Chapter Text
It first happens when Izuku is halfway through his workout.
He's currently doing a shoulder curl, seated on a bench in one of U.A.’s many gyms. He's alone, which is typically how he prefers it. And anyways, no matter how zealous of a hero course, at the end of the day they're still teens, and very few like to wake up and exercise as early as Izuku. The sun is usually only just cresting over the horizon when Izuku jogs back to the dorms to shower.
At the least, it keeps his thoughts from straying down dangerous paths.
Only a measly few months have passed since the war, so Izuku needs to make sure he keeps up with his physical therapy after the clusterfuck that was his battle with Shigaraki. That means simple workouts like this one, just to confirm his muscles and joints work as they should.
When Izuku starts to feel faint of breath, he doesn't push it. Were it last year, he wouldn't've stopped until the utmost last moment. He knows better now; knows not to push his body to exhaustion and accept its limits, especially since the war. It was taxing both mentally and physically, he needs to ease back into normalcy.
Izuku drops his arm and lets the dumbbell fall from his grip. He pants into the empty room and adjusts his compression sleeve. No issues so far.
Katsuki too is working on regaining the muscle and movement in his right arm, and from what Izuku can see, it seems to be going smoothly. The two of them do sometimes work out together, but Katsuki refuses to show weakness in front of people still (he’s working on it) so it’s not often. Izuku enjoys those days, however uncommon they are. Either way, Izuku is so proud of him, and them; the progress they’ve made.
It’s after a minute that Izuku realizes the panting hasn’t stopped.
In fact, it only gets worse, as Izuku is unable to take in full breaths without a sharp pain slamming his chest. His very lungs feel like they're being squeezed and twisted from the inside out. Wheezing, his throat tries to close around something, and soon Izuku's doubled over with a hand thumping his sternum, aggressive coughs seizing his body. He begins to panic, another hand comes up to cover his mouth— and then it stops.
Almost as soon as the fit had gripped his body, it eases away, leaving his throat aching and chest gasping in breaths. When Izuku looks down at his palm, he realizes it left him with something else.
There are small petals, five of them dotting his palm, sitting there innocently. They’re soft to the touch when Izuku shifts them with his thumb, and pale red in color. He can’t tell what flower they could be from. Izuku stares at them, face completely blank. It hits him, a few seconds later. He just coughed up petals.
It isn’t a quirk, he knows that for sure; students aren’t allowed to leave U.A., and he’s only been to class and the on-campus gym. Eyes widening, Izuku’s whirring brain slows to a stop. Shortness of breath, coughing, pain in the chest and throat, petals .
He has Hanahaki.
Surprisingly, Izuku doesn’t panic. He looks at the petals, silky soft in his palm, and wonders just who he’s in love with. He takes a few deep breaths, notes the new heaviness in his chest, and cycles through the possible people he could love.
His head feels jumbled and messy, though, scribbles in place of actual concrete thoughts. He realizes he’s making no progress like this, so he saves the introspection for later.
Instead, he pads over to his gym bag, takes large swigs of water, and prepares to head back to the dorms. He tosses the petals into the trash on his way out.
When Izuku shuffles back into the dorms, a few people are scattered about in different stages of waking up. He passes Shoto on his way to the shower, who smiles in response to Izuku’s wave. Katsuki’s back is seen cluttering about the kitchen, making something or other. He still looks sleep-rumpled, baggy sweatpants with an even baggier hoodie on top. Izuku has to pass the kitchen to get to the baths, so he greets Katsuki like he does every day.
“Good morning Kacchan!” He says, not waiting for a response that Katsuki doesn’t give him.
Luckily, Izuku doesn’t cough up any more petals while scrubbing his body down, but he guesses that’ll change soon. He’s in the early stages of Hanahaki, after all.
He re-emerges, feeling fresher and more energized, the weird weight in his chest seemingly lighter.
Katsuki flags him on his way back in, so Izuku ambles over. Katsuki says nothing, just holds out a mug of tea. Curiously, Izuku’s throat tickles at the gesture, so he clears it, accepting Katsuki’s offer. This is part of their routine as well.
“How’s’it,” Katsuki mutters, leaning on the counter across from him as Izuku takes a seat.
Izuku sips his tea and hums, warm honeyed taste chasing away any remaining ache in his throat. “Good,” Izuku replies. “No pain.” He does not mention the fact that there are flowers beginning to grow in his lungs.
Like clockwork, he watches Katsuki’s furrow smoothen out a centimeter, and Izuku smiles into his mug.
A moment of silence passes. Katsuki absently rubs at his right bicep, shifting the sleeve of his hoodie. Izuku raises inquiring brows at him. “How about you?”
Katsuki clicks his tongue, probably annoyed at being caught, but doesn’t dismiss Izuku’s question. “Fine.” Izuku sees how Katsuki doesn’t lean on his right arm, though, probably still regaining the muscle strength.
“I’m glad.” Bit by bit, they’re making progress.
This is also part of their routine: checking in, asking for progress updates. After the war, the scars they bear run much deeper than the ones on their bodies. It’s comforting, knowing that they’re physically healing, a proof of recovery. That they can move on.
Katsuki hums in agreement, and then they lapse into comfortable silence, simply taking in the sounds of the world waking up around them. Birds begin to chirp, sunlight pours in through the dorm’s large windows, and their classmates walk around like yawning zombies. A few of them acknowledge Izuku and Katsuki, the ones who can get away with it give Katsuki’s shoulder a pat.
Izuku watches as Katsuki does nothing but grumble, and feels a surge of warm pride flood his chest. When Katsuki yawns into his hand and sleepily blinks away the resulting wetness, affection and fondness soon join the embers, stoking that flame of something beneath his ribs.
That warm, airy, fluffy feeling transforms into a burning as it curdles in Izuku’s chest and crawls up his throat. It tickles, but it aches, and no matter how many times he swallows, it won’t go away. His tea is emptied by now, so nothing can chase it away. Izuku realizes he’s probably going to start coughing soon, so he hurriedly excuses himself to the bathroom, missing the glance Katsuki passes him.
When Izuku stumbles into a stall, he’s wheezing, and he can barely switch the lock before he’s coughing. And coughing. And coughing.
It’s dry, and painful, and he hunches over from the force of it. His heart thuds in his chest and soon, petals begin to work their way up, fluttering to the floor in a slow descent. Distantly, he prays nobody is in the bathroom. A minute later, all he has to show for it is six measly petals dotting the tiled floor. They’re a deeper, bright red this time. The edges of them are frayed, but they’re still soft when Izuku squats down to gather them up.
He pants, swallows audibly, and flushes the petals down the toilet.
He stays squatting on the floor for a bit, catching his breath from the second attack this morning. It’s not unbearable yet, just a few petals with no blood. The coughing is the worst, really. Minor symptoms.
Izuku thinks back on what could’ve triggered it, and the gradual realization settles like lead in his bones. It’s obvious, when he thinks about it. Of course it’s Kacchan , Izuku thinks with a rueful smile. Immediately followed by, surgery isn’t an option. He can’t confess either, there’s no way it’s requited.
Izuku will just have to… deal with it. He’ll figure it out.
As for right now, he stands and shakes himself out, splashing water on his face for good measure, and thanks whatever higher power that the bathroom had indeed been empty. He’s not sure how far an “I’m just sick” can get him in this case. As long as they don’t see the petals, it’ll be fine.
Katsuki has vacated the kitchen when Izuku returns, but his mug has been washed. Smiling to himself, Izuku heads to his room to get ready for the day. Heroes aren’t done in by a little cough, after all.
❀
Class passes mostly without incident. Izuku has to keep clearing his throat, but the pain is gone. Everytime he stares too hard at Katsuki’s head in front of him, the pressure that feels like it’s slowly crushing his lungs gets worse, so he keeps his head down and diligently takes notes.
As soon as the bell for lunch rings, Katsuki swivels around in his chair to pin Izuku with an annoyed stare. Izuku blinks, confused at what he did to incur Katsuki’s anger, since he’s pretty sure he wasn’t mumbling.
They have a one-sided staring contest, Izuku getting progressively more antsy the longer Katsuki stays silent, before the blond huffs and throws his bag over his shoulder, leaving without a word. Izuku stares after him in bewilderment, only snapping out of it when Iida and Ochako approach his desk.
He shakes his head and joins them with a smile, once again clearing his throat. He long since gave up on trying to decipher Katsuki’s antics, so he excuses it for now.
“You’ve been clearing your throat a lot today, Deku,” Ochako points out worriedly, halfway to the lunchroom. “Are you sick?”
Before Iida can begin a lecture on taking care of one’s health– Izuku can see him gearing up for it– Izuku shakes his head with a smile. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just a little bit sore.”
Iida settles with a single arm chop instead. “Are you sure, Midoriya?”
“I’m sure, Iida! Really. I’d tell you guys if I was actually sick.” It’s not a lie, entirely. He would tell them, but Hanahaki isn’t the flu or the cold. So for now, Izuku holds his tongue and tries to give his friends his most reassuring look he can. It settles them, for now, and their conversation veers to more boring topics, like the English assignment Present Mic just gave them.
Chatting back and forth with his friends like this on the way to the cafeteria, Izuku’s day almost starts to feel normal.
They continue talking all throughout waiting in line, and to their seats. Shoto is already waiting, slurping up his soba as they approach. Conversation meets a lull in favor of eagerly shoveling food into their mouths. Izuku is perfectly fine with this arrangement, happily digging into his lunch. It doesn’t matter how many times he has Lunch Rush’s katsudon, it is delicious each and every time. Shoto is sipping on a glass of water a seat down and Ochako is trying to talk around the food in her mouth, recounting her latest love drama. Izuku isn’t sure how much he can approve of her dating a villain, especially Toga, but at least she’s happy.
“It’s just- everything is so complicated with her!” Ochako complains.
Well, maybe she’s happy. Izuku can’t quite tell.
The bulging of her cheeks makes her look like a chipmunk, and the thought amuses Izuku immensely. She’s really living up to Katsuki’s nickname for her.
The unbidden thought of Katsuki re-entering Izuku’s mind makes him cough, so he decides to voice his previous thought out loud. He can’t give his friends the opportunity to become suspicious.
Grinning and swallowing a mouthful of rice, Izuku points his chopsticks at Ochako. “You’re really living up to Kacchan’s nickname for you, Uraraka.”
She nearly chokes in response, coughing through laughter as Iida slaps her back. Izuku easily joins in on the laughter, breathy and carefree. It’s astonishing to him that he can still have these moments with his friends; joking and laughing around a table, that they’re all even still alive to have them. His chest feels light, warmth spreading to the tips of his fingers. This time, it doesn’t get soured, and he almost forgets about his predicament.
Almost.
That was his first mistake; allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security.
❀
By the time heroics rolls around, Izuku is feeling properly fired up. His day is going… good, flower disease or not, and Izuku is excited to get some of this energy out doing something he loves. He wonders what Aizawa has in store for them today.
Izuku shakes his limbs out after he secures his gloves on, laughing at something Kaminari says to his left. When he turns around, he catches Katsuki’s eye. The blond quickly looks away, but Izuku manages to send a smile his way before he stomps out of the locker rooms.
Izuku talks with Iida on the way to the gym of the day, explaining the progress he’s made with his body since starting physical therapy. Iida grins and pats him firmly on the back, sending a warm flood through Izuku’s chest. He loves his friends.
“Today you will be doing quirkless sparring,” Aizawa announces when everyone enters the gym and gathers in front of him. A low hush of excitement ripples through the class.
Since the liberation war, Aizawa can’t use his quirk, but his one-eyed glare is enough to bring the room to silence once more.
Aizawa gestures a thumb to his left, where All Might has been hovering at Aizawa’s side. He has a box held between his palms, looking ridiculously small in his huge hands.
“All Might will be drawing the lots for your partners; they are completely random, and you can not request to switch. As I’m sure you know, heroes must be adaptable, able to work with any of their fellow heroes regardless of compatibility. Figure it out.”
With that, All Might takes Aizawa’s place in front of the class, and the teens’ attention is drawn with bated breath as lanky fingers reach into the opening at the top.
Of course, as fate would have it, Izuku and Katsuki get paired up. Izuku sends the other an excited grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Katsuki raises a brow at him and smirks savagely.
All Might presses his lips together. “I swear this is random.”
(The majority of the class mentally thank Aizawa for it being a no-quirks sparring exercise. The others lament the romantic tension thrumming between the rivals, exchanging weary looks with each other.)
Izuku’s chest flutters in the wake of Katsuki’s grin, and he ends up completely forgetting about the events earlier in the day, too excited and charged up for his match with Katsuki. It’s been too long.
Izuku just barely suppresses the urge to mutter about the other pairs being assigned, settling for analyzing in his head, hand tucked under his chin. Either way, soon enough the pairs are scattered around the concrete platforms prepared beforehand by Cementoss, and Izuku is stretching a handful of meters in front of Katsuki.
“Been a while since we fought with no quirks,” Izuku comments, watching Katsuki roll out his shoulders. His winter suit really does him justice in a way his original one doesn’t, sans gauntlets. But that’s probably the lovesickness talking.
Oh. Literal lovesickness.
Izuku’s mood takes a nosedive when he remembers, but he takes care not to let it show on his face, instead shifting into a fighting stance.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, flexing his fingers, “can’t wait to beat your ass.”
Izuku feels the challenge register as a simmering flame in his chest, so he shoves away unnecessary thoughts of flowers and diseases as his eyes light up.
“You can try!”
Their sparring is, as most things are with them, incredibly chaotic with probably too much yelling. They can’t help but goad each other on, stoking the fires in each other’s chest through flurries of kicks and punches and jabs. Despite what one might think, Katsuki doesn’t entirely rely on his quirk for offensive power. His bulky biceps and broad shoulders can be used for much more than softening to recoil of his quirk. The only thing he lacks, in Izuku’s opinion, is that he doesn’t excel at cheeky tricks, because he has the utmost confidence in his abilities and believes he doesn’t need to use them. Izuku, on the other hand, is always analyzing the fight and thinking of ways he can win, whatever form that may take to achieve victory. In addition, Izuku is more used to acrobatic type maneuvers, but Katsuki doesn’t have that same level of agility.
It’s intense, when they spar. Especially without quirks, when it’s just fists against fists.
It’s this fact that causes Izuku to lose himself in the movements, in the way sweat glistens on Katsuki’s neck, his flaming eyes and vicious grins and furious snarls. They’re both determined to win, even if it is just a simple sparring activity in class.
That’s something they have in common: the drive to win. It’s present in everything they do, from sparring, to fighting, to even some of their silly competitions with each other. Their rivalry isn’t enough to overshadow their friendship and neither is their friendship vice versa. Katsuki pushes him, Izuku pushes Katsuki, they drive each other be better. Izuku still hasn’t gotten used to Katsuki’s compliments or the silent way he shows he cares, though. That’s something Izuku loves about him.
Jumping out of Katsuki’s range, Izuku recenters himself, panting from exertion. His lungs constrict on the next breath, causing his heart to stutter in his chest.
One moment, Katsuki is rushing back in towards him, and the next, Izuku’s vision grays at the edges and he just barely dodges the blow from muscle memory alone. He stumbles, but tries not to let it get to him, instead shaking his head to clear out the fog and whirling around to where he assumes Katsuki is. He can’t really tell.
Suddenly, Izuku’s chest pangs, a sharp ache that starts from his heart and spreads outwards, stealing his breath. He swallows against a dry throat and vaguely makes out the silhouette of blond hair, throwing himself back into combat.
His vision clears enough to catch the weird look Katsuki is giving him. He seizes his chance, going to feint kicking Katsuki’s feet out from under him, ducking low, only to grab the back of his knee and pull in. Katsuki’s stance falters, but doesn’t fall. Izuku tightens his grip when Katsuki attempts to hop away, and uses the momentum of the jump back to his feet to grip Katsuki’s left forearm instead, zipping behind the blond. He keeps near Katsuki, left leg bracketing inside Katsuki’s own.
Predictably, Katsuki immediately goes to shake off Izuku’s grip and transfer into a headlock, but Izuku just grins. He goes to yank Katsuki’s other arm behind his back and maybe throw him into a stomach-down pin, but his grip falters as stars suddenly flood his vision. Katsuki’s elbow makes contact with his gut, hard enough to make an opening to wrench out of Izuku’s grip.
Izuku would counter-attack but, well, he can’t really breathe.
There was no way that elbow was enough to do actual damage, but it still knocked some breath out of him, which shot a jolt up to his brain, and the room came crashing back in around him. And he was left panting- no, gasping- lungs constricting tight, tight, tighter, barely able to get in more than a shallow intake of breath.
“F- uck…” he rasps, and falls to his hands and knees. He can’t even register the impact of the cement, because he’s busy clawing at the fabric over his neck and chest. He can’t get breath in , he can’t breathe he can’t—
Someone sinks down to a knee in front of Izuku, heavy hands shaking his heaving shoulders. They’re probably saying something to him, but static is slowly filling Izuku’s brain and every noise except a shrill ringing filters out. Izuku deliriously wonders if he developed asthma at seventeen years old, but then he starts coughing.
A familiar burning sensation works it’s way from Izuku’s lungs to his throat and now Izuku is panicking because he knows what this means, he knows the petals are next and he knows everyone will see them and he doesn’t want them to know —
He’s helpless to do anything against it though, so he screws his eyes shut tight and feels violent coughs seize his body, his frame wracked with shudders. When the tickling rises next, Izuku just wishes he could pass out already.
This is the most intense attack yet, and Izuku has no idea what the hell exactly triggered it this time. Didn’t he just get Hanahaki this morning? It shouldn’t be this bad already!
His coughing transforms into hacking, and he feels the petals, bigger this time, more of them, eject from his insides and splatter onto the ground beneath him. His throat burns when the coughing ceases, something beyond what a normal cough would feel like. It almost tastes metallic.
Wait. Splatter?
Izuku pries his eyes open, and sees a pile of petals, there has to be at least twenty of them, sitting in a puddle of blood. Pale and bright red mix in with the dark red pooling underneath them and it makes for a gruesome picture. It’s hard to tell, but the petals themselves are tinged with the sticky red, some nearly soaked in it.
The hands on Izuku’s shoulders leave, and without the grip holding him up, he falls limply to his side. As he inhales the sickening scent of blood-tinged floral, Izuku does nothing to fight against the inky black swallowing his vision.
❀
To Izuku’s utter expectation, he wakes up in Recovery Girl’s clinic. He can tell right away, because the pale green curtains are around his bed, and it doesn’t smell quite like a hospital does. It’s all very familiar. He winces when he swallows, feeling like his spit is made of thousands of needles.
Izuku hears muffled grumbling gradually approach the door, before it gets slammed open. Despite kind of expecting it, it still startles him, which causes a jump in his pulse. The machine hooked up to him rings it clear throughout the room. The curtain to his right is ripped open, and red eyes frantically search for his own.
“K’ch’n,” Izuku slurs, voice a whisper of its usual force.
Katsuki’s entire body sags.
“Oi, granny, he’s awake,” Katsuki says over his shoulder, and soon the privacy curtain is properly pulled open and Recovery Girl hobbles over.
“Yes, yes,” she says, checking Izuku’s vitals. Just then, Izuku hears someone— not Katsuki— sniffle and sigh.
When Izuku searches where the sound came from, he sees Ochako, and behind her is Shoto. No wonder Katsuki was grumbling on the way here. He offers them a shaky smile, confused but grateful nonetheless that they’re here. Eyes flicking between his friends in the room, his confusion compels him to speak.
“I’m—“ he winces at his voice, completely shot, but continues speaking anyways. “Why’re all ‘f y’ here? ‘M not d’ing.”
The joke doesn’t land, the room becoming uncomfortably still. Recovery Girl pulls away and sighs, stress lines carved into her frown. “Actually, you are.”
Izuku’s pulse skips a beat.
“Wh— Bu—“ he stutters, but Recovery Girl shushes him.
“I healed your throat while you were sleeping, so you just need some water for that.” She sighs, and gestures behind Izuku’s bed. “However, there’s nothing I can do about the flowers.”
Silence reigns for a few seconds, only broken up by Izuku’s intermittent heartbeat.
“I got it,” Katsuki mutters suddenly, and moves purposefully towards Izuku’s bed. Izuku briefly wonders if Katsuki’ll strangle him, but he just retrieves a paper cup halfway filled with water from over Izuku’s head, and settles heavily into a chair by the bedside. Of which Izuku actually only just now noticed. Wow his awareness is awful right now.
Izuku lifts a slightly shaking hand to take the cup from Katsuki’s grip, but the blond just makes a weird face at him, and slowly brings the cup towards him. “I don’t trust you with this,” he says, lowly, and okay now he looks angry.
Izuku balks, but Katsuki doesn’t budge. Frankly, Izuku isn’t so stubborn that he won’t drink water, so he just parts his lips and lets Katsuki do the rest. At the least, he let Izuku sit up on his own. That would’ve been a bit too humiliating for him to handle. Regardless, he’s only allowed a few sips at a time, but the cold water does wonders for his throat. Katsuki wipes a stray drop from Izuku’s chin as he pulls away, and it all suddenly feels very intimate. Izuku realizes with hot cheeks that there are still three other people in this room.
He swallows heavily, happy to find that it no longer feels like liquid fire, and tries to keep his breathing slow. It’s kind of hard when Katsuki is staring at him like that.
His throat tickles. He waits for his lungs to tighten, for the burning to start up but— it doesn’t. When he coughs, it’s light, and a singular petal flutters from his mouth onto the thin blanket covering him. He watches it descend, but averts his gaze when Katsuki plucks it between his fingertips.
Izuku’s eyes bounce around the room, eventually settling where Ochako and Shoto– were. Izuku blinks multiple times, then swivels his head around, more than a little confused. He looks at Katsuki, and something in his voice is tinged with sadness. “Am I hallucinating?” He asks, completely serious.
Katsuki stares at him. Izuku stares back.
“I’m not, like, dead and dreaming, am I? I swear Todoroki and Uraraka were right there.”
Katsuki snorts. “No, idiot.” He flicks the petal back at Izuku’s face, and it lands in his hair.
Recovery Girl materializes to Izuku’s left, holding a small clipboard she did not have before. She frowns at him. “You’re still disoriented?”
Izuku nods, even if the question didn’t need to be answered. Katsuki scoffs, but it sounds amused more than annoyed.
“They left after you drank the water. Said bye and everything. You seriously missed that? Dumbass.”
“Whuh?” Izuku says, intelligently. He completely missed that. It was probably because he was too busy being lost in Katsuki’s eyes, which is, frankly, horridly embarrassing.
“How… how long have I been out?” He asks, trying desperately to think about something else.
“Just a few hours,” Recovery Girl answers, calming Izuku’s uneasiness.
“Man…” He sighs, sinking further into the pillow he’s propped upon.
Recovery Girl flips between the papers clipped to her board, and clears her throat. “Right, well, I suppose you know exactly why you’re here?”
Izuku looks away, down at his fidgeting hands, then back at her. “I have Hanahaki.”
Recovery Girl nods gravely, but Izuku speaks up before she can continue. “But! I only found out this morning, the first time I had an attack. It shouldn’t have gotten that bad that quick!”
Recovery Girl pauses. “Yes, and it wouldn’t have, if it had only shown up that morning.” She levels Izuku with a serious expression that makes him want to sweat. Katsuki’s leg bounces, twice.
“The progression and severity of your symptoms suggests that this disease has been festering in your lungs for weeks now. What caused it to finally start affecting you is unknown, but the flowers are blooming at a rapid rate, and action should be taken sooner rather than later.”
She somehow makes stern eye contact with Izuku without even opening her eyes. “You are aware of your options, aren’t you?”
Izuku pulls his lip between his teeth, eyes downcast. “Yes, ma’am, but… I can’t get the surgery.” I can’t lose him.
“Don’t be so stubborn that it costs you your life,” Recovery Girl warns.
Izuku’s hand subconsciously twitches towards Katsuki’s steady presence at his side, who scoots closer towards him in response.
“Good luck trying to get that through his thick skull,” Katsuki huffs.
Recovery Girl sighs heavily. “Hanahaki is a matter of the heart; in the end, the decision is yours. Your other option is confessing your unrequited feelings and have them requited. I’m afraid there simply aren’t any other options.”
“It…“ Izuku starts, fighting every urge in his body to not look at Katsuki. “It probably isn’t requited.”
A heavy silence follows. He hears Katsuki lean back in his chair, the plastic creaking under his weight. Izuku really wonders why he’s still here.
“Well, you never know. It’s worth a try.” Recovery Girl hobbles back over to her desk, and re-emerges with a bottle of pills. “In the meantime, this will help with the pain.”
Izuku takes the small bottle and bows his head gratefully. “Can you tell what flowers they are?”
“I don’t have an X-ray quirk, boy. They’re likely too small to identify anyways. I recommend not waiting to find out.”
Izuku nods and sucks in a breath. “How long do I have?”
Recovery Girl pauses, and even Katsuki looks tense.
“Assuming the disease continues at the same rate…”
Izuku gulps.
“Two months.”