abe-macabre

[abe-macabre]

As Told By Us - Side series!

This takes place before the current events of the story (about 14 years prior), which you can find here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62084020

TW: For gore and death! I don't think the gore is too terrible on this, but I don't wanna risk it! ☺️ Take care of yourself, lovely. ♡

~♡~

Midoriya and Bakugou Hero Agency: Origins

Part: I

He’ll never forget that night. The night he called and told his wife, Ria, “I’m going to be a bit late tonight, alright? Midoriya wants to have a meeting with some of his agency’s partners.”

She responded with a sickeningly sweet chuckle and a little, “Okay, hunny. I don’t know how long your daughter can hold out, but I’ll try to keep her up for you.”

It was their little joke. Chiaki, even at six months, was turning into such a character, just like her father. Fussy and sassy, which made Katsuki feel bad for taking only three months of parental leave from hero work. Yet, somehow, his beautiful wife took it all in stride.

She’d been working from home before the delivery, and now they just planned to have a nanny while she worked in her office and workshop. Ria would be able to take the time to throw off her gloves and snuggle with her baby, and Katsuki, without a boss or agency to control his movement, could come home during lunch. Those times were the best, his favorite. Meeting his wife at the door and giving their nanny her own lunch break as they sat to eat together.

He went to Midoriya’s office, endured the boring meeting, and turned down a night of drinking with the other heroes.

Katsuki’s relationship with the number one hero had greatly improved since school, especially once the explosive hero met Ria by the hero Deku’s request. He had suggested that Katsuki commission the engineer for his gear and, a few years later, stood beside the couple as Katsuki’s best man.

Of all the heroes who begged him to stay that night, Midoriyia pushed them out the door with a hearty laugh, and that big smile he gave television and civilians. “Go home, Mr. Family Man. I’ll pour one out for you,” The Symbol of Peace waved over his shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not going soft, alright? I don’t wanna be in the dog house with Ria, that’s all.” Katsuki retorted playfully as he grabbed his jacket and keys. His friend whistled with a shake of his head, like he didn’t believe it.

They said their, “Good-byes,” and, “See you tomorrows,” before heading in opposite directions. Katsuki could imagine the heroes all going out, having drinks, and singing awful karaoke like they had before settling down.

The explosion hero sat in his car and started up the radio, smiling at the cute picture Ria had sent about forty minutes prior. Captioned simply, “Guess it’s just Mommy and Daddy tonight,” with Chiaki fast asleep and drooling on her mother’s chest. The baby’s tufts of swirling blonde hair sticking out messily, and her hand curled around the hem of her onesie. He could scarcely see his wife’s smile in the edge of the picture.

He sent back a quick little, “I don’t mind that at all.” Shameless? Sure, and normally, he wouldn’t regret that, but this time was different.

As he drove home, smiling like an idiot at the thought of coming home to his perfect little family, he didn’t even notice that his phone didn’t ping with a response from Ria. Usually, even if she was going to surprise him, there’d be an emoji at least. Something sweet, like heart-eyes or a kissy-face. This time, there was radio silence.

How didn’t he notice?

He was taking his time, passing street lights and signs. Katsuki had nothing to worry about, right?

Pulling off to the side as he noticed some firetrucks behind him, he paused, letting them pass, and felt his heart stop for a second as they turned down his street. Katsuki tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence as he pulled back onto the road; he tried to convince himself that nothing was wrong; he tried to call Ria. No answer. Peeking over the wheel to get a better view, the glowing smoke plumes came into his field of vision.

He turns quickly and screeches to a halt as he realizes he can’t drive around his neighbors who are looking at his home, engulfed in flame. The hero jumps from the car and rushes between the crowd, a firefighter tries to stop him, but a simple warning blast makes him back away.

It was all a blur of fire and hazy smoke that blanketed his foyer and living room. Katsuki didn’t even remember to cover his mouth with his shirt as he rushed upstairs, burning his hand on the metal railing. As he turned to the hallway, he could see her. Ria was laying in the doorway of their bedroom, crumpled with blood pumping from bullet holes in her back and scorching blackened into the wooden floor. Ria’s skin was bubbling with burns, sagging as the fat beneath it liquidated. She’d been running from something, clearly, and her lifeless face was anguished with tear stains that were shiny as they burned into a print on her face.

But he didn’t see the truth, that his wife was gone. He felt the sting in his eyes and light burning in his arms as he held her, and hurried to the nursery. Coughing, he pushed his back to the dresser and pulled open the hiding place they’d designed for Chiaki. He could hear his baby’s cries reminding him that she was alive and breathing as he took her out.

It had been Ria’s idea. A precaution. A way to keep their baby safe in the event of some sort of attack, and it’d achieved it’s purpose. It was a small box, non-heat conductive, and soundproofed. It was placed tucked into where the closet used to be when they bought the home, that way, as Chiaki got bigger, they could suit it to her size.

According to the firefighters on the scene, when the adrenaline ran out, as shown on several news stations, he lost it. Coughing, burned, throwing any helpful hands off of himself and telling them to help his wife. It took thirty minutes for cameras to be shooed away. Meanwhile, he was screaming, crying. The officials were trying to calm him, trying to explain, but he had none of it.

“You’re not even trying to help her! Help her!” His demands were haunting, especially when the woman was clearly gone; eyes rolled back uncomfortably, so hot that the jellies were close to melting.

While the paramedics were checking his daughter, firefighters with free hands were trying to get Katsuki to sit down. Fists swinging wildly, it took Midoriya showing up to hold him back and convince officers not to arrest him. Using Black Whip, his friend also attempted at getting him to calm. The only way the explosion hero would settle was when the shock clawed into his throat, tearing at his ribs like the bits of ash he’d breathed in the house.

When he woke up in the hospital meer hours later, he could hardly remember what had happened. Living through the grief a second time and being informed that Chiaki had been taken to his mother. Midoriya tried to explain it to him gently, but that only made the pain worse. The whole country had watched his breakdown, his daughter wouldn’t be allowed home until he was decidedly suitable, and he would never see his wife again.

The investigation of the destroyed home was simple. Back sliding door shattered inward, kitchen knife missing from the drawer, found in the couple’s bedroom where Ria had fallen. According to the shells, eight shots fired, five hit. The play-by-play that the investigators came up with was simple. Someone broke in, Ria got something to defend herself, made her way up the stairs to hide Chiaki, but something happened to get her caught and make her hurry. A sound or mistake. “Maybe the baby started fussing…” the officer guessed.

Katsuki had to bite back the anger in his throat at the blaming of his daughter, lest it be used against him.

The coroner’s report found only that she had indeed died of the gunshot wounds, and that she was dead before the fire started. “Estimated time of death, 22:30, or so,” the doctor clicked his pen, an attempted distraction from the situation in front of him.

The widower felt his heart drop, “Say that again?”

Though the professional man before him seemed confused, he answered, “22:30? Did you speak to her after that time? Maybe she called?”

Worse.

To be sure, he checked the time on the text he’d sent that night.

10:23 p.m.

Ping!

One stupid text, and it killed her.