chapter 68

Bakugou held his head in his hands as he sat in the hospital hallway, ignoring every doctor and nurse that passed him by. He'd lost count of the number of gurneys that had sped past him in the last few hours. The busy-ness of the hallway never died down—not even for a second.

He rubbed the bed of his palm against his eyelid, sighing. He'd been sitting here for hours. Five to be exact. The heroes had already issued a public response to the chaos that happened in Nagano and on Sensima's current state. She'd been in surgery for six hours now. They didn't know if she'd live or...

He didn't want to think about the alternative.

Kirishima tried to convince him to leave or at least change his clothes, but Bakugou refused. He wanted to wait. He wanted to be the first person to see her when she got out of surgery. He had to see her. His friends seemed to understand and left him to sulk in the hallway, waiting for hours in the same damn seat outside her room.

The media had loosened up on criticizing Shimamura for the meantime since Deku's press conference. He had convinced them that Shimamura was being manipulated by the Wraith, but he couldn't ease their concerns fully. She was still a hero that betrayed the masses in their eyes. He couldn't change that. At the very least, he made them understand the critical condition that she was in after her fight with the Wraith. They couldn't ridicule a dying hero... it was unethical.

Bakugou groaned and rubbed his eyes as he glanced up at the closed hospital door. It hadn't opened in a long time. He leaned back and put his head against the wall, shutting his eyes.

He sighed as a memory crawled out of the back of his mind in his tired state... he just couldn't keep it away.

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He and Shimamura sat curled up together on the green common room couch as a movie played on the television. The room was dark and everyone else had gone to bed, with the only remaining source of light being the flickering of the screen. The movie was practically muted since Shimamura insisted on keeping it quiet so as to not disturb their classmates that were sleeping, but the quiet was making Bakugou fall asleep. He had a hard time hearing it so quiet anyway. He rubbed his eyelids as he yawned, holding Shimamura against his chest as she watched the movie.

Shimamura had her head against his shoulder as they lounged back. Their legs were intertwined and Shimamura's hands were fiddling with her long strands of white hair absentmindedly. Bakugou's head rolled back every so often as he tried to stay awake during the movie, but it was difficult.

Bakugou, as we all know, is not a night owl by any means. He would usually be passed out by now, but he stayed up for Shimamura. Compared to him, she was a definite night person. Sometimes it wasn't her fault—her bipolar levels usually dictated what time she went to sleep, if she actually went to sleep that night—but other times she just liked to stay up into the later hours. Bakugou stayed up for her, to keep her company. It was sweet.

As third years, they had it all. When it was just him and Shimamura alone, he felt like they were invincible. It didn't matter what anyone else said. As long as they were happy, nothing else mattered.

His eyes drifted down to his quiet girlfriend as she watched the screen. But her expression was unlike what he was expecting. He expected her to have a soft smile on her face like she usually did when they were watching movies together. Instead, she was frowning and her brows were furrowed. It was painfully obvious that something was on her mind.

Bakugou reached for the remote and promptly paused the movie. She flashed him a confused scowl.

"Hey—!" she argued, but she never finished.

"Nope. Spill. What's bugging you?" Bakugou questioned.

Shimamura opened her mouth to argue again, but stopped herself. She sighed and sat up so she was facing Bakugou. He sat up as well, sensing the seriousness of whatever she was going to tell him. He raised an eyebrow at her as she moved away from him.

"I got a call from the doctor's today."

"Okay? And?"

Shimamura bit her lip. "They found a cure for my bipolar disorder."

Bakugou's eyes shot open, suddenly no longer tired. "Holy shit, Teeks... That's great! Is that even possible?" Bakugou grinned at her.

Shimamura should've been smiling and nodding with joy, but she wasn't. Bakugou's happy expression fell.

"What's the downside?" He asked, knowing it was coming.

Shimamura frowned and glanced to the side. "To take care of my bipolar disorder, the cure would be to take away my quirk. That's the only way."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, instantly against the idea he supported just a second ago. "No, screw that."

"Bakugou—"

He was the first person she'd told. No one else knew.

"Are you serious? That's ridiculous. You can't just give up your quirk. You've been training to be a hero, remember? And you're a damn good one too. Don't do it." He scolded, trying to make her see how stupid of an idea it really was.

As much as Bakugou wanted to see her without the pain of her bipolar disorder, he didn't want her to lose her aspirations as a hero just to be rid of it. It was crazy just to think about it...

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The door to Shimamura's room opened and closed slowly. Bakugou's head shot up as he watched a doctor leave the room and another figure exit as well. It was a woman with navy blue hair and a round, pregnant belly. Bakugou stood up abruptly, his arms tensed and frozen.

His heart stopped. He feared what she'd say. He feared the news that he'd receive as he stood there. Was Shimamura alive? Did she survive? Is she ok?

There were a thousand questions running through his mind. He just couldn't pick one to ask first.

He swayed on his feet momentarily after having been sitting for so long. The woman looked his way and she promptly wiped tear streaks from her cheeks. She walked over to him and tried to give him a consoling smile, but they both knew she was on the verge of tears again.

"Uchiha..." Bakugou mumbled to her. He wanted to ask her how Shimamura was, but he couldn't get the words out. Uchiha somehow knew what he wanted to say anyway.

"They just finished up surgery. They don't know if she'll make it to the morning but s-she's... she's fighting." She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and looked down at the ground.

Bakugou frowned and took a shaky breath. He put his hands on Uchiha's shoulders and pulled her into a soft hug which she thankfully took. The pair used to be close friends at U.A. They were also the closest to Shimamura besides Shinsou. It was uncharacteristic for the two to embrace, but in times like these, it was necessary. She wrapped her arms around his chest and sobbed into his blood stained costume.

That was her best friend in there. She was her rock. And she was dying...

Uchiha wished she could've been fighting alongside the heroes, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. But such a fate was out of her hands. There was nothing she could've done.

"She'll want to see you if she wakes up," Uchiha mumbled to him as they separated from their hug.

'Not when... if,' Bakugou internally took note of.

Bakugou nodded, remaining oddly quiet. She frowned and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She patted him on the arm and walked away down the hallway, probably off to give the news to any hero that was still waiting in the hospital like Bakugou was.

The blond crossed the long hallway and put his hand on the doorknob of the room. The smooth metal felt like fire in his hands. He wanted to throw up. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour. He knew the state she'd be in—but it still pained him to actually see her.

He opened the door and walked in, seeing the frail Tikki Shimamura lying unconscious on the hospital bed. She had been dressed into a hospital gown and had about a dozen different wires and cords hanging off of her body underneath the thin blanket. She had bandages stretching across her arms and up to her neck, which he could only assume extended from her chest and stomach where she had been gutted. There was a breathing tube hanging from her mouth and her eyes were closed. She had an almost strained expression from the pain she must be in as she lay there.

Bakugou closed and locked the door behind him, seeing no one else in the room with him. He sat by her bedside, taking his hand and brushing her white bangs away from her face, like he used to do. His thumb ghosted past her cheekbone. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to take her in his arms and promise her that she'd be okay.

Bakugou reached over and unhooked the metal restraints attached to Shimamura's wrists and the bed railings. Then he reached up and did the same with the quirk suppressor that was strapped around her neck. He knew she didn't need them when she was like this. They were inhumane for putting them on her.

She wasn't the villain...

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Shimamura put a hand to his cheek to stop him from arguing with her further. She didn't want to hear his complaints about the cure that the doctors had proposed to her. She wouldn't take it any time soon. Not now at least. Not in her prime. She had time...

"Kats, hush." A smile tugged at Shimamura's lips as she stared at him.

He frowned at her as her thumb grazed across his parted lips. Her eyes followed where her thumb moved and she tilted her head to the side. She looked so calm, so at peace with everything going on around her. The bright lights of the TV shadowed the right side of her face but kept her left side glowing and youthful. Her blue eyes were uneven in hue because of the lighting, but he knew that they were rather clouded in the present.

Then she asked him a question he'd never forget.

"Are you afraid of dying, Katsuki?" she asked.

He blinked, taken aback by the question. First they were talking about taking her quirk away, and now they're onto the unknowns of death? What a strange conversation this had turned out to be.

"No," he scoffed, "of course not."

Her smile grew, as if she were laughing at his response.

Her reply was calm, "I've always been afraid."

His expression pinched as he stared at her. He was worried for a second, and he would've questioned her about it, but she wasn't finished.

She continued, "Not by death itself, not that. I know I'll die someday. But I want to live a day where I'm not being tormented by everything that goes on up here..."

She tapped on the side of her black temple cover with her opposite hand. Her eyes refused to connect with his.

"I want to live a day without pain. Just a day... a day before I die, knowing what it feels like to be normal like everyone else."

Her eyes lifted. Her blue irises flickered in the odd lighting.

He stared at her in wonder. She was so complex in ways he couldn't describe. How did he fall in love with a girl like her?

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The hero sniffled as he put his hand over top of Shimamura's. He made slow, soft circles against her hand with his thumb. He bit the inside of his cheek as tears welled up in his eyes but refused to fall. He wouldn't cry in front of her, even if she wasn't awake. He was supposed to be the strong one.

He jammed his eyes shut and put a hand against his forehead, leaning down and threading his fingers through his hair. He tugged at his short hair as he tried to throw the memory from his mind. But it was relentless. It was as if Shimamura's spirit wanted him to remember it.

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"Tikki—"

"Katsuki, I want you to promise me—" She choked on her words, as if it hurt her to say them. "Promise me that the day my quirk and disorder finally take hold of me and break me to the point of no return... promise that you'll use the cure on me."

Bakugou's face contorted as he stared at her. He took her hand from his face and held it within his grasp, squeezing. "Shima, stop. You're not making sense."

She smiled softly at him. But her eyes were sad.

Even in their youth, Shimamura always looked tired in her eyes. Her mental disorder took such a toll on her, but nobody really noticed. No one but him. He wanted to keep her comfortable and happy, but it was nearly impossible with all the constant mental pain she was subjected to.

There was no stop to the war in her mind... but maybe now there was a way. This was her chance to take her life by the reins and take hold of it. It was just a question of when would be her time.

"Promise me. That's all I ask of you."

"No way. I can't do that to you—"

"Katsuki." Her mouth dipped into a frown as she practically pleaded with him to say the words.

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He could taste the salty tears that had leaked from her eyes. He didn't even realize she was crying—and neither did she.

"Please," she whispered.

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Bakugou took his hand from Shimamura's as he took something from his pocket. He stared at it in his hands for a moment, weighing the options that he didn't have. There was only one thing to do. He hissed at himself and his indecision and pressed the fine tip of the object against Shimamura's forearm, not yet breaking skin.

His thumb and index finger fit perfectly in the finger grooves of the object. There was a dark liquid within it. Slick metal at the bottom and the pointed edge at the very tip. He closed his eyes. He can't do this. He can't.

But he had to.

He gripped onto the syringe as if he'd suddenly drop it if he loosened his grasp even a millimeter. He couldn't do it.

"Katsuki...?"

Bakugou's eyes opened at the sound of the croaky voice from the top of the bed. His eyes connected with cloudy blue ones. Her eyes were hooded and weak but she was conscious. Shimamura awakened to stare at him in fear, seeing what he had in his hand. She instantly knew what it was. There were tears in her eyes, just like he had in his.

His lip quivered as he stared at her. He shook his head and muttered to her:

"I promised."

The tears fell from his eyes, and he hated himself for it.

Shimamura's breathing quickened as she realized what he meant. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, as if she couldn't help it, and she bit her lip. But the fear subsided in a matter of moments.

The doorknob to the hospital room jostled as someone tried to enter. When the person realized it was locked, Bakugou and Shimamura could hear them call for help to get the door open. Shimamura's eyes drifted to the door before looking back at Bakugou. He stared at her hopelessly. He couldn't do this when she looked at him like that.

The white haired hero frowned at him but sighed after a moment. He promised, she reminded herself.

Shimamura relaxed. Her expression softened as her eyes glanced down to the syringe and needle rather than staring up at him. She understood. And she accepted it.

Bakugou sucked in a breath as he tried to avoid looking down as he injected the needle into her forearm. The liquid swam from the syringe, into her veins. The effects were immediate.

Shimamura gasped from where she lay, taking a shaky breath in. The heart-rate monitor at her bedside tripled in pace. His crimson eyes drew upwards to look at her as she grit her teeth together. The beeping evened out again.

A cold shiver crept down her spine. But she wasn't in pain.

Her eyes widened for a second as she stared up at the ceiling. They shifted from their dimmed white color to a vibrant, bright blue, before self-adjusting to a deeper shade. Not dimmed or clouded, nor bright and blinding. Simply, blue. There was a look of peace that crept into Shimamura's expression, before her eyes fluttered closed and she fell unconscious again.

Bakugou dropped the syringe on the ground and grabbed onto Shimamura's limp hand. The glass syringe shattered as it hit the ground, but Bakugou didn't care.

He held the back of her hand against his forehead as he screamed out in frustration and anger. His shouts of agony lasted only a few seconds as his emotions calmed. He knew he did the right thing... but the right thing was always the most painful to accomplish.

The door burst open at the sound of Bakugou's cries, crashing through the lock that he had turned. Heroes and doctors alike stormed into the room, shocked.

But it was already too late.