Quirkless

I Wouldn't Give It Up for the World

The first thought in Katsuki's mind as he regained consciousness was that he could still hear. It was a deep-seated fear that one of these days, he would wake up and the world would be permanently silenced. The second was the surprise that he was alive.

Even before he opened his eyes, he knew where he was. There was no mistaking the combination of sterile air and thin, scratchy sheets for anywhere other than a hospital. His left arm was in a sling, bound tight to his chest while his right had the familiar soreness in the crook of his elbow that came with an IV. Eyes still shut, he wiggled his toes, and was greeted with the static sensation of sheets against bare feet.

All limbs accounted for, he forced his heavy eyelids to open. At first he thought he'd gone blind, but as his vision adjusted to the dimly lit room, he relaxed. Light shone from the door to his right, and he could hear the usual rustle and beeps of the nurses moving about. He glanced to his left, expecting to see an empty hospital bed. It wasn't empty. He felt his stomach clench as he recognized the figure that occupied it.

The dim illumination from the hallway did nothing to conceal the severity of the agent's injuries. Half of her skull was shaved - paperwhite skin stark against black stitches that stretched from her temple to the crock of her ear. A thick tube protruded from her mouth, wires sticking out from under her hospital gown. She looked like a science project, or a scene from one of the sad movies Kirishima always made him watch. The machine next to her bed rasped as it breathed for her.

He tore his eyes away, looking up at the ceiling. His mind was still fuzzy, from sedation or concussion he didn't know. He remembered the raid, Shinsou dragging Deku out of the building, the gunshot-

The gunshot. He pulled his good arm from under his blankets and flexed his palm. No sparks fired off.

"Please don't do that," a familiar, tired voice said from the far corner of the room. Aizawa was curled in his usual sleeping bag, eyes lit up as he repressed Katsuki's quirk. "There's an oxygen tank in here, and I'd rather not have to deal with more explosions. Your quirk is fine."

"What happened?"
"Your bulletproof vest did its job." Aizawa's voice was as flat as ever.

Katsuki glanced at the agent. "And .. her?"

"The quirk repressing bullets did less damage than regular ones would've, but it seemed they're wrecking havoc with healing quirks. Shattered her collarbone, and did a decent job tearing up her internal organs. The explosion knocked her into a wall, and, well," The retired hero gestured to a swath of moist looking bandages wrapped around her arms. "Burned."

"Has someone told her," Katsuki paused, unsure how to phrase the question, "family?"

"She's an agent, I doubt she has one. I'm sure Interpol will handle any notifications." Aizawa shrugged, still looking over at Q. "It's not as bad as it looks. They put her in a medically induced coma to give her body a chance to heal, but she'll be fine." He met Katsuki's gaze again. "More worried about you for a while there. Between the dislocated shoulder and brain bleed, it was touch and go for a while."

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It wasn't his first head injury, and he doubted that it would be the last. "I'm fine."

"So you say." Aizawa stood and walked to the door. "I'll grab a nurse and let them know you're awake for real this time." He left Katsuki in the darkness, accompanied only by the rasping of Q's respirator.

Morning came, noted only by the nurses delivering a breakfast tray. The hospital room had no windows, and from the sounds coming outside the door, there were guards stationed at the door. The nurse explained the rules of his stay as she set down his tray - Katsuki wasn't allowed to leave the room, and he could have only one visitor.