Kiss of Life | K. Bakugo

Chapter One

TW: short descriptions of blood

The highlighter in my hand had given its last bit of ink. I could tell it was time for a new one as its once solid yellow line sputtered into lifelessness across the page. I sighed and recapped the now useless hunk of plastic before chucking it into a nearby trash can.

Are those recyclable? I wondered to myself as I stood up, weighing the costs and benefits of reaching back into the bin to check. I stared down at the mess of fast food containers and balled up notes and decided it wasn't worth getting my hands dirty. However, I promised I would check before throwing away the next one.

Reaching into my messy desk drawer, I pulled out another, sky blue this time. A little more pleasant than the jarring yellow. Hopefully this would be the last highlighter I needed before graduating in a few weeks. Nursing school is tough, but add that with the hero support program and it equals pure hell. These last few years as a college student pursuing a double major had been a nightmare, but it would all be worth it now that I was finally getting into the field.

I had been scouted by the number one hero's agency to perform support and healing during missions. While there are plenty of rumors surrounding Endeavor and his less than heroic behavior, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Endeavor and his sidekicks were called out onto the most dangerous missions with the highest chance of casualties. Of course that's where I should be.

My grandma, Recovery Girl, just sighed and waddled her way out of the room when I told her where I'd be working. After years of caring for his son Shoto, she had certainly formed a poor opinion of him. Grandma would never say exactly why she felt so strongly about the number one pro, but it probably had something to do with the relationship between Endeavor and Shoto. But it couldn't be that bad if Shoto still worked with his father to this day... right?

Mom didn't have much to say about my chosen career path. To be honest, she never had much to say period. Ever since the day my quirk first developed, there has always been a weird tension surrounding the topic. I know mom's quirk works mostly the same, but I remember a look of shock, almost boarding on horror, in her eyes when mine presented.

I was playing with my toys in the living room. There was an intense battle taking place between Sir Bearington, the stuffed teddy bear, and my favorite All Might action figure. Of course All Might was winning, but Sir Bearington was not giving in without a fight. Right as All Might was preparing to give the final blow, I heard a clattering sound coming from the kitchen.

"Mommy, are you okay?" I asked loudly, as I stood and padded my little bare feet toward the sound.

"It's okay sweetie, stay out there. Mommy just dropped a dish" she explained. A five-year-old's curiosity is not so easily dampened. The scene in front of me didn't appear to be so innocuous. My mother's arm was sliced nearly from wrist to elbow, and thin streams of bright red blood cascaded from the wound. She kneeled over the broken dish on the ground, attempting to hold the wound closed with her left hand. She shook violently, staring at the injury.

I hurried my way over to her and without thinking, grabbed her firmly behind the ears with my little hands. I smashed our faces together and kissed her the way she kissed me at night before bed, or before I got on the school bus. I don't know if it was because the act was something she did to comfort me, or if instinctually I knew how my quirk worked already.

Either way, a strong wind appeared out of nowhere, blowing our hair towards the sky. Ethereal flashes of light and color erupted around us and quickly disappeared into the nothingness from where they came. When the world had finally settled down around us, we both chanced a look at her arm. The cut was completely healed. The only evidence it had ever existed was the dried blood that had made its way out before the wound had been sealed.