The sun rose over Magnolia, its light painting the Bisca River in hues of gold and rose, but it brought little solace to Katsuki. He'd woken before dawn, the lingering ache of the previous night's unwelcome emotional storm still clinging to him like a shroud. The tear-stains on the pillow were a humiliating testament to a weakness he'd already violently suppressed, burying it deep beneath fresh layers of anger and grim determination. He would not allow himself to break like that again.
He'd left his small apartment as the first pale light touched the sky, needing to escape the confines of those four walls, needing the open air, needing to do something. He found himself, almost by instinct, back in front of the Fairy Tail guild hall. It was still closed, the massive doors shut tight, the usual boisterous energy conspicuously absent. The quiet felt unnatural.
He stood there, a solitary, brooding figure in his new dark attire, leaning against the cool stone of the adjacent wall, arms crossed, his crimson eyes fixed on the entrance. He was waiting. Waiting for the day to properly begin, for the guild to open, for the opportunity to throw himself back into the cycle of action and reward that was currently his only anchor. The idleness was grating, allowing too much room for unwelcome thoughts.
Time crawled. The town around him slowly began to stir. Shopkeepers opened their shutters, the scent of baking bread drifted from a nearby bakery, and early risers began to move through the streets. Katsuki ignored it all, his focus unwavering.
Finally, just as his patience was beginning to fray into genuine explosive agitation, he saw her. Mirajane Strauss, her long white hair flowing, approached the guild hall with a calm, unhurried grace, a set of keys jingling softly in her hand. She wore a simple dress, different from her barmaid attire of the previous day, but her serene aura was unmistakable.
She spotted him almost immediately, her steps not faltering. A gentle, knowing smile touched her lips as she reached the doors. "Good morning, Bakugo-san," she greeted him, her voice soft in the early morning quiet. "You're here early. Eager to start the day, I see."
Katsuki just grunted in response, a sound that was his usual substitute for a polite salutation. He pushed himself off the wall, his expression unreadable. He didn't offer to help as she unlocked the heavy doors, nor did he make small talk. He simply waited, a coiled spring of impatient energy.
As the doors swung inward, revealing the dim, still-sleeping interior of the guild hall, Mirajane gestured for him to enter. "Please, come in. I'm just opening up. The others will start trickling in soon enough, I imagine."
They walked in together, their footsteps echoing slightly in the vast, empty space. The lingering smell of stale ale, old wood, and a faint trace of magic hung in the air. It was strange to see the hall so quiet, so devoid of its usual chaotic life. Tables were askew, a few overturned chairs lay where they'd fallen the night before, evidence of Fairy Tail's typical exuberance.
Mirajane moved towards the bar, beginning her morning routine of tidying up and preparing for the day. Katsuki, however, made a beeline straight for the Request Board. It was his primary focus, his reason for being here. The monster parts he'd collected were still in his room – he'd deal with selling or disposing of them later. Right now, he needed new targets.
He scanned the board, his eyes moving rapidly over the parchments. Many were the same as the previous day, but a few new ones had been pinned up, likely late last night or by some early-bird guild official. He ignored the escort missions, the retrieval quests, the pleas for help with mundane local problems. His gaze sought out the familiar crude drawings of beasts, the explicit calls for subjugation.
He was looking for something challenging, something that would push his evolved abilities, something that would yield a significant reward. And, perhaps, something that would allow him to unleash the roiling storm of frustration and pent-up aggression that was his constant companion. The memory of last night's tears was a raw wound, and action, violent and decisive, was the only balm he knew. He needed to feel his power, to reaffirm his strength, to drown out the lingering echoes of a world he might never see again.
Katsuki's fingers hovered over a particularly vicious-looking depiction of a multi-headed beast – a 'Hydra-Class Marsh Lurker' – its threat level marked with an alarming number of skulls. The prospect of such a fight, the sheer destructive potential it would allow him to unleash, was a siren song to his current state of mind. He was about to rip it from the board when Mirajane's voice, soft but clear in the quiet hall, cut through his concentration.
"Bakugo-san," she began, her tone gentle, almost tentative. She had finished her initial tidying behind the bar and had approached him quietly, her expression one of subtle concern. "Are you… feeling alright this morning? You seem a little… more intense than usual, if that's possible."
Katsuki froze, his hand still outstretched towards the request. He didn't turn, didn't look at her. Her words, though innocuously phrased, felt like a direct probe into the raw, vulnerable space he'd so violently tried to seal off after last night. Consoling him? Did she sense it? Did she see the lingering shadow of his uncharacteristic breakdown? The thought was infuriating, humiliating.
He grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. A low growl, more animalistic than human, rumbled in his chest. He didn't want her pity, her concern, her goddamn gentle inquiries. He wanted to fight. He wanted to destroy. He wanted to obliterate anything that reminded him of weakness.
Without a word, his hand shot out, not for the Hydra quest, but for three other subjugation requests clustered nearby. He didn't even properly read them, just registered that they were monster hunts, that they offered violence and a target for his rage. He ripped them from the board with a single, savage motion, the sound of tearing parchment echoing in the silent guild hall.
He spun on his heel, his crimson eyes blazing with a furious, defensive light, and stalked towards the bar where Mirajane stood, her expression now tinged with a slight surprise at his abrupt, almost feral reaction. He slammed the three crumpled parchments onto the bar top, much like he had the previous day, but with even more force, making the wood shudder.
"Stamp. These. Now." His voice was a harsh, guttural command, each word bitten off, laced with a dangerous undertone that brooked no argument, no further questioning, no more goddamn consolation.
Mirajane looked from his face – a mask of barely contained fury – to the requests, then back to him. The concern in her eyes deepened, but she was wise enough, or perhaps intimidated enough by the sheer intensity of his aura, not to press the issue. She recognized a man on the edge, a volatile explosive charge that needed an outlet, not further prodding.
With a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible, she picked up her stamp. Her movements were quick, efficient, her usual serene smile absent, replaced by a more serious, watchful expression. She stamped each parchment – a 'Gorgon-Eyed Basilisk' in the Petrified Woods, a swarm of 'Razorwing Griffins' nesting in the Dragon's Tooth Peaks, and a 'Magma Titan' rumored to be stirring in the caldera of Mount Inferno. All of them were significant threats, especially taken back-to-back.
She handed them to him without a word, her gaze steady, meeting his fiery one.
Katsuki snatched the approved requests, his knuckles white as he crushed the parchments in his fist. He didn't offer a grunt of acknowledgment, didn't even pause. He turned and strode towards the guild doors, his new boots thudding heavily on the wooden floor, each step a hammer blow of suppressed rage.
The moment he was outside, clear of the guild hall's entrance, he didn't hesitate. The need to escape, to unleash, to put distance between himself and anything resembling emotional vulnerability was overwhelming.
"Explode: Nitro – Turbo Cluster!" he roared, the words tearing from his throat raw and ragged. He opted for the Quirk-fueled version, needing that familiar, almost primal surge of his own inherent power.
A series of violent, concussive blasts erupted from his palms, far more powerful and less controlled than usual, fueled by the storm raging within him. The street beneath him cracked, dust and debris flying in all directions. Windows rattled for blocks around, and startled shouts echoed from nearby houses as citizens were jolted awake by the premature dawn explosions.
He launched himself into the sky like a missile fired from a cannon, a dark streak against the brightening morning, already angling himself towards the Petrified Woods, his first target. He flew with a reckless, furious abandon, the wind screaming past him a poor imitation of the tempest in his soul. He needed to hit something. He needed to break something. He needed to feel the satisfying release of his power, to burn away the shame and the grief in a blaze of glorious, destructive fury. The monsters of Fiore were about to bear the full, unadulterated brunt of Katsuki Bakugo's pain.