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lupizora · 5 years ago

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Shattered Reflection

Since the leftover sales for @bnhavillainauzine are on, I can finally post my fic for it here. It was a Villain Bakugou origin story, or more precisely, how imagined it would go down without anyone having to die for it.

Please consider helping bring this project to a satisfying conclusion by snatching our last copies!! Bonus, you’d get to enjoy the badass content from our contributors in all of its glory~ ♥

Genre: Angst/Drama

Pairing: None/Gen

Rating: T

Word Count: 4684

Summary: After a chance meeting with a rising Hero, the ghosts of the past return to remind Katsuki of the dream he left behind.

Explodo never thought he would hit the ground, more so roll on it until he had to stretch a hand to stop. The lower layer of his gloves shredded like paper from the friction, and hot air rushed through the crack in his gas mask. Street lights illuminated the secluded parking lot around him, the sickly orange color bouncing off the cars. Footsteps echoed like sledgehammers in the silence as the Hero materialized from the shadows of the alley. The same alley Explodo shot out from like a bullet when the asshole had punched him out of nowhere.

He got up on one knee, pieces of his mask fluttering like leaves to the ground. "What's your fucking problem?"

The Hero's metallic headpiece glistened as he stopped at a safe distance. "You're under arrest."

"And what are my so-called crimes?"

"Isn't burning someone's small-time business enough?"

"His tempura was horrible. I was doing the world a favor."

"It's not up to you to decide that. Now stop resisting."

"I was peacefully getting away until you attacked me, dipshit." Explodo sneered. "This is me resisting."

He closed the distance between them with a double explosion, aiming for a right hook. The Hero avoided it. Grabbing his arm and the front of his turtleneck, the Hero slammed him over his shoulder on the concrete. Explodo's teeth clattered. He jumped to his feet, delivering an uppercut square on the Hero's jaw. It felt like hitting a wall even if his gloves absorbed part of the impact.

The fight continued with a barrage of fists and explosions. Explodo returned with double ferocity every heavy punch the Hero struck, like they were locked in some sort of odd dance. Explodo would press forward. The Hero would step back. Adrenaline rushed through Explodo’s veins. His heart pounded like a wild horse and sweat gathered underneath his face mask. This was a pointless fight. He knew it. Still, the thrill of it kept him going until a curious question popped up in his mind.

How is this guy still standing? He thought. His burns should be second-degree by now.

In that moment of lost concentration, the Hero found an opening and grabbed the muzzle of Explodo's gas mask. Rough fingers scraped against his cheek and his stomach did an unpleasant somersault. Pressing both palms on the Hero's bare chest, he released the most powerful explosion so far and the shockwave pushed them apart. Explodo managed to stay upright. His fingers were numb, pain running along the length of his forearms.

He stood, breathing hard, but the Hero didn’t reappear. As the smoke cleared and his ears stopped ringing, Explodo followed the cracked path of the concrete to find the Hero spread-eagled against a car. He had dented the vehicle inwards, but he himself appeared unharmed.

Seriously, what is this fucker made off? Explodo thought. He looks too normal to be a Mutant-type.

Something wet stained his cheekbones, and part of his face ached from where the straps of his mask had rubbed against his skin when they snapped. He ran his tongue along the length of his lower lip and felt the sharp tang of blood.

The piercing cry of a police siren shrilled through the night air. This was his cue to get the hell out of there. As he stepped forward, the Hero took a harsh breath.

"Why…" he whispered. "Such a powerful Quirk and you ended up like this?"

Explodo stared wide-eyed at him. "Huh?"

Grabbing the hood of the car like it was made of butter, the Hero heaved himself to his feet again. His eyes were set on the villain like his life depended on it. "Of all things you could do, why did you become a petty arsonist?"

Sparks of irritation ran along Explodo’s spine like firecrackers. "Who are you calling petty, asshole? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

"But you could’ve become anything you wanted!" The Hero took a step forward, grunting from the effort. His body crackled like he was a walking stone statue and that didn’t seem too far from the truth.

Explodo snorted. "Get off your high horse. Only Heroes get to use their Quirks in public. That's what their licenses are for." He glared at him from under his hood, the words dripping like poison from his mouth. "Everyone else has to lower their heads and pretend they don't have one—like they are Quirkless."

His animosity stunned the Hero, who lowered his head. "But did you try?" he asked. The earlier accusatory tone melted into an almost innocent curiosity as if he wanted—no needed—to understand but couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Explodo would have preferred if the Hero had yelled this question. Then maybe he wouldn’t have remembered his fourteen-year-old self, when he was still named Bakugou Katsuki, brimming with confidence as he shouted from the top of his desk that one day he would surpass All Might and become the number one Hero; a memory Explodo had buried so deep and for so long, it could belong to someone else.

Something moved on his right. Explodo jumped backward as a set of tentacles crashed into the pavement where he’d been standing. They appeared to be the fingers of another Hero entering the scene. He wore a cape with a hood in bright colors and his mask was covering half of his face.

"Are you alright, Red Riot?" he asked with a quick turn of the head to the other Hero.

"I've been through worse."

The easy-going tone in his voice, like this fight had been a walk in the park, irked Explodo but he suppressed his anger. These were unfamiliar waters. He hadn't been against two trained Heroes before and this second guy seemed like he was hiding more tricks up his sleeves. It was time to make his exit.

"As much as I'd love to kick both your asses, my job here is done." He propelled himself into the air, landing with a backflip on a street light. "Three is a crowd anyway."

"Wait!" Red Riot called. "You never answered me."

Explodo glanced over his shoulder. "Being this soft gets you killed in the real world," he said and jumped to avoid another tentacle coming after him. "Better remember that, Hero."

These were his final words as he propelled himself onto another street light, keeping this pace until he left the parking lot and the Heroes behind.

A few days later and Katsuki was staring at the ceiling fan with the intensity of a million suns. Good thing he couldn't set things on fire with his eyes too or the poor plastic thing would have been incinerated into a pile of ashes. He kept replaying the recent disgraceful encounter like a broken record. So far he had gotten by with hit-and-run attacks. In the past, whenever a Hero had intercepted him they hadn't been a serious threat. This had been the first real fight since meeting the Villain Alliance two years before. Katsuki had managed to escape by the skin of his teeth back then too; the same anger rumbling inside his chest as Shigaraki had more or less allowed him to live.

Sparks crackled like fireworks in his palms, but it did little to ease the prickles crawling underneath his skin. Katsuki scratched the flesh between his fingers. Of course, who would have thought such an up-and-coming sidekick like Red Riot would show up in this degraded shit-hole of a district. He was a U.A. graduate who made his debut during an internship by apprehending a crook that had taken a Quirk-boosting drug. Through watching videos and reading articles of his deeds, even Katsuki could admit the guy was promising. That didn't stop him from wishing revenge though. The bruises and his damaged pride hurt like hell.

The fan did another lazy turn and dust glinted in the few light rays the blinds let through. If he paid attention long enough, Katsuki could hear the plumbing rattling through the walls. Whenever water rushed a little stronger than usual, chips of paint would rain from the ceiling and cover everything like sugar powder.

"Kiddo! Come here for a sec," Jin called.

With an annoyed huff, Katsuki hopped over the couch's back and walked to the kitchen. It was a narrow room with a low counter on the left and a kitchen table almost making contact with the right wall, but it was decent compared to the previous dump they’d called home.

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Will you cut that shit out already? I'm of age." His birthday was three months ago and he had been a few centimeters taller for a while, but Jin hadn't stopped dropping some variation of "kid" when he addressed him.

"I will when you start acting like it." Jin pointed at the table. "There's some cash. Take it and go to the convenience store."

"Why?"

"You have the itch-look on your face, and you're supposed to lay low so you can't go around burning things. We are out of milk anyway."

Katsuki's expression changed from mildly annoyed to grumpy, and then to super pissed in the span of the entire sentence. He smacked his hand on the counter. "I haven't burned anything in this fucking house for months!"

Jin stopped peeling the potato and used the handle of the knife to raise his palm from the counter. There was a faint scorched imprint from where his skin had come in contact with the steel.

"For fuck's sake." Katsuki snapped his hand away. "Can't you just clone me or something?"

"Doubling you will only double my problems." He allowed himself a small smile before his expression turned serious again. "No matter how interested I am in seeing you having a showdown with yourself, I don't want to replace furniture so soon. Don't be such a brat and go already. The fresh air may cool your head a little."

"Fine, you prissy old man."

His keys jingled as Katsuki unlocked the door, but he stopped with his hand on the handle. "If your Quirk works with you having a clear image, can't just clone yourself as you were before?" he said, tapping the center of his forehead. "At least that way we'll know who's the real one."

The knife stabbed the doorframe a few centimeters above his shoulder. Jin was panting with a strained expression, sweat already dripping from his chin. He covered his face with his hands.

"Get out."

The convenience store was packed for such a warm afternoon. Old ladies, students, and mothers with their children walked around, not seeming to mind the malfunctioning AC. Their chatter was like radio static to Katsuki, bits and pieces of a peaceful world he wasn't part of anymore. It baffled him how folks could go on with their mundane everyday lives while knowing of the terror lurking out there. Or maybe they didn't know. Not fully at least. After all, not everyone got their life turned upside down by a Villain; one that slid out of an ordinary soda bottle no less.

Katsuki had just begun his last year of middle school back then. After the incident, he couldn't stop wondering that if he had reacted faster, if he hadn't stood frozen like a fucking idiot, he could have prevented it. But while drowning under the sludge he had none of those thoughts. All his energy was focused on clawing his way out of it.

"C'mon! Stop struggling," the Villain said. His slime had covered Katsuki almost entirely by then, like a heavy blanket he couldn't shake off. "It'd be easier for you too."

As if I'd let an asshole like you win! He thought, frustrated. I'm stronger than this! His palms ignited explosions of their own volition, shattering the road around them.

The Villain's whistle rang inside Katsuki's head as if he had done it. "What a jackpot! Why have you been hiding such a Quirk, huh?"

It had been a ridiculous remark. One Katsuki shouldn't have paid attention to considering who it came from, but it stuck even after All Might had saved both him and Deku. In the following days, it had evolved into the same question buzzing at the back of his mind.

Why hadn’t his strong Quirk helped him in the first place?

His goons provided the answer. They had been avoiding him like the plague after the incident, so one day Katsuki hunted them down at their hidden smoking spot. Long Fingers attempted to greet him casually, but Katsuki grabbed him by the lapel of his school uniform and demanded an explanation for their behavior.

"It's nothing personal," Long Fingers said. "Just uh…"

"It was the first time you went all out like that," Undercut said. "Like we knew your Quirk is top notch, but this…" He fiddled with his unlit cigar. "This was freaky."

Katsuki let Long Fingers go. "And what about that? You dolts think no Hero ever went that far to beat a Villain?"

"If the Villain wasn't there…" Undercut looked up. "I'd say you were enjoying the destruction."

"You think I did it on purpose?" He said as an itch gnawed at the flesh inside his palms. "I'm gonna be a Hero! Collateral damage is in the goddamn job description."

"Then tell me, is beating the bad guys the only reason you wanna be a Hero?"

The irritation spread to the rest of his hands and Katsuki clenched them into fists. "Cut the crap. Who do you think you are to question me? You lot of ambitionless extras will never understand what it takes to make it into U.A.! If I have to destroy public property to practice, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!"

"But it'll get on your record," Long Fingers said. "You wouldn't dare."

It had been as if someone flipped a switch inside his head. Katsuki pretended the topic was over in front of them, but he pondered it in the privacy of his room. He had been using his Quirk within regulations his whole life. He needed a clean record to even think of enrolling in the most popular school of the country. After all, there were things that even he wouldn't be able to get away with doing.

Without Katsuki realizing it, the earlier itch had returned. He scratched absentmindedly at the spot below his fingers and followed the calluses all the way to the heel of his hand. His palms had always had a rough texture to them, like a countermeasure against burning his skin with his Quirk. Due to that, irritations were rare. He stared at his hand. Any more scratching and he would bleed. His Quirk ignited, sparks flying along his fingers like mini-firecrackers. For a moment he hadn't noticed something was missing until the heat from his explosions receded.

The itch was back.

Grabbing the nearest hoodie, he left the house. The sun was a single brushstroke of red on the horizon. No one had paid him much attention, and the crowd thinned significantly closer to the beach park until Katsuki stood alone at the entrance.

Behind the protective railing, trash piles spread like hills among the sand. It was common for the locals to dump their garbage there, despite the glaring warning sign. Of course, the chances of bumping into someone were low, given how sneaky people were being about it. Still, Katsuki didn't stop looking behind his back as he navigated through the trash. Several steps later he stumbled into a clearing. Microwaves, television sets, and other electrical appliances were scattered all around him. A large fridge got his attention as the last sun rays were reflected in its mirrored surface. The door of the refrigerator was missing, the ice long since evaporated. With a deep breath, he pressed both hands on the fridge. The cold metal bent under the growing heat and at its peak, he released the explosion.

The fridge split in two, scorched parts and cables spilling to the ground like intestines. Katsuki skidded backward but managed to stay upright. Birds flew off from the ruckus. Worry plagued him for a moment, but soon euphoria replaced the weight in his chest. His smoking hands weren't itching anymore. He closed them into fists, allowing a feral grin to spread across his face.

It was intoxicating; like a forbidden early taste of the freedom awaiting him.

The whole situation turned into a game in his head. Passing under the radar of his parents and crossing paths with unsuspecting pedestrians amused him. No one had considered for a moment that an honor student like him would be breaking the law. Lowering the strength of his explosions had helped avoid arousing suspicion from the locals. Everyone pretended the trash weren’t their problem, but loud noises in the middle of the night would had eventually gathered some complaints. His grades were unaffected too, because he made sure to finish his homework before sneaking out. By the time he decided to go there during the day, Katsuki was sure he had won.

His footsteps were light against the pavement that summer day. It took all his concentration to not propel himself a little faster with the help of his explosions.

I could try that today, he thought with a smile as he neared the beach park.

There was a man standing at the entrance.

As if lightning struck him, Katsuki stopped in his tracks.

Super tall and criminally thin, the man leaned against an old pickup truck. His back was still turned as he observed the piles of trash, so Katsuki fled. After at least a block away, he ducked behind a wall to hide. His heart hammered in his chest like a caged bird. Blood pounded in his temples and he was sweating all over. Reality dawned on him like someone had doused him with cold water.

Game over.

Of course, the man had worn only a regular t-shirt and pants. He couldn’t have been an officer. Rumours spread fast though and Katsuki had been doing this for months. Witnesses were bound to show up, no matter how careful he had been. One-time offenders were forgiven with barely a slap on the wrist but given the level of his offence, this would go on his record for sure. So from that day on, Katsuki stopped going to the beach and used his Quirk only when it was allowed.

He could endure this. The exams were only nine months away.

This was his mantra when pens started melting in his hands, and he left hand imprints on his chair. Everyone was willing to sweep these accidents under the rug with only a minor scolding. Being nervous was to be expected. He aimed for the top after all. But the itch kept him awake even the night before the exam. Katsuki stared at the ceiling, battling the thought of sneaking out for one last time until the sun rose on the horizon.

Endure it…

His mother caught him in the hall with his bag already on his shoulder. She tightened the scarf around his neck, raving about how proud they were. His dad managed to sneak a photo at that moment with a fond smile. Katsuki still remembered vividly their confident faces as they sent him off.

Endure it.

The train ride was a blur of faceless people and bleak scenery. It didn't help him forget the itch crawling inch by inch along his forearm. Katsuki kept his hands strictly in the pockets of his coat all the way to the main entrance of U.A. Passing under the gateways was like a dream come true. Then his gaze landed on the mustard yellow backpack in front of him, and the boy with the mess of green hair wearing it.

Endure it!

Anger flared in his chest like a grenade. That bastard Deku still aimed to take the spotlight from him. What right did that Quirkless nobody have to try and play the hero? The stench of burned fabric reached him, and Katsuki stared at his smoking palms, terrified. He was amongst a mass of examinees and probably members of the staff. He wasn't allowed to make a scene.

In his hurry to leave, Katsuki bumped onto someone. He only registered the other person wearing a black uniform too. With clenched fists, he tried to move past him, but the guy stood in his way again.

"The exams are the other way," he said.

"Dropped my ID," Katsuki mumbled.

"Ouch. I can help you lo-"

"No fucking need. Move."

"O-okay…" The guy flashed him an uneasy shark-toothed smile and stepped aside. "Uh, good luck!" he shouted at Katsuki's disappearing back.

"Whatever."

Reaching the foliage-less trees was a race against his raging emotions. The moment Katsuki passed the brow of the forest, he broke into a sprint. It was after several meters that he stopped and leaned wheezing against a tree trunk. He pulled at the scarf.

This is ridiculous. I have to go back, he thought. I won't lose this chance because of the damn nerd.

But that's not it, isn't it? The voice, that wasn't quite his, whispered in his ears. What if you can't contain yourself during the exam?

Something heavy settled on his shoulders. Phantom tentacles started coiling around his arms as if the Mudman from a year ago was back.

I'm gonna have to use my Quirk to fight anyway.

What if they see me?

His reflection stared back from the fridge he had destroyed in the beach park. It grinned like a wild animal ready for the kill. The imaginary slime covered him whole. He was suffocating again. Katsuki ignited his Quirk. The wind scattered the scorched remains of his scarf away.

No, he couldn't do this. Not in this state. What Hero can't control his Quirk?

Katsuki fled like hell was chasing him, and didn't stop boarding trains until he had left behind all familiar places.

For a society boasting about low crime rates, the outskirts were brimming with people illegally using their Quirks. So Katsuki just followed their example to stay alive in these streets. Falling under the radar took some time to get used to, especially when all sorts of oddballs—Vigilantes, Villain-wannabes, the random police patrol—tried to get ahold of him at any given opportunity. It turned into another game of hide-and-seek, his loathing growing with each encounter. Their Quirks were extensions of their bodies. Why should Katsuki repress his? They’d lived in a superhuman society for decades. Normal and ordinary were supposed to be out of the dictionary.

They weren't, though, because Quirkless people still existed. Those echoes of an era long gone didn't want to feel left out and had to drag everyone else into this farce of appearing as equals. Things had changed, the world had changed, and someone had to show them the truth. So Katsuki did. Maybe Jin was right calling him a kid. His resolution hadn't changed from back then. It wasn't about controlling his Quirk anymore. He only wanted to see the world burn beneath his fingertips.

Sometimes Katsuki wondered if the other kid, the one dreaming of heroics, still existed underneath the mask. He couldn't recognize anymore where Explodo ended and his civilian persona began because his reflection had the same intensity either way.

Intensity he currently directed at the misplaced shelves in front of him. He knew this convenience store like the back of his hand as it was the closest to their apartment. The fruit and vegetable stalls should have been there. Katsuki sighed, frustrated. He had plowed through the shopping list he’d been given with the money easily, but decided to get some watermelon slices too—watermelon was Jin’s go-to desert during summer. Katsuki hadn't tried to be a total dick to the older Villain; he’d only wanted to release some of his annoyance in less destructive ways. But he had pushed the wrong buttons on someone that was more mentally unstable than him. If he didn't want this to end badly, he had better patch things up.

While turning around the corner of the particular corridor though, he crashed into someone. Both their baskets fell to the floor. Katsuki attempted to steady himself on the shelves but his hand missed. The other person grabbed it instead and straightened him. The muscle-toned and caked-with-scars arm belonged to a guy around his height and probably his age, although some remains of his teen softness still clung to his face. His hair, tied into a loose short ponytail, was as red as his eyes when they locked gazes. Of course, Katsuki knew that pulling his hand away as fast as he did was rude, but the goddamn contact made his skin crawl. He didn't fancy people touching him in costume; he sure as hell didn't like it out of it either.

"Watch where you're going, Shitty Hair."

"Hey!" he said with a hidden laugh in his voice. "Have you seen your own hair, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki froze. "What?"

"I mean the way it sticks out in all directions like that reminds me of a static explosion." He flashed an awkward sharp-toothed smile. "So I went along with the joke."

As the little scar running on his eyelid was revealed, Katsuki realized he had just rubbed shoulders with Red Riot again. If he allowed him to continue this thought it would mean the worst scenario was around the corner. After all, the scratches on Katsuki’s face were still fresh and visible.

An attack was the best defense.

"You look familiar," Katsuki said skeptically, crossing his arms.

Red Riot mirrored him. "I don't think we've met."

Katsuki cocked his head like a curious cat and forced his eyes to widen in fake surprise. "Could it be…? You're Red Riot, the Vigorous Hero, right?"

Total bliss washed over the Hero's features to the point of almost glowing. It only lasted for a brief moment before he tried to suppress it.

"You got me," he said. "And I'm really sorry for the mess." He gestured at the scattered groceries at their feet.

"Nah, I kinda overreacted. It's wasn't that big of a deal."

"Let me help then."

They gathered their stuff in silence with Katsuki stealing glances in Red Riot's direction. He appeared calm, but couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom off his shoulders. Had he dodged this or not?

Everything was back in place before he could come to a satisfying conclusion. But the Hero didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck with a puzzled expression.

"Uh… Would you like me to treat you to some coffee? For the trouble and all?"

"Really it wasn't-"

"I insist."

He had such an honest look on his face, like he had done some great offense to him and wanted to repay it. Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek to keep the feral grin from spreading across his face. This guy was indeed too soft for this job.

"Alright," he said defeated. "I know a place nearby if you want."

"You're a lifesaver, man! This is my first time in this neighborhood."

"And you still offered? Are you an idiot?"

Red Riot actually laughed at that. "You're pretty weird yourself," he said and gestured at him from top to bottom.

"Katsuki."

"Eijirou. Nice to meet you."

"Same."

And he wasn't lying. Opportunities like this were considered miracles. It was like the star guiding the wicked finally smiled at him. If he played his cards right not only revenge, but valuable info too would be within his grasp. It didn’t matter that Red Riot resembled the guy Katsuki bumped into the day of U.A.’s entrance exam. Idiots with that considerate attitude were those aiming to be Heroes the most. The bravery of sticking to their dreams didn’t matter either. It was Villain policy to give them a reality check.

After all, Heroes don’t always win in the end.

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