𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 💥𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕦𝔻𝕖𝕜𝕦💥

A Shadow of Swirls and Whirls

This book should be coming to a close within the next chapter or two. Thank you pookies for reading my first-ever fanfic. 💚🧡

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Chapter 60

In the aftermath of the explosive meeting, Katsuki's exit sent shockwaves through the Hero's Association and the nation. The controversy surrounding Izuku's status as a villain or victim intensified, dividing the public. Some believed in Katsuki's fervent defense, seeing Izuku as a hero wronged by circumstance, while others accepted the official narrative, branding him a fugitive responsible for heinous crimes.

Like, seriously, how the hell could anyone doubt Japan's number one hero? If the public couldn't trust those at the top, then who the hell could they trust?

Katsuki, fueled by a relentless determination, spent days tirelessly searching for any trace of Izuku. So, there he was, standing outside Shoto's apartment, figuring this was his last shot. He'd never been to this place before, and as much as it irked him to ask for help, he swallowed his pride and said screw it. A last resort.

Shoto, surprised by Katsuki's unexpected visit, opened the apartment door cautiously. His face probably looked as rough as it felt, and he couldn't care less.

Silently, Shoto welcomed him in, relieved that Shoto was never one for small talk, and Katsuki appreciated that. Katsuki stepped into Shoto's apartment, taking in the clean and calm surroundings. The place had a modern, minimalist vibe with neutral colors and tasteful artwork on the walls. Soft natural light filled the room, and a faint scent of incense lingered in the air.

The hardwood floors felt smooth beneath Katsuki's feet as he navigated the well-organized space. The living room, adorned with sleek furniture, had a large window offering a glimpse of the city outside. The atmosphere was quiet, except for the distant hum of the city. Surprisingly, it reminded Katsuki a bit of his own place.

Shoto motioned to the couch, and Katsuki dropped into it with a grunt. The air in the room was thick with tension, made worse by the muffled chaos on the news in the background. Shoto reached for the controller and turned off the television.

"I'll make some tea," Shoto declared, as he headed towards the kitchen. Katsuki, on the verge of refusing, was met with a stern look from Shoto saying, "You look like hell, and the least I can do is provide some tea."

Tea. What the hell was tea gonna do?

But as the tea kettle whistled, the room filled with the calming aroma of chamomile. The scent wafted through the air, triggering an unexpected wave of nostalgia in Katsuki. It reminded him of lazy mornings, of breakfasts shared with Izuku when the world hadn't yet gone to shit.

The memories hit him hard. The two of them sitting at the kitchen table, the sunlight streaming through the window, the clinking of utensils against plates. Izuku, on good days almost too damn cheerful in the mornings, with that irritatingly endearing bedhead. And there was Katsuki, nursing his coffee, pretending not to be affected by the warmth of those moments. What Katsuki would give to have that again.

Shoto returned with a tray holding two steaming mugs of chamomile tea. He handed one to Katsuki, who accepted it with a begrudging nod, before settling into the armchair opposite him, watching in silence as Katsuki took a hesitant sip. The warmth of the tea seeped through him, almost as if trying to soothe his haggard soul.

He almost felt Izuku's presence, like a ghost haunting the edges of his consciousness. The faint echo of a giggle, so vivid in his mind, cut through him like a knife.