and fall back as the dull ache that had been radiating through my side, sharpened into searing pain. Giving up on movement, I let my head rest back against the wall, looking around my dilapidated and sad room with eyes that felt like they were on fire. Thankfully, everything was as I’d left it, my bed still made with threadbare sheets, wardrobe closed, and nothing had been disturbed under my bed. Fucking good.
Just as I let myself begin to relax further, I heard unsteady footsteps begin to make their way down the hall and I tensed, ignoring the pain in my ribs and the ache in my stomach. As the footsteps grew louder, I held my breath hoping against hope that she would just keep walking and leave me alone. I didn’t have the energy. That hope swiftly died when she slammed what sounded like her foot into the base of my door, rattling the flimsy wooden barrier in its hinges and knocking against the chair I’d wedged in place.
“BRAT!” The hags slurred scream echoed around my mostly empty room and I groaned quietly, forcing myself to my feet. Mom had obviously started drinking harder stuff… again.
When I’d crept in in the morning, she’d been docile and drinking cheap beer on the sofa, but her eyes had followed me as I walked. That unsteady stare had pushed me towards my bedroom, wanting to get out of the line of fire. Not that I was fucking scared of her, she didn’t scare me… but I was still in pain from what I was sure was a broken rib from when she’d taken a frying pan to me in a rage. I didn’t want to start something when I knew damn well I probably wouldn’t be able to defend myself.
“BRAT OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” Mom yelled as she began rattling the door handle aggressively. Swearing under my breath, I rapidly limped to where I’d chucked my bag, slinging it on before I shoved ragged trainers and a thin hoodie on. Then I waited, leaning against the window.
A few more aggressive shakes and then a sudden kick, made short work of my door, sending the chair flying and revealing my mother in the doorframe. She looked haggard as per usual, bloodshot eyes and limp blonde hair, and in one of her hands she held a half empty bottle of vodka. Fucking great, now she had a weapon.
“And just where the fuck to you think you’re going, HAH?” Mom growled as she strolled into my room and I stiffened, angling myself to protect my side.
“Away from you old hag.” My words came out as a low raspy growl through gritted teeth and my mom smirked as she leant heavily against the bare dresser.
“That’s a three-storey drop from there brat, you’re gonna break your fucking neck,” Mom snarled nastily, making me grind my teeth together. I knew how far the fucking drop was, that was why I always made sure the nasty ass garbage bins were open and positioned beneath my window.
“Rather that, than another second around you. You’re drunk,” I answered plainly. If she wasn’t screaming, then I would do my damnedest to not start a fight. My words triggered a snort in my mother, but there was a flicker of something sad in her eyes that was gone before I could analyse it.
“Better to be drunk than sober for tonight… Speaking of… before you go, where’s your gear huh?” Mom asked, red eyes glinting as she eyed me. Under her careful scrutiny, I shrugged, pretending I didn’t know what she wanted. In reality I knew exactly what was about to happen.
This was an unspoken rule that had been in place for two years now. When my mom started drinking straight vodka from the bottle, I would fucking disappear. Because vodka meant her fat bastard of a pimp would be making an appearance, and I did not want to be anywhere near the flat for that. I was scarred enough. Unfortunately, after my mom had found me completely off my face on heroin one night, she’d taken my stash and tried it for herself. This now meant that when her pimp came around, she came to me to steal my fix. But I knew how to play her game, and if I could play my cards right, I could escape without a bottle to the head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I uttered, feigning shock as I let my eyes skittishly land on my desk drawer. I’d learned a long time ago, that if I didn’t want the hag to take the only thing that made my life bearable, I had to make sure she could find some in an ‘obvious’ place. The rest of my stash was hidden away in the hole in my mattress and under a loose floorboard under my bed.
After a few seconds the hag snorted, stomping over to my desk and fingering the wood suggestively with a sneer on her face.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about you ungrateful little shit. You sure you ain’t hiding anything?” She snarled. Saying nothing, I kept my mouth tightly closed, waiting for her to shrug. When she unlocked the drawer with a key hidden under a coaster I started forwards.
“No! Wait!” I called out, faking a frantic tone but Mom just smiled nastily as she pulled the drawer open and rummaged until she found the bag of brown powder with a victorious grin. Having got what she came for, she tucked it into her bra and turned to leave.
“Don’t die out there kid,” Mom said cheerfully with a nasty smirk before she strode out of my room leaving the door wide open.
Left alone in my room I felt adrenaline leave my system leaving anger in its place and I punched the wall behind me.
“FUCK YOU!” The words were a scream as they left my throat, and I heard my mom laugh from the living room.
“FUCK YOU TOO BRAT!” She then yelled but there was no heat, she was too happy with her haul for real anger.
Not wanting to spend another second in the flat in case the Fat Bastard turned up early, I checked my bag to make sure I had enough of my fix on me for one night, my keys and at least a fresh t-shirt. With my checks confirmed, I made my way to the window. Carefully I manoeuvred myself out of my window, sliding it shut behind me before I shimmied as low as I could down the drainpipe. With a quick glance down into the open garbage bin I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what I knew would be a painful drop. On the exhale, I let go, trying to angle myself to land on my right side but I was still hard pressed to fight the scream that tried to leave my mouth as I landed with a hard thud. I’d figured out a while ago that if I tried to land on my feet I would end up potentially waist deep in shit. Trying to land on my back stopped that from happening, but it knocked the wind out of me. Today, with what had to be a broken rib or two, the fall was painful, jarring and made my head spin and my empty stomach protest.
When the pain subsided, I climbed out of the bin, dusted myself off and fished my little phone out of my pocket to load my texts. A sick feeling built in my stomach as I pressed send, firing off a message to the one person who would probably get back to me, but my options were limited.
Me: Need a place for the night.
I knew that the likelihood of a ‘No’ from this person was probably going to be slim and it was a 45-minute walk across the other side of the town, so I started to walk. I moved through the dim streets with a practised ease, dodging drunken groups and shrugging my hood up on my head to avoid unwanted attention. The area I lived in was aptly described as rough. Gangs ran the streets and prostitutes were more or less on every corner. The off-licence stores selling alcohol were open all night, and if you ducked into the right alley, outside the right off-licence, it wouldn’t take much to get your hands on whatever you wanted. Weed, ecstasy, cocaine, smack, dope, whatever you wanted, you could probably get it. As I walked I felt my phone buzz and I ducked into an empty alley to open the chat from the boss.
Boss: Gonna have to work for it.
Me: Doing what?
Boss: Got a couple of guys that could go for a young blonde, you bruised?
Bile rose up my throat again and I sighed heavily, looking up at the stars as I began to psych myself up for what I’d spend the night doing. It wasn’t like I had any choice. It was still bitterly cold and even on the last day of fucking May, it felt like it was going to snow. I was outside with ratty trainers, thin jeans and a hoodie. Already I could feel the cold soaking through to my bones.
Me: My ribs are probably broken… but my face is clear.
Boss: Come by.
Having been given the go ahead, I swallowed any remaining trepidation and continued navigating the streets until I entered the seedier area of the town.
At the nondescript green door to the brothel, I knocked three times and the door slid open a crack to reveal piercing blue eyes.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t be back this week kid,” Dabi muttered as he opened the door, a strange sad twist to his mouth.
“Don’t have a fucking choice,” I growled as I stepped into building. Warmth washed over me like I’d just stepped into a hot bath and I felt my body give a grateful shiver.
“Boss says you’ve got a broken rib. Want me to look at it?” Dabi asked kindly and I shrugged despite the shiver I felt at the prospect of being touched. Given my mother’s proclivity for smacking me around and the fact I worked at a brothel some nights, I didn’t like being touched. I tolerated it at the brothel, usually because I was too high to really feel but that didn’t mean I wanted the touch.
“Not like you can do anything for a rib, but whatever… you got any food?” I asked in a sharper tone than I’d meant as I followed Dabi through the seedy bar to the back stairs.
“Yeah, I’ll feed you and get you comfortable,” Dabi said quietly, not seeming to take any offense at my tone and I hid a grateful half smile behind his back.
Upstairs in the muted hallway Dabi unlocked and pushed open what I dubbed the red room, only because everything in there was red, the carpet, the floor, the bed, the curtains, everything. The only exception to the red theme was the large mirror that spanned the wall opposite the bed that I knew was actually one way glass. Thankfully, the room was borderline hot and I threw my bag down onto the thin red sheets and drew out one of my wooden boxes holding my fix for the night. Everything else, I locked in the safe, setting the code with my body positioned in such a way that Dabi wouldn’t have been able to see it. The black-haired man was probably the only adult I could even slightly entertain the idea of trusting, but there was always a limit. I’d learned the hard way what happened if you trusted people after all.
“Get your top off and let me look at you,” Dabi ordered and I did as I was bid, placing my clothes on a chair and turning away as Dabi let out an almost inhuman growl. Warm fingers lightly danced over my left side, mapping the bruising that ran from just below my left pec, to my too sharp hip bone. “What in the fuck did she hit you with?” Dabi asked as he began gently prodding.
The sensation sent pain flaring through my body again and I bit down on my lip, hard. I’d be damned if anyone heard me cry while I was still sober enough to control myself. So, I held back my noises, even as tears pricked in my eyes until Dabi pulled his fingers away.
“F-Frying pan,” I hissed out when the pain began to fade. Anger at my stutter flooded my brain but I forced it back, breathing deeply as I tried to steady the sick feeling in my stomach.
“Fucking bitch… You’re mostly just bruised, she got a lot of the soft ribs… but that one close to your elbow might be broken… Jesus fuck… I’ll stay in the room with you tonight, make sure the bastards keep their hands to themselves… Dude… You sure you’re-.”
“I’ll freeze out there,” I quickly interrupted. I already knew what Dabi was going to say. This was one of the reasons I figured I could almost trust him. He hated the fact that I came here for a safe place to stay and he’d tried many times to convince me to leave, but in the end I stayed. Softening my tone and my face I looked at the normally aloof man who was frowning at me. “I’ll freeze. I can’t go home cause he’s there… Just… if you get me some food and give me some time to drift then I’ll be fine. I can fucking handle it,” I muttered, trying to smooth over Dabi’s concern. I didn’t need his concern… I was 17, but somewhere deep, deep, deep inside me… I appreciated it.
For a long moment, Dabi just looked at me, analysing me until he sighed heavily, nodding as he made his way out of the room. Now alone I began to strip, replacing my t-shirt to hide the bruising and wrapping my lower half in the thin sheet so I wasn’t bare-assed when Dabi came back with my food. Then I began to prep my fix, carefully pouring the powder out and heating it into a liquid. A sterile needle came next and I placed it to one side when it was complete. Just as I closed my box and locked it in the safe, Dabi re-entered the room. He held a small bowl of curly fries, somehow knowing I wouldn’t be able to manage much more than that, but he eyed the needle to my side with distaste.
Before Dabi could comment, I took the bowl and quickly scarfed down the meal of salty, soggy fries, the first thing I’d eaten since the early hours of the morning. It was only when I’d handed back the bowl and taken up my needle that Dabi made a short sound of protest.
“I thought you’d cut back on that?” He asked softly while I shifted to expose my inner thigh.
“I have,” I muttered shortly as I uncapped the needle and injected my high into my system. Needle spent, I let myself lie back on the sheets with a relieved sigh, staring up at the ceiling as my high began to take me.
X
Floaty… That was probably the only word I could use to describe how I felt. The pain in my side was gone and I was barely aware as someone, mostly likely Dabi from the leather scent, turned me onto my side. I could feel wet fingers probe me open, preparing my ass gently and I realised Dabi was prepping me, but I didn’t have it in me to care. I heard when someone knocked the door and Dabi stepped away, his gruff voice sounding out only to be followed by a greasy, reedy voice. But still, I didn’t care. I couldn’t care, I was warm, deliciously high, smack racing through my veins and blanking my brain. So, I barely felt the weight of the newcomer dip the bed and hardly registered the alcohol and sweat scent of him as he manoeuvred me onto my knees. I did, however, register the fat cock that split me open roughly. For an instant, I felt clarity. And in that clarity, I wanted to pull away, I wanted to fight and scream and kick, I wanted him off. But then the high took it all away and I let yet another faceless guy use me while I knelt there, blissed out of my mind.
X
When I woke up next, I was sober. I felt sore and tired and cold despite being covered with blankets and my ribs were on fire. My body felt jittery and somewhere I recognised that I’d be suffering from the come down for a while, but I refused to give into the addiction the way the hag had. No matter how bad the initial come down was, I would wait until the night-time for my next fix. I used mainly just to cope, and that was how I wanted it to stay.
“Yo kid, you okay?” Dabi’s voice called out and I realised that he was why I’d woken up.
“Yeah,” I croaked, shifting slightly only wince as pain lanced up my spine from my ass. “What time is it?”
“Little after 6. Do you want a lift home? You’ve got school, right?” Dabi asked as he handed me a slice of toast and some orange juice which I accepted with a growl. Technically, yes, I was in my second year of high school, although I spent more time away from school than in it.
“Yeah thanks,” I said shortly as I attempted to move again, forcing myself upright despite the pain and scarfing down the small meal quickly.
Throwing the covers off I realised I was dressed in my jeans again, but I was wearing a clean top that wasn’t mine. Glancing to Dabi the black-haired man shrugged.
“Cleaned you up afterwards, and don’t worry, the fuckers used condoms on pain of losing their dick,” Dabi cracked a wide smile at his joke, and I rolled my eyes as I tried to dissociate myself from the whole ordeal. I didn’t want to consider who they were using condoms on. “Grab your bag, let’s go,” Dabi said softly when he saw how his joke fell flat but I just nodded mutely.
Downstairs I carefully eyed the crowd that were gathered around the bar. Most of them I recognised by face but not name as I didn’t speak to them, but then Himiko, a blonde girl a year or two older than me waved. Himiko was still dressed in her school-girl outfit from the night before, her hair pulled into two messy buns and she tried to beckon me over. When I ignored her she called out.
“Katsuki-kun,” she sing-songed and I cringed. “Boss has an envelope for you,” Himiko continued a wide grin across her face, but I shook my head when I spied that it was only the usual envelope of money.
“Don’t want it,” I muttered, averting my eyes. I was not a prostitute and Boss would never be my pimp. As soon as I accepted the money, I knew that Boss would own me. Loaning my body out was just my way of paying for my room for the night. As soon as I accepted payment, despite the fact I could really do with the 10,000 yen that was always there, I’d be caught in Boss’ clutches forever. No fucking thank-you. I’d accept the smack, but not the money.
“You sure Katsuki-kun?” Himiko teased, fanning herself with the envelop and I growled, my anger snapping to the surface rapidly as I turned to face her.
“I don’t fucking want it!” I nearly shouted and Himiko gave me a slow smile as she leant into the gimp suit wearing weirdo behind her. When she next opened her mouth to speak Dabi stepped in, moving in front of me and silence fell.
“Leave the kid alone. He still has a chance,” Dabi uttered quietly and Himiko shrugged, turning back to her cocktail as I stalked for the door.
Outside I whirled on the blue-eyed man angrily, shoving all my vulnerabilities down in place of anger.
“I don’t need you to fucking protect me. I’m not fucking weak!” I snarled and Dabi rolled his eyes, well used to my temper, but that didn’t really placate me in any way.
“Kid, I’m not trying to protect you. Call me selfish, but I’m trying to do some good here and make sure you don’t end up like me,” Dabi chuckled as he gestured to himself. Rolling my eyes, I stalked away, swinging my leg over the back of Dabi’s bike and wincing as I seated myself. Dabi only shook his head as he got on and kicked it to start.
Dabi raced through the streets, still empty in the early morning, and I sleepily held on, lulled by the roar of the bike and the comforting leather scent of Dabi’s jacket. But I was jerked out of my sleepy state when he came to a sudden stop at the end of my road, straightening up in front of me with a muted curse. Peering over his shoulder, I frowned and blinked in confusion at the blue lights that flashed and lit up the whole street. Then awareness sunk in and I realised the blue lights and people in uniform were all crowded outside my apartment block. Before I’d even registered what I was doing, I was off the bike and racing down the street, the pain in my body the furthest thing in my mind as I ran.
The door to the apartment building was open, and people in uniform tried to catch me to stop me from entering, but I ignored them, ducking under outstretched arms as undiluted panic raced through my veins. Sprinting up the stairs, I was barely aware of the pain in my ribs as my breathing sped, but as I came to a stop on the floor, everything kicked into overdrive.
The people in uniform were in our apartment.
Racing past the nosy neighbours I pushed my way through the door elbowing the wide set man who was blocking the doorway only for everything to come to a sudden, screeching stop.
“M-mom?” The word was a gasp as I zeroed in on the state of the living room. The room was trashed, furniture was tipped over and the table was broken. The few things we’d had around the place had been thrown around the room ad over the back of the sofa were the clothes I remembered my mom wearing.
Then finally I saw her, lying in the middle of the mess, in a pool of her own blood, her body mostly covered with a sheet.
“Kid, you shouldn’t be here,” A voice called sounding like it was coming from far away, but I could barely hear it, I could barely even breathe.
“M-MOM…MOM…NO MOM PLEASE…MOM!” The words were a scream. A scream that ripped through my head and my ears and I couldn’t figure out how to stop. Everything was hurting, my head, my throat, my chest, but I couldn’t stop. Then I felt arms wrap around my middle and lift and my screams cut off. A yell of pain, anger and frustration left my lips and I twisted and kicked and fought until finally my fist connected with a face and I was dropped. Before they could grab me again, I scrambled across the room, ducking under people, and then sliding to a stop, kneeling next to my mom. I didn’t care that I was kneeling in the pool of cold, sticky blood, all I cared about was her.
Her red eyes, identical to my own were open and blank and staring unseeingly at a point past my shoulder. Her blonde hair was tipped with blood that was smeared down her bare neck and she was pale, so fucking pale. As if someone had cut my strings, my body slumped forwards and I collapsed onto the sheet that covered my Mom’s body, shaking and crying while my mind floated in nothingness. The clothes she had been wearing were strewn over the back of the sofa and out of nowhere, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together, and I sobbed even harder in my mom’s frigid chest.
Her pimp had lost it.
Pain and anger ripped through me like I’d never known before and fuck I’d felt pain. I’d felt pain when it was self-inflicted, a razor blade slicing into the skin of my arm when I was fourteen as I tried to drown out the noise of my mom being raped against the thin wall of my bedroom. I’d felt pain when her pimp, now murderer had smacked me around for being mouthy. Pain when my mom got lost in the bottle and she lost her temper. Pain when men at the brothel had taken my virginity as payment for my ex-boyfriend’s debt. But none of that had ever compared to this. Dabi had asked me time and time again why I stayed with my mom when I was old enough to run away but I gave him the same answer each time. When my mom wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t high, she became who she was when I’d been small. She became the person that smiled like the sun and bantered back and forth with me. She helped me with my homework and told me she wanted me to have a better life. It didn’t matter that those days were few and far between. It didn’t matter that those days became shorter and shorter until they were mere moments. Mitsuki Bakugou was my mom, my only mom and now she was gone.
Hands tried to grab me again and this time I let them pull me, until I saw the picture lying next to my mom’s hand, her fist tight around a glint of silver. Lurching away I snatched up the picture and teased the locket from her stiff hand. The picture was a simple one, one of me and my mom before my dad had kicked us out. We’d been at the park when I was five, my mom looked happy, healthy as she laughed and winced while hoisting me onto her hip and I was pulling at her hair with a half angry, half happy smile on my face. On the back of the photo, mom had etched the words ‘ Live Katsuki ’ in blood and I clutched the picture to my chest as I fisted the locket. The scratched and beaten silver locket was something my mom had worn my entire life. I don’t think it held any financial value but it held a tiny picture of my mom holding me for the first time in hospital and I was glad her pimp hadn’t taken it.
Holding those two precious things in my hand I finally allowed hands to drag me back from my mom’s body and seat me in the hallway
“Kid… what’s your name?”
“K-Kats-Katsuki,” I croaked, trying a few times to get the name out before finally being able to speak. My throat was dry and hoarse and speaking hurt, and someone pushed water towards me which I gratefully drank before looking at the floor.
“Katsuki… I’m sorry to ask you this right now, but… do you know what happened?” The male voice asked, and I clenched my eyes shut tight as another sob threatened to choke me.
“Her pimp… he…” My throat closed off suddenly as the wide red eyes of my mother flashed through my brain. Reflexively, I tightened my hand around the locket, feeling the bite of the chain digging into my skin as it imprinted itself on my palm. The officer that was nearby made a grunting sound of ascent and I heard him move away to the main room.
There was still someone nearby, I could feel their presence, feel their eyes on my form but I didn’t speak and neither did they, allowing bits of broken conversation to filter through from the living room.
“…another prostitute death…”
“…What’s happening now?”
“…guessing we won’t actually get the guy…”
“…the kid…”
“Son?” The man next to me finally spoke and I raised my head, looking up into the concerned blue eyes of the man that, by his size, was the one I had pushed past earlier. He had messy blonde hair swept off his face and two long blonde bangs hanging forwards over a kind face that was set in a frown. His whole expression reeked of pity and I hated it.
“Don’t fucking pity me,” I snarled, allowing anger to race through me and latching on to it. Anger was good. I knew how to wield anger.
“My names Yagi Toshinori… how old are you?”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“We need to know where we can put you. Do you go to school?”
“Yes.” I answered shortly, staring down at my fists as they became white knuckled on my bloodstained jeans. I didn’t like this line of inquiry. I didn’t want to go to a shitty foster home, I’d just end up on the streets again. By the looks of things, I was going to be moving into the brothel… permanently.
“Good. Good.” The man was still speaking, and I resisted rolling my eyes as I tuned back into him. “Do you have any relatives?” The question that had just left the man’s mouth was monumentally stupid and tactless and I glared at him, taking slight satisfaction as he leant back a bit, raising his hands in front of him.
“Do you think, if we had relatives, we’d be living in this shit dump surviving off a fucking pimp?” I snarled aggressively watching as Yagi grimaced and taking a sick pleasure in his discomfort.
“Okay… well do you have anywhere you can stay?” Yagi tried again and I had to give the man props for trying so I laughed as I stood up. I was so done with this conversation.
“If you can count a brothel then sure! Now fuck off!” I snarled before I stalked down the hall to my bedroom, slamming the door angrily behind me and freezing in place.
My room had been trashed, the sheets ripped off my bed and the hole cut out of my mattress was exposed. I didn’t need to go to my bed to figure that whatever had been in there would be gone by now. My desk drawers were open, and the sparse contents strewn everywhere. My wardrobe doors stood open, my few clothes in a pile on the floor. Out of nowhere, laughter bubbled up in my chest, loud and manic because this was a fucking joke. I don’t know how long I stood there laughing before the laughs turned to sobs and screams and I let myself drop onto my bare mattress. For a long minute I just screamed into the foam, hoping I could pass out.
Heavy footsteps broke into my awareness and the door burst open but I couldn’t care less when warm hands caught me. Then the scent of leather and sawdust filtered through and I realised Dabi had come to find me. For a short moment, I just let myself fall apart in the arms of the older guy, crying and screaming until I passed out.
X
It was dark when I finally blinked my eyes open. I was curled up on my bare mattress, my thin blanket thrown over me, the locket and photo next to my head. Seeing them as I came into awareness reminded me of what had happened. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of pain, bracing against it as I prepared myself to go back into the living room. I had to get ready to leave. Slowly I moved to sit up, looping the locket around my neck, but then I stiffened as I registered a few voices still in the flat. Moving gingerly, I limped to the door. The pain in my ass and ribs was coming back to bite me with a vengeance after my struggles earlier but I forced myself to move.
With the speed of an old man, I made my way back to the living area and noticed Yagi, Dabi and some guy that looked like a homeless guy who had ransacked a charity shop were sitting at the breakfast bar talking.
“Get out,” I rasped. I did not have the patience to deal with more bullshit on top of everything else, but all my rasped words achieved were three pairs of eyes turning to me. One full of concern, Dabi, one full of fucking pity, Yagi, and one that was blank, the homeless dude.
“Kats… you need to hear these guys out,” Dabi said, speaking first as he stood but I shook my head.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I said clearly this time as my eyes darted around the room. Someone had helpfully cleaned up the blood and attempted to tidy, but the bloodstain was still there on the carpet and I figured my mom had been taken to the morgue.
“Kats. I promise… We’ll all leave, just sit down and listen to these guys for 10 minutes.
“Five. Then I want to know where my mom is,” I ordered, crossing my arms over my chest as I rested against the wall. If listening would get them out of my house so I could get blissfully high on my remaining smack in my bag, that’s what I had to do.
“Deal,” Dabi said, then he turned to the homeless guy, hiding the hopeful look that flashed in his eyes. “This is Aizawa… I knew him a few years ago, but when I knew him, he wasn’t in a position to help me, but he can help you-.”
“I don’t need your fucking help-.” I started to spit but I was interrupted by a snort, and I turned to the homeless dude with anger in my eyes.
“Heroin and self-harm… maybe even find someone to fuck the pain away if you get that desperate… that’s your plan when we get out of here right?” The Homeless guy said staring straight into my eyes and I glanced at the floor flicking my eyes up to the police officer who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“What’s it to you?” I mumbled.
“And Dabi says that when you’ve needed a place to stay you allow yourself to be used,” Aizawa continued, and I grimaced trying to find an argument.
“On my terms,” I countered and Aizawa shook his head.
“I run a house outside the city for kids like you. Orphans, drug addicts, everything. It operates like a school and we put you up in dorms. Yagi is our main benefactor, hence why he’s here,” Aizawa countered loudly, and I clenched my jaw together, grinding my teeth. What in the fuck would I do at a school?
“I’m not interested."
“So does a foster home sound better? You’re too young to stay on your own, and even though you’re 18 next year, you don’t have a completed education and you don’t have a job. So basically, you’ll probably end up at the brothel and eventually you will have to take the money… I’m sure you’ve already figured that out though so is that what you want?” Aizawa deadpanned and I froze as ice flooded my veins. I’d already realised that I’d probably end up back at the brothel, but as Aizawa spoke, he painted the exact picture of where my life would go. I’d try foster homes, eventually get kicked out and end up either dead or in Boss’ clutches for the rest of my life.
“Listen kid… I think you should give it a try,” Dabi said softly, and I finally looked him dead in the eye. Those blue eyes that promised murder to those that crossed him, but were always full of an unnecessary concern and worry for me were the same as always. It was comforting to see that he regarded me just the same and I remembered all the times Dabi had tried to do something good for me, tried to push me down the right path. It had been Dabi that had bandaged up my arms when I’d cut too deep, stitching my skin back together. It had been Dabi that had fought off a guy that got too rough with me, Dabi that looked disappointed every time I turned up at the door to the brothel. The older guy had been the only one to make sure I at least ate something, and so far nothing he’d ever done had been outside my best interests. And despite all that… I still refused to trust him but he kept being helpful anyway. For just a few moments, I decided to humour him.
“What… What would happen if I said yes?” I asked, flicking my eyes back to Aizawa but it was the cop, Yagi, that answered after clearing his throat awkwardly.
“If you agree, then I become your guardian as I am for the other kids that stay at the home. We transfer your grades to the home school, and you could move in tonight if you like. We have rooms available in the dorm you’ll be living in and I’ve already started the process. I will need to know everything that you currently take so we can get you clean, and you’re obligated to see a therapist once a month-.”
“Fuck no!” I snarled, interrupting Yagi but he simply took a breath and then opened his mouth to continue.
“That is your main stipulation. You’ve been through a lot of trauma for someone at 17. No one can force you to speak, but for one hour a month, you’re required to attend a session with the therapist. Some kids have to go a few times a week, I have actually decided on a lenient plan for you.” Yagi stopped speaking and I continued to look at him. It would be oh so easy to fall back on my anger, fall back on what I knew, protecting myself the best way I knew how. But, this sounded like a dream come true and that was probably the root of my scepticism. In this world, I could usually only trust myself and things were never as easy as they appeared.
As I was mulling things over I turned away, roving my eyes over the dilapidated flat that had been my home since I was seven. I had very few memories of the big house I’d lived in with my mom before my dad had fucked his secretary and kicked us both out. This run-down hovel had been where I’d scraped my knees and picked myself back up. It was where I’d thrown a blanket over my mom when she’d passed out with a bottle between her fingers. This was the place where I’d burned myself cooking packet ramen, because that’s all we had in the flat while my mom was screaming some bastards name in her bedroom. Finally, this was the place where I’d sat in a pool of my mom’s blood and clutched a photo with her final words on the back in blood.
The words ‘ Live Katsuki ’ began bouncing around in my brain and before I knew it I was facing the trio of men and nodding.
“Okay… I’ll go… Can I…Can I bring some things though?” I asked quietly. My anger had completely faded and it left my voice embarrassingly soft so I shook myself quickly, clearing my throat and looking away.
“You can bring whatever you like,” Aizawa shrugged as he yawned and then stretched. “You wanna go now or later?”
“What happens to the hag and this shit tip if I go now?” I asked brusquely, forcing my usual bite back into my tone. Out the corner of my eye I saw Dabi’s lip twitch up in some semblance of a smile, but I ignored him.
“If you want to go now Young Bakugou, then you just have to sign this.” Yagi waved a piece of professional looking paper in the air and I frowned at it, causing him to blush and stutter a bit. “Ah sorry. It states that I become your legal guardian until you’re 21 and we can work out what happens with your mom and this flat together. When I become your guardian, I become the head of your family affairs since there is no one left to deal with everything,” Yagi continued happily and I grimaced. I wasn’t ready for happy. Happy wasn’t something I did on a good day let alone after the shit show of a morning I’d had.
“Whatever. Let me go pack some shit,” I snarled, unable to keep my temper in check, but before I could get scolded for it, I span on my heel and made my way to my mom’s room.
My mom’s room was a place I avoided like the plague. I’d only ever entered her room when I was moving her to her bed when she’d gotten too high or drunk to even walk and passed out in the hallway. Entering her room usually ended with a screaming match between us so I’d learned years ago to avoid the place unless absolutely necessary. Entering the barren space now brought a sick twist to my gut as I looked around.
Like every other room in the house, her room had been ransacked. The most valuable thing my mom had owned was the locket around my neck, and that wasn’t even valuable in the monetary sense, hence why her pimp must have left it, but her room was still a mess. Her bed was a tangled mess of ripped sheets and her drawers were tipped over revealing things I wish I could burn from my memory. The doors to her wardrobe were hanging off their hinges, the few clothes she had, spilling out onto the floor, but there was only one specific thing I wanted from her room. At the bottom of the wardrobe lay a shoebox. The box was upside down, its contents scattered but I quickly gathered the pictures, certificates and drawings placing them back in the box, only to pause at a letter I’d never seen before. It was folded in half with my name on the back and a date underneath. Quickly running the numbers back, I realised that this must have been added the day after she hit me with the frying pan. For a moment I hesitated. As I stared at the letter I noticed weird dried splotches that were probably caused by tears and that cemented my next choice. Stuffing the letter into the box I turned away from the wardrobe. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to read that letter now. I would… one day… but not today.
Looking around the room I tried to see anything else that I might want to keep and finally my eyes zeroed in on something. There on the back of the door was the red scarf that had been my grandmothers and then became my mom’s. She would pull it one when she would complain about the temperature of the flat, but her cold days were also her sad days. The scarf was the only item of clothing my mom had ever looked after and before I realised what I was doing, I had the soft woollen item in my hands. As if in a trance I lifted the garment to my face and the scent that hit me almost brought me to my knees because it still smelled like her. The scarf was clean, but it still had my mom’s pomegranate and vanilla scent all over it, not a single hint of alcohol or smoke and almost without thinking, I added it to the box.
The last thing to catch my eye was the tiny bottle of perfume I’d brought my mom for Mother’s Day years ago. It was a bottle that I’d saved up for with a paper round and when I’d given it to her, she’d cried over it. The bottle had been used so sparingly that she’d made the 20 ml bottle last nearly six years. There was barely anything left now, but I added it to the box anyway then walked out of the room before my shaky composure fell apart.
Dipping into my own room one last time I grabbed my backpack and added the photo with my mom’s last words and the last of my stash from under the loose floorboard. I added all my clothes to a ripped, hold-all I’d forgotten I had and then made my way back to the living area with my head held high. There was nothing else in the entire flat that I wanted to keep, now I just wanted to leave. I would let myself get high and fall apart whenever I got to wherever I was going, but until then I couldn’t break.
Dabi was waiting for me by the door when I re-entered the living room, burned hands shoved into ripped jeans and blue eyes trained on his boots until he heard me come to a stop.
“I don’t reckon I’ll see you again kid… Actually, fuck that. Don’t let me see you again. I don’t wanna see your moody ass face darken that brothel ever again,” Dabi deadpanned and I smirked, grateful for his easy-going nature.
“Sure you ain’t gonna miss me?” I grinned.
“Miss your grumpy ass? Hell no… but… fuck it… if you want to meet for coffee, here’s my number. Real name’s Todoroki Touya by the way,” Dabi said with a slightly more subdued grin as he held out a slip of paper. The name drop was a big deal for Dabi. For as long as I’d known him he’d hidden his real identity and him trusting me with this now after everything, it was the last thing I needed to just give in and trust him… finally. Taking the note from his hand I immediately typed his number into my phone before crumpling it and chucking it at his head to break the mood.
“Maybe I’ll text… maybe I won’t,” I grinned, fighting the wave of sadness that I felt wash over me. Dabi’s smile seemed to fall a bit more and then he took a few slow strides towards me and pulled me into a tight hug.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said you have a chance kid… Do better yeah?” Dabi muttered into the top of my head and I nodded into the scent of leather and sawdust that clung to the man who had been like an older brother to me.
“I’ll try Touya,” I heard myself whisper and Dabi nodded before letting me go with a ruffle of my hair. With one last quick salute, he strode out of the flat, whistling to himself as the door clicked shut behind him.
“Anything else you wanna bring kid?” Aizawa’s voice called and I jumped, having forgotten they were even there. Turning, I flicked my eyes around the barren flat once more, unable to help the way my eyes lingered on the stained carpet before I dragged them away and shook my head, patting my bags.
“Got it all.”
“Well sign this then,” Aizawa said, holding out the paper. It felt like I wasn't all there as I walked over and picked up the pen resting on the fancy paper declaring my new guardian. With a quick glance I saw the name of school I’d be going to, some place called Yuuei, but that was all the information I was given regarding where I would be going. But, wherever I was going had to be better than where I was now.
For a second my hand hovered, sweating around the pen until I could have sworn there was a warm breeze and the sensation of small warm hand resting on the back of my neck. My mom’s laugh echoed in my ears as she cheered me on, and I closed my eyes savouring the clear memory. Swallowing my pride with a dry throat as the sound faded, I opened my eyes and signed my name.