Suddenly Quirkless

The Misunderstandings of Explosions and Lightning

People liked to say that Katsuki Bakugou was the embodiment of an explosion.

They didn't say it to his face, unless they wanted to experience exactly that up close and personal, but it was clear why people would think that. From his spiky hair and burning eyes to his volatile temper and sparking palms, everything Katsuki did burst into something so much bigger than the boy who started it.

But the truth was, Katsuki wasn't an explosion; he was the sun.

He was a celestial force that warmed and burnt in equal measure, enacting a cruel sort of justice on those caught in the rays of his light.

It was an undeniable fact that Katsuki was incredible- the sun in a sea of stars drowned out by his own brilliance. And, obviously, the sun always had to be burning just as intensely as the day before, watching just as diligently and shining just as brightly. That was why Katsuki was different from the others. However, it was a good difference.

Because no one would notice if a star suddenly faltered. No one would notice if a star simply blinked out of existence.

But they would notice Katsuki, and they would notice if he disappeared one day.

(There was no need to care about the weekends and breaks he spent in underground cellars with metal cuffs wrapped around his arms and drugs pumping through his bloodstream. It wasn't disappearing if Katsuki made it back on his own; they'd surely notice if it was something actually serious. They would pay attention if it were loud, bright, future-hero Katsuki, even if they hadn't when it was a mere star like Tsubasa)

To ensure his future- and to prove to himself that it was his future, not anyone else's- Katsuki needed to excel. There was no room for mistakes. Katsuki's failures would never be forgotten, but if enough piled up that Katsuki was deemed a failure, he'd be thrown out quicker than an expired bottle of midodrine.

For good this time.

But Katsuki was the type of blazing spirit who wouldn't settle for anything less than a universe shaking shockwave for his end. He wouldn't allow himself to fade into nothingness, disappearing and dying cold, alone, and in vain. He would make sure he went out with a bang- literally.

Accordingly, when his quirk had first emerged, everyone around him was in awe at the strong ability. They told him he was going to be a great hero one day, and Katsuki agreed, because heroes saved people and so could Katsuki.

He had always been the kind of kid to succeed in anything he set his mind to; an all-around prodigy with a powerful quirk would be perfectly suited to excel in heroics, even though he'd always wondered if it was worth the trouble of living life as a walking bomb.

(Even if he'd burned himself with his explosions almost as many times as he'd burned his enemies with them. Even if he thought to himself sometimes, that if Katsuki could really be anything, why did he have to be a hero?)

He continued to do all of the things he'd done before he'd gotten his quirk, except for the way that he couldn't touch things anymore, and he had to carry around burn creams, bandages, and neutralising chemicals for his arms, and he had to watch his blood pressure, and he had to make sure he took in enough nitrogen, and plan out his wardrobe, and-

In any case, the biggest change was that he started hiding his invention ideas away in his closet. Those concepts just weren't enough to justify someone with a quirk as great as Katsuki's was straying from heroics.

It was common sense.

(There was never a choice to begin with)

Those initial, shining reactions had died down quickly, however, because it was Katsuki, and what else was Katsuki but an explosion?