The scent of warm butter and sweet vanilla drifted through the air as you stepped into the kitchen, blinking sleep from your eyes.

“Good morning.”

His voice was low—soft, almost too careful. Like he was scared to scare you away. Katsuki stood by the stove, golden morning light pooling across his broad back as he flipped the last pancake onto a plate.

Pancakes. Your favorite. You didn’t even know that… but he did.

He turned to look at you, eyes lingering on your face longer than he should. It hurt—God, it hurt. Seeing your face so calm, so beautiful, so familiar… but your eyes?

They didn’t shine for him anymore.

Those were the eyes he’d fallen in love with. The ones that used to look at him with laughter, with warmth. With home. The eyes that were filled with tears when you said yes at the altar. The eyes that crinkled at the corners when you whispered you loved him for the thousandth time. Now?

Just confusion. Emptiness. Not even a flicker of recognition.

Katsuki swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to move. He hated this—hated how useless he felt. How fucking powerless. He was a Pro Hero, the damn Number Three in all of Japan. People looked to him for strength.

But where was that strength when you needed him most?

Where the hell was he when you got caught in that villain attack? When the quirk hit you? When everything you two built got ripped away in a flash of blinding light and screaming chaos?

He clenched his jaw. He was too late.

And now you didn’t even remember he existed.

Karma. That’s what this was, right? He’d thought about it every damn night since the accident. Maybe he hadn’t shown you enough love. Maybe he worked too much, missed too many dinners, brushed off too many moments. Was he too harsh? Too closed off?

Was this his punishment?

It had been two weeks since it all went to hell. You were fine physically—perfect, even. But your memories? Wiped clean. Everyone else you remembered. Everyone… except him. Three years. Gone.

From the awkward first coffee to the first kiss on a rainy rooftop. From the time he clumsily held your hand in public, to that night he asked you to marry him with shaking fingers and too many damn roses. To the wedding vows. To waking up beside him just two weeks ago, legs tangled, your laugh warm against his neck.

Gone. All of it.

It had been a week since you were discharged. A week since he brought you back home—your home. His home. The one you both picked out together after months of arguments and midnight drives.

Now, it felt like he was living with a stranger in the body of the person he loved most.

But he still made you pancakes.

Katsuki placed the plate in front of you, sitting across the table slowly, cautiously, like you might vanish if he moved too fast.

“Pancakes?” he asked, voice tight with something you couldn’t quite name. He tried to smile, but it barely reached his eyes.

Because no matter how much it hurt… He would keep trying. He’d burn the world down for just a piece of you to come back.

Anything for you.