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Aizawa-sensei, the calculating bastard, didn’t tell Katsuki who was up the mountain until he was already at the base of it. If he’d still been in the chopper, he would have yelled or maybe punched a wall—at the very least let off a few pops of his quirk into his balled-up fists. But that wasn’t an option out here. For one, there was at least one very determined news reporter there with the camera, gawping from behind the police line. Where there was one reporter, there was more. Like fleas, he thought sourly.
Worse, even from the ranger station—now turned into an emergency triage point—the snow was heavy on the ground. Katsuki wouldn’t have let off a blast anywhere near it because of the off change it might cause an avalanche even here below the treeline—which was the whole reason he was there in the first place.
Those details, at least, Aizawa had seen fit to tell him on the way there.
What it boiled down to was that a bunch of idiot tourists had gone skiing in the back country. There’d been a decent snowfall overnight, and even now in the mid-morning the ground looked mostly smooth when Katsuki looked up through the trees. But the peaceful white was deceiving.
Any decent avalanche safety instructor would tell you that wind and snow could form slabs in the snow pack, and the passage of a skier—or an explosion—could send it sliding down. Any decent back country skier knew the risks—and knew that a real ski resort would shoot rounds or drop charges to clear the slopes before they let anyone head down. And then they’d go skiing anyway, the fucking morons, and someone would end up dead.
Eight people caught in an avalanche, Aizawa had told him, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the blades.
It was only after the helicopter had touched down on the pad behind the ranger station and they’d stepped out into the snow-covered landscape bustling with people and triage and mountain rescue and reporters, that Aizawa told Katsuki that a hero had already gone up after them and that seven of the people—five alive and two bodies—had already been retrieved.
Seven out of eight, safely down the mountain. And then the great hero Deku had gone up after the last one, and something had gone wrong—a crackling of uncertain activity over the comms, a shout from Deku to “Hold on!” and they’d triggered another avalanche.
Who the fuck was he kidding—Deku had triggered another avalanche using his stupid quirk.
The five people who’d survived had been very lucky. Statistically, a couple of them had made it down the mountain before the collapsing crush of snow was triggered, so probably Deku had only gone up after five of them anyway. He’d probably been devastated by the bodies, Katsuki thought, and then wondered why he was even thinking about it.
“How long between collapse and retrieval?” Katsuki asked.
“The first one? About an hour,” Aizawa said.
That wasn’t too bad, in avalanche time.
The thing about getting crushed by a thousand tons of snow was that you died in one of two ways. One way was that your neck snapped and you died almost instantly, just flattened by the weight of it. That was the good way to die in an avalanche.
The bad way to die in an avalanche was the hours of slow succumbing to suffocation and cold, until you eventually accepted—or didn’t accept—that no rescue was coming. Until you died there, out of air, on the mountain, and someone retrieved you when the snowpack melted in the spring.
It didn’t really matter to Katsuki how long it had been for Deku to pull the some-fraction-of-seven out, though—the only use for the information was to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault.
That realization made Katsuki fucking furious all over again. They had stopped in front of the station with the wilderness rescue people, who were deferring to a hero, probably because it was fucking stupid to go back up the mountain after two avalanches. (Although, a morbid voice in his head reminded, it was technically safer than before the two avalanches.) They directed him to the supplies—jackets, chains and snowshoes and skis, hats and scarves and gloves.
“Why am I here?” he snarled in a low tone, still aware of the reporters although they were mostly shielded from view by the building. “If this is some fucking bullshit thing to get us to reconcile—“
“Bakugou.” Aizawa’s tone was deadly. “If you get Midoriya alive off that mountain, I will personally ensure you never have to speak to him outside a critical mission ever again if you so desire.”
Right. So not like that, then. “My quirk’s not suited for this shit,” he said.
“Name a hero who can evaporate hundreds of tons of snow into thin air without killing everything in the area and I will call them right now,” Aizawa returned. “No one’s quirk is suited.”
“Why me?”
“Do you think you can do it?”
“…” Bakugou didn’t reply for a long while, fixing his gloves instead. It was profoundly odd to be suiting up in snow gear over his hero costume. He’d already stripped off his gloves and gauntlets, his mask, leaving his pants and turtleneck and boots. He distracted himself by examining his pick of chains for walking on ice, or snow shoes, or skis.
He picked the snow shoes. Skis were faster for a rescue back, but too dangerous on the way up. And he needed to stay on top of the snow more than he was worried about traction. This was avalanche country, not a glacier. They weren’t that high up.
Snow jacket on over the top. It was thick, waterproof, rated for negative forty, and bright orange, which appealed to Katsuki’s sense of aesthetic as a bonus. The pockets zipped up and he used them to secure his phone, and his GPS transponder, and the radio.
Aizawa watched him, not pressing for an answer. Katsuki jerked the hood of the loaned parka up over his head. “Might be able to, yeah.”
“That’s why,” Aizawa said.
Katsuki nodded. “And if he’s dead up there?” he asked bluntly.
“Do what you can,” said Aizawa, equally steady.
“If I thought I couldn’t save him?” Katsuki pressed.
“Do you?” Aizawa said. “Bakugou, if you think he’s dead—or if you think going up is a suicide mission—we call this off right now.”
Katsuki chewed his lip. “I’m going up,” he said.
Aizawa looked at him. “Midoriya,” he said, “Will risk everything to save one life, no matter how slim the chance.”
“I’m not fucking Deku,” said Katsuki.
“Good,” said Aizawa. “I wouldn’t trust Midoriya with this.”
So that was the game. Aizawa wanted someone with the training for a snow rescue, but that was lots of heroes and lots of non-heroes besides. He also wanted someone who would make a tough call—who would turn back when there was no hope left.
“Why else?” Katsuki said, as he turned to head out. “Aside from the fact I’m not stupid enough to die up there.”
Aizawa followed him out into the snow. “Because you’ll do everything else,” he said.
Katsuki wanted to say fuck you but they’d come back around the front of the building and the reporter lady had a friend now, so he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “See you, sensei.”
“See you soon,” said Aizawa, and Ground Zero started up the mountain.
---
It was a long, slow climb. Katsuki only really felt the cold on his face. Every other part of him was well-shielded; even his ears were pretty warm inside the waterproof hood. Actually, he was starting to sweat beneath the coat and especially in the gloves, which was regrettable because he definitely didn’t want to set off an explosion. But he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He didn’t blow things up by accident.
(He took some slow, deep breaths to be extra careful, but really he would have been fine anyway.)
They had provided him with a satellite radio and GPS transponder and receiver. The radio would let him communicate with the base, or with Deku if he’d answer, because all the rescuers were on the same frequency. Deku wasn’t answering, of course, and after one or two tries Katsuki stopped contacting him. He felt awkward about it. Part of it was that everyone else on the frequency was hearing it—although it was standard procedure, so it made no sense to find it embarrassing. But also, it felt kind of like calling for a stupid lost dog who wasn’t coming anyway.
Stupid metaphorical dog. Stupid Deku.
The transponder sent his own location back to the ranger station, in case he was stupid enough to get lost or trigger another avalanche, which he wouldn’t be. The receiver told him Deku’s location. He would rely on it until he absolutely had to defer to sight markers, because odds were that all he would see when he got there would be another expanse of white.
If Deku was dead, Katsuki was going to kill him. A fucking avalanche. Talk about dumb ways to die.
Because Katsuki wasn’t eager to meet his end in maybe the most stupid sensationalist way ever, he was very careful once he got above the treeline. Any untrodden patch of snow—and even some not-adequately-trodden ones—was carefully broken through before he passed over it. On snowshoes, he was much safer than someone on skis—or someone jumping and using a quirk—but it was a mistake to think that he was immune to potentially bringing the mountain down on top of himself.
It won’t happen to me—that was how people died.
The way to approach anything was to take it one step at a time. Being meticulous, keeping all the right details in mind—that was important to get there safely. To not trigger an avalanche. That it kept him from worrying about what he might find was a benefit barely worth mentioning.
He had first-aid supplies, of course. Everything you were meant to have to stabilize someone who still had a shot at making it. He’d rejected the pair of skis. Getting down fast wasn’t worth the risk, and he didn’t have time to clear a real skiing path.
But he didn’t bother thinking through the steps of using them until the receiver reported that he’d reached the right location. Finally, he lifted the radio again. “Deku. Come in.”
No response.
He thumbed the button. “Ground Zero to Station. I’ve reached the coordinates. Haven’t found him yet.”
He got a staticky acknowledgement back, so at least he knew it was Deku and not his radio.
He scanned the area. Nothing stood out immediately. He began to shove his ski pole into the snow, breaking through the churned-up powder. Nothing, nothing—then a clink. He dug through it with a gloved hand and came up with the transponder, blinking. For a horrible moment he thought it was just the transponder and then he found the green fabric and threw himself into action, shoveling the snow aside, clearing it off his face, his neck, his shoulders. Green eyes fluttered open and met his, and Deku was struggling for breath, shivering violently. He was wearing a coat, too, but the hood had come off. His cheek was bruised, and he had a black eye, the edges of the purple splotch spreading up his forehead.
“Don’t move,” Katsuki snapped. He quickly reevaluated; he’d been prepared to have to clear snow out of Deku’s airways and try to revive him.
“K-Kacchan?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said. “Breath. What day is it?”
“March 12th,” Izuku said.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“I can’t tell, you’re wearing mittens,” said Izuku reasonably.
“They’re snow gloves,” Katsuki snapped, and then went for the radio. “Found Deku. He’s conscious, probably mildly concussed and don’t know what else.”
“Copy that,” and it was Aizawa this time. “Get down safely.”
“Will do,” Katsuki said.
Aizawa added, “Good job,” and then clicked off.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” Izuku said, distractedly. “How long have you been here?”
“The mountain? Like an hour.”
“Hokkaido.”
“I was in Hakodate,” he said. “Don’t move,” he snapped, when Deku tried to sit up. “You might have a broken neck.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Deku said, as though that made everything better.
“Does you face hurt?”
“No?” Deku said probingly, as though checking if it was the right answer.
“Well, it’s all fucked up, so the fact your neck doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean shit.”
Deku regarded him and then grinned. “Oh, that was clever, Kacchan.”
“You don’t call me that on missions,” Katsuki said, “So now I know you have a concussion.”
Deku frowned. “I was the only one on this mission,” he said.
“Not anymore,” Katsuki said. It was hard, but not impossible, to extract the first aid kit from his backpack without taking his gloves off. The increased dexterity wasn’t worth it—at these temperatures, it wouldn’t last long. “Hold still another second.”
Deku obediently stayed motionless while Katsuki fitted the neck brace on. He got wrigglier afterwards, but Katsuki cared less then. “Why are you here?”
“Rescuing you, idiot!”
“Oh, yeah…that’s not what I meant, though,” Deku said. He seemed about to continue, but then he blinked, and some sort of fog seemed to clear. “Ishikawa-san!”
“Who?”
“Ishikawa-san,” he said. “The last skier—I had him, and then he slipped, and I—“
“And then you used your Quirk,” Katsuki said.
“Yeah…”
“It finally became fucking automatic,” Katsuki said.
“Yeah,” Deku said. “I know it was stupid. Just. Instinct.”
“Yep,” Katsuki said.
“I caused this,” Deku said, miserably.
“Yeah, maybe,” Katsuki said. “Or maybe he stepped wrong and did it. It was fucking stupid of them to come out here. Have you even done avalanche school?” He was clearing the rest of the snow off of Deku’s body. He couldn’t tell if there was any damage under Deku’s jacket. He seemed to be moving okay, some pressure produced no expressions of pain or evidence of any damage, and there was no blood. He considered unzipping it, but it was keeping the wet snow off his torso and Deku was already shaking with cold. It would be a long way down the mountain.
“There’s—no,” Deku said, “I guess not. But there aren’t as many heroes up here…”
“There’s fucking search and rescue personnel,” Katsuki said.
“They called me,” Deku said.
“You can say no,” Katsuki said.
Deku just looked at him.
“Fucking say no!” Katsuki snapped, at a greater volume than he’d meant, because he’d gotten down to Deku’s legs and found the crooked angle of his left foot. “This is broken.”
“Oh,” Deku sat up to look, too fast for Katsuki to stop him. “I don’t feel it!”
“That’s bad,” Katsuki snapped. He had none of the knowledge to reset it; instead, he just splinted it in the position it lay in. That, he could tell that Deku felt—he went all tense and breathed a lot through his nose while Katsuki wound the bandage tightly around it.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” Deku said, when he’d finished and packed up the first aid kit, returning everything to the backpack. Katsuki glanced down; from that angle, standing over him, Deku’s hair still dusted with white powder, he looked harmless enough that Katsuki didn’t jump down his throat for the nickname even though Deku really knew better.
“Come on. Let’s get down. He wrapped Deku’s arm around his neck. “All your weight on the right foot.”
Deku obeyed; between that and Katsuki standing up, they got him vertical. As soon as they started to move, though, Katsuki saw the problem. Deku’s hopping was a lot of weight unevenly distributed. It would be easy to slip—or to break through another unstable patch of snow.
“Nevermind,” Katsuki said. “Put your other arm around my neck.”
Deku obeyed automatically—at least his hero training was good for something—but didn’t seem to process what it was for, because he let out a surprised noise when Katsuki lifted him up. “You don’t have to…”
“It’s safer,” Katsuki said, shortly. Safest would have been to put Deku on his back like a backpack, but he didn’t trust him to hold on with the broken foot.
“Call in. Tell them we’re on our way.” Katsuki nodded towards the radio on his belt.
Izuku reached down and picked it up, using it with the expert familiarity of a hero even through the gloves he had on. “On our way down the mountain.”
“Be safe, Midoriya,” Aizawa answered him.
“We will!” Izuku promised. Then they lapsed into silence. It was impossible to ignore each other, of course, but now that Izuku had gotten over the concussed babbling at him, they really didn’t have much to say to each other.
Or Katsuki didn’t have much to say to Izuku, at least. Izuku, unfortunately, seemed to have something to say to Katsuki. “Um,” he said. “Kacchan…”
“What?” Katsuki snapped.
Izuku deflated. “Nevermind…”
Katsuki almost snapped at him to just fucking spit it out, but then he decided he didn’t necessarily want to hear it and kept silent.
They continued on for a while before Izuku remembered what the pain of splinting his leg had effectively distracted him from. “Ishikawa-san!” Izuku said. “What about—“
“He’s probably dead,” Katsuki said, and instantly regretted using the world ‘probably’ because Izuku latched onto it immediately.
“He might not be,” Izuku said. He shifted around to actually look at Katsuki. His lips were tinged with blue. Katsuki picked up the pace as much as he dared. “I wasn’t.”
You’re a freak of nature, Katsuki thought, but didn’t say. Something in him wanted to pick a stupid fight even though this was—probably because this was—looking to be a serious one. “I can only carry one person.”
“Oh,” Izuku said. It bought him a few precious moments of silence as Katsuki picked his way carefully over the snow, tracing his own steps back down the mountain. It was easier and safer to take the path that he’d already cleared, although he still occasionally paused to break a threatening snow patch ahead. “You could—“
“Grow an extra set of arms?” Katsuki suggested sardonically. “Not my quirk.”
“If you weren’t carrying me—“ Izuku said.
Perhaps Katsuki also had hypothermia, or mild brain damage, or maybe Deku’s stupidity was catching. Those were the only reasonable explanations for why he snapped, instantly, “I’m not leaving you.”
That, finally, silenced Izuku. He didn’t twist back around, though; he stayed looking at Katsuki, head at an odd angle because he couldn’t turn his neck with the brace, just staring. Katsuki deliberately directed his gaze straight ahead.
“Kacchan,” Izuku finally said, as they reached the edge of a treeline. Katsuki relaxed; the dense covering of pine would break any crash of snow. Out of avalanche territory.
Perhaps it was the relief that they had made it without further incident; his answering, “Yeah?” was softer than he’d intended.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Saving me.”
“It’s literally my job.”
“Hakodate’s pretty far from here,” Izuku said.
“Well, Aizawa asked,” Katsuki said, uncomfortably. “And they didn’t tell me it was you.”
“Oh,” Izuku said. “Would you have come if you knew?”
Katsuki contemplated lying and then decided that was stupid. “Of fucking course,” he said.
“Okay,” Izuku said. He finally turned his head away, but Katsuki didn’t need to see his expression; he knew exactly what Izuku’s voice sounded like when he smiled. “Then—I’m glad it was you.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said. The triage tent and the ranger station came into view; a pair of paramedics hurried up to intercept them. “I’m the best.”
He set Deku down on the stretcher and stepped back, letting them take over. Normally being on the mountain cleared his head, and if that didn’t then the adrenaline should have, but he felt jumpier than he had before the mission.
“Ka—Ground Zero,” Deku called.
Katsuki turned back. “Yeah?” He stepped close enough that Deku could lower his voice. For all he knew, the media was still there.
“If I call you, will you pick up?” Izuku asked.
Katsuki almost said try it and see or maybe are you kidding me but eventually just said, “Yeah.”
Izuku grinned. “I’ll call you, then.” He turned his smile on the paramedics, and Katsuki used the opportunity to slip away.
---
Katsuki wasn’t the only hero on scene even after the ambulance took Deku, but Aizawa seemed to have the additional Quirk of melting into the background whenever he didn’t want to take care of something, so Katsuki ended up there for the next several hours. By then it was getting too late to get a train back to Hakodate, so he got a hotel room in town.
Katsuki would never have admitted it out loud, but the hike up the mountain in the cold and the subsequent return carrying an entire other person had been thoroughly exhausting. Even in the unfamiliar room, he fell asleep easily.
He woke to the ringing of his phone shortly before 8 AM and answered blearily. “Hah?”
“Bakugou.” Aizawa’s voice woke him up. He realized when he heard it that he’d half-expected it to be Deku. “I thought you’d want to know. They found the last skier.”
Katsuki scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe the sleep from his brain. “Yeah? It was safe?”
“It didn’t snow overnight,” Aizawa said. “Avalanche risk was lower today, so they sent a team out at sunrise. Family identified him.”
“They do an autopsy?” Katsuki asked, trying to be casual and not really succeeding.
“Yes.”
“…and?”
“Cause of death was cranial trauma. Bled out into his brain,” Aizawa said. “You couldn’t have saved him.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Okay. How’s Midoriya?”
“Ask him,” Aizawa said, and hung up.
Katsuki hissed a curse at the dead line before checking his phone. He had fourteen text message notifications. The first was from his agency, informing him that they’d booked him a flight for the afternoon. The other thirteen were from Deku.
He scrolled up to the top of them. The last one before that had been from nearly eight months earlier.
Deku (23:14)
Sorry I didn’t text you earlier! I just woke up.
Deku (23:16)
My leg’s okay! They put all my bones back where they’re supposed to be ( ´ ▽ ` ) ﾉ
Deku (23:17)
And my neck is fine! I was going to call you but my roommate is asleep.
Deku (23:23)
Oh, are you asleep? Do you still go to sleep so early?
Deku (23:24)
Goodnight, Kacchan!
“It’s not early,” Katsuki hissed, even though Deku couldn’t hear him. Annoyingly, he had even more texts after Izuku’s goodnight.
Deku (1:34)
I was asleep for so much of the day, I can’t sleep now
Deku (1:34)
I keep thinking about Ishikawa-san
Deku (1:37)
He was right there. I hate that we left him
Deku (1:38)
Not that I blame you!
Deku (1:40)
Sorry for sending all these texts while you’re sleeping
Deku (1:52)
I’ve missed talking to you
Deku (1:52)
I know this isn’t really talking
Deku (2:01)
Goodnight for real now.
Without pausing to think about it, Katsuki hit the ‘call’ button.
“Hello?” Izuku yawned into the phone.
“Deku.”
“Kacchan, it’s so early…”
“It’s morning, it’s your fault for staying up late,” Katsuki said authoritatively.
“You said you’d pick up, I didn’t think you’d call me!” Izuku sounded annoyingly delighted.
“You sent me all those stupid texts last night,” Katsuki said.
“Oh,” Izuku said. “…sorry about that. It was really good to see you yesterday. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I know you don’t…”
“About Ishikawa-san,” Katsuki cut him off. “They found his body this morning. He was already dead so it would have been a waste of time to look.”
“Oh,” Izuku said. “…really?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said.
“You’re not saying that to make me feel better?”
“I’m going to call Aizawa-sensei back and tell him you called him a liar,” Katsuki said ruthlessly.
“No! I don’t!” Izuku said. “Okay. Thanks, Kacchan.”
“Yeah.”
Izuku yawned again. “Will you come say goodbye? Before you go back to Tokyo?”
“Goodbye,” Katsuki said.
“In person,” Izuku protested. “…you don’t have to. I’d come see you but they won’t let me leave yet.”
“I thought you said your bones were back where they should be,” Katsuki said. “Unless that’s a lie.”
“They are!” Izuku said. “They’re just keeping me for observation, I swear.”
“Because you had a concussion and then surgery.”
“Only a little one,” Izuku said.
“Which?”
“Both?”
“Hah,” Katsuki said. “Maybe. If I have time.”
“Okay,” Izuku said. “Thank you for telling me about Ishikawa-san.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said. “Saved Aizawa-sensei the trouble, anyway.”
The other end of the line was quiet for a moment. “You won’t ever admit you did something for me, will you?” Izuku asked.
“I didn’t,” Katsuki said automatically.
Another silence. “Okay,” Izuku said. He sounded a little sad. “That’s okay. I’m glad you called me. And that you saved me. So, thank you for that. And if you come see me I would like that too.” There was a muffled noise and then Izuku said, “The nurse is here. I’ll see you later, maybe. If you’ll do one thing for me.” He hung up, then.
Katsuki groaned and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. He chucked the phone onto the bed beside him, but it bounced onto the floor.
He let it lie there for a full forty seconds before he got up and texted Aizawa to ask where the hospital was.