Frenzy

|CHAPTER 11|: Guilt

Everyone in the agency noticed the stark change in Katsuki's demeanor today. It was almost unsettling how quiet he was. There was a strange, almost eerie tranquility about him that no one could quite place. It was peaceful, but in a way that felt deeply wrong. Usually, when Katsuki was like this, it meant one of two things: he was either on the brink of unleashing his wrath on some poor intern who dared cross him, or—if he was truly unwell—he'd have made his discomfort known by now. But today, there was nothing. He was simply... silent.

The last session with Midoriya had gone exactly as Katsuki had planned, or at least that's what he had thought. Initially, he'd felt a twisted satisfaction when Izuku had seemed to falter under his directness. Katsuki had been pleased with how he'd managed to unsettle Midoriya, seeing it as a small victory in their complex and fraught relationship. But that satisfaction had quickly soured into something else—a creeping, gnawing sensation that felt a lot like guilt.

Katsuki hated this feeling. He loathed the fact that Izuku's words, his carefully constructed professional distance, had started to eat away at him. The confrontation had left him with more than just a bruised ego. It had left him with a lingering sense of remorse that he couldn't shake. It was a sentiment that was completely foreign to him, and it was making him uncomfortable in ways he didn't want to confront.

"Alright, man. You're starting to even freak me out. What's up?" The overly concerned voice of Kirishima cut through Katsuki's turbulent thoughts. Eijirou was standing in the locker rooms, his red hair tousled from their recent sparring session. The usual post-training banter was absent today, replaced by an unusual level of concern from Kirishima. Katsuki's silence had been palpable even during their fight; usually, his focus was intense but productive, pushing them both to their limits. Today, however, Katsuki's responses had been terse, almost mechanical, and his mood had been unusually detached.

Kirishima's eyes were locked on Katsuki, filled with a mix of worry and confusion. It wasn't just the lack of communication that was troubling Eijirou; it was the fact that Katsuki seemed almost distant, as if a part of him was closed off and unreachable. Katsuki's responses had been clipped, his once-fiery energy replaced by an unsettling coldness that Kirishima had rarely seen.

Katsuki's frustration boiled beneath the surface. He wanted to dismiss Kirishima's concern, to shove aside the gnawing guilt and the awkward silence that now seemed to define his days. But the redhead's genuine worry was hard to ignore. Katsuki had always prided himself on being straightforward and unapologetic, yet now he found himself grappling with emotions that didn't fit neatly into his usual responses.

Kirishima stepped closer, his concern evident. "Look, man, you've been like this all day. You usually don't shut up after a fight unless something's really bothering you. What's going on?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than Katsuki's silence. Katsuki wanted to lash out, to say that it was none of Kirishima's business, that he was fine and didn't need anyone's pity. But deep down, he knew that wasn't true. The guilt over how he had treated Izuku, the unease about what that meant for his own state of mind—it was all piling up, and he had no idea how to address it.

"Seriously, just drop it Shitty hair. If i wanted to talk about, I would." The alpha said as he shot the red head a warning glare before slamming his locker closed.

Katsuki fumed silently, his annoyance simmering beneath the surface. He hated this—absolutely fucking hated it. The last thing he wanted was to feel guilty about anything, especially when it came to Midoriya. That idiot had gotten under his skin, and now, for some fucking reason, Katsuki found himself brooding over their last session.

He had pushed Midoriya, driven him into a corner, and forced him to reveal just how much he was trying to keep a distance. Katsuki had been relentless, wanting to see if he could crack through the professional facade, but now he was left with this annoying, nagging sense of regret.