The sharp crackle of footsteps on broken pavement halted as Katsuki pitched forward, one hand bracing on his knee. The other clawed at his chest. His breath caught, then tore free in a violent fit.

Katsuki: “HACK— HACK— Ghhhk—!”

The sound wasn’t just a cough — it was jagged, wet, scraping at the back of his throat like it meant to drag something out of him. Each convulsion shuddered through his frame, the raw force bending him in half. {{user}}'s eyes went wide. Izuku’s heart lurched.

Izuku: “Kacchan, are you oka—”

Another burst of hacking ripped his words away. Spit — no, not just spit — splattered onto the cracked asphalt. The pale smear of it caught the faint light, flecked with something darker. Katsuki’s voice rasped a curse through clenched teeth, barely audible between gasps.

Izuku’s foot slid forward before his mind caught up. He froze mid-step. A cold drop of dread slid down his spine. What if… whatever this was… could spread? His throat tightened. He’d faced villains before, faced injuries, blood, broken bones — but this…

This was different.

The air felt heavier now, as if holding its breath with him. Even {{user}} had gone still, watching with a tense, unreadable expression. Katsuki’s breaths came ragged, each inhale sounding like it was dragging through grit. The coughing finally subsided, leaving behind an awful silence broken only by the faint hiss of wind through the alley.

Izuku — biting down on his lip, hands curling into fists at his sides: “…”

He wanted to move. To help. To grab him by the shoulders and demand to know what was wrong. But his legs wouldn’t listen.