The next day, after practically dying in bed, Bakugo woke up early and, with his father's help, redid his bandages. Then, he got dressed and left the house, heading toward Hiroshi Gojo's office.
If their relationship could be summed up in one word, it would be… complicated, to say the least. Even after almost a year, Bakugo still didn't fully trust Gojo. Still, it was impossible to ignore the fact that, thanks to that eccentric therapist, he was on his feet, facing his traumas and learning to control the phenomenon Gojo called Quirk Echo.
Quirk Echo, according to the old man, was a rare condition where certain Quirks didn't just affect the physical body but also directly shaped the user's psyche. In simple terms, it was as if someone's Quirk could involuntarily alter their personality, impulses, or temperament.
Gojo explained that Quirks interfered with the parts of the brain responsible for executive functions, emotional control, and fight-or-flight responses. This influence could sometimes disrupt hormone regulation, like adrenaline, or keep the nervous system in a constant state of alert, leading to extreme behaviors such as aggression, withdrawal, or emotional instability.
In Bakugo's case, the Explosion Quirk — which creates blasts from the sweat on his palms, a process tied to stress and arousal — kept his sympathetic nervous system hyperactive. This conditioned his mind to operate in a constant state of vigilance, manifesting in hostility, impatience, and outbursts of anger. "It's like your Quirk is always telling you to fight, even when there's no enemy," Gojo once said.
When Bakugo asked why he had never heard anything about Quirk Echo, Gojo revealed that world governments suppressed any mention of the phenomenon. After all, how would society react knowing that some villains weren't "evil" by choice, but because of a condition caused by their own Quirks? Or worse, how would people deal with the idea that their children could be born with powers that made them inherently "bad"?
At first, Bakugo didn't buy it. If there were specialists like Gojo capable of treating the issue, why was it taboo? The old man then explained that professionals like him were rare, and even with treatment, Quirk Echo had no cure — only control. The symptoms, though reduced, never truly went away. All it took was a trigger, an emotional spark, for all progress to collapse. "It's like balancing a bomb," Gojo said, his expression serious. "You learn to hold it, but it never stops being dangerous."
***
After a few minutes, Bakugo arrived in front of the old man's office. 'Let's make this quick, I've got a lot to do today,' he thought and knocked twice on the door.
A few seconds later, the door creaked open. "Well, Katsuki! Finally remembered this old man?" Gojo appeared, leaning on his cane, a crooked smile on his wrinkled face.
"Tsk. You know damn well I said I wasn't coming back after the U.A. exam," Bakugo retorted, stepping into the "office," which had basically turned into Gojo's house. He barely took two steps inside when he froze at the state of the place: papers scattered everywhere, dust gathering in the corners, and a pile of books toppled on the floor. "What the hell… I cleaned all of this!"
"Well, that's what happens when you don't clean for a month," Gojo said, closing the door.
"I told you to keep this place clean!"
"Do I look like someone with the energy to sweep?" the old man shot back, limping over to a chair and sitting down with a groan.
"Tsk." Huffing, Bakugo marched through the office in search of the broom. He found it leaning in the same corner where he'd left it on his last visit, now covered in a few cobwebs. 'You've got to be kidding me.'
"Don't waste your time with that, kid. Come talk!" Gojo shouted, his voice echoing through the room.
"I'M NOT TALKING IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS DUMP!" Bakugo shouted back, already sweeping the floor with sharp, irritated strokes.
***
"Done. It's at least halfway decent now," Bakugo said, throwing himself onto the couch across from Gojo after half an hour of cleaning. "If you can't clean, hire someone, damn it."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it," Gojo muttered, clearly uninterested, before shifting to a more serious tone. He leaned forward, his eyes analyzing Bakugo closely. "So, how are you doing?"
Bakugo grew serious too. "I'm fine… considering what happened."
"Didn't go as planned, huh?"
"No," Bakugo admitted, clenching his jaw. "I was arrogant. And it came at a high price"
"Hm?"
Bakugo tightened his fists, knuckles turning white. "…My teacher lost an arm."
Gojo raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Huh. That didn't make the news. Which one?"
"Aizawa," Bakugo answered, his voice heavy with guilt. "In the original timeline he lost a leg and an eye… I thought I… I could change that. That I could keep him from suffering so much..."
Gojo leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant for a moment. "The original timeline… we've talked about this, haven't we? Your decisions will affect it, kid. Every little thing you do sends ripples — some save lives, others destroy. Those who lived might die, and those who died might live."
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.