"The pessimist complains about the wind.

The optimist expects it to change.

The leader adjusts the sails."

-John Maxwell

A few days ago:

Deku was having a rather nice chat with Bakugo.

Well, the term 'nice chat' depended on who you were in this conversation.

(It was really only nice for Deku, honestly).

Bakugo was taken aback, just a little bit, as if the idea had never occurred to him, as his face was slowly draped in shadows. In comparison to All Might's reaction, though, it might as well have been tame. His eyebrows flew to the top of his head, mouth slightly gaping in incredibility. Shock, quite literally, oozed from his every pore. It was as if he couldn't even fathom a reason why that sentence would be used in that place and the possible implications of it—... He didn't know before this, Deku realized with a start. He felt the faint urge to facepalm.

All for One had definitely expounded on each and every significant moment in his past.

However, he was general about it at the same time.

When he did mention the bullying, the abuse, he had never once spoken or said a name. All that was used were generic terms like friend and student. All Might most likely left the story there, either out of busyness or blatant indifference on the subject (or maybe something else. He never claimed to be a mind reader), and all of this was sudden news for the Top Hero, the Symbol of Peace. Bakugo seemed to have figured it out too, as his face warped this and that way, uncertain of how to feel, how to act. Deku was feeling the same way, to be honest.

This truth that had just inadvertently spilled out looked like it was breaking the man, setting off war from the inside out.

No one knew what to say, so silence was the only king that reigned in his reticent1 reclusiveness, just out of reach for the common people, but disturbingly common in high-strung situations. There were times when staying in his company was just pleasant and peaceful, but the majority of the times that he did show up...

It could only signal the calm before the storm, the silent stumble before the fall.

And in this case, it was most certainly a storm that was coming (although not the type that you would generally expect).

"Bakugo-shounen. Is this true?" His voice was quiet, but there was a core of steel to it, a quality about that that made it more menacing than screaming and more commanding than yelling.

It was the kind of voice that made you remember, that forced you to realize that this was the Symbol of Peace, someone who had saved enough people to make a city (nevermind the fact that to keep the peace you had to be strong enough to defeat any no-doers that threatened that peace,) and that you were just a little tiny ant in comparison. It was the kind of voice that required cooperation and truth. So that was what Bakugo responded with as the center focus of that ludicrous intent that seemed like it could split the sky in half.

Still, for his credit...

He didn't stutter or shake.

"...Yes."

(You could still tell it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, to admit to something like that to his role model, to the one he was supposed to surpass... It was hard. But it was also the truth - it drenched his ego in the cold, nauseating oil of guilt; he wouldn't feel that for a lie - and he wouldn't run from that. His answer wouldn't have changed whether or not All Might pressured him.)

All Might seemed to have aged a couple of years in the span of that single word answer.

He couldn't think of a single thing to say, truly.

Bakugo was his student, his responsibility to nurture, teach, and most of all, it was his responsibility to give him the tools he needed to succeed. And in this modern climate of heroism just for the camera, news of bullying and the attempted... suicide of young Midoriya would halt his career in its tracks. He'd never become a hero. But by the same token, it seemed like he no longer deserved to be a hero at this point. Sure, he was young and made mistakes, but... He had never heard of someone like that ever becoming a good hero in the first place...

No, that wasn't even the problem.

The problem was that Bakugo needed to take responsibility for his actions, but his job made what should have been an easy answer, hard.

Silence drenched the room once more, suffocating any and all words that could have been said at that very moment.

It was only natural that it wasn't broken by a word, but a cough. It wasn't a fake one, though. It was a sick, wet cough that was like a gunshot, and it was proceeded my many, picking up in a climactic symphony of choked out air. The wound that he suffered was decently deep (he really hadn't noticed how far it truly cut down until he had gotten to the hospital), and knicked his lungs. There wasn't any more danger at this point because of the surgery and the healing quirk he had been especially administered with made it so that there was no more danger, but he was still coughing from the medicine that they had forced on him.

The previous tension melted away like snow in spring, and All Might rushed to his side in a hurry, Bakugo a little later, a touch more hesitant, but he wobbled over there all the same. But his eyes were like the normal eyes of a patient, all clouded over and misty with pain, but sharp. They weren't bright by any means, just a deep pool of magenta tinged red that faded to black around the edges, but they were oh so very aware. So unconsciously, where they (All Might) could have been a lot more clingy, he settled for laying his body down and popping his head up with a pillow.

"Are you okay..?"

"No need to concern yourself over me. It's the medicine I got. By all accounts, my wound is as good as healed, if a bit tender."

His speech was broken up by a bit of coughing, but he was just so indifferent and disinterested about it that the other two couldn't get up in arms about it either.

"Also, with that previous topic, I'm not in a rush at all. Feel free to think about it really, really carefully. Have it haunt your dreams if you must. But one word of advice, Bakugo. That little feeling of guilt in your stomach... That will never, ever go away unless you either become trash in human's skin or take responsibility for what you've done. And if you just stay as you are, that little bit of guilt that you have in your stomach will never go away either. Well, not that it's any of my concern. Nor is it All Might's problem to decide. You have full autonomy for your choices here, although I can't say the same for the consequences."

Then the intercom rang with a pissed off president of the hospital ranting and raving about how 'He wasn't permitted to have visitors' and 'Just because you're the Symbol of Peace doesn't mean you can ignore medical practices' there was a bit about Bakugo, but Deku tuned that out, certain that if he heard that name one more time he'd throw up his lunch. That he didn't get.

...He really wanted lunch now.

Present Time:

Gray and the rest were sitting in their new safehouse (the bastard didn't even deserve the word stolen after he had ruined their plans) and all of them looked drained, for better or for worse. This was gonna be a big moment and they put so much effort into it, but it still didn't work. They were all in varying states of 'melted snowman' on the couch; Dabi was a mess of limbs everywhere, Toga had her face buried into the cushions, and Twice was slumping a little. Even the light that radiated from Gray was a little half-heartened in nature.

{Should we just... go back to meet Master? Surely, he can get at least something from this..?}

Dabi looked disgusted by the statement, but as time drew out further and he was still without a viable solution, he sighed.

"That's the only thing that we can do at this point... Okay. Up all of you lazy idiots, we're going to go find Deku-san."

"You were lazing around too..." Toga lazily mumbled into the couch fabric.

"Yes! Yes! You are a hypocrite!"

"No, we can't fault him for being down, a big operation just happened-!"

"What are you saying, you idiot! He's clearly lying through his teeth-!"

Everyone unanimously ignored Twice as he talked, reluctantly removing themselves from the couch's fluffy softness as they stood up, sleepiness and laziness disappearing as their eyes (mostly) sharpened in focus. They were about to meet that person, after all, and they had just failed the one task he had gifted them with. They didn't see him as some otherworldly being to worship and serve without a second thought, but the fact remained that they did say they would do it, the fact some of them were doing it on a whim didn't matter.

What did matter was that they agreed and failed to provide results.

It was only natural that they were somewhat tense.

But they didn't really have a choice left, so as Gray said-

{I'll go where he is. You follow me by car.}

-they did it.