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

Chapter 43

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Beginning of Torment

Katsuki's eyes snapped open, the harsh white lights of the hospital room stabbing into his senses like tiny daggers. What the hell...? He blinked against the intrusion as his surroundings slowly came into focus. Sterile walls, the quiet hum of machinery, that damn antiseptic smell—it all assaulted him at once. With a low groan, he tried to move, fingers twitching only to feel the tug of tubes and IV lines tethered to his body. Great. Just great. Strapped to a damn hospital bed like some helpless idiot.

His head was pounding mercilessly, a dull ache radiating through joints, muscles, shit every fiber of his being. His mind felt foggy, thoughts swimming in a haze of disorientation. He tried to sit up, but a sharp jolt of pain shot through his ribs, forcing him back down onto the unforgiving mattress.

"Old Hag?" he croaked out, his throat dry and scratchy.

His mom sat beside his bed, eyes red and swollen like she'd been crying for hours. "Katsuki!" Her voice was a mix of relief and concern as she hurried to his side, her hand reaching out to brush his cheek gently—an unusual softness from her. "Oh my god, you're awake. How do you feel?"

He frowned, mind struggling to process what was going on. "Like shit," he muttered. Every part of him ached, but that was nothing new. He tried to sit up again and immediately regretted it as pain tore through his ribs, his head, and his back. A grimace contorted his features. "What the hell happened?"

"You've been out for just under five days now," she explained softly—a stark contrast to her usual brashness. "You were in pretty bad shape when they brought you in."

Katsuki blinked, confusion settling in as he tried to piece everything together. His mom's words barely registered, the haze in his mind making it hard to think clearly. Five days? He swallowed hard, trying to get his bearings, but everything felt off—like the world had tilted on its axis while he'd been unconscious.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the sterile white walls, the beeping machines hooked up to him, the sterile stench of antiseptic thick in the air. Why was he here? He wracked his brain, pushing through the fog, trying to remember.

Flashes of memory hit him in sharp, disjointed fragments.

The New Year's Festival. The fight with the Nomu. His body jerked at the recollection of the battle, muscles tensing as if expecting to be thrown into combat all over again. His heart rate picked up, the monitor next to him beeping faster, more insistent.

Then another memory hit him—the League of Villains.

His breath caught in his throat, and a flash of panic surged through his chest as the pieces started falling into place. The ambush, the chaos, the brutal fight. And then—amidst all the fighting, one name, one face suddenly blazed through the fog of his mind like a beacon.

Izuku.

Katsuki's entire body stiffened as the memories came rushing back in full force, the image of Izuku being taken by the League hitting him hard. He gasped, his hands trembling as they clenched the sheets beneath him.

They took him.

The thought roared through his head like wildfire, burning away the veil that was shrouding his thoughts. Katsuki's hands gripped the hospital bed sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart raced, and the memories of the League's ambush collided with the image of Izuku being taken. He could feel his body tensing with the instinct to fight, to move, but his ribs protested with sharp stabs of pain as he tried to sit up.