𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Endless Struggles

Katsuki's head throbbed like it had taken a hit from All Might himself as he slowly clawed his way back from unconsciousness. A piercing headache greeted him in the pitch-black darkness, making his already miserable existence even more of a pain in the ass. As he tried to sit up, debris cascaded off him, adding insult to injury as his head collided with something solid above.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, his temples pulsating with pain as he rubbed them aggressively. His hand traced the gritty surface above him, leading to an open space. Where the hell was he?

Igniting his quirk, small explosions revealed a cramped, claustrophobic crawl space with unforgiving concrete edges. The echoes of dripping water reverberated from an overhead pipe, while lurking rebar seemed ready to skewer him. No sign of his gauntlet—it probably disintegrated during the clusterfuck he'd just survived. Crimson eyes scanned the crevice, finding it strewn with a random assortment of junk. A blanket lay sprawled amidst papers and scattered art supplies.

Shifting his weight, Katsuki triggered a mini avalanche of debris, earning himself a one-way ticket to Coughsville, gritting his teeth at the sensation as it cranked up the agony from his busted ribs. His leg, meanwhile, played hostage under a mound of drywall, an arts degree mocking him from above. Irritation swelled as he questioned the intelligence of the stuck-up asshole who'd bother framing a college degree like that.

Determined to break free, he shoved against the wall with his free foot. With a surge of force, his leg popped free, groans resonating from the protesting structure. He scrambled backward, narrowly dodging a floor collapse that would've made his day even worse.

"Tch," he clicked his tongue in irritation. His eyes flicked down, revealing small lacerations beneath shredded black pants, blood clinging cold and wet around his knee. The air felt dry and chilly, typical of early January. Rolling his foot, assessing the damage, he breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing broken, at least.

Leave it to Deku to bring the whole shitty building down. That fucking idiot. Katsuki's irritation bubbled beneath the surface, but then, a realization softened his expression. Wait... where was he?

"Deku?" Katsuki croaked, his voice sounding like gravel due to the thick dust. Extending his palm, he tried to light up the cramped space.

Silence. Only silence.

"Answer, shitty Nerd!" he yelled, his teeth clenched tightly from the strain it put on his ribs—still, nothing. Katsuki swore to fucking God that if Deku was dead, he was gonna personally bring his ass back and end him himself.

Switching the light between his palms, he mustered the strength he had left, crawling toward the cramped space's other end.

"Oi! Where the hell are you?!" he shouted, anger radiating from every word. Why the hell did he care so much? whatever.

Clicking his tongue again in annoyance, he strained to hear any movement around him. As Katsuki continued to crawl through the dimly lit crawl space, his frustration morphed into a subtle undercurrent of unease. The echoes of his own voice seemed to bounce off the concrete walls, amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped him. The idea of Deku being unresponsive, potentially injured... or worse, gradually wore at the edges of his consciousness.

"Deku!" he called out again, frustration seeping into his voice despite his efforts to keep it steady. Dammit, why the hell couldn't the nerd just answer? With each unanswered call, the knot in his stomach tightened. To his absolute relief, Katsuki finally heard faint, muffled breathing coming from somewhere nearby. Switching the glow between his hands, Katsuki knelt down, his crimson eyes dissecting the cracked wall with a critical gaze. Its surface was marred by cracks and dips, "This is fucking annoying," he muttered under his breath, fingers tracing the imperfections. To his left, a small hole in the wall beckoned, just big enough for him to crawl through. His lip curled in a disgusted snarl. That's just Fan-fuckin'-tastic.