The barrage of questions, fueled by Team Natsu's shock, concern, and dawning comprehension of his self-inflicted wounds, pressed in on Katsuki, each query a fresh stab of torment on top of his physical agony. He felt exposed, his carefully constructed walls of aggression and power crumbling under the weight of their horrified scrutiny and his own broken body. The pity in their eyes, the sheer, unadulterated worry – it was unbearable.
"Shut UP!" he finally roared, the words tearing from his throat with a surprising burst of ragged strength, a desperate, wounded animal's snarl. His eyes snapped open, blazing with a fresh wave of furious despair. "Damn it! Just… SHUT UP!" He coughed violently, spitting blood onto the scorched earth. "I can't… I can't go back anymore!" The admission was ripped from him, raw and broken. "I have no way possible… of going HOME! FUCK!"
The anguished cry, so unlike his usual controlled fury, hung in the devastated air, silencing Team Natsu more effectively than any command. The raw pain in his voice, the utter desolation, was a glimpse into the abyss he'd been trying so desperately to fight, to blast into oblivion. They stared at him, no longer with just shock at his power, but with a dawning, horrified understanding of his profound isolation and despair. This wasn't just about proving his strength; this was the cry of a lost soul.
Lucy's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. Natsu's fists unclenched, his aggressive posture deflating, replaced by a look of stunned empathy. Gray looked away, a muscle working in his jaw. Even Erza's stern composure seemed to crack, a flicker of deep sorrow crossing her face.
Luckily, before the heavy silence could stretch further, or before Katsuki could lash out again from sheer, agonized self-preservation, a new sound cut through the crackling fires – the frantic beating of wings and urgent voices.
Carla had returned, and not a moment too soon. Following closely behind her, looking small but radiating an aura of immense concern and authority, was Makarov Dreyar. And with them, two figures who brought a sliver of hope into the hellish landscape: Wendy Marvell, the young Sky Dragon Slayer, her expression already etched with worry as she took in the scene, and, remarkably, Porlyusica, the reclusive, notoriously cantankerous healer known for her disdain for humans but also her unparalleled medical skills. Porlyusica's presence alone was a testament to the severity of the situation Carla must have conveyed.
"Good heavens!" Wendy gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she saw Katsuki's mangled form and the sheer devastation around them.
Porlyusica, however, merely sniffed disdainfully, though her sharp eyes missed nothing, cataloging Katsuki's injuries with a grim, professional detachment. "Humans," she muttered, her usual opening gambit. "Always finding new and inventive ways to nearly kill themselves. This one's particularly adept, it seems." Despite her acerbic tone, she immediately moved towards Katsuki, shooing Natsu and Lucy aside with an impatient gesture. "Out of the way, fools. Let me see the damage this idiot has wrought upon himself."
Wendy, already aglow with the soft, healing light of her Sky Dragon Slayer magic, knelt beside Katsuki, her small hands hovering over his most grievous wounds. "His injuries are… extensive, Porlyusica-san. Multiple fractures, severe internal bleeding, magical energy depletion… his life force is dangerously low."
Makarov approached, his gaze sweeping over the apocalyptic scene, then settling on Katsuki's pain-racked body. His expression was a mixture of profound sorrow, stern disapproval, and a deep, paternal concern. He knelt beside Katsuki, opposite Porlyusica, his presence a small, anchoring point of calm amidst the chaos.
"Katsuki, my boy," Makarov began, his voice gentle but firm, cutting through the haze of Katsuki's pain and the surrounding worried chatter. Porlyusica was already barking orders at Wendy, directing her healing magic, her own gnarled hands beginning to glow with a potent, green energy as she started her work.
Katsuki flinched at the Guild Master's voice, trying to turn his head away, but a sharp stab of pain from his neck made him cry out.
"Easy now, son," Makarov said soothingly, placing a surprisingly strong hand on Katsuki's shoulder, not to restrain, but to ground him. "Porlyusica and Wendy are here. They will help you. You need to stay as still as possible."
Katsuki's breathing was shallow, his crimson eyes, though clouded with agony, still held that defiant spark. He didn't want their help, didn't want their pity. But he was too broken to resist, too weak to even snarl a proper insult.
"I heard what you said, Katsuki," Makarov continued, his voice low, meant only for him amidst the healers' focused work and the hushed, worried murmurs of Team Natsu, who had retreated a respectful distance. "About not being able to go home."
Katsuki's eyes squeezed shut. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it.
"This world… Fiore… it can be a harsh place, especially for those who arrive unexpectedly, torn from everything they know," Makarov said, his tone filled with an empathy that Katsuki found both infuriating and, to his shame, slightly comforting. "You carry a great weight, young man. A loneliness that few can understand."
Porlyusica made a sharp 'tch' sound as she worked, meticulously setting a shattered bone in Katsuki's arm. "Less talking, Makarov. More healing needed here. This boy's done his best to unravel himself from the inside out."
Makarov acknowledged her with a slight nod but kept his gaze on Katsuki. "The power you wield is immense, Katsuki. Perhaps among the greatest I have ever witnessed. But power without purpose, without connection, can become a destructive force, not just to your enemies, but to yourself, as you've so clearly demonstrated."
He paused, letting his words sink in. Katsuki could feel Wendy's gentle magic seeping into him, a cool, soothing balm against the raging fire of his injuries. Porlyusica's touch was rougher, more pragmatic, but undeniably effective, her magic knitting together torn tissues with a potent, earthy energy.
"You believe you are alone, that you have no way back," Makarov said, his voice resonating with a quiet strength. "Perhaps that is true. Perhaps not. The paths of fate are strange and often unknowable. But what I do know, Katsuki Bakugo, is that as long as you draw breath, as long as you are here, in Fairy Tail, you are not truly alone."
Katsuki's breath hitched. He wanted to reject the words, to scream that they didn't understand, that their sentimental guild bullshit meant nothing to him. But the sincerity in the old man's voice, the undeniable fact that these people, these strangers, were here, expending their energy, their magic, to save his worthless, self-destructive hide… it chipped away at the ice around his heart.
"Fairy Tail is more than just a guild, son," Makarov continued, his eyes holding Katsuki's, demanding his attention. "It is a family. A mismatched, chaotic, often infuriating family, yes. But a family nonetheless. And family… family does not abandon its own, even when they try their damnedest to push everyone away."
He squeezed Katsuki's shoulder gently. "Rest now, Katsuki. Heal. The path ahead is long, and you will need your strength. And when you are ready, if you are ever ready, know that there are those here who will listen. Not to judge, not to pity, but to understand. You are one of us now, whether you like it or not. And Fairy Tail… well, we have a habit of growing on even the prickliest of souls."
Makarov then fell silent, allowing the healers to continue their work. Katsuki lay there, the old man's words echoing in his mind, a strange counterpoint to the searing pain that was slowly, painstakingly, being eased by Wendy and Porlyusica's combined magic. He was still broken, still lost, still filled with a rage and grief that felt bottomless. But for the first time since that tearing, disorienting wrench had thrown him into this world, a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of something other than pure, defiant solitude touched the edges of his fractured consciousness. It wasn't acceptance. It wasn't hope. But it was… something. And for now, under the watchful eyes of a Guild Master and the healing hands of two powerful mages, it was enough to keep him from completely shattering.
The Master's words, meant to soothe, to offer a lifeline, instead struck a raw, defiant nerve in Katsuki. Even through the fog of pain and the encroaching relief of the healing magic, his ingrained skepticism, his fierce independence, and his acute awareness of his 'otherness' flared. The idea of being part of their family, this chaotic, overly sentimental guild, felt like a brand he hadn't earned, a connection he hadn't sought and certainly didn't feel.
He managed to turn his head slightly, wincing as protesting muscles and mending bones screamed, his crimson eyes, still hazy but burning with a renewed spark of truculent pride, fixed on Makarov. His voice was a hoarse, ragged whisper, but the challenge in it was unmistakable.
"How…?" he rasped, each word an effort that sent jolts of pain through his chest. "How can you… be my family… when I don't even… have the damn mark… like they do?!"
He jerked his chin weakly towards where Team Natsu stood, their concerned faces still visible in the periphery. He'd seen it on all of them – Natsu's red emblem on his shoulder, Lucy's pink one on her hand, Gray's dark blue on his chest, Erza's on her arm. The Fairy Tail insignia. The undeniable, visible symbol of their belonging, their allegiance, their shared identity. He had no such mark. He was an outsider, a temporary fixture, a stray dog they'd taken in out of some misguided sense of pity. He wasn't one of them, not really. Not in the way that truly mattered in this guild that seemed to place so much emphasis on bonds and camaraderie.
His outburst, weak as it was, caused Wendy to falter momentarily in her healing, her eyes widening with a touch of surprise. Porlyusica just snorted, as if to say, 'See? Ungrateful brat,' but continued her work with grim efficiency.
Makarov, however, didn't flinch. A small, understanding smile touched his lips, a smile that held a hint of sadness and a wealth of patience. He met Katsuki's challenging gaze with a steady, unwavering calm.
"Ah, the mark," he said softly, as if Katsuki had pointed out a minor oversight rather than a fundamental barrier to belonging. "You believe the insignia is what makes one a member of Fairy Tail? That it is the sole determinant of family?"
He shook his head gently. "The mark, Katsuki, is a symbol. It is an outward sign of an inward commitment, a declaration to the world, yes. But it is not the heart of what makes us Fairy Tail. The heart…" Makarov paused, his gaze sweeping briefly over Natsu, Lucy, Gray, and Erza, who were listening intently, their expressions softening at their Master's words. "…The heart of Fairy Tail lies in the bonds between us. In the willingness to fight for one another, to support one another, to accept one another, flaws and all."
He looked back at Katsuki, his eyes kind but piercing. "You stormed into our guild, Bakugo Katsuki. You demanded work, you unleashed your power, you showed us your strength and your fury. You took on dangerous tasks, you pushed yourself beyond all reasonable limits, and you nearly destroyed yourself in the process."
Katsuki scowled, a weak imitation of his usual ferocity. He didn't need the recap of his own recklessness.
"And yet," Makarov continued, his voice gaining a quiet intensity, "when you fell, when you were broken and bleeding, who came for you? Who risked their own safety to reach your side? Who sent for healers with desperate urgency?" He gestured subtly towards Team Natsu, towards Wendy and Porlyusica who were painstakingly knitting Katsuki back together. "They did. We did. Not because you bore a stamp on your skin, but because, in your own explosive, cantankerous way, you had become… entangled with us. Because we saw not just a powerful mage, but a young man in pain, a young man lost and alone, whether he chooses to admit it or not."
The Guild Master leaned a little closer, his voice dropping further, a gentle rumble. "The mark can be given, Katsuki. It is a simple enchantment, a splash of ink and magic. If a mark is what you believe you need to feel a sense of belonging, then a mark you shall have, when you are well enough, if that is your wish."
He held up a hand before Katsuki could utter a protest, though the boy was currently too weak to do much more than glare. "But know this, son. The true mark of Fairy Tail is not worn on the skin. It is carried in the heart. It is in the spirit that refuses to give up, the spirit that rushes to a comrade's aid, the spirit that, even in the darkest of times, believes in the light of nakama."
Makarov's gaze softened further. "You are right. You do not have our insignia. Not yet. But you have already shown us a spirit that, in its own fierce and untamed way, resonates with the very core of what Fairy Tail stands for: an indomitable will, a refusal to be broken, a power that, if guided, could protect as fiercely as it destroys." He smiled, a genuine, warm smile this time. "The mark will come, if and when you choose it, Katsuki. But whether you bear it visibly or not, in the ways that truly count, you are already walking the path of a Fairy Tail mage. You just haven't realized it yet."
He patted Katsuki's shoulder again, a gesture of reassurance, of acceptance, of unwavering faith. "Rest. Heal. The question of marks and belonging can wait. What matters now is that you live, that you recover. The rest… the rest will follow, in its own time."
Katsuki stared at the old man, his mind reeling. He didn't understand. He didn't understand this unconditional acceptance, this talk of bonds and spirit that seemed to transcend mere symbols. It was so alien to the cutthroat, competitive world he knew, where strength was paramount and sentimentality was a weakness. Yet… a part of him, a small, battered part he'd thought long dead, felt a strange, unwelcome warmth spread through his chest, a counterpoint to the cool relief of Wendy's healing magic. He still didn't believe it, not really. But for the first time, he didn't entirely disbelieve it either. And that, in itself, was a terrifying, confusing, and undeniably significant shift.