Katsuki had rehearsed this moment more times than he'd ever admit.
Not out loud—he wasn't that pathetic—but in the quiet spaces between patrols, in the silence of his office after everyone else had gone home, in the late hours where the city dimmed and his thoughts got louder. It had always been there, sitting in the back of his mind like an unfinished sentence.
We're gonna be heroes together.
That had been the dream. The only dream that ever mattered.
So when he finally stood in front of Izuku Midoriya again—really stood there, not just passing each other in the chaos of life—Katsuki felt something in his chest tighten. Not fear. Not nerves.
Something worse.
Hope.
Deku looked… different. Softer, maybe. Not weaker—never that—but calmer. Grounded. There was chalk dust on his sleeve, ink stains on his fingers. The kind of things that didn't belong to a pro hero.
The kind of things that meant he'd chosen something else.
Katsuki ignored that.
"Oi, Deku," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets like this wasn't the most important conversation of his life. "I'm opening my agency."
Deku blinked, surprised—but then he smiled. That same stupid, warm smile Katsuki had known forever.
"That's amazing, Kacchan. I knew you would."
Yeah. Of course he did.
Katsuki scoffed. "Tch. Damn right."
There was a pause. This was it. The moment he'd been building toward.
He forced himself to keep going.
"I want you to join."
The words hung in the air, heavier than they should've been.
Deku didn't respond right away.
Katsuki's jaw tightened.
"Don't make it weird," he added quickly, more defensive than he meant to sound. "It's just—it makes sense. We're the strongest. We work well together. Always have."
Still nothing.
Now that silence—it wasn't neutral anymore. It wasn't thinking.
It was hesitation.
And Katsuki hated hesitation.
"…Well?" he snapped.
Deku's smile faded, just a little. Not completely—but enough.
"Kacchan…" he started, and that was already wrong. Too soft. Too careful.
Katsuki felt something cold slip into his chest.
"I—" Deku exhaled slowly. "I'm really happy you asked me. I mean that."
That wasn't an answer.
"But… I don't think I can."
Katsuki blinked.
"…What?"
"I want to keep teaching," Deku said, his voice steady but gentle. "My students—they need me. And I… I love what I'm doing. I don't want to leave that behind."
The words didn't make sense at first.
They didn't fit.
"…You're kidding," Katsuki said flatly.
Deku shook his head.
"No."
Something cracked.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just—sharp. Quiet. Final.
"You'd rather—" Katsuki laughed once, but there was no humor in it. "You'd rather stay a teacher than be a hero?"
"I am helping people," Deku said quickly. "Just in a different way—"
"Don't," Katsuki cut him off, his voice dropping. "Don't sugarcoat it."
Deku flinched. Just a little.
Katsuki noticed. Of course he did.
He always noticed.
"That was our dream," Katsuki said, quieter now. "Since we were kids."
"I know."
"Then why the hell are you acting like it doesn't matter?"
"It does matter," Deku insisted. "It's just… not the only thing that matters anymore."
That was it.
That was the moment something in Katsuki gave way.
Because for him—it was the only thing.
It always had been.
He stared at Deku, searching for something—anything—that looked like the boy who used to chase after him, who cried and fought and believed with everything he had.
He was still there.
Just… different.
And somehow, that hurt more.
Katsuki swallowed hard. His throat felt tight, like it was closing up on something he refused to let out.
"…Right," he said after a long pause.
Deku's expression shifted. "Kacchan—"
"It's fine," Katsuki interrupted quickly.
Too quickly.
He turned away before Deku could see his face clearly.
"It's not a big deal," he added, forcing a shrug. "People change. Whatever."
That tight feeling in his chest spread, pressing up behind his eyes.
He clenched his fists.
Don't.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
"I've been rejected before," Katsuki went on, his voice rougher now, but steady enough to pass. "Whole life, basically. So—yeah. Not new."
"That's not—" Deku stepped forward. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?"
Katsuki glanced back, just for a second.
Big mistake.
Because Deku looked… hurt.
And concerned.
And guilty.
And Katsuki couldn't stand any of it.
"Tch. Doesn't matter," he muttered, looking away again. "You made your choice."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy. Uncomfortable. Final.
"I'm proud of you, Kacchan," Deku said softly.
That almost did it.
That almost broke him right there.
Katsuki let out a sharp breath through his nose.
"Yeah," he said. "You should be."
Another pause.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them knew how to fix this.
Finally, Katsuki started walking.
"See you around, Deku."
He didn't wait for a response.
Didn't trust himself to.
Each step felt heavier than the last, like something was dragging behind him—something he couldn't carry anymore but didn't know how to let go of.
He didn't stop until he was out of sight.
And even then, he kept going.
Because if he stopped—
If he gave himself even a second—
He knew exactly what would happen.
And Katsuki Bakugo didn't cry.
Not anymore.
Not even when the dream he'd held onto his entire life finally slipped through his fingers.
Not even when the one person he wanted beside him… chose a different path.
So he just kept walking.
And pretended it didn't feel like his chest was caving in.