Chapter Text
One year. Eleven months. Twenty six days. That’s only 726 days total, and if you think about it, 103 weeks and five days isn’t really that long of a time frame. Hell, Katsuki has gone through worse for longer amounts of time, he was roommates with fuckin’ Kirishima for all of college for crying out loud. What’s a measly year and 360 days? He’s Bakugou Katsuki, nothing can scare him and nothing can penetrate the thick walls of steel he has erected around his unshakable willpower- He laughs in the face of fear, obstacles are just another pebble in his path that he can overcome with a kick of his leather booted foot- Nothing can touch him and nothing can shake him. Except well, maybe fourty-eight hours of the icy chill around his restrained wrists burrowing itself like an ice cold summit at the bottom of his gut.
After two months of constant court hearings, testimonies, and convincing himself that he would come out clean with his own sheer force of will, and damn- even a prayer or two out of pure desperation- he now sat in a holding cell at a complete loss for the first time in his life. Sometime soon he would be shipped off from this temporary cell to an actual prison to serve out his sentence, and in this dingy purgatory he found himself in, coated in a yellow glow that flickered every couple damn minutes from the old fluorescent lighting overhead, all he could do is rewatch visions of the painful faces of all the people in his life before this moment in the cast shadows of the rough cement floor like cave paintings, and feel the coldness locked around his wrists enter his bloodstream and burrow itself into him.
His mother refused to look at him as they took him away. Seemingly both out of shame and to hide the tears that slipped from her eyes. His father had given him one last grip to his shoulder, accompanied by a firm and reassuring wordless look. His father was always good at that. He was both a master of always knowing just what to say- and a master of wordlessly conveying what there wasn’t the words for. Kirishima was there too as witness to his sentence. The man gave his whole heart to his testimony to testify the kind of man he believed Katsuki to be, but his face hung with such solemness that Katsuki wasn’t sure he ever saw adorn that painfully bright man's face before in all the years he had known him.
There was one person missing though and he couldn't decide if her absence from the trials was good- save her the pain- or if it was more painful for him that she wasn’t there.
The last time he saw Ochako, the woman looked at him with fear stretched out upon her pale face, drained of any rosiness he was so accustomed to. Katsuki’ s intentions that night of the crime meant nothing to the officers spilling out of their flashing cars- Katsuki’s rage of justice meant nothing to Ochako’s scream and the blood on his hands. It didnt matter if the crumpled man between his shaking and sopping fists was already a criminal- all sin is equal under the law- or at least the pointed gun of the officer- doesn’t matter if your crime is rape, the crime of being a passerby with coincidentally a pretty substantial case of temperament and a self administered justice complex, or the crime of being homeless, as was the case for the snoring old man on the opposite side of Katsuki’s current holding cell.
So here he is. Twenty-six years old and just as he was finally starting to put his life together, so close to starting his career, so close to maybe rekindling him and his ex’s relationship and maybe having a normal family after so long of split custody of their daughter- he fucked it up. All of it. He’s in debt. He lost his chance of a career. His relationship is down the drain. And worst of all, his daughter wont have a dad for the foreseeable future. Funny how almost killing a man is what it took to make him realise that yeah… he might have some- temperamental issues…
Katsuki was taken out of his trance at the sound of metal on concrete as two trays of prepackaged food were pushed into the cell by the guard.
“Eat it this time. I can't have you keeling over from starvation while I'm on the clock watching you.”
The guard huffed before the clack of his shoes retreated down the hall.
Tch. Talk about chivalry.
Katsuki made no move to get up from the cardboard thin cot for the excuse of a meal, instead leaning back against the cinderblock wall to stare into the yellow luminescent light fixture to see how long the damn thing would take to burn his eyes out while counting the seconds between the intervals of it flickering. Damn thing probably hasn’t been renovated since the 80’s. This was his favorite game to play since coming here, second only to staring at the concrete floor until he hallucinates the faces of everyone disappointed in him in the rough grey textures.
From his peripheral he saw the old man slowly get up like it slightly strained him to do so, and walked over to the trays. A crinkling of the plastic bag followed by chewing let him know the man was eating. Good. The old man could eat his ration again. God knows that he needs it more than him with the malnourishment evident on his body. Plus, Katsuki couldn't be bothered to interrupt his game of burning out his irises while counting the seconds between flickers- a new record, 207 seconds between was the longest it's gone. Impressive.
“C’mon son try to eat. I know you’ll need it.”
The old man opened the plastic wrapped sandwich for him before reaching it out to him. Katsuki couldn't actually open it for himself because his hands were still shackled- because he was “dangerous” to others or something. The old man didn't say anything about it which he's grateful for.
“I dunno who you’re talkin’ to old man.” Katsuki grumbled and opted to turn his head more towards the other direction. “S’all yours.”
An audible sigh was heard next to him as the old man pushed himself up by his knees and brought himself over to the other cot directly opposite in front of Katsuki.
“Look son. I know what you're trying do and I appreciate it. I do. But I’ve been in and out of here for years. This is not any new to me with or without your generosity. But for you… I can tell a man completely out of his depth when I see him. You’re going to need the energy during such a big transition- or else things will only get harder.”
The last words he spoke hung in the air like an omen. The old man's voice was firm yet gentle. There was a deep intelligence just in how he articulated that make Katsuki shameful to think that he wasn’t expecting it from the man. Years of experience reverberated that Katsuki would never understand from his place of privilege. This old man, in his tired confidence- or maybe resignation- had the remnants of a man once more full of life. The way his long hair frizzed out in an echo of a once full head of thick hair- sunken eyes set deep from years of carrying a bright light- Katsuki could see it. In a way this man's firm sincerity reminded him of his own father. And the lines between what he said, the words and reality he implied, resounded to Katsuki that he knew what he was talking about.
With a huff, Katsuki breached the short distance between with both arms extended together in the cold cuffs, taking the dollar store cooler quality sandwich from the man's old, sun exposed hands.
“S’not like this piece of garbage s’gonna gimme much nutrients anyways.” Katsuki grumbled with a huff, retreating back against the cinderblock and taking a bite in resignation.
The old man chuckled lightly and neither said another word over their dinner. If it could be called that anyways.
The incessant flickering of the overhead lights finally ended at lights out not too long after both men finished their rations in silence. Katsuki made himself as comfortable as he could be, given his mattress was barely excusable as cardboard, his blanket more closely resembling a limp napkin, and his feet hung over the edge, not long enough to fit his height. The old man opposite to him seemed fine enough though, probably just glad to have some sorta roof over his head and body used to unpleasant conditions. Katsuki groaned. There’s that feeling of guilt again. It pulsed in his chest and the dark silence of the cell made it unbearable to keep down.
What right does he have to complain? All he's known his whole life was privilege and anger. And where has that gotten him? In a dingy cell irritated at the old man across from him for being more used to poor sleeping conditions than he was. He brought this on himself, and this cell wasn’t even the real deal that was coming to him soon. Sure. Katsuki had a questionable childhood even amongst their comfortable class status. His mother was an angry woman who only mellowed out conveniently after the effects of said anger had already taken its toll; And in seemingly random moments of adult clarity he reasons some pressures on him as a a child were a bit severe, unaware to him in his childhood bubble of reality- But he’s a grown man now. Not a child. The fault is his to bear.
In the darkness laid out around him, he saw for the first time, the face of fear. Someone who, wasn’t all that unfamiliar if he was really honest. And to that, he laughed despite himself.
Katsuki fell asleep counting the seconds and minutes, memorizing the amount of days, weeks, hours, to his sentence, counting the equation, since it was all he could really do.
—***—
The past week was the slowest week of his entire life. The first two days was spent wallowing as the reality dawned on him like a bucket of ice water was sent pouring over his head. The third was spent in anger, cursing out every guard that walked by, janitor, and frequently the cinderblock slabs. The fourth day he got so desperate that he resorted to reasoning, propping himself against the bar like a shell of a man that he was and tried to explain himself, “See, I ain’t s‘posed to be here, I was saving that lady, okay I might have taken it too far- I see that now- but I ain’t no villain- This is all jus’ a big misunderstanding!” He was mostly ignored, probably trained to do so as well, but after a full day of his bitching and moaning, one lady on duty looked at him, briefed on his file and case no doubt, and in her eyes was all the pity in the world.
“There is nothing we can do Bakugou. I’m sorry. I’m just doing my job.”
He hated that fucking look.
He didn't want her pity or those eyes. He didn't want her looking down on him for his own goddamn life choices. He left the steel bars favoring the other side of the cell and concluding yet again, it was his own damn fault.
He didn't look towards the bars again after that.
He had grown to appreciate the presence of the old man, Yagi, he said to call him. They would end up chatting quietly after lights out and Katsuki ended up admiring the man as he told him about his life. The man was in and out of local jails for years, the city “cleaning up” mostly just an unspoken code for “criminalising the homeless” which frequently landed him into indefinite stays behind bars before being sent out, relocate, and eventually, inevitably being dragged right back wherever he went. The city would rather fund their precious criminal institutions than housing the poor- opting to “clean the city” of them instead. Katsuki honestly felt sick that he never took the time to even know this was happening to people in the first place. Yet here this old man was beside him in a cell, smiling wistfully as he told Katsuki all about his youth in underground fighter rings- the crowd chanting his name in his golden era youth. Apparently the man was a total badass, fighting for under the table cash to feed his poor family that consisted of him and his parents. All the rest to kids in those slums that needed it more than him. A living, breathing legend right there beside him in the most unlikely of places.
“You know my boy, you remind me a lot of myself when I was a young man such as you are.”
Katsuki perked up at that, wouldn’t admit it though and Yagi couldn't see him in the dark anyways.
“I was such a spitfire,” he chuckled. “Strong, bold, self assured and righteous to a fault- Thought I could fight my way out of any situation with a smile. That things would just work out exactly how I intended despite any consequences.”
A moment passes in silence and Katsuki speaks up.
“Well, what happened?”
“Life catches up to ‘ya son. Sure I wasn’t doing something bad, but it also wasn’t legal per-say. And regardless, they’ll find any reason to lock you up if you do not have the means to money to bail yourself out.”
Katsuki gulps and shifts under his sheet.
“Yeah. We’d probably have gotten along if I was alive that long ago, old man.” He says without any malice.
Yagi chuckles as if the conversation they were having was some cheery get-together over brunch and not in a cell reminiscing over irreversible past mistakes.
“Honestly Yagi, I’m at a loss. I can't jus’ go through prison, be a good boy, then leave an’ act like I learned some lesson an’ go back like nothin’ happened. Even if I do have some goddamn epiphany and somehow become a whole new man, I can't leave and have the life I had before getting here. I have a daughter- she’s eight and I doubt she even fuckin’ knew what a prison was before finding out her daddy was gone an’ being sent to one- Her mother is afraid of me, I spent six goddamn years in med school for that to get flushed down the toilet ‘cause no one will hire a doctor with a felony and now “Intermitted Explosive Disorder” tacked ont’ that. I feel like I've already made the fatal mistake that there ain’t no coming back from.”
There’s a thoughtful yet morose hum from Yagi on the cot opposite to him, and Katsuki thinks that in the dark he can see the older man pinch his temples.
“Every choice we make in life requires a leap of faith, and whether it seems inconsequential or not, we can never come back from it. Life will always push you against the path you're trying to forge, by nature. Even small things can end up biting us in the butt. The choices we make won't always have outcomes that are good, yet, we don't stop just because we’re afraid that they’re gonna turn out bad. You can't stop going because that's when the opportunity for the good things really will run out.”
“Bakugou my boy, you're a good kid. You have a heart. But you don't know what to do with all that heart, how to hold it, or how to take care of it.”
Katsuki’s chest tightened and felt like it was folding in on itself. His eyes burned staring out at the dark ceiling.
“What the hell do you know old man…” There wasn't any bite to it though. “You think you know me?”
Yagi chuckled again. Katsuki was starting to get real sick and tired of all the chuckling.
“Something like that.. But listen to me, son. You’re young. You haven’t run out yet. The system is against you and I both but when everything and everyone else gives up on you, do not give up on yourself. And when everything has given up on someone else, dont give up on them either. Don’t give up on what you have with your daughter, and dont give up on your heart, my boy.”
“Yagi, I almost killed a fucking man. This ain’t no goddamn fairy tale. The only reason i'm not here on attempted murder s’cause my “mental state clouded my awareness” and the heat of the moment catching that guy in the crime. But… if they didnt stop me…”
“Bakugou, do you regret saving that young lady?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Then you made a choice. And out of a leap of faith, for better or for worse, you sacrificed everything to do what you thought was right. I cannot deny that the world is not black and white like how it's made to seem in court of law. Nearly all evil things come from a man with enough conviction doing something he believed was good. And sometimes bad deeds truly do come from a place of good.”
“Son. You sacrificed everything, even perhaps your spot through the pearly gates so to speak, to save a woman. I’m not condoning or telling you to go to these extremes again, but to take your heart, see that it is indeed there- and perhaps one day you will learn to save, without the need to destroy.”
There was absolutely nothing Katsuki knew or was equipped with to respond to the man. How can he come back from being laid out bare?
“Yeah… maybe somethin’ like that old man.”
He turned over facing the cinder block slabs and willed himself to sleep.
—***—
The fifth day was quiet. It was like he had gone through all the stages of grief in a single week, and at this point he couldnt tell if it was exhaustion or resignation. He was getting antsy though- the waiting without the knowing was agonizing and he just wanted to rip off the allegorical bandaid. At least in the prison he’d have things to do instead of this damned sitting and waiting. It seems like to him now, Purgatory was worse than hell. But he didnt want to jinx himself.
Yagi said the wait was most likely due to over-saturation in the prisons. Over the past several years there’s only been an increase in people being admitted into the prison and they were probably keeping him until a spot opened up in a cell or some shit. Didnt make him feel any better. How long was this gonna take?
His answer came to him on the sixth day. Katsuki was up gracefully awoken during what he could only assume to be the asscrack of dawn, to a swinging of metal bars, jingling of keys, and a sardonic “Goodmorning Sunshine” before he was re-cuffed and hauled out to his new life awaiting him.
His new life for one year. Eleven months, and twenty six days…