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Twisted

Chapter Text

Bakugou woke up with a series of hoarse pants, his voice torn from him. His slim fingers tugged at his shirt, one of his many unhealthy coping mechanisms to bring him back to reality after these nightmares. He looked over to the bed next to him, his hands gripping the sheets to keep him steady. Upon seeing his roommate Kaminari wasn't lying there, he allowed himself to break down for a few minutes- his only solace.

"God fucking damn it," he choked out, wiping his hands over his eyes to rid them of the fat droplets of water that streaked downwards. He buried his face in his hands for two or three seconds, allowing the cup of his palms to take the brunt of his remaining tears. Finally, he got himself out of bed, trudging over to his drawers and searching for an outfit out of all his black and orange garments. As he searched, his eyes fell on the one thing, the one garment he dreaded: a black dress jacket- one he hadn't worn since- that day.

 


 

Bakugou heard footsteps teeter over to him, and he turned around to be met with a pair of round, chocolate brown eyes. He couldn't muster it to school his features into his usual scowl, couldn't take it to be aggressive. So, the words that slipped out of his mouth were almost docile: "what?"

"I'm sorry, Bakugou." Uraraka's voice sounded raw- most likely from crying, Bakugou guessed. Bakugou wanted to bark at her, tell her to 'fuck off', but he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

Instead, he choked out a sob, his words coming horse out of his throat. "They couldn't even find his body."

He hated how he let Uraraka hold him close, hated how weak he was being- but he couldn't help it.

At this moment, he allowed himself this one comfort.

 


 

Bakugou was torn out of his stupor when he heard his door swing open, with a thud on the wall beside it. He growled out his words, "think you can open the door any louder, dunceface?"

"Sorry, Bakubro, geez," Kaminari said, digging through their fridge and grabbing one of the Ramunes they kept in their fridge. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ash blonde. "Sorry I was out- Jirou called me over," he said.

"I don't care what you and Jirou and you are doing in your free time, so go off," Bakugou said, grabbing a suitable outfit- a black t-shirt with an orange x on it for his hero logo, and some black ripped jeans. He waltzed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him as he turned on the shower. He heard Kaminari slam the door again, this time in an outgoing motion. He nearly screamed out a 'close the door that loudly again, I fucking dare you', but just opted to strip himself of his clothes as he climbed into the shower- besides, if he called Kaminari out on how he'd slammed the door right after Bakugou slammed the bathroom door closed- he'd be a hypocrite. The cool, frigid water hit his skin when he turned the shower knob.

Bakugou didn't turn the heat back up.

 


 

"Bakugou!" Kirishima whined from his spot on the bed, rousing himself up. His sweatpants hung from his frame perfectly, and Bakugou ran his tongue over his lips from the view. But, even if evident arousal didn't deter from his insults towards the red-haired boy.

"What, shitty hair!?" He yelled from the bathroom, and Kirishima chuckled.

"Pay attention to me," Bakugou could see the grabby hands Kirishima made from the bed, his view being helped by the ajar bathroom door.

Bakugou grunted, "then just get in here with me. God, you're so fuckin' needy..."

Kirishima huffed, but Bakugou knew he wouldn't refuse the offer. His theory was only confirmed when footsteps walked over to the bathroom, and he watched hungrily as Kirishima undressed. He smirked at the blush spreading across Kirishima's cheeks, and it only stretched further when Kirishima entered the shower with him.

Bakugou grabbed Kirishima by his waist with a growl that was supposed to say 'c'mere', and let his hands roam across Kirishima's physique.

The memory dissolved into moans before a painful reminder shattered the happy facade Bakugou had built around himself, noting its fragility.

Their lips never touched.

And it was cold.

 


 

Bakugou didn't realize he was sobbing until he got out of the shower. He looked at his eyes, rimmed with red- and it wasn't just his irises.

He scolded himself- he was so fucking weak. Kirishima would hate seeing him like this, crying multiple times a day.

Then again, Kirishima wasn't there to see him break slowly, but surely.

He was roused from his rushing thoughts by a ping from his phone. He quickly slipped on his outfit- back in his teenage years, he'd usually ignore the texts he received, but he was a Pro Hero now, and for all he knew, one of his friends died in an attack.

He felt his panic die down when he saw the contact was 'Pinky'- so, it was Mina. Usually, when she texted him, it was just to invite him out for a round at the arcade or a drink, which he'd usually declined.

But when he unlocked his phone, typing in 1016- Kirishima's birthday- he felt his panic rise up again, taking the form of bile in his throat.

Pinky: Attack on Tattoin Station. kaminari and Sero are down. Need backup

Bakugou winced at the thought of Kaminari- he'd just saw him, happy and jovial- and now he was probably bloody and bruised, which made a protective sense Bakugou didn't know he had take the forefront. He snatched his hero costume from his bottom drawer and his gear from his closet. He'd adjusted the garments to slip on faster, so it only took about three minutes to get on. He ran out of his apartment building getting in his car, and he drove faster than any law allowed him too.

 


 

Upon arrival, Bakugou surveyed the damage that had already been done. Half the bullet train that resided in the station was missing, and civilians were strewn about the street, some pinned under metal as Mina and Momo tried to move it. He saw Denki being carried into an ambulance but thankfully saw Sero had gotten back up again and had evidently bound up a few villains. Stain, Dabi, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and a new arrival he hadn't bared witness to before.

Even with his mind consumed by the thought of the newcomer, who looked around his age range, Bakugou felt a new thought enter his head. Sometimes, Bakugou wondered how those four villainous fuckers still kept up after seven years (at least, from what Bakugou had counted.)

But, there was someone he didn't recognize bound up- his eyes were dull red and void of any emotion. His hair was pitch black and shaggy, looking like it hadn't been cut or washed for years. There were a multitude of scars, some Bakugou recognized as those that would be caused by electricity (he'd learned from his sparring matches with Denki), some were burn scars, varying all degrees, and a few looked like lashes.

But the most prominent feature was the metal appendage that replaced the male's left arm, and in dark red engravings, he could see 'P.L.F'- Paranormal Liberation Front.

Bakugou knew none of those things- scars- could be induced by the male himself.

Bakugou, putting the pieces together, realized something.

This man was a victim.

Through the intercom in his mask, he spoke up. "Before you throw the fucker with the metal arm in jail-" he looked back to where the male was, only to see the man who was there, bound up less than a minute ago, was now beating down on Sero with his steel fist, while the other was trying to defend himself with his elbows.

"Shit," Bakugou muttered, sending an explosion towards Sero's adversary. It deterred the male long enough for Sero to scramble away and focus on other villains, but now the metal-armed menace was descending upon him.

Bakugou growled in warning, sending a small explosion toward the masked male. He spoke, "Listen, guy, I don't wanna hurt you-" he stepped back further, "but if it comes down to it- I will." Bakugou's heart twinged at the words that slipped from his lips- words that sounded like something Kirishima would say- and he swore he saw a flash of recognition in the lifeless eyes before him before it went away as quickly as it came.

It seemed the male didn't wanna go down without a fight, despite Bakugou's offer, seeing as he mercilessly went down on Bakugou. Bakugou could immediately feel blood dribbling down his chin, as he hadn't anticipated the first blow, which he was sure had broken his nose. He used his gauntlets as a makeshift shield, hoping one of his teammates that was still up would get this fucker down before Bakugou ran out of strength to hold his already aching arms in front of him. He knew it had to be someone strong to bring the guy down, like Midoriya- since this fucker was merciless.

But, in the blink of an eye, the male was gone, and Midoriya was instead in front of him sputtering.

"What, I d-don't- how did he-" Midoriya tried to form a sentence.

Bakugou managed to lift himself up despite the spots in his vision, stalking towards Midoriya, small explosions spawning from his palms. "You shitty nerd- you let that fucker get away!"

Shoto stepped in front of Bakugou. "Leave him alone, Bakugou. He tried to get him- but somehow he got away- fast." The boy said, and Bakugou noted the soot and blood covering his costume.

"We could've gotten him, Icy Hot, if your boyfriend wasn't so damn slow-" Shoto shot a menacing glare at Bakugou, which stopped the ash blonde's tirade.

The three heard the voice of Iida ring out. "Everyone gather around! We'll further discuss this at Midoriya and Todoroki's agency."

Bakugou sneered, "better discuss fuckin' 'Metal Menace'," Bakugou said, sharing his ever so eloquent nickname.

Chapter Text

Bakugou didn’t exactly have the will to trudge all the way to ‘Midoroki Agency’ (the cheesiest name that could’ve possibly been picked, in Bakugou’s opinion. When Kirishima first learned of the name of the agency, he said it was ‘cute’.)

Kirishima saw the good in everything. Bakugou? Well, he just couldn’t do the same, no matter how hard he tried.

Bakugou pushed past an intern who tried to get an interview out of him, muttering a quick ‘buzz off’. He would’ve used a fouler variant of that wording to get away- it wasn’t like he cared much for the bad press it would give him- but frankly, he didn’t have the energy.

He sat between Tsuyu and Hagakure. Tsuyu was fidgeting, most likely due to the absence of Uraraka beside her. It’d come to Bakugou’s attention during sophomore year of U.A that Tsuyu become fairly anxiety-riddled when she wasn’t near Uraraka.

Todoroki started off the discussion when everyone was sitting as Midoriya played with the hem of his costume.

“So, we all know what we are going to discuss today, correct?” Todoroki said, and everyone nodded. “The...newcomer. It seems he doesn’t use a quirk, just sheer force.” He turned his gaze to Sero’s mangled cheek and Bakugou’s assuredly broken nose; the ash-blonde was trying to tough it out through the meeting, though.

Bakugou ‘ tsk ’ ed, “yeah, no shit Sherlock. He took Kaminari down within about, what, ten minutes?” He said, gripping the table as his gaze trained steadily on the spot which used to belong to Kirishima, now occupied by Shinsou, who formerly worked as an underground hero. He knew the man meant no wrong, but every day, the sight of pale purple hair was a reminder Kirishima was gone and wasn’t coming back.

He hated it. So damn much.

Speaking of Shinsou, the boy spoke up, “if we can capture him, hopefully, I can find out who he is,” he finished his sentence with a flash of his eyes. Tsuyu’s previously dull and anxiety-riddled eyes lit up.

“Shinsou is right, kero.” Bakugou could hear someone snicker- Uraraka. He knew the girl found the habit that still laid dormant inside Tsuyu’s system, waiting to come out at any moment. Tsuyu looked at the girl at the other side of the table with a bright smile, before her face reverted back to neutrality. “If we can capture the man, Shinsou could probably easily get a response out of him through some questioning. Then, we’d know who he is- and what his... purpose , is.”

Bakugou winced at the word ‘purpose’. It was like Tsuyu addressed the man as a machine instead of a person- and, with bated tendencies, he supposed she was right- but surely, the man had emotions before... whatever , happened to him.

Bakugou inwardly cursed at himself- this man was a villain and should be treated as such.

He thought back to earlier.

'This man was a victim.'

He was brought back to the present when Iida spoke up. “So, it’s settled: we will find this man, apprehend them, and identify him."

“Slow down,” Todoroki said. “We can’t just go rushing into this with no plan. We have very little information-”

Bakugou interrupted Todoroki with just what he wanted: information, insight

“I saw a few injuries on him that couldn’t be self-inflicted.” Bakugou said, a twinge of sadness in his tone, “electricity marks, lashes, bruising-”

“That could easily be from the fight, though,” Midoriya added.

“Listen, you fu- Deku- I’ve seen fresh bruises, lashes, and definitely electricity marks before- but these looked old and scarred over. And the amount of them he had- they couldn’t be that plentiful just from a one hour fight,” he said.

Midoriya thought for a moment, “Kacchan’s right. I saw a few of the wounds, too, when I tried to apprehend him.”

Silence rang out in the room, deep in thought, before Momo broke through the atmosphere. “This seems to be related to an undergoing case- have any of you happened to hear of the ‘ Winter Soldier ’?”

Everyone shook their heads, except Hagakure, who nodded slowly.

Bakugou wasn’t surprised at Hagakure’s contrasting reaction- her and Momo both worked police department as detectives alongside their jobs as Pro Heroes, meaning they had access to case files for ongoing crimes or crime sprees.

Bakugou had lied when he said he hadn’t heard of the Winter Soldier- he found himself oddly fascinated with the villain, one that could wreak havoc and disappear like a ghost seconds later. But, he assumed people would find it odd if Bakugou was the only one to have heard of the adversary.

“Three years ago, during December, the Winter Soldier seemingly appeared out of nowhere, assassinating Enji Todoroki and nearly succeeding in killing Rei Todoroki.” Todoroki’s eyes darkened at the mention of his dad’s assassination and the near-death of his mom, which left her in a coma for a year. Momo continued, “he’s been active ever since- he’s committed 37 assassinations since his first appearance, and those are just the ones they’ve found out about,” she finished.

Bakugou sat silently, listening to the information Momo relayed off about what they’ve learned of the Winter Soldier. Though, his mind was clouded- the first sign they’d seen of him was three years ago.

Three years ago- when Kirishima disappeared.

So, Bakugou went through two options- when Kirishima vanished, he was either killed by the Winter Soldier.

Or he was the Winter Soldier.

Bakugou gritted his teeth- he would rather Kirishima died.

Why? Because he saw all the wounds on the metal-armed man, and he prayed Kirishima never had to go through that pain. He didn’t deserve anything like that. Nobody did, not even stupid Deku.

Todoroki sighed, standing up. “Midoriya and I will try and gather information about the Winter Soldier," he sighed, "with that- meeting adjourned,” Todoroki said, rubbing his temples. Everyone got up, but Bakugou got up especially fast, as he felt vile .

His vision was blurry as he vomited into the nearest trash can, his mind swishing with thought after thought, visual after visual of Kirishima being abused in so many horrible ways- when his throat finally felt dry of everything he’d eaten since age 5, he fell to the floor, hyperventilating. He hoarsely cried out for someone to help him, and he saw Uraraka’s brown locks, albeit blurry.

“Let’s...get you home, Bakugou.” She said, hoisting him up and dragging him along.

 


 

“You were supposed to kill Bakugou.” The voice of Shigaraki rang in the ears of the man before him. The raven-haired boy was so used to silence in his isolated chambers that whenever he heard a voice, it sounded like it was raised twenty decibels, making his ears bleed. He supposed it was another form of torture for him- like he hadn’t gone through enough .

“I said I was sorry,” The soldier bites back- after three years, you think he’d learned to bite his tongue, but asserting himself was the on ly way for him to feel any semblance of dignity, anymore- he knew someone had taught him that lesson, but he couldn’t remember.

He couldn’t remember anything , anymore.

Shigaraki sometimes wondered how his soldier kept any fight to him. He'd been through so much in the past three years- electric therapy, injections, training- all his trials stored in a yellow file in the headquarters. The torture was the only thing they let their asset keep memories of when he was wiped.

Speaking of the asset, he felt a stinging pain on his right cheek, a reminder he shouldn't talk back- one he never took, though.

Kirishima opened his mouth to bark out 'screw you', but Shiagraki beat him in the race to speak.

"Perhaps another wipe will teach you not to talk back, yes?" Shigaraki said, a sick grin lining his face.

The ravenette immediately knew he should take back his words, "wait, wh- no please, I just-NO-" he stopped talking when a needle was pressed to his neck, fully of a sedative he knew all too well. Before he went out for another round of memory wiping, he felt a thought enter his head.

Your name is Kirishima Eijirou, and you want to go home .