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Flashback brought to you by a bunny knowing its pomeranian is there to cuddle!

The world was on fire.

I could barely see through the smoke as flames licked at the walls of the old building. Everything was chaos. My small body trembled from exhaustion, but I couldn't stop. Not when he was still in danger. Kacchan's voice rang in my ears, desperate, panicked, the kind of fear I'd never heard from him before.

Katsuki Bakugo—the boy who was always so strong, always so sure of himself—was scared. And that terrified me more than the fire, more than the danger. I pushed forward, my lungs burning with every breath, the heavy heat pressing down on me like a weight. My legs screamed for me to stop, but I wouldn't. I couldn't.

Kacchan needed me.

"Kacchan!" My voice cracked as I called out again, but the noise of the fire drowned it out. My eyes stung with tears that weren't just from the smoke. I'd seen him fall, seen the beams collapse around him, and now I was just praying—hoping—that I wasn't too late.

I stumbled over debris, my tiny hands scraping the ground as I pulled myself up. That's when I saw him—Kacchan, buried under a fallen beam, struggling to get free. His face was streaked with dirt and tears, and for the first time, he didn't look invincible. He looked like a scared little boy, just like me.

"Deku!" he screamed, his voice raw, full of something I'd never heard from him before. Panic. It gripped him tightly, squeezing the fire right out of him.

I ran to him, my heart thudding wildly. "Hold on, Kacchan!" I tugged at the beam with all the strength my small body could muster. It didn't budge. My breath caught in my throat as I tried again, this time putting every ounce of strength into the effort.

"Deku, you idiot! Get outta here! You'll get yourself killed!" Bakugo shouted, but his voice was weaker now, tinged with fear. The fire was closing in.

I ignored him, gritting my teeth as I continued to pull. "I'm not leaving you!"

Something shifted, and the beam gave way slightly. I cried out, adrenaline surging through my veins as I managed to push it just enough for him to wriggle out. Kacchan scrambled to his feet, but just as we started to run, the ceiling above us creaked ominously. I looked up, eyes wide in horror as a massive chunk of burning wood broke loose.

"Kacchan, watch out!" Without thinking, I shoved him hard, sending him tumbling out of the way. But there wasn't enough time for me to move. The beam came crashing down, and the last thing I saw was Kacchan's terrified face as the world turned black.

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When I came to, the world was cold, so different from the searing heat I had last felt. The sound of crackling flames was gone, replaced by a distant ringing in my ears. I tried to move, but pain shot through me like a lightning bolt. My whole body felt heavy, like something was holding me down.

Through the fog of pain, I heard a voice. Soft. Familiar.

"Shh, it's okay, Izuku. I'm here."

Mom.

Her voice soothed me, even though my entire body ached. I blinked, trying to focus, and I saw her face, her kind eyes staring down at me with so much love that it made my heart clench. But something was wrong. There was blood—too much blood. And it wasn't mine.

My heart dropped. "Mom?"

She smiled, but it was weak, her face pale. "You're safe, baby. That's all that matters."

I couldn't understand. Why was she bleeding? What had happened? My head throbbed, the memory fuzzy. I tried to speak, to ask what was going on, but my throat felt like it was made of sandpaper. And then I remembered the fire. Kacchan. The beam.

"Where's Kacchan?" I croaked, panic flaring inside me. "Is he okay?"

My mom's hand cupped my face gently, her thumb brushing away the tears I didn't even realize had started to fall. "He's safe. You saved him."

I felt a small, fleeting sense of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by the horror of the situation. "But you—" I choked on my words. My mother—my strong, loving mother—wasn't okay. She was hurt, and I didn't know how to fix it.

"Don't worry about me," she whispered, her voice growing weaker. "Just promise me you'll stay strong, Izuku. No matter what happens."

My vision blurred with tears as I nodded, my heart breaking in a way I couldn't comprehend at that age. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, her touch lingering as if she knew it would be the last time.

And then she was gone.

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I didn't remember much after that. The next few months were a blur of hospital rooms, doctors, and endless questions that I didn't have answers to. They told me I had suffered head trauma from the fire, that my memories might never fully come back. And they didn't. Everything about my life before the accident became fragmented, as though someone had taken a pair of scissors to my memories and cut out the most important parts.

Including Kacchan.

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The foster family that took me in after my mom's death was nothing like her. They weren't kind, they weren't loving. They were cold, harsh, and I quickly learned that love wasn't something I could expect from them. The beatings were one thing, but the other... the things they did behind closed doors...

I didn't talk about it. I couldn't. Who would believe a scared little kid, anyway? So I ran. The first chance I got, I escaped that hellhole and never looked back.

That's when I became the Ghost. When I learned how to survive on my own. Stealing became second nature, and I became good at it. No one could catch me. No one could find me. And I told myself that was the way it had to be.

But now, sitting in this car with Bakugo—Kacchan—everything was different. I couldn't run from this. Couldn't run from him. And as much as I wanted to believe I could still escape, something in my heart told me I was trapped.

Not by Bakugo.

By the past. By the bond we shared that I couldn't remember fully, but that he clearly never forgot.

The car ride that we hastly got on was quiet, the weight of unspoken words heavy between us. Bakugo's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched as he glanced over at me every now and then. I could feel his eyes on me, the worry etched into his features. He knew something. He knew more than I did. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, a part of me was terrified to know the truth.

Because if I let myself remember everything—if I opened that door—what would it mean for me now? Would we still be the same boys we were back then? Or would I crack? I tried to forget all the pain so much that I did.....

I was scared.