Chapter 4: Catastrophic Claws
The steam hung thick between them, charged with Kaori’s breathless chatter about the slopes and the lingering resonance of Katsuki’s low hum. Her animated gestures sent ripples lapping against his chest. He’d barely moved, just watched her, a silent statue radiating heat in the swirling water, his crimson eyes fixed on her flushed face. The fairy lights tangled overhead cast shifting patterns on the water’s surface, mirroring the tangled flutter in Kaori’s stomach every time his gaze didn’t waver.
A shadow detached itself from the darker eaves of the cabin roof. Silent. Swift. A sleek blur of pitch black against the twilight sky. It plummeted.
SPLASH!
Freezing water exploded upwards as the cat hit the scalding surface dead center. Kaori’s world dissolved into shrieking chaos. A terrified yowl ripped through the night, instantly drowned by her own piercing scream. She flailed backwards, pure animal panic overriding thought. Cold air hit her wet skin like a slap as she scrambled blindly, slipping on the slick tub edge. Her hip slammed into the rim, pain flashing white-hot. Momentum carried her upper body forward, over the side. She crashed onto the rough-hewn wooden decking, gasping, half in, half out of the tub, her face pressed against the cold wood.
Her ass was up. High and exposed in the thin, clinging fabric of her bikini bottoms. Water cascaded down her back and legs. Mortification burned hotter than the scratches she didn’t yet feel.
The cat, a sodden, spitting demon, scrabbled desperately over her lower back and legs, seeking purchase on the wet skin and slippery fabric. Razor-sharp claws dug in, frantic, panicked. Kaori shrieked again, a high-pitched sound of shock and sudden, searing pain.
"Gah! K-Kacchan!"
She tried to twist away, but the claws anchored her. Fire lanced across the backs of her thighs, the curve of her right buttock. She froze, paralyzed by pain and utter, crushing embarrassment. Tears pricked her eyes.
A low, dangerous growl vibrated through the steam behind her. Not the cat’s. Katsuki’s.
"Stop thrashing, idiot!" His voice was a harsh bark, cutting through her panicked squeals. "Damn animal. Stay still!"
His hands closed on her hips. Not gentle. Firm. Anchoring. The sheer solidity of his grip cut through the panic like an anchor chain. Warmth, distinct from the tub water, radiated from his palms through the soaked fabric. He hauled her back, lifting her slightly off the deck, pulling her fully out of the tub and setting her unsteadily on her feet beside it. Water streamed off her, pooling on the wood. She trembled violently, cold air raising instant goosebumps on her wet skin. The sting of the scratches flared now, sharp and insistent. She hugged her arms across her chest, shivering, refusing to look at him, utterly humiliated.
Katsuki ignored her modesty crisis. His focus was lower, intense and clinical. He stepped out of the tub in one fluid motion, dripping, his expression thunderous, but his movements controlled. He kept one hand on her hip, steadying her as she swayed. The other reached down, fingers brushing lightly, almost reluctantly, over the angry red lines raked across the back of her left thigh. She hissed, flinching away.
"Hold still," he snapped, his touch firmer now, tracing the three parallel scratches that marched up towards the curve of her ass. They were shallow but vivid, beading tiny droplets of blood that mixed with the water running down her skin. He examined the matching set on her right thigh, lower down near her knee. His jaw tightened. "Stupid fucking cat."
"I-I’m sorry," Kaori stammered, her voice trembling as much as her body. She felt ridiculous, exposed, and utterly pathetic. "I panicked. It just… fell…"
"No shit," he muttered, his gaze still fixed on the welts. He prodded one gently. "Deep enough to sting, not deep enough to need stitches. Probably." He finally looked up at her face, his crimson eyes sharp. "You okay? Besides the screaming and the flailing?"
The sheer normalcy of the question, delivered with his usual sarcastic edge, broke through her mortification slightly. She managed a tiny, shaky nod, still hugging herself. "Y-yeah. Just… scratches. And cold."
He grunted, a sound that could have meant anything. His hand was still resting on her hip, a heavy, warm brand against her chilled skin. He seemed to realize it at the same moment she did, his fingers flexing slightly before he abruptly pulled it away as if burned. He snatched the towel he’d discarded earlier and thrust it at her. "Here."
Kaori fumbled with it, wrapping the rough terrycloth around herself, grateful for the meager cover. The towel rasped against the tender scratches, making her wince.
Katsuki watched her, water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. His expression was unreadable again, but the anger seemed to have banked, replaced by something taut and assessing. He glanced at the deck where the cat had vanished, then back at her trembling form huddled in the towel. Her wet, white hair clung to her neck and shoulders, her blue eyes wide and vulnerable above the blue fabric.
"Inside," he ordered, his voice rough but lacking its earlier bite. He grabbed his own towel."Now. Before you freeze solid or that furry bastard comes back for round two." He didn’t wait for a response, turning and heading for the sliding door, leaving wet footprints on the deck. He paused at the threshold, looking back at her, silhouetted against the cabin's warm light. "And stop looking like a drowned rat kicked out of its nest. You were fine before the damn cat decided to take a dive." It wasn't gentle. It wasn't kind. But it was, in its own abrasive way, an acknowledgement. He jerked his head towards the interior. "Move it, Snowflake."
The command, the ridiculous nickname he rarely used but that always made her heart stutter, broke the last of her paralysis. Clutching the towel tightly, ignoring the sting on her legs and the persistent, fluttering panic in her chest, Kaori took a shaky step forward on the cold wood, following him into the warmth. The fairy lights blurred behind her as she crossed the threshold, the scent of pine and woodsmoke replaced by the richer aroma of the cabin's interior and the lingering, unsettling warmth of Katsuki’s handprint on her hip.
The cabin’s warmth enveloped Kaori, thick with the scent of seasoned woodsmoke and the faint tang of dried herbs hanging near the stone fireplace. It did little to chase the chill clinging to her wet skin or the deeper, more unsettling heat radiating from the spot where Katsuki’s hand had gripped her hip. She stood just inside, dripping onto the worn rug, towel clutched like a shield, the stinging scratches a sharp counterpoint to her numb embarrassment. Katsuki stalked past her, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood, heading towards the rustic kitchen area. He didn’t look back, his broad shoulders rigid. "Sit. Before you hurt yourself more," he growled over his shoulder, yanking open a cupboard with unnecessary force. Glass rattled inside.
Kaori shuffled towards the oversized leather sofa near the fire, its warmth a siren call. She perched on the very edge, keeping the towel tightly wrapped, wincing as the rough fabric scraped the inflamed lines on her thighs. Every tiny movement sent fresh jolts of pain through the abused skin. She watched Katsuki rummage, the muscles in his back flexing under damp skin. He returned moments later, a bottle of amber antiseptic and a wad of clean gauze clutched in one large hand. His expression was set, purposeful, devoid of its earlier thunder but no less intense. He dropped the supplies onto the low wooden coffee table with a soft thud. "Lose the towel. On your stomach."
Kaori’s eyes widened. "Wh-what? Kacchan, it's okay, really, I can—"
"Tch. Like hell you can reach back there properly." He cut her off, his voice flat, brooking no argument. He loomed over her, water still glistening on his chest, his red eyes locked onto hers, expectant. Challenging. "Do it. Or I’ll rip the damn thing off myself." The threat, delivered so casually, sent a fresh wave of heat up her neck. She knew he meant it. He’d done similar things before, grabbing her arm too tight during training, pinning her during sparring. Force was his default.
Hesitantly, trembling fingers fumbled with the edge of the towel. The damp terrycloth slithered off her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cooler air of the cabin hit her exposed back and the wet bikini top, raising fresh goosebumps. The scratches burned fiercely. Katsuki’s gaze didn't linger on her face; it dropped immediately, clinically, to the angry red lines marring her legs. He gestured impatiently towards the sofa cushion. "Down. Now."
Swallowing hard, Kaori shifted, lowering herself awkwardly onto her stomach on the wide leather seat. The cool leather shocked her heated skin. She rested her cheek on the cushion, staring at the intricate grain of the wood floor, heart pounding against the sofa. She felt utterly exposed, presented. This was infinitely worse than the balcony. At least there, the steam and darkness had offered some veil. Here, under the cabin’s warm, unforgiving lights, every flaw felt magnified. She braced herself, muscles tense, waiting for the antiseptic’s inevitable sting on the visible scratches. Katsuki knelt beside the sofa, the old floorboards creaking under his weight. She heard the snick of the antiseptic bottle cap opening, the sharp, clean scent cutting through the woodsmoke. His fingers, calloused and warm, brushed the highest scratch on her left thigh, just below the edge of her blue bikini bottom. She flinched, sucking in a breath.
"Hold still," he muttered, his voice lower now, concentrated. He dabbed the soaked gauze onto the wound. She gasped at the cold, sharp bite. His touch was efficient, firm, wiping away the faint traces of blood and grime. He worked his way down her thigh, cleaning each parallel line with that same detached precision. Kaori squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the rhythmic crackle of the fire, trying to ignore the intimacy of his hands on her skin, the sheer vulnerability of her position. He finished the visible marks on her thighs. Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then his fingers hooked into the elastic band of her bikini bottom at her hip. Her eyes flew open.
"K-Kacchan? What are you—"
"Shut up." The command was quiet, absolute. He didn't look at her face. He tugged, pulling the fabric down just a few crucial inches, revealing the smooth, unblemished swell of her right buttock and, more importantly, the deep, angry trio of scratches raked diagonally across it, disappearing back beneath the fabric. The sudden exposure, the cool air on skin that had never felt it, made her jerk. "I said still," he snapped, his grip tightening on her hip to pin her down. His thumb pressed into the softness just above her hip bone, an anchor point.
Kaori froze, breath hitching. Mortification washed over her in a scalding wave. He was looking. Touching. There. She felt the slight shift of his fingers as he reapplied the antiseptic to the newly exposed scratches. His touch remained clinically firm, swiping the stinging liquid over the tender flesh. Yet, amidst the sharp pain and the crushing embarrassment, she became acutely aware of another sensation. The tremor running through her – it wasn’t just the lingering chill, or the sting of the antiseptic. It was the heat radiating from his hand where it pressed into her hip, the focused intensity of his presence beside her, the sheer, overwhelming intimacy of his fingers on her bare skin.
Katsuki remained silent, his head bent over his task. His breathing was steady, controlled. But his thumb, resting heavily on her hip, felt the fine tremor vibrating through her muscles. He felt the way her breath hitched again, not just from pain, as he pressed the gauze slightly harder against the deepest scratch near the crest of her cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft under his work-roughened fingertips, warm despite the earlier chill. The involuntary shiver that ran through her wasn't from cold. He watched it travel, a subtle wave beneath the surface, and a slow, almost imperceptible heat kindled in his own gut. He focused on the scratches, the necessary pressure, letting his gaze linger a fraction too long on the smooth skin he’d bared, silently savoring the proof of her reaction trembling under his touch.
The sharp tang of antiseptic bit Kaori’s nostrils, sharpening the sting as Katsuki pressed the gauze firmly against the highest scratch on her right buttock. His calloused thumb remained anchored just above her hip bone, a heavy, warm brand against her chilled skin. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, focusing on the rough texture of the leather sofa against her cheek, the distant crackle of the fireplace, anything but the heat radiating from his hand or the terrifying intimacy of his touch there. Her breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary sound.
"Quit squirming," he muttered, his voice a low rumble close to her ear. It wasn’t gentle, but the clinical detachment was gone, replaced by something thicker, rougher. "Almost done."
Kaori forced herself still, muscles locked. The antiseptic burned, but it was the tremor running through her – the one she knew he felt – that truly frightened her. His fingers smoothed the gauze over the last scratch, the touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary before he abruptly pulled her bikini bottom back into place with a decisive snap of elastic against her damp skin. He released his grip on her hip. The sudden absence of his anchoring weight felt like falling. She heard the rustle of gauze being discarded, the sharp clink of the antiseptic bottle cap being screwed back on.
"Get up." The command was back to its usual gruffness.
Kaori pushed herself up slowly, cautiously, wincing as the movement pulled at the tender, stinging lines on her backside and thighs. She snatched the discarded towel, wrapping it tightly around her torso again, hiding the exposed skin, hiding the flush she knew painted her neck and chest. She couldn’t look at him. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, broken only by the fire. He stood near the coffee table, wiping his hands on a different towel, his expression shuttered. Water dripped from his hair onto the wooden floor, a steady plink… plink… plink.
"Th-thank you, Kacchan," she whispered, finally finding her voice, small and strained. She stared fixedly at a knot in the floorboard. "For… patching me up."
He grunted, tossing the hand towel aside. "Don't thank me for cleaning up after a fucking alley cat attack." He turned, his crimson gaze raking over her huddled form. "You froze like a damn rabbit. Again." The accusation hung in the air, sharp and familiar. "Just like on the bunny slope when that kid wiped out near you. Stopped dead."
Kaori flinched. The memory was fresh, another layer of humiliation. She had frozen then, startled, causing a minor pile-up. "I was startled! It fell right on me! It was… terrifying!"
"Terrifying?" Katsuki took a step closer, his presence filling the space between the sofa and the fireplace. "A house cat? A wet ball of fur?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "You've got a quirk that could ice over this whole valley, Snowflake. You bench press more than half the idiots in our class. But a cat lands in the water, and you panic? Flail? Present your ass to the sky for it to claw?" He shook his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "It's pathetic."
The word struck like a physical blow. Pathetic. It echoed the unspoken criticism she always feared from him. Tears welled, hot and insistent, blurring the knot in the wood. She clutched the towel tighter, knuckles white. "I didn't mean to," she choked out. "I just… reacted."
"Reactions are trained," he snapped, leaning down slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His eyes burned into her. "Instincts are honed. Yours are shit. You react like prey." He gestured vaguely at the covered scratches. "That's the proof. Weak."
The dam broke. The sting of the scratches, the lingering terror of the fall, the crushing exposure on the balcony, the mortification of his hands on her private skin, and now this – his utter dismissal, his confirmation of her deepest fear – it all surged up. The tears spilled over, tracking hot paths down her cheeks. But with them came a spark of something else, unfamiliar and fierce.
"I'm not weak!" The words burst out, louder than she intended, raw and trembling. She finally met his gaze, her blue eyes wide and swimming, but defiant. "It hurt! And it scared me! That doesn't make me weak!"
Katsuki stared back, momentarily frozen. He hadn't expected the fire. He’d expected cowering, stammered apologies, the usual retreat. The tears were expected, but the heat behind them… the outright denial… that was new. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in short gasps, the towel slipping slightly off one shoulder. She looked furious. And wounded. Deeply. The vulnerability was still there, raw and open, but it was tangled now with something sharper.
He straightened up, his own expression unreadable, a wall slammed down. The air crackled, charged with the sudden shift. Her defiance hung between them, fragile yet undeniable, a challenge thrown down in the quiet cabin, punctuated only by her shaky breaths and the fire’s hungry crackle absorbing the silence his surprise had left behind. His crimson eyes narrowed, absorbing this unfamiliar version of her – wounded pride flaring where he’d only ever seen timid acceptance before.
His crimson eyes narrowed, absorbing this unfamiliar version of her – wounded pride flaring where he’d only ever seen timid acceptance before. The silence stretched, thick with the crackle of the fire and the ragged sound of Kaori’s breathing. Tears still tracked down her flushed cheeks, but her blue eyes held his, wide and blazing. The defiance was raw, untested, like a fledgling bird pushing from the nest. Fragile. But present.
Katsuki didn’t move. His gaze flickered, a rapid assessment, from her tear-streaked face down to the towel clutched desperately over her scratched thighs, then back up. A slow, deliberate shift occurred in his expression. The harsh lines around his mouth softened, not into kindness, but into something sharper, more predatory. Amused. Intrigued. The corner of his lips twitched upwards.
Then, it happened. A genuine smirk, sharp and sudden, split his features. Before Kaori could process the startling change, his hand shot out. Not gentle, not hesitant. A solid, jarring clap landed squarely between her shoulder blades. Thwack!
"About time you showed a little backbone, Snowflake!"
The force of it, unexpected and rough, knocked the breath from her lungs. She stumbled forward half a step, her bare feet slipping slightly on the polished hardwood floor. Her grip on the towel loosened, threatening to slip. Shock obliterated her fragile defiance, replaced instantly by a fresh wave of intense flustering. Heat flooded her face anew, hotter than the fire beside them. "K-Kacchan!" she gasped, whirling to face him, scrambling to secure the towel, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. He stood there, smirk firmly in place, red eyes gleaming with a satisfaction that was utterly disorienting. The sting of the scratches, the lingering humiliation, the terrifying intimacy of his hands on her skin moments before – it all collided violently with this abrupt, jarring approval. Her mind spun, utterly unable to reconcile the insult ("pathetic") with this gruff, back-slapping praise. He watched her flounder, the amusement deepening in his gaze, enjoying her confusion, the way her wide eyes darted from his face to the floor and back again, utterly lost. The charged silence returned, but now it crackled with a different energy – confusion, disbelief, and the unsettling, undeniable heat of his approval radiating across the small space between them.