Kacchaco Short Stories

Sharpest tool

A/N ---- LAST STORY!!!!

I seriously can't thank you enough for reading my story! Like, you guys are the best. It's wild knowing people are actually into what I'm writing, and it means so much to me. I've got some cool idea brewing for the next one, so I really hope you'll stick around for more.

Love u guys smmm

Karkelia

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--Apocalypse AU----

The wind howled against the steel walls of the makeshift shelter, a sharp reminder of the bitter cold that had swept across the ruined city. Katsuki Bakugou crouched near the entrance, eyes scanning the desolate horizon for any signs of movement. His sharp breaths fogged the air, and the weight of his tattered hero's coat settled heavily on his shoulders. Every day was a battle for survival, but today, there was something else in the air—a tension he couldn't quite shake.

Behind him, Ochaco Uraraka sat near a small fire they'd managed to light, her gloved hands hovering over the faint heat. She was trying, as she always did, to make the bleakness of their existence a little brighter. On the ground beside her lay a collection of scavenged supplies—cans of food, some scraps of cloth, and most notably, a small, broken ornament she'd found in the wreckage of a nearby shop. It was chipped and faded, but it still shimmered faintly in the firelight.

"It's almost Christmas, you know," Ochaco said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Katsuki grunted in response, not even turning around. "Christmas doesn't mean shit anymore, Uraraka. We're barely surviving out here."

"I know..." She sighed, looking down at the ornament in her hands. "But maybe we need to hold onto something. Just a little bit of what life used to be, you know?"

Katsuki tensed, his hands tightening into fists. He wasn't the kind to dwell on the past, and he sure as hell didn't have time for sentimentality. But the truth was, her words cut deeper than he let on. There was something about the way she held onto hope, even in the face of everything, that made his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Hope isn't going to keep us alive, Ochaco," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He stood up, brushing off the snow that had gathered on his boots, and turned to face her. "You're wasting your energy thinking about Christmas."

Ochaco looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining in the firelight, and for a moment, there was a silence that hung between them—heavy and full of everything they hadn't said. She'd always been the optimistic one, the one who believed in a better tomorrow, even when the world had fallen apart. Katsuki had admired that about her, but now, with every passing day, it felt like a burden he didn't want to carry.

"We used to celebrate with my family every year," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "My parents would hang lights outside the house, and we'd bake cookies together. I know it sounds stupid now, but... it's the one time of year that made everything feel okay. I just want to feel that again."

Katsuki clenched his jaw, the weight of her words settling on him. He didn't want to feel anything—not the cold, not the memories of better days, and certainly not the confusing swirl of emotions that seemed to come every time he looked at Ochaco. He'd spent too long pushing those feelings down, focusing on the fight, on survival. But here, in the quiet of their shelter, with her eyes on him and the fire crackling in the background, it was getting harder to ignore.

"We're not kids anymore," he finally said, his voice gruff. "This isn't some damn fairy tale where we get to live happily ever after. We're in the middle of a fucking apocalypse, Ochaco. You need to let go."