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Part 1 of Time Again
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Never and Always, Eventually

Summary:

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

 

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1

Summary:

Just want to say thank you to my beta reader, muppetofaman, for editing this chapter!

Chapter Text

 Bakugo Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku… that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the exact fucking moment they became fierce rivals, a time when they were enemies in all but name. However, what he remembers most vividly about their relationship is the moment they moved past rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something like brotherhood. Something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield, in the midst of the natural disaster that was their day job where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher.

         They were… coworkers, he supposed. 

         The moment he realized he was calling Izuku “shitty nerd Deku” in his head with more fondness and—dare he say it—admiration than true annoyance, was when Izuku stood by his side cheering louder than anyone else when he, Katsuki a.k.a “Overkill,” was named the Number One Hero.

         And when the next year rolled around and Shitty Nerd Deku was declared Number One, and everyone looked to Overkill as though expecting him to blow up, Katsuki only scoffed and gave a sarcastic thumbs up accompanied by a sneer.

         Whenever they teamed up, whether by accident or by design, they always worked well together. Like two dancers following a routine they knew by heart. The two of them had known each other so long it was almost as though they could read each other’s minds. And that was an important skill to have when your every action could mean life or death for an innocent civilian.

They traded spots as Number One and Number Two Heroes back and forth like it was some kind of game. A game that Katsuki learned to never really mind losing because, if he had to lose to someone, why not to the heir of All Might? Why not to Deku? The quirkless, timid boy who became the powerful, grinning man that inspired nations?

         Eventually, their bond in battle bled over to their civilian life.

It started easily enough. After a particularly difficult villain had been carted away by the boys in blue Deku had turned to Overkill with a weary sort of smile. “Drinks?” he had asked, still breathing a bit more heavily than normal.

         “You better be offering to fucking pay,” Katsuki had growled. Inexplicably, his acerbic reply caused Deku to light up like a Christmas tree. Katsuki had to hide a smile underneath a glare that deterred Deku not at all.

         Drinks lead to dinner parties with their old classmates, which lead to “sleepovers” with copious amounts of alcohol and laughter. Before Katsuki knew it, the idiots he’d avoided in high school had suddenly decided they were all buddy-buddy. He hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until he got invited to Uraraka and Asui’s wedding then found himself dancing with a laughing Kirishima without really knowing how he got there.

         By the time he was invited to Iida’s and his wife’s (Mei, he thinks her name is? He just calls her "You" whenever he sees her, because, to be totally honest, that Support Geek freaks him out. But she doesn’t scare him, not at all.) house to celebrate the first birthday of their daughter, he realized that none of them had the same fear of him that they used to. None of them flinched or fell silent when he walked into the room. None of them suspiciously followed him with their eyes. Sometimes, he caught them relaxing upon seeing him.

         And he found…that he liked it.

         Mostly.

He had hoped that Todoroki would fear him a bit more, especially when that half-and-half bastard had randomly decided to propose to Deku. (Seriously?! Where the heck did that come from?!) Katsuki had then taken it upon himself to deliver the typical “You actually marry him, and I castrate you with fire” talk that he was relatively certain fell into his responsibility to give as Deku’s oldest friend. Though, for some reason, the Halfy married Deku anyway.

         Katsuki didn’t cry at the wedding. He shed manly sweat from his eyeballs. So did Kirishima, in case anyone was wondering.

         He was friendly enough with Deku that when Kirishima inexplicably dropped to one knee after they had successfully saved a butt-load of idiots from an apartment fire and asked him if they wanted to make their relationship,“like, official for life?” Katsuki had reluctantly asked Deku if he wanted to be his best man.

         He had expected the wimpy nerd tears… he hadn’t expected the hug.

         It was a day before his wedding, and Katsuki was about ready to just blow up the entire guestlist and the decorations and the fucking priest that fucking Kiri had found somewhere and the stinking flowers that made his palms sweat (more than usual) and the (admittedly pretty) lakeside gazebo where Kiri had decided he wanted to tie the knot. Deku, seeing that “Kacchan” was minutes away from committing arson, mass homicide, or both, ushered Overkill away from the preparations saying loudly over Katsuki’s cusrses that they would be going on patrol.

         Deku and Overkill wandering rooftops was far from an unusual sight, but every time they went out, they always gathered a crowd of fans who cheered when Katsuki flipped them off and cooed when Deku gave them a dorky little wave. Loathe as he was to admit anything… Katsuki kinda liked how no one gave a fuck if he gave a fuck about propriety anymore. He had become so successful that people liked it when he told them to go to hell. It…. tickled him.

         So, he’d been in a pretty good mood when the report suddenly came in about a robbery in progress. Katsuki had grinned maliciously, letting his quirk snap and crackle over his knuckles while Deku rolled his eyes fondly at his friend’s antics. They raced to where the distress signal had come in from, with Katsuki beating Deku there by a slim margin. A jewelry store. Some punks had decided to rob a goddamn jewelry store in the middle of Jesus-fucking daylight when everyone and their dog knew that a congregation of Pros had gathered in the city for his frigging wedding.

         Katsuki made a face… wedding. Ugh. He was getting married. To Shitty Hair. What the heck? Deku snapped him out of his disbelief with a laugh. “Are they serious? They look like they’re what, twelve?”

         “Who cares,” Overkill growled. He lit up his quirk with his customary “DIIIIIEEEEEE,” with Deku following behind with a sigh. But inwardly, he had to agree with Deku. The two robbers looked like they couldn’t be out of middle school. One of them had a very obvious smoke screen quirk, but the other didn’t seem to be showing any signs of a quirk. It was too late to assume anything, but Katsuki was almost thirty-five, he could take on these worms.

         Ugh…he was almost thirty-five…. Jeebus Christ he was old…..

         The kid who hadn’t shown signs of a quirk called out to Smokey as Katsuki burst through the door. He lobbed a blaze of fire right at her, but Smokey was on the ball. Overkill found himself with a face full of thick, putrid smoke as Smokey pulled the other girl clear of the fireball. Katsuki held his breath, batting the smoke away from his face with a quick blast from his own quirk. However, just then, the girl activated her own quirk, clasping her hands together as though in prayer.

         With the sound of a bubble popping, Katsuki found himself back in the doorway of the jewelry store, his fireball coming back towards his face. Overkill ducked out of the way, and the fireball hit Deku right in the nose. It didn’t hurt Deku so much as surprise him.

         “Time quirk,” Deku said before his mouth took off mumbling at the speed of light. Katsuki knew better than to tune him out, so he listened. Apparently, the little nerd had figured out that Smokey could only emit smoke while exhaling and had a very limited amount he could make at once. And the Timey Wimey Twerp probably only had a half or minute or so amount of time that she could actually play with. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem affected by her own quirk, so, while she kept resetting Katsuki and Deku back a few seconds, she got further and further away, dragging her friend behind her.

         It was disconcerting, to say the least. Katsuki would run several steps forward, feel his ears pop and then find himself back in the door of the jewelry store with Deku not far behind him. They kept running into each other, running into walls, tripping over obstacles that magically righted themselves a moment later. Kastuki lit the store on fire twice only to have the flames fly back towards his hands, usually ending up burning Deku in the process.

         However, as soon as she was out of sight, they felt her influence abruptly fall away. Deku gave a sigh of relief. “Well, at least that means she has to be able to see us in order to use her quirk.”

         “I’m gonna fucking explode her ass!” Katsuki screamed.

         “Kacchan,” Deku said warily. “Her quirk is pretty efficient. Don’t get cocky.”

         “Too late,” Overkill grinned at his friend, who rolled his eyes once more.

         They followed the two kids at a distance from rooftops, careful to not let themselves be seen by either fan or foe. It was unusual for either Deku or Overkill to be very stealthy, so hopefully it would give them enough of the element of surprise that they could get the drop of the Timey Wimey Bitch before she could use that awful quirk again.

         What happened next, Katsuki could have neither predicted, nor prevented. As of yet, Timey Wimey had used her quirk on everyone in a specific area to go back in time a few moments…they hadn’t realized she could freeze someone in time. Deku and Katsuki dropped down into the warehouse that they had followed the two children to.

         They couldn’t move. It felt like he was dead, somehow, despite his brain working fine he could tell that his heart wasn’t beating. He couldn’t breathe. Every molecule in his body had stopped moving and Katsuki felt the wrongness of the fact creep into his bones. More than that, he couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t feel anything. It was as though his eyes and brain were suspended in thin air. He could see directly in front of him, but that was the only sensation left to him.

         And then Deku punched him. Overkill went flying and hit the far wall. Dazed, he staggered to his feet, knowing he had some sort of concussion. He looked back to Deku, just in time to see his friend’s determined face, still frozen. His left arm still extended with that peculiar blue energy Katsuki was so familiar with crackling around his limb like lightning.

         A crate

         A solid, metal crate

         Came crashing down

         And Izuku still couldn’t move.

         Katsuki’s legs pounded, flinging him closer with every step, his hands stretched behind him, propelling him with explosions. Every inch of him was tensed like a bowstring flung into motion. But he was too late. The crate hit the ground with a sickening CRUNCHing SQUELCH. The scent of blood was heavy in his nostrils. He tasted vomit. He could see the end of Izuku’s hand… he could see that the rest of it… had been completely flattened.

         Katsuki felt himself freeze in that death-like way once more. But grief and rage erupting in his chest fired off his quirk and sent him flying. Flying bared-teeth-first towards the girl with the time quirk. It had only been a few seconds.

“TURN BACK TIME, YOU FUCKING BITCH OR I’LL FUCKING SLAUGHTER YOU!”

         The girl’s face was white, her eyes wide with terror. She squeaked but didn’t move to use her quirk. “DO IT NOW, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT!”

         “He’s not- ” she sobbed. “I didn’t think it would kill him! He’s Deku…”

         Katsuki gripped her neck in one hand, lifting her off the ground. She gurgled and choked and gagged and gasped, but he only tightened his grip. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Turn back time. Now.”

         “Can’t…cool…down…time…” tears were leaking from her eyes, but Katsuki ignored her suffering in favor of processing what he had just heard. No. No it can’t…. it just… he can’t… He dropped the girl. He grabbed two handfuls of his own hair, dropping to his knees as he tugged at his scalp in anguish. NO. Today…

Today was supposed to be happy.

         “He’s not dead!” the girl insisted, her voice rasping and rough. She coughed. It sounded wet. “He can’t be! He’s Deku!”

         Katsuki whirled on her. “DON’T YOU DARE CALL HIM THAT! ONLY I CAN! ONLY I CAN ONLY I CAN ONLY I CAN ONLY I CAN ONLY I CAN ONLY I CAN HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU!” With every word he kicked her in the stomach. She gagged blood, the crimson oozing from her mouth. He could tell from the way she was breathing that he’d totally destroyed her ribs. But he didn’t care. He lit a fire, hotter than any fire he’d ever produced, in the palm of his right hand. It was so strong, so bright, that it burned him. He brought his hand down, slapping her across the face just as she raised her own hand in a feeble attempt at survival.

         Kacchan felt his ears pop.



Chapter 2

Summary:

Katsuki is having a bit too much fun
...

Fanart Curtesy of TeaCubed!

https://64.media.tumblr.com/4f090feb1d60e5e6725eb79ad5ea7b70/e7d90dacfdede387-6e/s1280x1920/909e0d64d94302135fdca39997565183175bcf9c.png

Chapter Text

“…chan?”

            Jesus fucking Christ his ass hurt like a bitch.

Katsuki groaned, shuddered out a hacking cough and forced himself to sit up. What had the little bitch done to him to—

            “DEKU!” his eyes flew open and he leaped to his feet, only to wobble and splash back down. Splash? With a sick feeling, Katsuki looked down. The relief he felt was pathetically overwhelming when he confirmed he hadn’t fallen into a puddle of his best friend’s gore, but rather a shallow stream. Then he frowned and placed his hand under the surface of the water. It felt real. Was this part of her fucking quirk? What was this? He looked around him. Where was the warehouse?

            The sky was clear and blue, with nary a cloud overhead. There were rolling hills covered in rustling grass and groves of trees. A shadow of a bridge was being cast by the sun, falling across his shoulders. He recognized this place.

            “Kacchan?! Are you okay?” Katsuki slowly turned around, soaking the front of his trousers in the stream as well. He was rewarded by the tear stained face of Deku.

            “What are you doing?” Katsuki whispered, hearing with horror how young his voice sounded. He must have sounded angry to Little Deku, holy crap Deku was a baby, rather than disoriented because his eyes filled even more.

 

            “You—you looked like you needed help,” Deku held out a hand to him and a shiver crawled down Katsuki’s spine. He half expected to feel that old anger rise up. The rage that Deku dare even think the he needed the help of a quirkless nobody like…like…

 

            “…Deku…” Katsuki leaped up and threw his arms around Deku, tackling him into the water. “I’m sorry” Katsuki whispered into his mane of crazy, curly green hair. “I’m so sorry.”

 

            “Whaaa?” Deku  cried. “Kacchan, are you okay? We’re gonna get sick Kacchan, let me up!” Katsuki slid off of Deku, realizing that it would be very easy for Tiny Deku to get sick. He kept a hand around the back of Deku’s neck and took a good look at him.

 

He was so little. His face was even rounder and chubbier than he remembered, soft and faintly red blushed from crying. His eyes were wide and deep, intelligent for a five year old. Were they five? He helped Deku up, then began to lead the way back up to the top of the bridge, where their classmates were waiting for them. How did he fall off that stupid bridge again? Fuck. It’s been so long, he can’t remember.

 

They’d almost reached the other kids when Katsuki remembered. He remembered an old regret that he carried with him his whole life. “Izuku,” Katsuki looked him in the eyes. “Thanks.”

 

Deku’s smile was the brightest and prettiest thing Katsuki had seen for a long, long time. Tiny Deku wrapped his little arms around Katsuki and made an indescribable sound that he’d only ever heard babies and Deku make.

 

“Kacchan!!!” Deku sobbed.

 

“LET GO OF ME YOU BIG DEKU!”

*******1047******

Katsuki sat in his bed later that night and pondered the situation he’d found himself in. First of all, it was obvious that the little brat had sent him back. Far back. But Katsuki wasn’t about to complain. Not only was Deku not dead, but Katsuki had a chance to fix everything he ever regretted (which obviously wasn’t much mind you because he hardly ever made any mistakes worth mentioning).

 

He might be able to save All Might.

 

He could definitely prevent Best Jeanist from being hurt to such a horrible degree.

 

Heck, he might even be able to put Endeavor out of the picture a little bit earlier and save them all a lot of headache.

 

Satisfied, Katsuki stretched out leisurely on his childhood bed. His stomach was filled with his mom’s cooking, and everyone he cared about was safe. For the moment. Deku was fine. All Might was alive. Their coworkers hadn’t even begun middle school yet, and so they’d be okay for a few more years.

 

Kiri.

 

With a pang, Katsuki instinctively reached for a phone that wasn’t there. He wanted to talk to Eijiro. Usually around this time, they’d be wrestling for control of the TV remote on their couch, while trying not to crush their stupid Pomeranian as it nipped at their ankles. They’d be just getting back from their patrol, getting ready for a late dinner.

 

Katsuki didn’t miss his idiot with the stupid hair and weird smile and uncomfortably hard abs and warm hugs and infectious laughter and their little home with the dumb dog Eijiro wanted so badly.

 

They would have been married right now, if Katsuki hadn’t been such an asshole that Deku had to literally drag him from the building before he exploded. If he and Deku hadn’t been out and about, Deku wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. There would have been no need or desire to turn back time, because his life had turned out fucking perfect.

 

Suddenly, Katsuki wasn’t so sure about turning back time. About changing shit. All Might, as much as he respected the dude, wasn’t half the hero Deku became. And he was old, wasn’t he? He would have had to retire soon anyway. And if All Might wasn’t pressed for time, he might have held onto his quirk longer and Izuku would have been quirkless for life.

 

If Izuku was quirkless…Katsuki wouldn’t have had that bridge to the rest of his classmates.

 

Would he and Kiri have even been friends? Let alone…let alone…

 

His lover. His finace. His fucking husband.

 

There was a version of Eijiro Kirishima that Katsuki would never get back and he fucking hurt from the sudden feeling of loss.

 

All of the blood, sweat and tears that he had shared with Deku had been erased. They were still friends. Best friends. But at what cost? Sure, Katsuki had been a butt nugget for the majority of his childhood, but he straightened out eventually. Aizawa Sensei had seen to that.

 

Aizawa. Aizawa wasn’t a teacher yet, was he?

 

Feeling lost and adrift, Katsuki fell asleep wondering where everybody was.

****1047****

Katsuki had originally been slightly—only slightly, mind you—concerned about being able to keep up appearances. Afterall, he was a grown-ass man in a fucking five year old’s skin. He needn’t have been. It was stupidly easy to slip into this persona that he supposes used to be him. Maybe it still was him, buried deep down. One would think that after all the trauma, all the personal growth, all the –dare he say it—mellowing out that he’d gone through, you would think that the vestiges of little preschooler Katsuki would have been burned out of existence entirely.

            But that didn’t seem to be the case.

            It was easy, maybe it was too easy, to laugh and carry on with Little Deku like nothing was wrong. Like he was a child. It was easy to play pretend, to go exploring with Deku, to play childish games like Hero and Villain. The first time around, they had played that game almost all the time, before Katsuki had learned Deku was…a deku. Then he refused, but even back before Katsuki would always insist that he play the hero. Now, though, he let Deku play All Might, finding an ironic humor and pathetic comfort in the familiarity. Furthermore, it was fucking hilarious to pretend to be a villain with such vigor and conviction that the neighbors would timidly raise concerns to his mother, only to be violently shut down by the firecracker of a woman who birthed him.

            Going to school was a challenge, funnily enough, more so than the first time around. When Katsuki had actually been a child, school had always been too easy until going to UA. Now, though, he didn’t want to bring extra attention to himself until Middle School, when he would work towards, once again, being accepted to UA.

            He remembered reading a shitty Shakespeare play—shut up, yeah he can read, go fuck yourself—about a prince named Hal, who, in playing a long game, convinced his entire kingdom that he was a good for nothing bag of dicks, only to apparently transform into the golden heir in the kingdom’s time of need. In a rather long-winded soliloquy –basically the dude was talking to himself because plot reasons—the dickbag prince explained that lowering the bar, then vaulting over it was the best way to get attention, because any good deed done by someone who no one expects anything from, just automatically looks so much better than the same thing being done by a good person who people already expect everything from.

            As someone who people used to assume would grow up to be a villain, Katsuki can testify to the accuracy of that ideology. He was smart as fuck, and he’d fuck up any douche who would say otherwise. So, obviously, the best thing to do would be to pretend to be a dumb as a pile of shit, so that when he revealed his true self later on, it would be even more impressive than it was the first time around. It would also help back up any sudden personality shifts he would have to take on, explain it away as him suddenly taking life seriously or some crap like that.

            Also, it would make Little Deku look like even more of a genius by comparison.

            So, Katsuki pretended to be illiterate. He pretended to get numbers mixed up. He pretended to have no attention span. He pretended to not understand the basic of basic scientific principals his poor teacher tried to impart to him. Maybe he went a little too far, but honestly he was having quite a bit of fun with it. Heh.

            Little Deku didn’t buy it, not at all. He would always(gently, politely, concernedly, fondly, timidly) ask “Kacchan” why he didn’t try in school anymore. And Katsuki would always reply with some nonsense like “I DON’T NEED TO KNOW NUMEBRS TO BLOW STUFF UP!”

            For real, he was having way too much fun being five again.

            “But Kacchan,” Deku wrung his tiny hands. “To be heroes, you need to go to school. They won’t let you stay in school if you do bad!”

            Katsuki grabbed his little friend’s hands, making the preschooler stop abusing them. He looked down at the tiny, frail joints and unmarked skin, and remembered the hard, scarred hands of the Deku he lost. He squeezed Little Deku’s hands. “Don’t worry,” Katsuki smiled at him. “I won’t let you go to High School without me. I gotta be there to make sure no one beats you up, cos only I’m allowed to beat you up.”

            Deku tore his hands away and stomped his foot. It pleased Katsuki, because Deku was already showing more spirit than he did at this point of time in the original timeline. “You’re not allowed to beat me up!” he protested, shrilly.

            “Oh,yeah?” Katsuki grinned. He ran, slowly, after a fleeing Deku, eventually letting himself catch up and pin him to the ground, mercilessly poking the smaller boy in random places, making him cry and laugh and cry some more.  “Cry baby, Deku!” Katsuki teased him.

            “You’re a bully!”

            “And you’re my nerd!”

            “What’s that mean?!”

            “It’s my job to be your bully, nerd!” Deku was about to argue, Katsuki could tell, but then he stopped, closing his mouth with a considering look. “And as your bully its only my job to beat you up, and I gotta beat up anyone else who tries!”

            “I thought we were friends.” Deku said, his voice a bit quieter.

            “Don’t be stupid.” Deku’s face fell. “I’m your bully. Bully’s don’t have friends! And when I grow up, Im’a be a Villain, and you’ll be my Hero, so I’ll still always beat you up!”

            Slowly, Deku started to smile. Then horror over took his face. “YOU CANT BE A VILLAIN!”

            Katsuki cackled in what he thought was a suitably impressive manic laugh for a five-year-old voice box. “ILL RULE THE WORLD!”

            “Kacchan!!!”

Chapter 3

Summary:

Hehe

Chapter Text

 

 

 

 

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

It was inevitable.

It was bound to happen eventually.

In this timeline, Izuku had already been informed by the doctors that he would never have a quirk of his own. The old Katsuki had bullied him relentlessly for it, taking joy in crushing the smaller boy's spirit.

Being five, even an astoundingly intelligent five-year-old, Izuku did not question Katsuki's sudden transformation from bully to best friend. After all, he'd already borne witness to Katsuki's sudden shift from best friend to bully. Izuku's mother, however, was a bit more skeptical of the change, and for a good several weeks after Katsuki found himself in his preschooler body she made sure to keep the doors open, to keep a close eye on their play.

However, Inko was a kind woman, who shared the same breed of heart with her son. She was quick to forgive Katsuki – who, in her eyes, was just a child who was going through phases – and to welcome the boy back into her good graces. Katsuki's own mother didn't notice any change, which Katsuki found both amusing and…a bit sad, actually.

His father might have noticed, but it wasn't in his nature to say anything.

Anyway, the quirkless Izuku soon found that it wasn't just Katsuki who would tease him for his quirklessness, and many not-Kacchan bully's tended to be more vicious than Katsuki had ever been. And, considering that in their past life Katsuki had literally told Izuku to kill himself, that was saying a lot. Young children, cruel in the way only ignorant children can be, would use their budding quirks with intent to hurt, to do damage. Mostly because they didn't have the life experience or mental capacity to comprehend what it was, exactly, that they had the power to do. However, that didn't change the fact that Izuku was starting to gain bruises, and they weren't coming from Katsuki.

Inko, at first, had been afraid that Katsuki had reverted back to his old ways. However, that fear was soon put to rest when Katsuki blew up at the realization "Deku" was hiding injuries from him.

Because the other children didn't torment Izuku when Katsuki was anywhere nearby. They weren't that stupid, apparently. They would wait until they were separated, until Izuku was playing by himself, and then attack all at once.

In the past life, Katsuki guessed that it must have been himself who kept all these other fucking losers at bay. No one wanted to get between an angry Katsuki and his favorite prey. Now, though, Izuku was just one of his many followers.

Nevermind that Izuku was Katsuki's nerd. His Deku.

His Best Friend.

"IMA FUCKING KILL EM"

"Ka-ka-Kaachaaan" Izuku grabbed one of his arms with both of his tiny hands. "They're just playing! I-I don't think th-they knew exactly how much it h-hurt…" Katsuki pulled Deku into an aggressive hug, squeezing as tightly as he could. "Kaachaan~~" Deku wheezed.

"Youre my nerd," Katsuki said quietly. Behind them, Inko – who was only a few feet away, making dinner - snorted, but covered it up with a dainty cough and sniffle. Both little boys ignored her. "Only I get to beat you up, because only I know how to do it right!" Katsuki was getting angrier, his hold on Deku getting tighter.

"Kah-Kaachaaan~"

"*snort*"

"IMA BLOW UP THEIR NOSES AND STUFF THE HOLES WITH BROCCOLI!"

"Kachaan~ Nooo~"

Katsuki released Deku, who stumbled back and started gasping for air. Katsuki but his hands on his hips, taking a stance he remembered his mother adopting at many, many points during his life. "And why not?"

"B-b-because you'll get in trouble," there were tears in his eyes.

"Stop being a cry baby," Katsuki told him automatically. Inko reprimanded Katsuki half-heartedly. Then the firecracker of a child took on a very considering look, and both Midoriya's looked at one another in apprehension. "You're right." Katsuki said calmly. "Because you don't have a quirk, assholes who think that makes you a loser will always try to beat you up."

Izuku started crying in earnest. "Katsuki!" Inko said, "That was mean!"

"What was?" Katsuki looked at her in bafflement.

"I-I'm sorry, Kacchan!" Izuku wailed. "I wish I were strong like you!"

"Shut up, Deku," Katsuki told him, helping him to his feet. "You're plenty smart, and that's more important than strong. Anyone can be strong if they exercise. But only smart people can be smart. Stupid people just memorize stuff and that's not the same."

Izuku blinked watery eyes up at him. "You really think so?"

Katsuki grinned, wide and confident. "YUP! That's why I don't bother with school. School is for stupid people."

Izuku's tears came back. "B-b-but you need to do good in school so you can be a hero!" Izuku suddenly grew quiet, and looked down at his feet. "And I need to have a quirk so I can be a hero. But I can't, because I'm a stupid deku."

Katsuki huffed impatiently. "Noooo," he said. "You're Deku because I'm Kacchan. You're quirkless because you're Izuku."

Both Izuku and Inko looked like they weren't sure what to make of that statement, whether it was a compliment, an insult, or just a fact of how Katsuki's mind worked. "Besides," Katsuki continued in that same thoughtful tone. "You're right."

"I am?" Izuku looked hopeful.

"Yup." Katsuki nodded, decidedly. "I can't blow their faces off, because that's what you gotta do."

"WHaaat!"

"Don't worry," Katsuki said in what he thought was a reassuring tone. "I'll stay right by you until you're strong enough. You're smart enough, but now you gotta learn to be strong like me."

"What do you mean?" Izuku looked interested. Inko looked concerned.

"Follow me," Katsuki told him, imperiously.

Inko watched the two little boys march out of her kitchen (well, Katsuki marched out with a grip on Izuku's wrist as her little boy was more or less dragged out after him). She wasn't sure whether or not she should intervene. After dinner was set to cook, she peeked her head out the window towards where the two of them were playing. She muffled a snort as she watched the two of them run in circles, then stop to punch at the air, do a few jumping jacks, try to do push ups and sit-ups, then keep running.

She also had a hard time not giggling when Katsuki informed her of the changed that needed to be made to Izuku's diet, with her son listening carefully, promising to do as "Kacchan" said. Well, all the changes Katsuki was asking for were pretty healthy, so Inko didn't see any harm in playing a long.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Aizawa hated his life.

He hated getting up at four in the afternoon so that he could adult for a few hours before going off on patrol until eight in the morning just to repeat it all again.

He hated his stupid best friend with his stupid loud quirk and his stupid extroverted personality.

He hated hanging out with said best friend and his other equally stupid friends.

He hated his stupid dry eyes that made it so much harder to just life in general.

He hated that stupid rat who kept trying to rope him into teaching worthless wannabe hero brats.

He hated those two little kids who would wander around the city by themselves at three in the morning, because damn it the city isn't safe for naïve little brats like them.

He watched, almost numb with how exhausted he was as the two kids walked hand in hand talking quietly. Like every night for the past two months, they walked the same route through back alleys to some random empty lot, where they were exercise until they collapsed. The green haired boy would stick with martial arts and regular, physical exercise, but the blonde would practice using his explosion quirk by plunging his little hands into a barrel filled with collected rain water, then blasting these tiny little puffs above his head (though as the nights passed, Aizawa could see a marked improvement in the puffs of smoke becoming crackles of flame). It always made Aizawa irritated (worried) when the two boys would just lay down and close their eyes, tiny chests heaving and hands intertwined, before getting up and racing each other back to their apartment complex, where they would say good night (Aizawa did not coo when the little blonde kissed the greennette on the cheek) and part ways.

He could respect that the little boys, who couldn't have been older than eight or nine, wanted to get themselves into shape, but how naïve could they be? Just relaxing like that in the middle of the open, city night. He chest constricted in an unfamiliar way as he thought about how young and innocent they must be, that the evils present in the world must not even occur to them.

For the most part, he'd just follow from a distance while doing his normal patrol, keeping one eye roaming back to check up on them every now and then. A few times, he'd intercepted unsavory characters before the boys had even noticed, beating the crap out of them for even thinking about harming or abducting those two innocent brats.

They were just little kids who hadn't learned to be afraid yet.

God damn Aizawa's pathetically sappy heart, but he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Tonight, though, the boys hadn't moved from their sprawled out, starfish positions for a bit longer than usual, and Aizawa was starting to get concerned that the two of them had actually managed to pass out. Aizawa kept his ears focused on the police radio chatter, and one eye on his own private radar hooked up to detect quirks being used around the city. The other eye, remained on the boys.

Usually, they began heading back to their homes around four. Plenty of time, he assumed, to slip back into bed before their parents woke up.

The digits on his screen crept closer and closer to five. Five fifteen. Five twenty.

Aizawa was swinging down, off the roof and towards the kids before it even registered just what it was he was doing. As soon as he got within twenty feet, to his surprise, the boy with the poofy blonde hair snapped upright, looking straight at him. Aizawa slouched casually, hands visibly relaxed, trying to communicate a non-threatening aura.

It didn't seem to matter in the end, because the boy just smiled at him. A wide, friendly smile. Something squeezed in Aizawa's gut because, holy cow, did this tiny human have no idea the kind of bad people that were out there? No sense of self-preservation?

"Hello, mister!"

Apparently not.

The blonde boy's shout woke up his little friend, who mumbled a bit before rolling up into a seated position. His eyes widened as soon as he saw Aizawa. At least this one looked nervous as he inched towards his friend, and grabbed the blonde's arm in a death grip.

"…K-Kacchan…."

"What?" Kacchan asked his friend. The greennnette just shook his head and pulled them both to their feet. He tried to back away, not taking his eyes off of Aizawa, but his friend was apparently much stronger than him, because Kacchan didn't budge, just looked at his friend with the most innocently confused look Aizawa had ever seen.

Jesus, how sheltered is this child?

"You boys are out pretty early," Aizawa drawled, stepping closer, keeping his stance open and relaxed.

"We're training to be heroes!" said the blonde boy, still smiling that bright, happy smile. Aizawa was about to respond, but his mind was forced to come to a complete stop when he heard when Kacchan said next.

"Like you!"

Both the green kid and Aizawa looked at Kacchan, the former in bewilderment the latter in confusion.

"H-how?" Aizawa didn't know what to say. He was relatively new on the scene, only having gotten his pro hero license a few years ago. Besides from that, he was an underground hero. His whole career depended on no one knowing much about him.

Well, that explained why "Kacchan" wasn't afraid of him. "You know who I am?"

The green haired boy shook his head, dumbly. The blonde just shrugged. "I couldn't find your name when I looked for it, but I saw you save a lady once."

"Save a lady once", well that was helpful.

"W-w-w-who are you?" asked the green haired boy. Aizawa looked at the two of them for a second, watched as the smile on the blonde's face slowly began to fade, a look of uncertainty and disappointment taking it's place.

No.

No.

Not the puppy eyes.

Anything but that.

Damn it.

He sighed. "Eraserhead."

"That's a fucking stupid name."

"KACCHAN!"

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

It had taken years to find his sensei.

But Katsuki was nothing if not determined. For the past several years, he and Izuku had managed to build up their bodies as much as they could without damaging themselves. They ran and swam and practiced martial arts they learned from YouTube videos. Katsuki could say with no small amount of pride that he and Izuku were ripped for little kids.

Of course, he was very, very careful of Izuku, careful not to push him past what was healthy, despite his friend trying his best to go above and beyond at every turn.

Now that they were getting older, no longer toddling brats who were expected to be clinging with everything and everyone, people noticed their friendship. And people thought it was weird. They called Izuku a doormat, Katsuki over protective. They said that they had an unhealthy codependency on each other. They said Katsuki had an unsettling obsession with Izuku.

Yeah, well, try watching your best friend die and see how clingy you are for the next few years, especially when said best friend is the cutest fucking little kid on earth. So what if Katsuki like to squeeze Izuku, or pinch his cheek, or ruffle his hair, or peck little kisses all over his chubby face. Katsuki was like, forty by this point and Deku was a baby. His cute tiny baby Deku and he loved him and he'll fucking kill any shithead who tries to interpret his love for the cute tiny baby Deku as something gross and sexual.

Besides, they're physically eight. What did they think they were getting up to behind closed doors? Fucking filthy minded perverts.

And Deku himself had no problem with it. Izuku always reached for Katsuki's hand as they walked side by side. Izuku loved cuddle time. And even though Izuku blushed and mumbled at Katsuki's quick pecks, he always leaned into them, sometimes returning them in an adorably awkward and clumsy way.

The moment Izuku grew too old, started pulling away or protesting, Katsuki would stop. But, until then, he would enjoy this tiny, squishable version of Deku.

"WHAT YOU LOOKIN AT YOU FUCKING ASS NUGETS?" Katsuki howled at two of their classmates who were laughing at Deku holding on to his arm.

"It's okay, Kacchan," sweet tiny chubby baby Deku assured him. "They don't bother me when you're here."

"Shut up Deku," Katsuki said automatically, bumping his forehead against Deku's. "I'm never gonna be not here."

He watched, pleased, as Deku's round little cheeks turned pink and he hid his face in Katsuki's shoulder. "Kacchaaaan"

"What, nerd?"

"Love you, too"

"FUCKING SHUT UP YOU STUPID FUCKING DEKU"

Anyway, it was only a matter of time before Katsuki found Aizawa-sensei. He'd taken to wandering around the city in the early, early hours of the morning, looking for any sign of his old teacher. He figured that if he ended up getting attacked, it might even lure Aizawa-sensei straight for him.

He didn't end up needing to resort to that, however, because one night, he stumbled across a woman about to be raped in an alley. He clenched his fists, and was getting ready to intervene, when a blur of movement tackled the guy. He watched, his heart twisting with affection and nostalgia as his teacher quickly worked to secure the rapist and get the woman back to her feet, before calling the police and an ambulance.

See, Katsuki had this idea. He had no idea how Deku convinced All Might to give him his powers, so in the small chance that Katsuki somehow fucked things up, he needed a back up plan that could get Izuku into UA anyway. Aizawa was a teacher, he could refer people. Not only that, but he could teach Izuku to fight in a way that Katsuki couldn't. With Aizawa's quirk being what it was, he was the ideal person to see the potential in someone like Izuku.

Except, he wasn't quite sure how to get Aizawa's attention. So, he took to patrolling the same area he suspected Aizawa did. At least, he tried to. That very next night, as he was creeping up the front door of his apartment, he walked right into Izuku, who had been standing there waiting for him.

"Deku?" Katsuki asked, bewildered. "What are you doing up?"

"What are YOU doing up?" Izuku demanded. His eyes were wet, and his cheeks were spotchy. Instinctively, Katsuki reached out to give Izuku a hug. His hands were slapped away. Stung, emotionally and physically, Katsuki stepped away from Izuku in surprise.

Izuku's bottom lip trembled but he stayed standing there, firm. "You can't go wandering by yourself, Kacchan!" He cried, though he kept his voice low. "You'll get hurt! Or-or kidnapped! What are you even doing? Where are you going?"

"I'm training…." Katsuki said. "In an old empty place. No one goes there."

"Why? We train every day?"

"My quirk, Deku," Katsuki lowered his voice, slowly reaching out for Izuku's hands, relaxing a little when Deku let him. "I'm practicing my quirk, out where I won't get in trouble. I need it to get stronger, so I can be a hero. Right now…right now it just isn't strong enough…And you know the fucking school or the old hag would never let me practice if they knew."

Izuku was quiet, then he said "Take me with you, Kacchan. If there's trouble, two are better than one." Katsuki bit down the scathing words that jumped to his tongue, and nodded, leaning forward and gently kissing the tip of Deku's nose.

"You won't tell?"

"…." Deku squeezed Katsuki's hands. "I won't tell."

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Izuku had a best friend.

He had the best best friend. His Kacchan.

His Kacchan was strong, strong enough to carry him even though they were the same age. Strong enough speak up when he thought someone else was wrong or he was right. Strong enough to stand up to bullies. Strong enough to fight the bullies who picked on Izuku or other kids. Strong enough to win.

Strong enough to teach Izuku to be strong, too.

But boy was he stupid.

It confused Izuku, because he was sure that if Kacchan only tried he could do well in school, but he didn't. It seemed like he listened at least sometimes in class, but whenever testing came around he either failed outright, getting everything horribly wrong, or only just barely passed. It worried Izuku, every time testing came around. He worried that Kacchan would end up getting held back a year and they'd be separated. He tried offering to help Kacchan, but Kacchan would just laugh it off, like it was silly Izuku would be able to help him.

Even still, every year, Kacchan managed to just barely get by.

Aside from school, Kacchan didn't seem to get some things.

Mom told Izuku that Kacchan might be somewhere on the autism scale, something called "high functioning," which Izuku didn't really like the sound of. It sounded... cold, and he wasn't entirely sure what it meant, except that the label might help Kacchan. But Kacchan's mother got angry when his mom suggested he get tested though, which made Izuku angry. Angrier than he'd ever been in his life. Kacchan needed help. He needed to be diagnosed so that people would understand he wasn't a bad guy. He just didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

Izuku's heart always hurt when he saw that one, specific look in his Kacchan's eyes. That Am I doing something wrong? Was that bad? I'm confused. Is this right? Look that he got when people pointed out that something he was doing was weird, or disrespectful. Like when he referred to people by a physical trait rather than their name, and someone got mad. Or when he punched someone in the nose for making fun of Izuku's hair, and Kacchan got in trouble. Or when he and Izuku saw a villain fighting a hero and Kacchan just casually began to walk towards them.

Some things, Kacchan just didn't understand, and it was always really obvious things.

In his private research, Izuku found that autistic people tended to act younger than they were, but the specific behaviors depended on the person. Izuku could easily see how that had to do with Kacchan. He threw temper tantrums over silly things, he got irritated easily.

He was very, very cuddly.

It never really bothered Izuku before, except recently he started to feel a bit weird about it. But, he was always patient because it was his Kacchan. His strong, silly Kacchan who needed him. No one else saw Kacchan the way he did. The teachers just saw a stupid kid with a temper and weird habits. No one else saw the shy smiles when he did something kind, or his fierce defense of his own moral code of honor.

Yeah, it was a little…different when Kacchan would kiss his cheeks or cuddle up next to him, or pull his hair or squeeze him so tightly Izuku couldn't breathe. But it wasn't bad. And it wasn't done with a bad spirit either. The look in Kacchan's eyes was always so…pure? Innocently happy? All Izuku knew, is that Kacchan had been behaving exactly how he behaves since they were babies. That clear, bright look in Kacchan's eye was a life-long constant.

His Kacchan needed him. So Izuku cuddled him back, kissed him back, loved him back and made sure that he never ever felt like he was wrong or different or bad. Because there was nothing wrong with Kacchan. He was just special.

He was Izuku's special, bestest friend.

Which is why Izuku thought his heart would climb out of his throat when he saw Kacchan wander off in the middle of the night. He hurried to climb out of bed, where he'd been watching from his window, and rush outside. But by then Kacchan was gone from sight. Izuku had cried and waited by his window until he saw Kacchan return the next morning, looking no worse for wear.

The next day, it was like nothing had happened. Except Izuku stayed a little closer to his Kacchan, hung on a little tighter.

The next night, Izuku was ready. He managed to catch Kacchan before he got too far.

What Kacchan said broke Izuku's heart.

Kacchan wanted to be a hero. Izuku had always known this, despite Kacchan joking all the time about becoming a villain (just another thing that Kacchan didn't get – it was bad to joke about that, because villains actually killed people.) But knowing that Kacchan, sweet Kacchan, was out training to be the best he could be worried Izuku.

Izuku had to get stronger. Had to become a hero, because there was no way he'd ever make Kacchan be on his own, among people who didn't understand him.

"Take me with you, Kacchan"

Take me with you.

His whole life, summed up in five words.

Take me with you, Kacchan.

So that they could be together.

So that he could protect Kacchan.

So that Kacchan never felt unloved.

So that neither of them were ever alone.

He remembered something Kacchan had said a long time ago.

"You're Deku because I'm Kacchan."

So, take me with you, Kacchan.

Chapter 4

Summary:

I don't know where I'm going with this

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Aizawa had a weak spot.

No one knew about this weakness of his, except that rat at UA and Hizashi, and Aizawa intended to keep it that way. It’s probably the whole reason that rat thinks he’d be such a great candidate for a hero-teacher.

Aizawa can’t stand kids with potential. They’re worse than those idiots who have no idea what they’re getting into. Worse than the kids who think it’s a game. Worse than the wannabe’s who don’t stand a chance. There’s nothing worse than kids with genuine potential for greatness.

Because he literally can’t stop himself from bending over backwards for them. It’s like he looks at them and sees a stray cat. He knows he should walk away. He knows that he can’t personally take care of every single one, and why bother with this one in particular. And yet he always ends up doing the same thing, be it stray cat or cute little kid with astonishing determination and way too much naivety.

Kacchan McSplodey is the human embodiment of a stray cat.

Aizawa tried hard to think of all the women he’d saved recently, which one Kacchan might have seen him save that would inspire so much trust, hero worship, in this adorably violent tiny human. There had been so many, not to toot his own horn, but young woman and old women were some of the prime targets for scum looking for trouble.

In the end, though, he knew it didn’t matter. The damage had been done, and he’d managed to secure the Number One hero spot in the heart of this spikey-haired tiny human.

He wasn’t at all pleased.

His fate had been sealed, however, when he stupidly stupidly decided to walk up to them and introduce himself. Kacchan had the balls to not only curse but curse while insulting his hero name. And do it with that look of obvious respect in his little face, that pleased smile.

Aizawa couldn’t stand kids like that.

“What kind of martial arts do you know?” Kacchan had asked him, all but skipping as Aizawa led them back towards their homes. “Where did you learn? You went to UA, right? I wanna go there when I’m older! School is stupid right now, but I’ll bet it’ll be fun there! I’m gonna be the number one hero! Just watch me! I’ll even beat All Might and Deku!”

Deku. Useless. It’s what he called his little green friend, who hadn’t really said much of anything. He was, understandably, wary of Aizawa and protective of Kacchan. He was so unphased by the insult his supposed friend kept using so casually, Aizawa couldn’t help but wonder if it was actually his name. Kacchan didn’t seem to be using it maliciously, either.

“All of them. Lots of places. Yes, and good luck. I’m sure you’ll do great.,” Aizawa snorted in response to Kacchan. The little explosion looked up at him with surprise and shock. Then, a tiny little smile, that seemed a bit sadder than his other grins, quirked onto his face. Then it was gone and replaced with that blindly bright grin, and a dozen other questions.

Normally, Aizawa didn’t like being grilled like this. Normally, he’d send the kids on their way with a grunt and a reprimand to be more careful. But something about Kacchan made him answer back, be a bit more considering with his actions. Something about this child seemed…horrifically delicate, and it irritated (worried) Aizawa that he couldn’t pin just what it was.

Not soon enough (too soon), they reached the boy’s apartment complex. Kacchan stopped, midsentence, and looked up at Aizawa with his shocking red eyes. “You gonna fucking avoid us now?” the boy asked. His stomach turned cold. Deku was looking at his feet.

This damn kid. “Why would I?” Aizawa asked carefully, his voice gone flat and softer than it usually was, and he wasn’t a loud person to begin with. The little boy only shrugged, looking away with a stiff bottom lip. Aizawa slowly kneeled, hand on his knees, and the boy’s face whipped back to stare at him. They were level, eye to eye, Aizawa saw the naked hope in his face.

He was done for.

This damn kid. “I’ll be in the park at five, tomorrow,” Aizawa said, barely managing to swallow the sigh. “I might be in the mood to show you two how to properly throw a punch. Right now, you’re more likely to break your thumbs than someone’s nose.”

Kacchan reared back and scowled ferociously. “I FUCKING KNOW HOW TO PUNCH! I BREAK BITCHES NOSES FOR FUN!” Then he whirled around on his heels and ran to his apartment door, before he stopped and looked back over his scrawny little shoulders at Aizawa. For a moment, it looked like he was confused why Aizawa was still there (that didn’t break his heart, it didn’t), then he slowly looked ashamed. Then confused again. It was such an honest look, such a pure, innocent look. Aizawa hated that look.

Kacchan slowly walked back to where Aizawa was still kneeling. There was a fragile wetness to his eyes. “…’kay” and Kacchan laid his forehead on Aizawa’s shoulder. Aizawa froze. The next moment, the boy had dashed back to his home and closed the door behind him.

What?

“Thank you, Mr. Eraserhead.”

Aizawa looked at the green boy, who had stayed, as he rose to his feet. “For what?”

Deku shuffled his feet. “Most grown ups don’t like Kacchan.” What?  “They always just say he’ll probably grow up to be a villain.”

Anger.

He kept his voice level, though. Uninterested. “Even though he says he wants to be a hero?”

Deku just did that helpless foot shuffle, again. “He does things that people don’t like,” the boy met his gaze, and there was a fierceness in him that took Aizawa by surprise. “But it’s not his fault. Kacchan doesn’t understand things. A lot of things. He acts angry when he isn’t angry, because he doesn’t know what else to do! And he gets frustrated easy, so he isn’t a good student but he really is smart, Mr. Eraserhead!”

“What doesn’t he understand?” Eraserhead asked, leaning against the wall. The sun was starting to come up.

“People,” Deku said quietly. “Mom says he’s probably autistic, but don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want him to think he’s broken. Kacchan likes being the best.” Deku met his gaze again. Determination. “Kacchan is the best.”

“What are your names?” Aizawa asked.

Deku looked thrown, then suspicious. “Why?”

Aizawa weighed his options. He may as well go with honesty. “I plan on doing a background check on the both of you, then I will approach your mothers. I’m a hero. I’m not going to be caught stealing children on a regular basis just because some snot-nosed brat wants to be a hero.”

Deku’s eyes brightened. “Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya! Y-you’re gonna train us?”

Aizawa didn’t answer, he just started to walk away. “Get inside, kid. Your mom’s going to worry.”

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

There was no hope of getting any sleep, never mind that he was so exhausted he was practically staggering in zigzags by the time he reached his home. So, Aizawa looked up the two little imbecilic tots.

Midoriya had impressive grades, was consistently at the top of his class and a perfect record to boot.

Kacchan—Katsuki (no damn it Bakugo) had absolutely terrible grades, was either dead last or near to it in every subject, was labeled as a problem child with violent tendencies and had been in detention more in the past year than Aizawa had his entire life.

There was nothing about him being tested for autism, or even a learning disability. Usually, a kid this troubled would have had a lazy ADD or ADHD label tacked on him. But, there was nothing. No trips to councilors, no history of therapy sessions. Nothing. No extra curricular activities, no history of nannies or babysitters despite both of his parents working full time.

Aizawa was pissed.

He knew Kacchan—Kats—no Bakugo for all of an hour, but he could already tell that this kid was bright. His questions hadn’t been the questions of an unobservant kid, they had been questions of someone who had spent a lot of time taking in information, processing it until they had a good understanding, then trying to fill in the gaps of that understanding.

Not to mention the training regiment he’d seen the boy employing. That had obviously been carefully thought out. No way this kid was too lazy or stupid for school, there had to be something else.

Which left teacher bias and parental neglect.

Grown ups don’t like Kacchan.

Aizawa wanted to personally beat the crap out of any teacher who had looked down at little Kacchan—Bakugo for being different. It was their job to help kids like him, not push him to the back of the pack. That kid who wanted to get into UA, who was working so hard to be good enough for UA, but with those grades, it just wasn’t possible. Not unless someone from the inside vouched for him.

Fuck.

Actual Fuck.

Aizawa hates kids like Kacchan.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Inko Midoriya worked from home, she had since her husband had left her and her child alone. Her work could all be done from her computer, taking care of taxes and finances for people who were either too lazy to do it on their own, or who simply didn’t know how to. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but it put food on her table and kept her available for Izuku and Katsuki.

She loved Mitsuki, she was one of her closest friends, but somehow she had this image of Katsuki in her head that left her feeling like the little boy was fine being on his own, all the time. She saw Katsuki as a capable, strong young man and he was…but…he was also a very fragile, precious little boy. A little boy who was always looking up at her with that question in his eyes Was that good? Are you proud of me?

Mitsuki’s husband was so used to just letting her do her own thing, too, that he mostly left little Katsuki to his own devices. After all, she’d heard him say once, he’s basically his mother in a cuter package.

But Katsuki needed adults to take an interest in him. He craved it. There were times when Katsuki would just quietly sit next to her, and they’d talk. Those talks never failed to surprise her. They’d talk about current events, or why things are the way things are. Katsuki has such a mature understanding of everything. Inko agrees with her son, Katsuki should be doing better in school.

But then little Katsuki would be a little too violent, not realizing how powerful his quirk is, or how strong his own body is, or he’d yell too loudly, or he’d say something a little worrying, and people just assume he’s a bad egg. They don’t see him quietly keen to himself when he thinks no one is looking, like he’s in pain. They don’t seem him hug himself and squeeze his little eyes shut. They don’t see him rub his eyes and bang on his chest. They don’t see his tantrums or bad grades as a cry for help.

The just see a future villain. Inko wants to smack them all. All they’re doing is creating a future villain.

People have never spared a thought, that Katsuki Bakugo might have more potential than they think. Which is why she was so shocked when a strange young man with lank, long black hair and tired red eyes asked if he could help babysit her son and Katsuki.

“B-babysit?” she asked, surprised. The young man had knocked on her door, and asked to speak with her about ‘something of some importance, but if you’re busy right now~” and she’d ushered him in, sat him down and made him tea.

“Yes,” said the young man. “I’ve been—I’ve seen them wandering around. They’re such good kids. I know they want to be heroes, and while I don’t have experience teaching…I do have experience in being a hero.” With that, he takes out his wallet and slides out a card, which he hands her.

It’s a professional hero license.

“Eraserhead?” she reads, under her breath. “You want to train my son?”

“And Kacchan,” the young man Eraserhead says. Inko can’t help it. She giggles. The young man makes a disgusted, shocked face, then hurries to correct himself “BAKUGO!”

When she calms herself, she regretfully informs him “Eraserhead…I’m not his mother.”

“To be perfectly honest,” the man says. “I don’t think his mother would care either way” Inko is first offended on behalf of her friend, but then forced to agree. “Which is why I’m asking you, Mrs. Midoriya.”

“Please, call me Inko.”

“…call me Shouta.”

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Katsuki couldn’t fucking wait for school to be over.

The teacher was droning on and one about fractions and decimals and reciprocals and while Deku was dedicatedly scribbling down notes, Katsuki was trying to figure out if he could untie the teacher’s shoes with his mind.

It wasn’t working just yet, but he’d get it one of these days.

“Mr. Bakugo,” the teacher snapped. “Is there something interesting on my feet? Or is there some other reason why you refuse to look up here with the rest of the class.”

Katsuki lazily looked up at him. “You’ve got crap fashion sense, you know that?” He watched in bland interest as the teacher’s face started to turn puce. He couldn’t help but compare this guy to Aizawa-sensei. He always compared his teachers to Aizawa-sensei. None of them ever came close to being the kind of teacher and just all around great guy his sensei was.

Is.

His sensei. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. Sensei would meet them after school.

A hand slammed down on his desk. “You will pay attention, or you will visit the principal’s office. Do you hear me!” The teacher’s face was so close to his, he could smell his rank breath.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Katsuki leaned back. The teacher sneered at him one more time, before returning his attention to the lesson. The class was told to copy down the problem on the board, work it out, then show a partner. Katsuki copied down the numbers, then just wrote a big number five for the answer. Sure, he was supposed to write down 17/48, but he had an image to maintain.

He looked at the girl to his left, and decided to make her his partner. He vaguely recalled her transferring to the class recently, couldn’t recall if she’d made any friends. He glanced at her paper. She had written down 16/48 simplified to 1/3. He whapped her desk with his notebook to get her attention, trying for a friendly smile when she flinched and looked up at him through her thick bangs. “Your fucking answer is wrong, dipshit,” he said helpfully. The girl loudly burst into tears.

The actual fuck? He looked over at Deku somewhat helplessly, and Deku—the cry baby—just wobbled his lip at him, green eyes filling with tears. Damn it all.

“Bakugo!” The teacher barked. “Principal’s office, now!”

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Aizawa made it to the park fifteen minutes early, and was pleased to see the familiar green hair of “Deku” Midoriya. The greenette was standing alone, watching smaller children play in the grass and on the play equipment. Aizawa frowned, looking around around.

“Where’s K—Bakugo,” Aizawa asked the boy.

Midoriya looked up at him, a pout on his freckled face. “He’s in detention.” Aizawa’s brows furrowed. “It’s not even his fault though!” Midoriya looked either close to tears, or like he’d just finished crying. “I swear! Kacchan didn’t mean to be bad! He was trying to help her!”

Aizawa blew out a heavy breath as he firmly, but not unkindly, took Midoriya by the arm. “What happened?” Aizawa asked him, as he led the boy to a bench. They both sat to wait for Kacchan.

“In math class, we were supposed to all partner up and compare our answers for a problem,” Midoriya sniffled. “And Kacchan tried to help one of our classmates. She doesn’t have any friends because she’s so shy and doesn’t talk to people.  He told her that her answer was wrong, and he might have said it badly, but she started crying and now he’s got detention but I looked at what Ichika wrote and it really was wrong!” Midoriya had started to babble, so Aizawa hushed him with a raised hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” Aizawa told him. “I’m already planning on discussing things with your school. Your mother and I discussed it this afternoon. We think it might be best to transfer you and Kacchan to a new school.”

Midoriya looked up at Aizawa with an odd look on his face. “Kacchan?” Aizawa ignored him.

“She’ll talk to Mrs. and Mr. Bakugo tonight. Failing that, there’s always private tutors, but I think we should try to let him be around other children as much as possible.”

There was more Aizawa could have said, but he was cut off by the pounding of little feet. He stood, turning, just in time for a small projectile to attach itself to his legs. “Hi sensei!” crimson eyes looked up at him. Fang-like teeth gleamed at him in a manic grin. “I’m late!” There was no apology. Just pure, childish joy.

Aizawa really fucking hates kids like Kacchan.

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Meeting up with Aizawa-sensei was like a dream come true for Katsuki. It was weird, seeing him so young. He looked so much younger, acted so much younger. It was hard to understand how this Aizawa was only seven years younger than he had been when Katsuki met him the first time. The only big difference between now and then, as far as Katsuki knew, was that he wasn’t a teacher, yet.

That day at the park ushered in a new chapter of Katsuki’s new life. Aizawa was surprisingly gentle and patient as he taught him and Deku. Over the course of the first few weeks, he got a good idea of where the two of them were physically. His eyebrows had risen way up when he realized that Deku wanted to be a hero, too, despite being quirkless. But, in the end, he didn’t say anything. He only brought up different non-lethal weapons and marital arts to start learning to use.

They met up every day after school, either at the park, in a private gym Aizawa had access to, the lot where they first met, a warehouse Aizawa showed them, or the Midoriya’s home. Aizawa taught them how to turn their own bodies into weapons, taught them discipline, taught them laws and regulations, taught them strategy—which Izuku excelled at.

At first, Katsuki was determined to play the dumb kid he was pretending to be, like he did in school. But it was hard. So hard. Not the pretending part, no. He had that down pat.

It was the knowledge that he was wasting his sensei’s time.

He couldn’t. Not after everything Aizawa had done for him.

Katsuki worked his ass off.

Izuku seemed shocked at how fervent and focused and determined Katsuki was in training. But Inko seemed to just accept the change and Aizawa….Aizawa expected it.

Plus, there was this proud grin Aizawa would throw his way whenever Katsuki did something amazing. It made him want to try even harder. To give 110%.

His quirk was already as powerful as it had been the beginning of his second year of UA, and he was only fourteen.

The final year of middle school.

Aizawa had become a firm fixture in his life. Katsuki didn’t know what he would do if Aizawa suddenly decided to bail on him. Probably hunt the bastard down and drag him back. He spent a lot of time with sensei, even when they weren’t training. Particularly after one night when he was eleven.

Katsuki had pushed himself a little too hard, worked a little too long. By the end of his work out at the gym, his palms were aching and his lungs were heaving. He was trying to get a certain aerial maneuver down. He knew how to do it. He’d done it plenty of times in his old life, but for some reason his body didn’t want to cooperate, and it left him crashing full speed into the ground.

Blood was caked on his face, and he must have hit his eyes ‘cause those were fucking leaking, too.

Aizawa sensei had been in another room, teaching Deku gymnastics.

Sensei had walked in, Deku behind him, and seen Katsuki sitting on the floor wiping away blood and tears and snot. He’d flat out run to him.

The hero slid on his knees, bending low and scooping Katsuki up by his forearms. “Kacchan,” Aizawa sensei had taken to calling him that stupid nickname from Deku. “Look at me.” A gentle, cool hand cupped his chin and tilted his mangled face up. “Jesus, kiddo. What were you doing?”

“I can’t,” Katsuki clenched his fists, and clenched his eyes, and clenched the muscles in his fucking back, and his stupid arms that couldn’t control his damn quirk and he tried to not cry but his lungs just keep heaving. “I can’t.”

“Shhhhh” That’s something else new, unique to this timeline. Aizawa sensei treated Deku more or less like he’d always had. But he was always a bit more tender with Katsuki. Katsuki wasn’t stupid, he’d noticed it. He’d just never quite figured out why. He can’t say he minded too much, though. Maybe he was just playing that I’m a dumb kid card a little too often. A little too well. He probably looked like a dumb stupid useless child just then, bloodied up because he couldn’t fucking control his own crappy quirk.

Aizawa had pulled him against his chest, using his ever-present scarf to wipe his face and fuck if that didn’t make him feel guilty. His sensei was warm and firm. “You’ve got time, Kacchan. You don’t need to have it learned today.” Katsuki tried to argue, but all that came out was a gasping wheezing cough. Aizawa rocked with him and patted his back. It made Katsuki a little angry. He wasn’t a fucking child, except…he was. They all thought he was. He forced the anger down as much as he could, but his whole fucking traitorous body still tensed up even further.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa looked up at Deku, who was kneeling by them, letting their sensei take care of his best friend. “Go home. Tell your mother I’ve got him.”

“O-okay, sensei.”

After Deku left, Katsuki had managed to calm himself down, to just exhale the rage into his sensei’s uniform. As much as he hated being treated like a fucking baby, that’s basically what he was. He knew it. He looked at Deku and saw a tiny, helpless infant. He’s physically the same age, so it would make sense that that’s what people see when they look at him.

Even if it was fucking annoying that his sensei obviously thought he was a puny little kid.

“Can you stand?” Sensei’s voice was soft. It was never this soft before. It was familiar and strange and Katsuki fucking hated how much he didn’t hate it. He isn’t a little kid, but his brain hasn’t gotten the fucking memo.

“Asshole, of course I can fucking stand. I’m not a damn invalid.”

Sensei ran a hand through his hair with a soft laugh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Katsuki pushed away from Aizawa with a pout. He refused to meet Aizawa’s gaze. “I’m fine.” Aizawa smiled at him, and it was such a fucking patronizing smile that Katsuki had a hard time not exploding it off of his face. Except this was sensei. His sensei got a free pass.

“Come on,” Aizawa-sensei told him, heading towards the doors of the gym, scooping up Katsuki’s things as he went. A warm arm slung itself around Katsuki’s shoulders, and he let it be. They walked down streets that Katsuki couldn’t immediately place. They weren’t going in the direction of his apartment. He didn’t say anything, though. He trusted his sensei.

            They left the main city, made it to a suburban area. The houses were all small and quaint and kept, the kind of homes with spotless fences and flowerboxes. A cat sat vigilantly on a wooden post in front of a nondescript home. When she saw Aizawa, she merped once before leaping down and disappearing.

            Aizawa undid the latch of the gate near where the cat had been sitting, and gently pushed Katsuki through. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, clanging them as he flicked through them in his palm, then inserted one into the keyhole. Kastuki looked up at his sensei.

            “Inside, brat,” Aizawa nudged him, again, then stepped past and dropped Kastuki’s things in a pile by the door, near where slippers and shoes were haphazardly stacked.

            Katsuki just stood, sort of confused, in the doorway. Thinking back, it seems silly, but he always sort of assumed Aizawa sensei just lived at UA. He had that sleeping back, so Katsuki had thought he just sort of hoboed it up in the teacher lounge, mooching off of the coffee there. Then he realized that Aizawa didn’t work there yet.

            Soft, damp cloth gently dabbed and wiped his face. Aizawa had reappeared with a washrag. There was no smugness, no demeaning patronizing smirk. Only sensei with a rag and his flat not-smile. Katsuki let him wipe away the blood. “You look like you were mugged.”

            “If anyone asks it was thirty ninjas and I murdered them all.”

            Aizawa sensei sighed and flicked his nose. “Don’t joke about murder, Kacchan.”

            “Why?” Katsuki didn’t wait for an answer, so he didn’t see the conflicted look that crossed his teacher’s face. He just slipped off his shoes and traipsed into the living room, blatantly taking in every detail. “I didn’t know you lived in a house.” Katsuki said in wonderment, again missing the pained expression that Aizawa was quick to suppress. “Why am I here?”

            “Are you hungry?” Aizawa asked in lieu of answering. Katsuki looked at him, wary.

            “Why? What do you want?”

            This time, Katsuki did see a strange expression on his teacher’s face, but it was gone before he could decipher it. He guessed Aizawa was just really awkward and didn’t know how else to comfort Katsuki besides offering food. “I want fish bread.”

            “After dinner,” Aizawa quickly stepped around the boy and headed into the kitchen. They had dinner, watched crap television, and Katsuki ended up passing out on Aizawa’s couch beneath his cat and about ten blankets. The evening was filled with cursing (from Katsuki) awkward silence (from Aizawa) and many stiff head pats and shoulder squeezes (also Aizawa).

But it became something of a tradition. Soon after, when Katsuki started the next year of school, Aizawa took up a teaching position at UA. Training time with him was pushed later in the day, and Katsuki and Deku ended up doing most of their usual routine on their own. Katsuki guesses that Aizawa felt guilty about it, because almost every day after training, he’d go home with Aizawa. Sometimes Deku would tag along. Aizawa would leave for patrol after Katsuki passed out (or, at least, pretended to). Katsuki wasn’t a total ingrate, though. He made sure to go home to his parents at least once a week.

They never asked him where he spent his evenings though.

A few times, he’d randomly mentioned to his mom and dad about things he and Deku had been up to, or things he’d learned in training. His dad had smiled and hummed and his mom muttered something about him finally doing something fucking constructive.

He preferred going home with sensei, though. Now, he’s fourteen, and ever since he first started going home with Aizawa, the man had taken to sitting him down and walking him through his homework.

It was nice.

Because now he didn’t have to fucking pretend to be a moron, of course. That’s all.

Aizawa patiently explained math concepts that Katsuki already knew, and always quirked a grin at him when he did them perfectly. Aizawa walked him through the history facts Katsuki had learned by heart years ago, and gave him treats or stupid head pats when he parroted them back.

Now that Katsuki was fourteen, though, he realized he was going to have to change his behavior. He thought back to how he had been in his first life, and realized that that just wasn’t going to fly. He didn’t know if he’d be able to bully Deku like that, in the first place. And, besides, sensei would tan his hide if he tried. So, instead, he thought back to how Deku used to act.

Quiet and kinda mousey? Smart, but jittery? Katsuki didn’t know if he’d be able to pull it off, but damn it all if he wasn’t going to try his hardest. So, he avoided eye contact. He spoke only when absofuckinglutely necessary. He tried to remember to add a random stutter every now and then. He fidgeted with his palms and bounced on his toes. He wasn’t a moron, though. None of the changes happened over night. He was careful to spread out the shifts over the course of two months.

It must have worked, because none of his teachers ever batted an eye. Neither did his parents. Deku and Aizawa are fucking smart, though. That’s the only reason, Katsuki told himself, that they were able to tell. He wasn’t even mad. He was somewhat proud that sensei and Deku knew him well enough to think it was weird when he changed like that. Except, it made him feel just the tiniest, most smallest bit guilty when they asked him what was wrong, and he’d only shrug or act confused.

Aizawa hugged him a bit more, now. Deku clung to him like the fucking leech he was. Katsuki thought he understood, though. He liked hugging Deku, and he remembers that the first time around Deku’s friends were always hugging him.

“Let me see your report, Kacchan,” Aizawa sensei ordered him, setting down a mug of coco for him. “The one for your literature class.”

“I didn’t fucking read the book,” Katsuki muttered. He tried to think of a suitable excuse. “I lost it.” Aizawa’s lip thinned out into a white line, and Katsuki fiddled with his pencil, not looking at him. He fucking hated disappointing his teacher.

Aizawa sighed deeply, and rubbed Katsuki on the head like he was the stupid cat. “I have a copy, somewhere. Hold on.” Katsuki watched him walk away, in the direction of his bedroom. He sat quietly, waiting for him to return. He thought about what he would do when UA started, maybe he’d just disappear for a little while, camp out in the library. He could use the time to try and get his memory in order, come up with a solid game plan for the next few years now that he had a good idea of what changes had come about with him mucking around in the past.

Hopefully All Might would make an appearance soon.

Aizawa trudged back, and Katsuki held out his hands for the book. Aizawa didn’t hand it to him. He just sat beside Katsuki and wrapped his arms around the boy. They were both very stiff, rigid. Not used to hugging despite Aizawa attempting to at least once a day. He knew from listening to Mrs. Midoriya and Deku that sensei apparently thought he was “love-starved”, which was stupid, but he wasn’t sure how to go about arguing his case.

“Sensei?”

Aizawa patted his back, self-consciously. Thunk. Thunk.

“You know I’ll always listen to you, right Kacchan?”

Katsuki nodded, not sure what the heck was going through his teacher’s head.

“You know I’d fight for you?” Katsuki smiled and gripped the fabric of his teacher’s shirt.

“’course.”

Aizawa was quiet, then he pulled back. Gave him a lopsided, forced smile that somehow still seemed genuine, then cracked open the book, cleared his throat, and started to read.

Notes:

Sooooooooo
I'm pretty sure this fucking sucked????
Also, I don't know what's next. Any ideas?

Chapter 5

Summary:

Just sum fluff. Sorry. I'll get more into plot next chappy. Thank you for the reviews and comments and Kudos. You guys make me happy :)

 

As for the people who kindly let me know about A*****er's Syndrom's history, thank you. I didn't know. I'm sorry it took this long to change it, I don't really have an excuse except that I kept forgetting. It is currenly 3am where I am, and I suddenly remembered for no reason, and I decided to do it right now before I forgot again. I actually have a very severe issue with memory that I'm being medicated for, though I don't feel comfortable with sharing the details. In any event, thank you for your time that you took to gently correct me.

Chapter Text

Aizawa was good at keeping secrets. It was easy, most of the time, because there weren’t that many people all too keen on digging up info on him in the first place. The exceptions being Nedzu and Hizashi. Aizawa sullenly figured that Nedzu probably knew about his boys from the get-go, but Hizashi was another story. His best friend was busy with his own life - his radio station, his teaching job, his own hero career.

            Sure, Hizashi noticed that Aizawa had suddenly started hanging out even less than before. Aizawa citing his exhaustion as his only excuse was nothing new. So, Hizashi had begged and pleaded and bribed and threatened. However, nowadays, his usual methods had stopped working. They hung out on patrols, occasionally. They had lunch together once they both started working at UA. Every now and then Aizawa would crash at Hizashi’s for movies and food. They called and texted a bit more.

            But Hizashi knew for a fact that he was seeing less and less of his friend. At first, he was hurt, thinking that Aizawa was avoiding him. Then he was concerned, after finding out from Nemuri that he’d stopped seeing her completely. He tried to convince himself that Aizawa was just busy on one of his cases, but then weeks turned into months and months turned into years.

            Hizashi tried to pry him in the teacher’s lounge, during lunch breaks, cornering him in his office. Nothing worked. Aizawa would only shrug him off and claim that he just didn’t feel like being around people, or that he was too tired from patrol, or that he had homework to grade.

            Hizashi tried to let it be, he really did. For a whole six years, he let Aizawa get away with it. He’d been happy once Aizawa took a job at UA, thinking that they’d hang out more. Maybe grade quizzes and papers together. Yet, without fail, Aizawa would book it home after classes were over.

            This year, though, something had changed yet again.

            Aizawa looked even more exhausted, constantly. Hizashi hadn’t even known anyone could look so exhausted. Not only that, but Aizawa had started to frequently check his phone. Stranger than that he’d receive and send dozens of texts, rapidly. Sometimes he’d do so with scowls, but more often with a soft look on his face.

            All sorts of scenarios played through Hizashi’s mind. Aizawa had knocked someone up. Aizawa’s grandmother was dying. Aizawa was dying. Aizawa’s girlfriend was dying. Aizawa’s new born child was dying. Aizawa found his long lost twin brother, who was dying. He’d been cloned by a villain, adopted the clone, and now said clone was dying.

            Either way, someone was dying and how dare Aizawa not tell his bestest friend in the whole wide world?

            So, Hizashi stalked Aizawa home.

            He watched as his best friend went directly to his house and locked the door behind him, from where he crouched behind a car across the street. Aizawa was obviously, horribly distracted, because he somehow didn’t notice Mic in all of his hero-costumed glory. Mic crept closer and closer to the house, easing open the gate and tip toeing across his lawn. He knelt beneath the window box, and pulled out his phone, setting the timer for two hours.

            Then he mooched off of Aizawa’s wifi and watched videos, enjoying the fresh fall air and warm late afternoon sun.

            His plan was to give Aizawa time to lower his guard, make it seem like he hadn’t followed him home like a weirdo.

            When the time was up, and the sun was started to dip violently orange into the low hanging clouds, Mic slowly stood up and crept towards the door. He sorted out the spare key Aizawa had given him years ago from his pocket, and carefully, quietly, inserted it into the lock, knowing that Aizawa was a paranoid dork.

            He slipped the door open, and crept into the house. He froze.

            There was a pair of shoes that definitely did not belong to Shouta. They were smallish, black, with cartoony red and yellow flames decorating the side. They were carelessly dropped beside where Shouta had neatly lined up his own, in front of an open, black backpack with little pins decorating its fabric.

            Mic, confused, peered around the corner, further into the house. He could hear the television was on, some kids show most likely. He could hear jaunty music, volume turned low, the light from it flashing against the darkened walls. The lights in the living room and halls were off, though there stove light appeared to have been left on.

            Mic slipped off his shoes and stepped into the living room, where he froze, and whipped out his cellphone camera.

            Aizawa was laying across the couch – nothing weird there. Except, laying across him, with his head on Shouta’s chest and Shouta’s arms wrapped tightly around him…was a little boy.

            And by little boy, Mic meant an impressively-bulky-with-cord-like-muscles young man, who wore All Might pj bottoms and a black tank top, showing off toned, scarred forearms that were cutely tucked underneath Shouta’s. His hair was simultaneously spikey and fluffy, and very blonde. Both the boy and Aizawa looked very peaceful.

            Cute.

            Except Present Mic had no idea who this child was or why he was in his friend’s house. Shouta wasn’t old enough to have a kid that age. Was he? And if he was, how had Shouta hidden this kid from him for so long. Unless Shouta had only found out about him recently? In the end, Hizashi’s decision was simple.

            He was gonna make pancakes for his new nephew.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

            Katsuki woke up the moment he heard a key go in the latch. Random anger. He was about to sit up, quirk heating his palms, but the arms holding him tightened, almost imperceptibly. Katsuki looked up. Sensei was awake, eyes red. His hands shook, but his quirk had already been suppressed, so there was no danger in gripping the fabric of his teacher’s shirt. Katsuki tensed as the door creaked open. An obviously shaped shadow tiptoed inside, the silhouette made stark by the TV light. He’d recognize that hair anywhere.

            Aizawa pressed his hand flat against his back, and Katsuki breathed out. He closed his eyes and relaxed into Aizawa sensei’s hold as Mic sensei wandered in. The obnoxious pro hero gasped quietly, then stood there for what seemed like ages. Then, he tiptoed (Actually fucking tiptoed like a ballerina) into the kitchen. Katsuki wriggled a bit, craning his head to try to see what the man was doing. Fingers carded through his hair.

            Aizawa sensei’s torso rumbled. “He’s been outside since I got here,” sensei said under his breath, his voice somewhat rough from sleep. He had his not-smile on. Katsuki nodded and laid his head back down. Aizawa continued to pet his head as they listened to Mic whispering to himself, dropping pans and slamming cabinets shut. Katsuki had to choke back several chuckles, which caused sensei to grin as well.

            It was a month and a half into his final year of middle school, Deku was passing all of his classes with flying colors and Aizawa had been making sure Katsuki wasn’t too far behind. It was hard, finding a believable balance. But Katsuki was nothing if that a damn genius, so of fucking course he managed it. In physical fitness classes, Katsuki was at the very top, leagues past even Deku.

            He’d stop being loud. He’d stopped trying to attract attention. He still followed Deku around, though. Katsuki had expected Deku to stop being publicly affectionate years ago, but the smaller boy still grabbed his hand, sat next to him, clung to his arms, draped himself over Katsuki’s shoulders.

            People still thought it was weird, except now people called it gay instead of unhealthy. Even still, Katsuki got the idea that the vicious meaning behind the whispers had stayed much the same. He ignored it, for the most part. Very determinedly kept his eyes on people’s feet, because he knew if he looked at their faces he’d probably want to rip them off.

            But Deku, being the quirkless hero-worshiper he was, was still bullied.

            So, Katsuki stood up for his friend, because Deku would never stoop so low as to stand up for himself. It made Katsuki livid, that people would weigh Deku based on his quirklessness. It made him almost as angry as the knowledge that he used to be the same. He’d been so blind, so stupid, and it made him see RED.

            Whispers followed him, not just because of his and Deku’s PDA. No. Now it was whispers of villain.

            And.

Yeah.

That fucking hurt.

            People were always trying to separate him and Deku, to get Deku to make friends with nicer people. People looked at them and assumed it was Katsuki putting impossible ideas in his head out of hidden cruelty. Katsuki didn’t want Deku to be as isolated as he was the first time around, so he let that go. He honestly didn’t mind it when they were forced to pair with different people during class projects. However, as soon as they were separated, people would insult and belittle his friend.

            Katsuki would never let that go unpunished.

            Aizawa told him, again and again, to find non-violent ways to let out his anger. That beating up people who were that much weaker than him simply wasn’t heroic. Katsuki had looked his teacher in the eye and said “All Might does it all the time.” Aizawa had cursed and sighed and shook his head.

            “I thought you wanted to be better than All Might?”

            So, to avoid upsetting his teacher, he stood off by himself. Avoided being around people. Honestly, the idea of being around people who weren’t Deku or Sensei or his parents or his old friend was stomach turning. They almost didn’t feel real. These were mirages from his past. These were hollow, empty ghosts. These were haunting memories and THAT more than anything made Katsuki wanna just blow them all to hell.

            He hated it when teachers put their hands on his shoulder. He hated it when people would jostle against him in crowds. He hated it when the school councilors Aizawa forced him to see tried to touch his hands or his arms. It felt like something on his inside was the wrong side of a magnet, just repelling all of their touches. It didn’t hurt or anything. It just felt wrong.

            He hadn’t had this problem the first time around, had he?

            Maybe….maybe because no one got as physically close to him the last time around. The kids in his classes, in awe of him, kept their distance. Teachers had no reason to get in his face. He’d never had councilors. He was always the center of attention, so even strangers in public were aware enough of him to keep their distance.

            Maybe it was just worse, now, because some days it felt like he was living a nightmarish daydream of repetition.

            The only thing that made it better was Deku and Aizawa, because they were the clearest, most physical differences that Katsuki could actually hold on to. In crowd, Katsuki made sure to stand as close to his friend as possible, or hold on to his sensei’s sleeve. It made wading through the sea of ghosts a bit more bearable.

             Aizawa sighed and began to sit up, still supporting Katsuki’s back with his hands. Katsuki huffed and pushed away from him, awkwardly pulling his feet up onto the couch and tucking them away underneath him, wrapping his arms around his knees. Aizawa rubbed Katsuki’s back, his hand stiff and uncertain, his mouth pulled into a comforting grimace. Katsuki gave him a small smile, though it fell away as yet another clatter emanated from the kitchen.

            Aizawa sat with him, watching him carefully. Katsuki didn’t meet his gaze again, but wondered what his teacher was seeing at that moment.

            His sensei rose and sauntered towards Mic. Katsuki didn’t watch, but he listened as Mic cursed in surprise and Aizawa reprimanded him. Then there was the sizzle of something on the stove-top, and soon Katsuki could smell pancakes.

            “Kacchan!”

            Katsuki groaned and sunk deeper into himself.

            “Katsuki!”

            “WHAT DO YOU WANT CRAPOLA?”

            “GET YOUR ASS IN HERE”

            He bit down a giggle.

            “I’LL DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT ASSHOLE”

            He got up off the couch, anyway, and grinned a bit when he heard Mic gasp in horror and Aizawa chuckle to himself. Present Mic had flour splashed all over himself, and there were blobs of batter all of the table and counter top. Aizawa sensei had apparently commandeered the meal, because it was him holding a spatula, tending the pancake in the pan.

            “Set the table,” Aizawa told him without glancing in his direction. “This is one of my coworkers, Present Mic.”

            “I know who he is, fuckmunch,” Katsuki muttered, dragging his feet over to the silverware drawer. He looked up at Mic. “Your hair looks stupid.”

            “It really does.”

            “Wh-I-well, you—HEY

            Aizawa snorted. Out of the corner of his eyes, Katsuki saw Aizawa smiling at him, and Mic gaping at Aizawa in turn. Aizawa and Katsuki got the meal ready in companionable silence, with Mic standing in baffled shock in the corner.

            Once they were seated, Mic awkwardly cleared his throat. “So. Shouta,” he said nonchalantly as he started cutting his pancakes. “How long have you been a father?”

            Katsuki looked up, confused. Sensei had a kid? Aizawa started choking.

            “He’s not mine!” His face was red.

            Oh. Ouch.

            Aizawa must have seen something in Katsuki’s expression, because he visibly, emotionally flailed. “He’s my student but he’s not mine.”

            “Since when do you take your students home?” Mic asked, flabberghasted.

            “He’s not going to UA,” Aizawa wearily tried to explain. He shot another glance at Katsuki. “Not yet, anyway.”

            “I’m fourteen,” Katsuki said helpfully as he poured his syrup. “I live here sometimes.”

            Aizawa started choking again. Mic pounded him on the back. “He stays here sometimes!” Katsuki frowned. Thats what he said? Sensei hacked once more for good measure.

            “Did you forget how to fuckin chew?”

            Aizawa shot him a glare, that almost instantly softened. “Brat.” He turned his attention back to Mic. “He and another kid are training with me, with permission from their parents.”

            “Just my not-mom,” Katsuki clarified as he stabbed his pancake and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Muh p’rant don ca’” he said around his food, reaching for his glass. Aizawa sighed at him, doing that thing where he breathes in real deep and exhales with his whole body, and pushed his cup closer into his reach.

            “Why?” Mic asked, still looking hopelessly lost.

            “Because they’re busy with shit?” Katsuki shrugged after he swallowed.

            Mic frowned. “No, I mean. Why you?” He looked at Aizawa. “Did you pick him out? Like, I don’t get it. If he was yours I could get it, but…is this just some random kid? Did you seriously not have enough of hero trainees at work?” Katsuki stopped eating and looked at his sensei, wondering what his answer would be. Aizawa’s mouth opened and closed several times. He looked at Mic, then Katsuki, helpessly. He’d never seen that expression on his sensei’s face before. He didn’t know why, but it somehow cut really deep, knowing that he had put that look there.

            “I mean…”

            Fuck

            He suddenly wasn’t hungry for pancakes. He put down his fork and slid out of his chair. “Bakugou!” Katsuki flinched without knowing why and ignored him. He took off down the hall, stepping into his shoes without bothering to put them on properly, grabbed his backpack and booked it out the door. “Kacchan!”

            He should check in with his real parents, anyway.

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Aizawa stood at his door, watching as the boy disappeared from view. Darn it. He’d go after him…but what would he say? Why Katsuki Bakugou? Because that tiny, violent stray of his is half the reason he gets out of bed most mornings? Because he’s got more potential in his left pinkie toe than the entire class of morons he’d been saddled with this year? Because Aizawa gets angry on his behalf every time he gets sent to detention as a punishment for his so-called villainous behavior? Because the fact that his own parents neglect to pay attention to the beautiful beautiful child they’re lucky to call their own? Because sometimes Aizawa forgets that…that Katsuki Bakugou isn’t actually his?

Aizawa turned to glare at Hizashi, who stood guiltily behind him, shuffling his feet.

“Great.” Aizawa spat. “Fantastic” His quirk kept activating and he had to forcibly shut it off. His hair was switching back and forth between whipping around wildly and flopping down limply. His eyes were burning. “I thought you were a teacher? Did you seriously just ask a child why he’s wanted?”

Hizashi looked heartbroken, and Aizawa, the sorry sap he is, found the anger draining away. “I…I didn’t mean it like that. I just…why? You hate kids! I didn’t mean….I’m so sorry.” He hung his head. Then he looked up, determined and gearing up to go after the boy. “Where is he going? Where does he live?”

“No,” Aizawa glared at him. Mic’s face fell. “You’re not going after him. He gets upset when something unexpected happens, and you already surprised him once by showing up uninvited.”

“What do you mean?” Hizashi asked, looking defensive. “and I wouldn’t have had to if you had just told me! I would have helped train him! I mean…To be honest I’m a little disappointed he’s not actually yours, but I wouldn’t have been MEAN!”

            “Stop saying that!” Aizawa snapped at him. “He may as well be!” Hizashi’s eyes widened. Then he grinned.

            “You’re such a softy,” he sounded almost gleeful. He clapped his hands together and cooed. “I’ll be you saw him on the street one day and you were all like aw this baby so cute I’ma take him home and feed him and cuddle him and call him wait, what did you call him? Kacchan? I gotta say, Shouta, that’s really friggin adorable. I mean, he’s a little rough but—”

            “He’s autistic.”

            “What?”

            Aizawa sighed and wandered back over to his couch, where he collapsed into it. “How much support he needs on any given days varies. But, he's smart. So so smart. He wants to be a hero more than anything but his grades were shit because all the adults in his life have convinced themselves that he’s horrible and not worth their time.” Hizashi’s browed furrowed together as he delicately sat beside his friend. “And they’ve been beating it into his skull his whole like that he’ll grow up to be a villain.”

            “Autistic?”

            He scrubbed his eyes. “I’m no therapist, but I’m fairly certain he’s somewhere on the spectrum. Most of the time, he's fairly low-support, but you frightened him, earlier. I had to turn off his quirk for him when you woke him up, being loud with the door.”

            “I WASN’T LOUD”

            “It’s no wonder he ran. He’d been on edge since you showed up.”

            Hizashi looked ashamed of himself. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. What I said.”

            “I know. Idiot.”

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Deku was scribbling in his notebook in his kitchen when Katsuki showed up. He’d gone home, to try and catch his dad before he left for work, but Katsuki guessed Masaru must have left early, because the house was empty. So he went to the Midoriya’s instead.

            Deku looked up at him when he slammed open the front door, and beamed.

            “Kacchan!” Deku scrambled up, out of his seat and shoved his notebook in front of his friend’s nose. “Look! I think I’ve figured out a workable design for my hero costume! I’ve been thinking, and if I have reinforced armor in these spots and a belt with the noted functions…I just have to decide if I blah blah blah blah and then calculate the vector of the sciency thing about the swing of the yadayada multiplied by my scrawny wimp weight to the nth degree I’ve got a Kacchan are you listening?”

            Kacchan blinked. “Yeah, I’m listening, nerd. That looks dumb.”  Deku stuck out his bottom lip and pouted. “But anything you wear looks dumb, so I guess it’ll work.” Deku stuck his tongue out, but grabbed Katsuki’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “I made some food a few minutes ago, it’s still warm.”

            “I already ate at sensei’s house,” Katsuki limply tried to pull his hand out of Deku’s, but the shorter boy’s grip was already surprisingly firm. Katsuki wasn’t really trying that hard, anyway. “Fuck, let go of me you damn squid freak” Deku sent him a measuring look he must have learned from his mother.

            “Did you really eat?” he asked archly, poking the soft of Katsuki’s stomach like that would tell him anything.

            “Do you wanna keep your freckles?” Katsuki growled. Deku smiled fondly, and kissed his cheek. “Fuck off, Deku.”

            “You’re back early,” Deku commented as he slid back into his chair. Katsuki sat across from him and blandly studied the scribbles. “Was sensei called away?”

            “Nah,” Katsuki huffed, leaning back. “Some guy showed up and I didn’t wanna stick around.”

            Deku frowned, a crease appearing between his eyes. “Who?”

            “Some moron. Present Mic.”

            Deku’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and he dropped his pencil with a weird sound, a mic between a wheeze and a squeak. “WHAT?!

            “I’m not fucking repeating myself, nerd.”

            “Why didn’t you stay?” Deku looked aghast. “Present Mic always ranks really high as a Pro, not to mentions he works at UA!!!! You could have asked him so many things about his quirk and being a hero and being a hero with such a public life with his career and his teaching and oh my god what’s he like?”

            Deku was sitting on the edge of his seat.

            Katsuki almost laughed, not bothering to answer, because it was such a Deku reaction. But, he knew his friend would be seeing more than enough of the pro hero in the years to come. And, besides, anything Deku wanted to know that Mic could answer, he could just ask Aizawa.

            Speaking of.

            “Why do you think sensei puts up with me?”

            Deku froze. “What?”

            “You’re top student, a fucking brownnosing teacher’s pet. I’m a piece of shit.”

            A hand slammed the table in front of Katsuki, and he most certainly did not jump. “You are not, Kacchan! You’re the strongest person I know!” Deku’s eyes were blazing. Then he paused. “Except Aizawa sensei.”

            “You know what I mean, wimp.”

            “No,” Deku said, staring him down. “I don’t.”

            Kacchan growled, though it came out a bit too weak. Like a groan or a sigh. He laid his head down on the table. “Sensei is busy. Really busy, and tired all the time. He works at night he works during the day, and I make him work even more. Why does he even bother? I’m not….”

            “Not what?”

            his “you, you fucker.”

            “Bet you ten bucks you’re his favorite.”

            “Of course I’m his favorite, moron. I’m asking why.”

            “I don’t know why I put up with you,” Deku said flatly. Katsuki looked up at him. “I don’t know why I care about you. I just know you’re my best friend, and my favorite person, and my bully and my brother and my Kacchan. So how should I know why you’re Aizawa’s favorite?”

            His palms felt sticky, he wiggled his clenched fingers against his palm. “Shut up.”

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            The next time Aizawa saw his brats, they were walking hand in hand through the city. Midoriya was babbling animatedly, his backback’s straps bouncing up and down on his shoulders as he just about skipped along his way. Kacchan was looking at his shoes, appeared to be counting the cracks in the sidewalk, his backpack dragging behind him, scraping across the cement.

            Aizawa was in the teacher’s lounge, looking out the window. The boys made a point of going out of their way to walk in this direction after school every day, knowing that Aizawa would still be working. Midoriya had texted him the night before, telling him that Katsuki had seemed unusually quiet, sad. That he had asked why Aizawa “bothered” with him.

            When he’d gotten to work that day, he’d thumped Hizashi across the back of his head with no warning or explanation.

            Kacchan himself was yet to text or call Aizawa at all, which was unusually. Normally, when Aizawa was out on patrol, he could depend on a steady stream of notifications rumbling in his pocket, keeping him alert and amused. Last night, that hadn’t been the case, and Aizawa told himself he hadn’t missed the constant distractions.

            Aizawa looked over at his desk, then quickly slid the strewn papers messily into his briefcase, and shrugged on his jacket. Technically, there was more tasks he had to compete before he really should leave. However, he was sure that, just this once, Mic wouldn’t complain about getting it shoved onto his plate.

            This whole mess was his fault anyway.

            ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

“Brat”

Katsuki looked up.

Deku had wandered up to a street vender with the purpose of buying the both of them a snack. He was standing alone, his back to a pole, staring off into space. It wasn’t very crowded, which Katsuki was grateful for, but the low hum of city life had started to itch the back of his brain until he felt like clawing out his own skull, or pressing an explosion to his temple.

It’s kinda pathetic how sensei’s voice automatically cleared his thoughts, just a little bit. Katsuki looked up at him, briefly, then looked away. “What do you want?”

A gentle hand kneaded the back of his neck. “I need your help.” Katsuki snapped to attention, studying his teacher. There were no visible injuries, and he was dressed casually. His shoulders and facial expression told Katsuki that his teacher was under no unusual level of stress, either.

“With what?” Kastuki asked, suspicious.

“There’s been reports of…unusual activity in a certain area. I could use some extra sets of eyes, and aside from that it’s in a zone where I’d stick out if I went alone.” At that moment, Deku showed up, handing a kebab to Katsuki.

“Where is it?” Deku asked, apparently having caught what sensei said. “What’s going on? Is it villain activity or an underground crime network or oh is it those child traffickers that were on the TV a few weeks ago or…..” Sensei let Deku babble on and on, making vague noises that might have been agreement as he steered them forward.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

An amusement park?

Aizawa sensei looked awkward, and even Deku was starting to look suspicious. Aizawa sensei led them to the back of the line for the ticket booth. The screams of idiots of rollercoasters pierced the air. Katsuki could smell kettle corn and cotton candy and the air already felt stickier.

“It’s imperative to the investigation” said sensei with a completely straight face.

“Uh huh.” Said Deku, side eyeing his teacher. Then realization struck him and he quickly looked back and forth from Aizawa to Katsuki then back again. “Oh! I mean, of course it is!”

Katsuki snorted. “I’m not stupid,” He crossed his arms and turned away from the both of them. There was silence among the three, and Katsuki reluctantly peered through his bangs at his teacher who looked out of his element, guilty and more than a little tired. His teacher always looked so tired.

And yet he’d taken Katsuki to a fucking amusement park.

“You are, though,” Katsuki said snidely, reaching up and clutching the bottom of Aizawa’s long sleeve. “I want a pretzel.”

“You’re a spoilt brat,” Aizawa said deadpan.

“With cheeze.”

The lady at the counter giggled. They were at the front of the line. “I’m sorry, sir. You have adorable boys.”

Katsuki stiffened as Deku chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“That’s one word for them,” Aizawa drawled as he handed over his card to pay. “Just the three of us.”

FOUR!”

“You’re paying for yourself,” Aizawa glared at the intruder, who had accidently used his quirk in his excitement. “And don’t you have paperwork?”

“Thirteen owed me a favor,” said Hizashi, dressed casually with his hair pulled in a low manbun. “Let’s gooooooooo.”

“I said you’re paying for yourself!”

Chapter 6

Summary:

short. sorry

Chapter Text

Katsuki wasn’t sure what happened to cause Izuku’s mentorship by All Might, nor when it happened. Not exactly. He remembered noticing Izuku under go a change during the tail end of middle school. Izuku became more withdrawn, distracted, aloof even. Katsuki remembered forcing himself to not get involved, despite the fact that, not too long before, he’d told his now best-friend to take a swan dive off the roof.

Did that have something to do with it?

Now, though, Izuku was confident, in his own way. He was content with not having a quirk. Being trained by Aizawa sensei, starting from so young, had given Izuku a new appreciation for hand-to-hand fighting. Izuku could hold his own in a fight, learning how to not only control his own body, but also counter the various categories of quirks that might be used against him.

Katsuki was really fucking proud.

But he also wanted Deku to be All Might’s heir, because the Deku Katsuki lost….

The Deku Katsuki killed…

Deku was getting that quirk.

He wished he’d bothered to ask his old Deku more questions, before. That would have made all this shit so much easier. But he couldn’t, so there was no point dwelling there. Katsuki, thinking long and hard to himself, came to several conclusions.

First, that All Might was attracted to Deku’s character and intelligence—afterall, those were the nerd’s best traits.

Secondly, Deku must have gotten caught up in something big to gain All Might’s attention.

Thirdly, the biggest thing that happened their last year of middle school was the Slime Villain that almost killed Katsuki. That was the only time during Middle School that Katsuki new for a fact All Might and Deku were in the same area.

Fourthly, Deku was desperate and alone at the time.

Katsuki, considering all of this, decided to try and recreate the events. He and Deku would need to be separate, and Deku would have to be used to it enough to not try and follow Katsuki. Also, no way Aizawa sensei could be anywhere near where Katsuki was. Something told Katsuki that his teacher wouldn’t approve of him getting captured by a slime monster.

And Katsuki needed to be rescued by Deku, in front of All Might.

“Kacchan!” Deku raced after him when he’d tried to quietly leave the classroom by himself after the last bell had rung. “W-wait! Kacchan!” Katsuki stopped, sighing a little as he turned towards his friend. Deku’s curls bounced with his bounding steps, arms stretched out to catch Katsuki even though he’d already stopped moving away. The smaller boy collided with him, and would have knocked the both of them to the ground if Katsuki hadn’t braced himself for impact.

Some jerk sniggered under his breathe at Deku’s antics, but was quickly silenced by a piercing glare from Katsuki’s blood red, murderous gaze. “Faggots” the winged asshole sneered, but was quick to scurry off like the rodent he was. Katsuki forced himself to not roll his eyes, instead turning his gaze to Deku, who looked ashamed at himself. Katsuki clenched his fists, reminding himself that sensei didn’t like it when he landed wimps in the hospital.

“Sorry, Kacchan,” Deku said. “I-I just wanted to make sure I caught you! Where are you going? I thought Aizawa sensei was busy this afternoon?” Katsuki pinched the tip of Deku’s nose, smiling at him fondly. “Kacchannnn” Deku shook his head, trying to dislodged Katsuki’s fingers, voice made nasally because of it. Katsuki cracked a grin.

“I wanna be alone,” Katsuki told him, letting go of his nose and ruffling his hair. Deku frowned. “Got shit I wanna get done, and you’ll make it take longer than it has to.”

Deku was shaking his hair, hair flying this way and that, before he was done talking. Katsuki would have been annoyed if it wasn’t so damn cute. “I won’t! I can help it go faster!”

Kastuki snorted, but pressed a soft kiss to the top of Deku’s head. He ignored a hissing whisper of “gayyyy” from a fellow classmate passing them by. He ignored the stream of students bumping into his shoulders and back as the rushed past, even though it made his hackles raise and an anxious sort of anger fill his throat. “Bye, dork.”

“Wait!” Deku tried to grab Katsuki’s hand, but Katsuki used his quirk, lightly, gently, softly. Just a spark of a crackle to make Deku yelp and let go.

“I’ll catch you later, Deku,”

Katsuki picked up his speed, weaving this way and that way between students. He could hear Deku clambering after him, and he could hear when Deku stopped and pulled out his phone. Katsuki cursed fondly. He’d have to be creative if he wanted to hide from his sensei.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Aizawa was in the middle of a teacher’s meeting, and he was ready to gouge out his own eyes. So he’d expelled two more students? Big deal. If he hadn’t, they’d have died their first year out of high school, he’d guarantee it. Nedzu supported his decision, but enough of the other teachers had complained about him that he’d been dragged into attending this farce of a meeting.

Consider how this will affect their mental health! They say

Consider how they’ll get themselves killed, Aizawa thinks to himself.

Consider how this will affect their self-esteem! They say.

Consider how Aizawa doesn’t really give a fuck, he thinks.

Just look at all the wasted potential and at that point Aizawa doesn’t bother hiding his amused snort. None of these chumps could imagine what real potential looks like. Not if they think those ex-students of his have any of it.

Speaking of.

His phone was vibrating. He’d told both boys that he’d be busy, therefore they’d only be contacting him if it was important. Aizawa rose from his seat, sticking his hand into his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the slim shape of his phone. “I’m not changing my mind,” Aizawa deadpanned. “However, if they would like to retake the entrance exam, they’re more than welcome to try again. Maybe some of them have finally learned why they should take their own lives seriously.”

With that, he left them shouting at his back, slamming Nedzu’s office door behind him. That damn rat, that whole time he hadn’t said a single thing.

He pulled the phone from his pocket, and frowned when he saw it was Izuku calling, not his stray. He swiped the screen and held it up to his ear.

“What?”

“Sensei…uh, I’m sorry to bother you…”

“You’re not, kid,” Aizawa assured him, leaning his back against the wall. “What’s up?”

“Well, you see. Uh, well…it’s kinda silly…

“Spit it out, Midoriya.”

It’s just…Kacchan wanted to be alone after school, and he wouldn’t let me come with him. And he was acting really weird! It felt like he was going to do something he’d regret later, and I don’t even know how to describe it, it’s just he was saying goodbye in a really final way? I’m sorry, I’m not saying it right, but, like, right before that—or I guess during it—there was a bunch of kids who were making fun of him and calling him names and bumping into him in the hallway. And you know how he is, he used to get really angry about stuff like that and he’d blow up or punch them or yell at them, but he didn’t do anything. He’s been getting so quiet at school and the other kids are getting louder about being mean to him and he’s just letting them! It’s not like Kacchan and I’m really worried, I can’t find him and I looked everywhere and I’m really sc—”

“Izuku!” Aizawa snapped, he was already walking. “Breathe, kid. I’m on my way. You did good calling me. I’ll text you when I find him.”

Thank you, Sensei” Aizawa hung up and stepped faster as he turned on the tracking app he’d installed on his phone, then he cursed as he realized Kacchan had somehow disabled it from his end. He quickly dialed a number “Hey,” he said as soon as it picked up. “I need a favor.”

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

When Katsuki had been known as Overkill, he and Deku had a sort of tradition. There’s this big ass tower with this amazing view of the city. You could see nearly everything, the perfect place to start partol, to clear your mind, to have a private conversation, to just hang out.

He and Deku had spent too many nights to count, up there on top of the world. Back then, it had made him feel powerful, strangely affectionate towards the people he protected. At night, the city beneath him lit up like Christmas. During the day, the sunlight bounced off of windows and colorful lines of cars and people flittered about like pretty bugs. The scattered green of planted trees and the clear blue of seeing the sky from so up high. The way every sound seemed to blend together into a single voice by the time it reached his ears.

This was his and Deku’s spot.

The old Deku.

The Deku he found himself missing more and more every day.

The Deku he was becoming terrified he’d fucked up and lost forever. What if baby Deku never got his quirk? Would he be allowed to get into UA? Would he become the man he had before? What would become of Katsuki, as much as he felt like a complete tool for the selfishness of that thought. Here he was, mucking up the timeline, and he was worried about himself.

He sat at the top of the tower. It was fun, running up the side, propelling himself with his blasts and avoiding, by memory, where the cameras were that would have busted him. He dangled his feet off the edge and soaked in the world. The sun. The wind.

The memories.

Deku, six feet tall and built like the superhero he was. Smile wider than the ocean.

Eijiro, way too fucking tall with a smile that was way to fucking bright and beautiful. His hair that was softer than it should have been when he washed it and let it fall down to his shoulders. His broad shoulders. His strong, warm, steady arms. His wide chest. His gorgeous eyes.

The moron.

Tears hit the back of his hand. He didn’t bother wiping them away. His pain ran down his cheek, his nose, flying through the air towards the ground in pathetic droplets of shame. He sighed, deeply. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Just heaving out, like he was trying to expel everything that he was keeping shoved deep inside of him.

Like the love he had for his past life.

The life he might not ever get back.

Not really.

He’d be seeing Eijiro in less than a year. Fuck. Fuck. He’d be seeing his husband in less than a year.

Wait.

No.

They’d never been husbands. They’d never had the chance.

He sighed again, but it was accompanied by a keen and more tears.

Fuck.

It’s a good thing he was alone. He hadn’t been up here, yet. Not in this timeline. Maybe it was overdue. Maybe he’d needed a chance just to get away and calm down. Just stop for a moment and.

and

and say goodbye.

He clenched his fists and just about punch himself in the eyes, trying to rub away the tears. He sighed again, except it wasn’t really a sigh was it? He was just full on sobbing now, like the weak ass bitch he is.

KATSUKI

He flinched, and turned to blast his quirk at whoever the fuck had come up here after him, but a whip-like vice wrapped around his wrists and suddenly he was flying through he air. His stomach flipped and he tried to fight back, but his quirk wouldn’t listen to him. He howled in anguish and writhed and kicked.

Arms wrapped around him, and he was pulled roughly into a frantic embrace. Black fabric. White scarf. A warm hug. A heart beat pounding like a hummingbird’s wings against his cheek. He could feel his teacher’s rough stubble scraping against the side of his forehead. Hands gripping the back of his shirt, the back of his hair, so tightly it hurt. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Aizawa’s voice was a whisper, a rasp.

“I’m not doing anything,” Katsuki said, letting himself go limp.

“Bullshit”

“Yeah you are”

“Katsuki!” Blazing black eyes met tired, swollen red. Aizawa’s stare slowly became infinitely more tender, a rough, calloused palm cupped Katsuki’s cheek, still round from his youth. “You brat,” Aizawa coughed, running a shaking thumb across Katsuki’s cheek a couple times, back and forth, then pulled the boy closer. Katsuki let him.

Together, they sat watching the moon rise and the sky turn dark and the city light up like Christmas. Katsuki wasn’t stupid, he knew what his teacher was thinking. He just wasn’t sure what to say that could possibly make it better. “I really wasn’t gonna do anything, sensei,” he said softly. “I swear.”

Trembling lips met his hairline. “I wish I could believe you, Kacchan.”

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

“I don’t want to go back to my school.”

“Okay.”

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Aizawa took Katsuki to some testing center in another city. He spent the whole day there, speeding through exams and break periods and more exams while Aizawa waited with a small group of fretting mothers.

At the end of the day, he was told he’d receive his results in six to eight weeks. The next morning, Aizawa showed up at his house with a manila envelope with a fancy-looking certificate and the promise that Katsuki didn’t have to go back to middle school. Instead, Katsuki hung out with Mrs. Midoriya and worked on assignments Aizawa gave him to keep him busy during the day while Izuku was at school.

It was the perfect solution. Izuku would be alone, tense, worried, scared, just like he had been before. And he’d have to walk home alone in that state, because Katsuki would already be home waiting for him. It was perfect. Except Katsuki was counting down the days until he’d sneak out of the house, make his way to the inner city, and wait to become prey.

One month.

Two weeks.

One week.

Three days.

One day.

“Not-Mom!” Katsuki called from where he was wrapping up his latest math work sheet from Sensei.

“What is it, honey?”

“I’m gonna go get ice cream, I finished my school.” “O-oh,” Mrs. Midoriya looked worried, but like she didn’t want to deprive him of a treat after he’d worked so hard on his ‘homework’. “Be careful, okay, Katsuki?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki slipped on his shoes. “Do you want ice cream?”

His non-mom smiled gently. “No thank you, dear. I’m just fine. You go get your snack.”

Katsuki grunted and pulled on his jacket as he walked out the door. Then, he booked it.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Chapter 7

Summary:

Here's all might, lol
Warning for some homophobic slurs, tho..

Chapter Text

Izuku had never realized how bad Kacchan’s school life must have been, how bad the bullies had gotten, until Aizawa sensei gently informed Izuku that Kacchan had tried to take his own life. Until Kacchan had somehow tested out of his final year of middle school. Until Izuku was left to walk the halls of their school without Kacchan acting as a kind of filter between him and the rest of the student body.

            The day Izuku had frantically called his teacher, Aizawa sensei had unexpectedly visited he and his mother that evening. A few hours before that, Izuku had received a brief text saying that his teacher had found Kacchan and was taking care of him. That was all, so, Izuku had tried to relax and convince himself that maybe Kacchan had really just wanted to spend some time alone.

            But then Aizawa showed up and Izuku’s heart climbed up into his throat. Aizawa sensei’s eyes were tinged with more red than normal, and his scarf was missing. His shoulders were slumped and he had to swallow several times before speaking. Aizawa had knelt down, in front of Izuku, his mother worriedly wringing her hands behind them, and wrapped his strong arms around him. Izuku, stiff and surprised since Aizawa usually only gave affection like this to Kacchan (not that Izuku was ever jealous, his Kacchan needed all the hugs he could get) had felt his stomach turn and knew, instinctively—something that happened.

            “Is Kacchan okay?”

            No. No, he wasn’t. His teacher had spoken in a low voice, and, honestly, Izuku had a hard time remembering the exact words that had been used. All he could recall is that his mother had given a heartrending cry and covered her face with her hands, Aizawa didn’t release him from the embrace for a long time, and that Kacchan had tried to end his life.  If Izuku hadn’t called Aizawa when he did, or if Aizawa had found him even a minute later, Kacchan might not be alive anymore.

            Izuku could have lost his best friend, and it was these monsters’ fault.

            Izuku stalked to his classroom, head down and fists clenched. How dare they? How dare they? Did they not realize how harmful their words could be? How painfully their insults had landed? How deeply they had cut? Kacchan—proud, strong Kacchan—had found it to be too much. What had happened when Izuku wasn’t looking? What hurt had Kacchan been hiding?

            Izuku seethed at the unfairness of the world, filled with an anger he’d never felt before. It was Izuku who was quirkless. It was Izuku who was useless. It was Izuku who had braced himself for bullying that never really came. Why, then, was it Kacchan who had suffered? Bright, brilliant Kacchan with his incredible quirk? Sweet, affectionate Kacchan who always tried so hard? Kacchan should be admired for the amazing human being he is, not looked down at because of a few unordinary traits out of his control.

            “That jerk is finally gone.”

            “Thank goodness, he was such an asshole.”

            “Watching those two gays made me sick”

            “I can’t believe they were always all over each other in public.”

            “What a weirdo.”

            “He probably dropped out.”

            “Yeah, he was such a moron.”

            “seriously, though. He was messed up in the head, wasn’t he?”

            “I mean, probably. You saw how he acted.”

            “That faggot wasn’t normal.”

            Izuku gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the whispers. How dare they.

            How dare they.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Izuku had avoided all of his acquaintances at school after the majority of them expressed some level of approval than Kacchan was gone. Only a few of them were sympathetic, but not because they were sorry for Kacchan. Rather, they were sorry for Izuku not having his bodyguard. How did no one see how amazing Kacchan is? Izuku was glad that none of these people knew just how close to the edge Kacchan had gotten. None of them deserved to know—they’d just turn it into a spectacle.

            He walked home alone from then on, hurrying to see Kacchan. To see with his own eyes that his friend was okay. The first few days were terrifying for Izuku. He’d run home, breathing hard and sweating by the time he threw his door open. Normally, his mother would gently scold him for being so aggressive with it, but during those days she only smiled at him understandingly. Kacchan, for his part, always looked mildly amused beneath the scarf given to him by Aizawa sensei wrapped around his neck, accepting the following tackle hug with laughter and kisses pressed to Izuku’s cheeks and forehead and nose.

            Kacchan spent every moment with either Izuku’s mom or Aizawa sensei. At first, Izuku had been worried that Kacchan would be angry at being “babysat” or something like that. But, instead, Kacchan seemed to soak up the extra affection. He liked to cook in the Midoriya kitchen with Inko, talking animatedly and throwing his arms around her waist with his toothy grin. He liked doing the dirty work and repair jobs around the house, being useful and getting rewarded with praise and hugs. When Aizawa hung out at the end of the day, before he took Kacchan to his own house, Kacchan liked to sit between Inko and Aizawa, squished on their couch, always loudly chatting over whatever show was playing on the television.

            He was happier and louder and violent and crude and Kacchan than he had been for….for a while now. Some days, Present Mic (insert fanboy moment) would show up and take Kacchan for walks, or to go get a snack, or on a ‘field trip’ so a museum or zoo or something. Izuku knew his best friend well enough to know that Kacchan liked it best when Present Mic and Aizawa both took him somewhere. Izuku had once come home to find Kacchan missing, only to seem him walking towards the apartment complex a few minutes later, standing between the two pros, hand in hand with both of them and a bright smile on his face. Mic was trying to convince the two others to let him wear a scarf, too. Aizawa had said something too low to make out, and Kacchan had laughed and wound his own scarf (which he had been loaned by Aizawa and decided to keep indefinitely) tighter around his own neck. In retaliation, the next day Mic had down up with a sparkly blue scarf of his own, and Izuku had seen the joy on his friend’s face at the realization that his new little mix-matched family had their own symbol of sorts.

            If Izuku was Kacchan, brave enough to scold adults when they were out of line, he would have liked to scold the Bakugous. He wasn’t sure if they even knew how close they were to losing their son. If Aizawa sensei had informed them, then they hadn’t done anything to change their ways and make sure that Kacchan would get better. If Aizawa hadn’t informed them…then, honestly, his teacher must have had a reason to not to.

            Izuku wasn’t really sure of when Kacchan had last seen either of his parents, save for one day that his mom had come over for tea. That had been awkward.

            Izuku was somewhat disappointed, somewhat grateful, that Aizawa sensei hadn’t been there. But Present Mic (“Call me Hizashi!”) was. The normally cheerful, friendly Pro had been stonefaced and aggressive, though Mrs. Bakugou hadn’t appeared to notice. She did, however, notice that her son enjoyed sitting on this strange man’s lap or clinging to his arm. Unlike Izuku’s own mother, who would have been confused and worried about her son being so openly affectionate with some unknown grown man (nevermind that Kacchan isn’t normally affectionate with anyone besides Izuku, even his own parents) Mrs. Bakugou had only laughed and teased Kacchan, not recognizing Mic out of his uniform.

            “He’s a little old for you, don’t you think, Brat?”

            Izuku had never known Present Mic’s face could hold so much wrath.

            He was glad his best friend was able to find comfort in the two Pro Heroes. Not to mention the relationship almost guaranteed Kacchan’s spot in next year’s hero class. Izuku, on the other hand…he was still quirkless. No matter how capable he was in Aizawa sensei’s drills, he knew, deep down, that even hard work is nothing compared to innate talent that’s been polished by hard work. Izuku would never compare to Kacchan, with his explosions. Not if he trained for a hundred years.

            At first, Izuku had tried to be content with the idea of making it into General Studies, or maybe even Support or Management later on. But…if he’d missed so much just being in the occasional different class than Kacchan…So much bullying, so much pain…

            How could Izuku take care of Kacchan, know how he was doing, if he was in a whole different apartment? Izuku desperately wished for a quirk to develop, and develop fast. What use what he? What kind of best friend was he, if he hadn’t noticed how depressed and hurt and suicidal his only friend had gotten?

            Izuku walked the familiar path home, sneakers kicking up dust and his hands shaking from how tightly he clenched his notebook. He didn’t just want to be a hero, not anymore. He needed to be able to stay by Katsuki’s side. He didn’t even care if he ever debuted as a hero, or was ever successful as a Pro. He just needed to get into the Hero course. Otherwise…

            Well…

            Izuku didn’t want to ever come that close to losing Kacchan again.

            Izuku passed under the bridge, almost half way to his house. Kacchan liked to tease the wasps that built their nests there with his quirk, then run away cackling with Izuku trailing behind. The memories made Izuku smile.

            A wet, cold limb wrapped around his face. Izuku gasped, or he tried to. He inhaled the liquid and his heart was set to fast-forward. He couldn’t breathe! He watched as the looming monster rose in front of him. It said something, but the voice was garbled and muffled by the substance covering his ears. Izuku struggled, thrashing and fighting. He couldn’t get free. He couldn’t breathe. Black shadows crept across his vision.

            He was going to die.

            He was going to die.

            He couldn’t. What would happen to Kacchan?

            Izuku fought and fought and struggled. It didn’t work.

            He couldn’t breathe.

 

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

“YOUNG MAN!” slap slap slap slap slap

Izuku shot upright, gagged and hacked up a small puddle of black goo. He groaned and wiped his chin with his sleeve. He felt like garbage. His hair and clothing was damp with remains of the monster, and his throat and lungs felt scrubbed raw. He coughed, violently, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. He heard a deep sigh come from his left. A big hand patted his back, a bit too hard, and Izuku coughed again.

            “YOU GAVE ME QUITE A SCARE YOUNG MAN!” Izuku looked up. Suddenly, he was suffocating again.

            “A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-all MIGHT!??!”

            “DON’T WORRY! FOR I AM HERE!” The big man smiled and Izuku thought he was going to faint. Izuku leapt to his feet and quickly bowed low, thanking All Might again and again for saving his life. All Might laughed again and brushed away his thanks, before pointed out that he’d took the initiative to sign Izuku’s notebook already. Izuku smiled impossibly wider.

            He only wished Kacchan could have met the number one hero as well.

            Wait.

            Kacchan…

            “W-wait!” Izuku rushed towards where All Might was getting ready to take off. “I have a question for YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU” Izuku’s words turned into a scream of terror as this feet left the ground and he found himself soaring deeper into the city.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Katsuki hummed to himself as he slumped through back alleys, retracing his steps of so long ago, fiddling with the end of his Sensei’s old scarf. He’d gone to the arcade he’d used to frequent, gotten a drink from a fast-food joint, and was heading for the gym. He was relatively certain he remembered where the attack had taken place, he only hoped that it was him who got caught again and not some random civilian. Someone might get hurt, otherwise.

            Katsuki kicked at litter and went over what had happened, absently reminding himself to not use his quirk so much, this time. He’d rather devastated a large portion of the street. Then he conceded to himself that it might have been his excessive quirk use that had drawn so many pro’s attention in the first place. As he threw mental arguments back and forth, he wandered deeper and deeper into the dark maze of alleyways.

            “You look like a strong puppet” said an oily voice. “Hey, kid. Help me out for a minute, would ya?” Unlike last time, Katsuki let himself be absorbed by the monster, only fighting back when he had been completely enveloped and the villain had moved into a more open area.

            “BOOOOOOOOOOOOM

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

 

Izuku really did feel like a deku. As much as he knew Kacchan called him that half out of habit and half out of affection, some days it really felt more like the insult people often assumed it to be. He was useless. Even All Might thought so. Not only did All Might not think he was cut out to be a hero, but he’d somehow distracted All Might enough to make him lose the villain.

            It was all his fault.

            “I just want to know if I can help people, if I can be a hero….without a quirk?”

            “Young man…even though your intentions are noble…..”

            “You don’t understand! My friend is going to UA next fall and I have to be there with him! He gets bullied and h-h-he’s been really, uh, really sad lately…”

            “Young man, if your friend has been able to achieve acceptance into UA, I think he’ll manage just fine.”

            All Might was right…Kacchan didn’t need him. No one needed him. He was just a stupid, useless Deku. Afterall, Izuku had already been given a chance to help his best friend….and Izuku hadn’t even noticed how wrong things had gotten. Kacchan would probably find better friends at UA. Friends who were strong and wonderful like him. Kacchan didn’t need Izuku. Izuku just made things worse.

            “ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!

            Izuku froze. Smoke was billowing up in the distance. Out of habit, Izuku pulled out his phone and started off towards the commotion. Then he stopped. Should he even bother? With his luck, he’d probably just get in the way. Another boom, and Izuku felt his resolve wavering, his curiosity too great. He chewed his lip, starting to walk again. Well, he might as well just look? That way he could have something interesting to tell Kacchan when he got home. Something exploded, and Izuku broke into a run.

            A crowd had already gathered. Izuku slipped inbetween arms and bodies, trying to see what they were all gawking at. He caught some garbled conversation. “The villain’s caught some middle schooler.” “Why aren’t the heroes doing anything?” “Wow, that kid’s got some quirk.”

            Izuku shoved past the last few people, and stood in shock. It was the slime villain, no doubt about it. And held deep within its body was a small shape. Another kid, if the man in the crowd was to be believed. The street was a wreck. Cars had been overturned, electric lines had been snapped. Fire and craters littered the pavement. The small form was obviously struggling for survival. Izuku wanted to throw up. This was al his fault.

            He was so useless.

            If that kid died, it would be on Izuku’s hands. He shouldn’t have distracted All Might. This was all his fault! All because he had stupid delusions….all because he had to ask All Might to answer the question he’d been getting answered by strangers for years—of course he couldn’t be a hero…look at what he had done.

            Tears started to fill Izuku’s eyes, when the kid’s face temporarily broke free from the slime and a familiar explosion cleared a hole in the villain’s side for a moment. No.

            God, no.

            Mentally, Izuku knew he should call Aizawa Sensei or even Present Mic. He should leave it to the Heroes…the heroes who weren’t doing anything.

            But.

            “Kacchan!

            His feet moved forward without his consent.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Aizawa was counting down the days until the next school year.

            He couldn’t wait to be done with these idiots. He watched as his students pummeled each other, using the battle exercise as a chance to hash out their petty playground arguments. None of them, not a single one of them had improved in technique. Sure, their quirks were more powerful and they understood the lingo, the theories, the strategies (some of them did anyway). They sure acted like hero students.

            But isn’t that just it? He wasn’t there to train students. He was there to train heroes.

            These little kids didn’t act like heroes.

            Every time he expelled on from their number, they’d shape up for a week or two, but then it was straight back to acting exactly as they had before. They weren’t worthless, of course they weren’t. He would have gotten rid of them if they were. They all had potential, but none of them were using it.

            Aizawa sighed and checked his phone. A text from Hizashi asking about this kids, and update from Inko that Kacchan had gone out to get ice cream not too long ago. It’s fine, he told himself. They’re fine.

            He watched as one of the students threw a block of rubble at another. Something was ticking in the back of his mind. Something was wrong. The wrongness was rising up in his chest and settling like a fog. His heart wasn’t beating faster than normal, but the pulse went deeper, pounding, pounding, pounding. Something was wrong.

            Something was wrong.

            Aizawa flicked open his message tab. The last message from Kacchan was sent not fifteen minutes ago—a little string of emoji cats and explosions with an ice cream cone at the end. Aizawa had thought it was just Kacchan checking in at the time, but not he supposes it’s the brat’s way of saying he had gone out for a treat. Aizawa had to suppress a fond smile, despite the anxiety still simmering just beneath the surface.

            His phone dinged. He frowned.

            The phone screen cracked beneath the pressure of his clenching fist.

            Villain alert.

            WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG W R O N G

 

            He opened his news app. There. Front page.

            Live footage of a monstrous slime villain destroying a downtown city street. The heroes were doing nothing, due to the villain hostage. Fist glance revealed no such hostage, but that cloud of foreboding told Aizawa to look closer at the monster. Inside the monster. An explosion cleared a hole and a tiny, spikey head plunged outwards, gasping for air.

            No. Not him. Why, why him?

            “CLASS DISMISSED!”

            The students froze in shock, but by the time they had gathered themselves to where their teacher was meant to be standing, there was no body there. Just the door swinging on its hinges.

ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

 

            Katsuki had a hard time knowing what was going on, and as it got harder and harder to breathe to think to fight, he began to second guess his plan.

            What if Deku wasn’t coming? What if he’d fucked up?

            He’d fucked up, hadn’t he?

            Sensei was going to kill him.

            An impact, something struck the villain and Katsuki’s mouth found blessed air for a moment before it was covered once more. Hands tore at the slime around his face. The villain switched its efforts from subduing Katsuki to fighting off this new attacker. Katsuki would have grinned if he could. Instead, he fired off the biggest explosion he could—which was pretty damn big. Finally, it was time to murder this fucker.

            Deku was here.

            With twin blasts from his hands, Katsuki propelled himself from out of the slime, flying out from the crap that had been covering him. He flipped midair and landed in a crouch. Ignoring the stunned Deku and the commotion from the crowds, he raised his hands and held them up to the villain, who hesitated.

            “DETROIT SMAAAAAASH”

            Katsuki was very nearly blown off his feet by the resulting wave of wind and power. Deku tumbled backwards into him, knocking them both to the ground. The little nerd stuttered out something incoherent, and looked up at the number one hero with a familiar fanboy gleam in his eyes. Katsuki snorted and hugged Deku close to him, aware of how risky and dangerous it was for the nerd to have come after the villain like that. “Thanks, Deku.” He whispered into his friend’s hair as the first few raindrops started to fall.

            A vortex from All Might’s punch had risen up into the sky, and suddenly the weather shifted to rain, putting out the fires Katsuki had started. The other heroes surged forward while the crowd’s babble rose to a fever pitch, as did the police, to contain the villain and help rescue and civilians who had been trapped or injured, including Katsuki and Deku.

            “What you did was very reckless, young man!” a hero Katsuki didn’t care to recognize scolded Deku.

            “At least he did something,” Katsuki growled. “Apparently, if it was up to you heroes” he spat at him “I would have died.” The heroes around him looked taken aback. “Instead of getting your panties all twisted over whether or not he should have done that, try thinking about why he’d had to, you fucking asswipes.”

            The hero who had started the scolding spluttered and tried to defend himself, saying that they might have caused greater damage, or something like that. But he was thrown to the side by a black and white blur. Both boys were patted down frantically as their sensei’s hands checked both of them for injuries.

            “Eraserhead?” Katsuki heard someone mutter in confusion. No matter how stupid these bunch of supposed “Pros” were, they all silently moved to form a sort of barrier between Aizawa, his boys, and the crowd of civilians and reporters pushing closer to get at better look. One or two of the lesser heroes did they best to shoo people away, and Aizawa was given a chance to double check both of his brats were still breathing.

            “Izuku,” Deku flinched and looked up at their teacher. Globs of slime were hanging off of him, dripping onto the pavement. Clinging to the gunk were speckles of dust and dirt from All Might’s blast, and tears were beginning to leak out of the corners of his big green eyes. Aizawa sighed, and flicked Deku on the cheek. “You did good, Midoriya. Next time, though, assess the villain more thoroughly. Your method of attack wouldn’t work on a villain of that category.” He spoke low, so that he words wouldn’t be picked up by the nosy busybodies still hanging around. Izuku hung his head.

            “I’m sorry, sensei.”

            “Let’s go, Kacchan,” Aizawa made to pick him up, but Katsuki jerked away. No was was he going to be carried like a baby in front of pro heroes and news cameras. Not even Aizawa could force him. Katsuki tried to ignore the hurt look on his teacher’s face.

            “I’m fine,” Katsuki mumbled. “I didn’t do anything.” Aizawa rubbed Katsuki’s cheek with his thumb.

            “I didn’t think you had,” Aizawa said gently. “Would you like to go home, or to the Midoriya’s?”

            Katsuki was about to protest and say that he didn’t need to be coddled like that, that he was fine with going to his parents. But then he realized if he chose that option Deku wouldn’t be alone for All Might to approach.

            Katsuki was silent for a moment, taking in the many, many people around him and the loudness of the crowd and sirens and the feeling of the everything bearing down on him. He buried his face into the scarf, now filthy, and he absently hoped that it wasn’t torn, focusing on the sturdy fabric. “…wanna go home, now.”

            Aizawa nodded. “Not-mom is gonna worry though,” Katsuki’s quiet voice stopped him as he made to help the boy to his feet. Aizawa sighed and whipped out his phone, swiftly tapping out a brief text. Then he took a gentle, but firm hold of Deku’s hair, shaking him a little bit. “Go straight home, Midoriya. I don’t want to hear about you getting involved with anything else until next week at the earliest.”

            Deku gave a weak chuckle, agreeing as Aizawa pulled Katsuki to his feet. Some police officers tried to stop them, wanting to get Katsuki’s statement, but Aizawa just flashed his Pro Hero License at them and kept walking. It was a good fifteen minute walk to Aizawa’s home, and his sensei spent the entire time talking on his cell, keeping somebody updated.

            “Yes, he’s fine. Physically………….They weren’t doing anything! And they had the gall to try and chew them out for taking care of the scum themselves………Yes!.............Of course you would say that, but you weren’t there……….no, they honestly weren’t doing anything……………….All Might? Yeah, he was there. Showed up right after Kacchan was already free………….honestly………..I’m not going to trust him alone with my students. Especially next year.”

            Katsuki tugged at his scarf, making it wind tighter and tighter until his sensei would gently loosen it from his neck, so that Katsuki could safely tug at it some more.

            “Sensei?” Katsuki asked quietly, looking at the sidewalk. Aizawa’s attention was immediately on Katsuki. “I was getting ice cream.”

            “Do you still want some?”

            “Fucking no. That was disgusting.”

            “Okay.” Aizawa watched him for another minute, before turning his attention back to his phone conversation. “Yeah, I’m still here…..”

            If it wasn’t already fucking obvious who he’d been talking to, it would have been when his sensei hung up as they were turning the corner to his house, and there was Present Mic waiting anxiously for them by the front gate with the fucking cat.

            As soon as he saw them, he vaulted over the gate, instead of walking through it like a normal person, and stampeded towards them. “KACCHAN!” Katsuki braced for impact. Aizawa released his hand the moment before Katsuki was scooped up and twirled around, spindly arms twining around him and attempting to squeeze his guts out his throat. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh, look at you! You’re all dirty! I’m gonna get you cleaned up okay? And then we’ll have pancakes! I can make pancakes! I’m sorry I only know how to make pancakes!”

            “Kay,” Katsuki sighed, laying his head on Mic’s shoulder. The loud hero froze, and Katsuki saw Aizawa looking at the two of them with soft eyes. A long hand rubbed his back between his shoulder blades, and the arms tightened and pressed him even more closely to Mic.

            “You’re okay….”

            “No fucking duh.”

            As Katsuki got changed, dropping his goop covered clothing into a corner of the room, he listened closely to the two heroes talking in the kitchen. He couldn’t make most of it out, just something about him and Deku, of course. He finished as quickly as he could and crept down the hall, closer.

            “His parents haven’t even called! Their son was shown on national television, held hostage by a villain that held multiple pro heroes at bay, and they don’t even call? Are they not worried? No text to say Hey! Glad you’re not dead!

            “I know, Hiszashi. What do you want me to do about it? If I try to adopt him now, it will make it harder for him to get into UA, and when he does get into UA I wouldn’t be allowed to be his teacher, as per the school regulations. My hands are tied. Besides, they aren’t impeding him so I don’t care.”

            “They aren’t just not impeding him. Shouta, this is full on neglect and that baby boy does not deserve to have parents who neglect him! That’s a criminal offence! Or have you forgotten?”

            “He is fed,” Aizawa growled. “He is up to date on his shots and medical exams. He has clothing that fits and his education is being seen to.”

            “By YOU!” Mic cried, and was quickly shushed by Aizawa. “You’re doing his parent’s job!”

            “Exactly, you idiot,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m doing whatever the fuck I want with the kid, and his parents don’t give a damn, won’t give a damn, and heaven help them if they try to stop me. There’s no point in fighting with those two cretins, because this is as of right now the best-case scenario.”

            “But what if something happens,” Mic said, his voice uncommonly low and serious. “What if the worst happens and the hospitals won’t let us in to see him. What about the school paperwork that needs a parent’s signature? What about Family Day? Kacchan deserves to have a family who can be there for him.”

            The kitchen was quiet. Katsuki was about to make himself known, but then Aizawa spoke again. “I’m working on it.”

            He paused. What? Was Aizawa going to take him away from his family? No…no that couldn’t be it. He’d just said so. What did he mean? Katsuki leaned in closer. Did he want to be taken away? To just live primarily with Aizawa? To be housed, trained, raised by Aizawa? Katsuki felt guilty as he realized….he didn’t mind the thought. He tried to reason with himself that it was a similar situation to living in the dorms—a nostalgic period in his old life. That’s all.

            “Good” was all Mic said.

            ღ‿ღ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ღ‿ღ

Izuku had gotten permission from his mother to go visit Aizawa and Kacchan. It had taken some convincing, as his mother was still tense and wound up from seeing her son in a news report. However, her affection for Katsuki quickly won out. She knew nothing made Kacchan feel better like cuddle time.

            Walking outside after dark held no terror for Izuku. He had his mentor’s training, as well as a tazer in his bag. It also gave him a chance to really digest what had happened that day. And, boy, did a whooooole lot happen that day.

            School. The Villain attacking him. Meeting All Might. The villain attacking Kacchan. Meeting All Might again.

            Getting offered a quirk.

            It was unbelievable. Part of Izuku was convinced that it had been a hallucination caused as a side effect of ingesting the villain’s slime. Yet, in his phone was a new number and a thumbs up emoji as proof it was real. All Might had decided to make him his successor.

            He was getting a quirk.

            Izuku smiled to himself and clenched his fists. He was going to be a hero, with Kacchan. He’d go to UA, with Kacchan. He’d be in Aizawa sensei’s class, with Kacchan. He’d graduate the same time as his friend and participate in all the same activities as his friend and finally, finally they’d be equals. Izuku wouldn’t be useless anymore.

            He wouldn’t be a deku anymore.

            He’d work hard, to deserve All Might’s quirk and Kacchan’s friendship. He’d do better, he swore it to himself, to his teachers and to his friend. He’d do better.

            Izuku was beaming when he arrived at Aizawa sensei’s house, fishing into the pocket of his bag for the key he’d been given so long ago. He’d known Aizawa for over six years now, Izuku realized with some shock. In just a few years, he’d have known Aizawa for longer than he hadn’t. Still smiling, he turned the key in the latch and pushed it open.

            “Midoriya?”

            “It’s me, sensei!”

            “Shitty Deku, you’re supposed to be with Not-mom.”

            “She said she was okay, don’t worry Kacchan.”

            “C’mon in, buddy! Join the pile!”

            Izuku shucked off his shoes and dropped his back before turning the corner and understanding Present Mic’s statement. All of them had donned pajamas and were seated in a clump on their couch. Some explosive, violent video game Izuku didn’t recognize flashed on the television. Mic and Kacchan were both aggressively mashing buttons on their controllers. Aizawa sensei seemed to be barely participating. In fact, as Izuku got closer his teacher held the controller out to him, and tugged him by the shirt so that he was sitting squished between Aizawa and Mic, who was sitting at the end of the couch. Kacchan was sitting with his back against the other arm rest, legs thrown across Aizawa sensei. As soon as Izuku sat down, his friend plopped his feet on top of his lap as well.

            “DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!”

            “YOU FIRST BUTTFACE!”

            “Seriously, Zashi?”

            “Ah! Kacchan that was mean!”

            “THAT’S THE POINT SHITHEAD!”

Chapter 8

Summary:

I'm not really sure how much is too much. Let me know if they're acting too cheesy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

 

There’s a lot of people Izuku loves. He loves his mother with a level typically reserved for heroes. His hardworking mother, who has sacrificed so much for his sake, and who treats his Kacchan like her own son. He loves Aizawa, who went out of his way to care for and about both Izuku and Kacchan. Who took great pains to make sure they both have everything they needed and will need for the future. Who acts indifferent but cares so deeply. He even loves Present Mic, who had only come into his life recently but already cared for both him and Kacchan so deeply and enthusiastically. He has a more surface and casual love for a few acquaintances. He even has a sort of love for All Might and the other Pro Heroes that straddle the line between respect and adoration.

            And, of course, he loves Kacchan. Nothing more needs to be said about how much he loves his Kacchan.

            It’s that love that causes him to be the person he is—the person who works hard like his mother, who tries his best to help people like the heroes, who does his best to observe like Aizawa sensei, who has started trying to make people comfortable like Present Mic, who wants to be strong like Kacchan.

            Honest like Kacchan. That’s what Izuku keeps coming back to about this whole thing. He wants to, out of respect for his new “teacher”, All Might, keep the secret. Out of love for his mother, he is afraid to tell her about his new arrangement, knowing that she would only worry. Yet, he loves his first teacher, Aizawa sensei, and in some way keeping this secret feels like a betrayal of trust. Aizawa has spent years training him to be a hero without a quirk.  And Izuku is so, so very grateful for that.

            But now he has a chance to have something he’s always wanted. Not just “a quirk”, but a chance to literally be like All Might, his idol. Even still, doesn’t Aizawa deserve to know? But if he told Aizawa….would All Might reconsider? Would All Might take this honor, this opportunity, away from him?

            And Kacchan….He could barely bring himself to think about how hurt Kacchan would be when he found out that Izuku was keeping a secret this big from him.

            Kacchan shuffled around in his sleep, snuffling a bit, his brow creased even in sleep giving him a distinctly disgruntled look. Aizawa sensei refused to let Kacchan wear his scarf to bed, so, instead, the blonde had the sturdy fabric wrapped, bound around both his arms with his hands clutching fistfuls he held near his face. Izuku smiled at him.

            Aizawa didn’t have that big of a house, just two rooms, a bathroom, a kitchen with a big table shoved in it and a living room with their well loved couch. Ordinarily, the second room used to be Aizawa’s study. But over the years it had been slowly transformed. First, it was knickknacks like stuffed toys and children’s books and action figures. Then, pictures and posters had started to populate the walls. One of the bookshelves was taken out and replaced with a wardrobe full of boy’s clothing. Two bedrolls now had a home on a little shelf in the corner (though that shelf had long since been filled with shoes and toys and snack wrappers with the bed rolls permanently spread out in a comfy nest which included soft, gigantic beanbags, stuffed animals, pillows and two sleepy bois).

            Izuku watched his friend, still lost in thought. There were so many reasons he should tell someone…and really only one reason he shouldn’t—his own selfishness. Kacchan grumbled, snuffled, and slowly blinked his eyes open.

            “….ku….” Izuku smiled.

            “Morning, Kacchan.”

            Kacchan gave a tiny smile, wriggling closer and pressing a dry kiss to the top of Izuku’s forehead. Then, he shuffled even closer, so that he was all but wrapped around the smaller boy, leeching off of his warmth. “I have a secret” Izuku blurted out.

            Kacchan stilled, then gave a low groan as he sat up, stretching his hands towards the ceiling. His joints cracked along his spine, making Izuku wince, and his quirk gently popped and snapped. He ran his hands through his limp hair a couple times, before POOFing it into his trademark spikes with a controlled blast. Izuku couldn’t help but smile and sit up as well.

            “’Bout what” asked Kacchan, though he didn’t seem worry all that much. He was probably still half asleep, Izuku thought to himself.

            “I don’t know if I should say…” Izuku mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. Kacchan reached over and took Izuku’s hands, forcing him to stop abusing his fingers.

            “Is it your secret?” Kacchan asked in that simple, blunt way of his.

            “…n-not really.”

            Kacchan shrugged and pushed Izuku back down onto the nest and flopped on top of him, wrestling a nearby blanket over the both of them. “’en jus’ tell s’nsei….” Kacchan said around a wide yawn that he released in a huff and a sniffle as his eyes slid shut. Then he was silent and breathing deeply.

            Izuku breathed in the familiar smell of nitroglycerin and soap. “If you say so, Kacchan.” What he got in reply might have been a noise of agreement, might have been a muffled curse. Either way, Izuku supposed, it didn’t really matter. In the morning, Izuku determined….but…no. Wait. Maybe he should talk to All Might first.

            He looked over towards the wall, where his phone was plugged in and charging. It was too early to call, wasn’t it? The moon still shown through the crack between the window’s curtains. Izuku closed his eyes and just focused on the scent and warmth of Kacchan, letting it lull him into contentment.

            “Love you.”

            “L’ y’ too”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

If All Might was surprised to be asked to meet with Izuku so soon, he didn’t show it. He only asked to be met a certain time and place, which Izuku readily agreed to with shaking fingers. He had four hours before he would meet with All Might at a beach, the name of which sounded only vaguely familiar to him.

            “You okay, buddy?” Present Mic, dressed in an overlarge shirt and sweat pants asked him, his hair hanging loose around his neck and shoulders. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all.” The loud hero slid a plate filled with pancakes (Izuku  had been eating a lot of pancakes since Present Mic came into their lives) and took it upon himself to liberally drizzle them in syrup. Then, he placed a fork in Izuku’s hand and guided the utensil to the steaming pile of food.

            “I’m okay,” Izuku lied with a tired smile. “I-I guess the villain really freaked me out.”

            “All Might kicked his butt,” Kacchan said, his mouth full and syrup dripping down his chin. Aizawa sensei sighed and tried to wipe his face with a napkin, but Kacchan growled and swatted his hand away, which made Aizawa only more determined. Izuku watched fondly as Aizawa pinned the other boy down in an almost vicious maneuver, before tenderly wiping away the syrup. “Get the fuck off you damn geezer!” Kacchan’s palms were smoking.

            “No quirks at the breakfast table,” Present Mic said absently as he served himself. “But Kacchan’s right. He’s been taken care of, and I hear you two did pretty well for yourself before All Might showed up.”

            “I almost died” Kacchan said with an obvious, oblivious air of helpfulness. Aizawa flinched, but Izuku didn’t think Kacchan noticed.

            “I threw my notebook at his face,” Izuku added, trying to change the subject. “At least, I think it was his face…it’s where his eye was.”

            “You did well enough,” Aizawa sighed, still watching Kacchan with an unreadable expression. “I’ll have to think about some new exercises in assessing the villain’s weaknesses and abilities…”

            “We can go watch some real villains,” suggested Kacchan, still using that helpful tone that made Izuku wince. “I do that sometimes. Heroes are so fucking stupid.”

            Present Mic first bristled, then looked alarmed, though to his credit he seemed to be trying for a nonchalant tone as he cleared his throat and leaned closer to Kacchan. “You do this often, kittycat?”

            “Yup,” Kacchan said, unconcerned. “I like watching the fights. It gives me ideas.”

            “Oh? What kind of ideas?”

            “How ta kill fuckers better.”

            Aizawa just sighed and ruffled Kacchan’s hair, sending a pointed look to Present Mic over the blonde’s head. “O-ooh,” Mic said with a stiff smile. “That sounds…cool…Can you take me with you next time, kittycat?”

            “Kay,” Kacchan shrugged, reaching for the syrup bottle. “Can you take me when you fight a villain?”

            “NO!” Present Mic slammed the bottom of the table with his knees, making the plates jump a bit and startling the cat who was stalking their feet, waiting for bacon to be snuck to her. Kacchan looked up at him, confused, with a little bit of a pout. “I-I-I mean, it would depend, kitty! Just imagine if I’m at the radio station, and I get a call near there! I can’t take the time to pick you up, because it would give the villain a longer opportunity to hurt people and get away!”

            “Oh,” Kacchan looked appeased. “Okay. But if I’m with you and you get a call, you’ll take me, right?” Aizawa was glaring at Mic over Kacchan’s head, and Present Mic looked like he wanted to hide under the table.

            Izuku watched in one part warmth, one part glee and one part sympathy. He decided to rescue the Pro Hero. “Kacchan, think about it. They can’t let people know that we’re associated with them before we take the entrance exam to UA. People will accuse them of bias, or they’ll think we cheated.”

            Kacchan’s eyes widened. “Then you can take Deku, but I won’t go.”

            “Hey! Kacchan!” Kacchan looked at him blankly.

            “What? You’re getting a fucking recommendation, aren’t you? People will know you’re associated just for that, you moron.”

            “Rec-reca-re-reccc”

            Aizawa frowned at the blonde. “Are you assuming that you won’t be getting one, Kacchan?”

            “W-wait!”

            “Kittycat” Present Mic corrected Aizawa.

            “Hell no!” Kacchan said, passionately. “I wanna take the real test! I can do it! I can!” Kacchan glared at the rest of the table defensively. Aizawa held up pacifying hands.

            “Calm down, Kacchan,” Aizawa said softly. “I’m not saying you can’t. The point of recommendations isn’t just to help the prospective students whose quirks don’t match with the exam type. It’s also to make it fair to the children with less training or ability.”

            Kacchan stuck his bottom lip out, not saying anything. His shoulders slumped, just the tiniest bit, and he looked up at Aizawa, his big ruby eyes peering up at the Pro Hero through his lashes and fringe. Izuku saw the exact moment that Aizawa cracked under the pressure. “But you can take the exam if you want.” Kacchan beamed.

            “My cute widdle Kittycat”

            “Wait!” Finally, Izuku managed to get his teachers’ attention. “I-I-I’m getting recommended? But…but I don’t have a quirk.” Aizawa quirked his eyebrow.

            “You handle yourself just fine without one,” he said dismissively. “We’ll have to decide what tools or weapons you’ll be using soon…” Aizawa trailed off into thought. Izuku looked at Mic helplessly.

            “What?” Mic looked amused. “Would you like to take the practical exam as well?”

            Izuku bit his lip and looked down at the table, shrugging. Kacchan kicked his knee. “Your face looks dumb like that.” Izuku snapped his head up and put on a smile.

            “S-sorry, Kacchan!”

            Kacchan looked appeased. “If you want, I could push a bunch of people under robots, and you could save them. That way you get rescue points, and I get death points.”

            “I shouldn’t have told you about that,” Aizawa sighed.

            “BAD KITTY!”

            “Okay, Kacchan.”

            “NO! NOT OKAY KACCHAN!

            “No quirks at the fucking breakfast table.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “What?” The emaciated form of All Might hacked up a dribble of blood. Izuku freaked out, dropping his backpack to the ground in order to dive into it in search of his tissue pack. “Don’t worry about it, Young Midoriya,” All Might sighed as he dabbed at his face with a handkerchief retrieved from his pocket. “But. Let me get this straight….you’re already getting a recommendation for UA?

            “I-I swear I only just found out!” Izuku was sweating, holding up his hands like All Might was about to Detroit Smash his face. “I guess sensei just assumed I would assume that I would get it just because I know him!”

            “He’s giving it to you just because you know him?” All Might asked, baffled. Izuku flinched and scrambled to backtrack.

            “N-NO! I mean….That’s obviously part of it. But I guess he doesn’t think I need a quirk? BUT! But I’m so very grateful that you decided to share your secret with me! It’s….It’s just I felt as though I should tell you about the recommendation, but I also feel really guilty about not telling my teacher that I might be getting a quirk. Only, now, I understand if you’re reconsidering me to be your successor because—”

            “Hold on, Young Midoriya,” All Might silenced him, holding up one long hand. Izuku snapped his mouth shut with an audible clanking of his teeth. “I never said I was reconsidering. If anything, I’m relieved you’re telling me about this rather than keeping it a secret for your own benefit. That fact that you felt compelled to tell the truth speaks volumes about your character.”

            “So I can tell Aizawa Sensei?”             “A-A-AIZAWA KUN?!”

           

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa doesn’t hate that many people. It takes a whole lot for him to get angry in the first place—it just takes too much effort. Actually taking a step further and holding a grudge? Feeling hatred? Honestly, it just sounds like a waste of energy.

            But All Might…..ooooooooooooooh Aizawa might just have to make an exception.

            “What.” Aizawa gritted his teeth. “The. Fuck.”

            All Might sunk down in the wooden chair at the table, like a disobedient school boy with his hands clasped between his knees. “Aizawa kun?”

            “What the fuck” Aizawa repeated calmly.

            Hizashi, Kacchan and Izuku watched with wide eyes. Aizawa stood in front of the table, arms crossed and wrath thundering across his dark features. The four others were seated, chairs turned outward to face him. Honestly, Aizawa had hoped Zashi would take the kids somewhere else, so that Aizawa could get properly angry with All Might. Really show the dumbass just what it meant to mess with one of Aizawa’s kids.

            “Let me get this straight. You want to give him a potentially dangerous quirk, despite his body not having been naturally developed to handle it via a natural quirk, or having had his body trained specifically to handle it? A quirk which, according to you, the fate of the ‘Symbol of Peace’ rests” the sarcastic air quotes made All Might flinch and quiver.

            “I had planned to train him!” All Might protested.

            “What experience do you have as a trainer?” Aizawa shot back. “You’ve got scant few months to prepare his body for a possibly deadly change before the exam. Just what ‘training’ did you have in mind?”

            All Might blanched and began to mumble about diet changes and work out schedules, to which Aizawa scoffed. “How about strength control? Any plans to incorporate discipline focused exercises to help him hand the stress his body would be under? Or did you expect him to just learn from trial and error via blowing up his limbs?”

            “I’ll train him.”

            All Might jumped and turned in his seat to get a better look at Kacchan who had spoken up, saying his piece with all the solemn conviction of a monk. Just a glimpse at his explosive stray, with his serious red eyes and wild hair, was enough to take some of the wind out of Aizawa’s sails. Zashi stifled a giggle.

            “You’d probably do a half-decent job,” Aizawa allowed.

            “Fuck you,” Kacchan sneered good naturedly. “I’d do fantastic.”

            “Not now, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled, trying to subtly kick his friend in the leg.

            All Might had originally protested to anyone but Aizawa being present, in order to preserve both his secret and his dignity. But Aizawa had been firm. If it had to do with one of the boys, both boys would inevitably find out eventually. Aizawa would have seen to it. Even now, however, he seemed confused as to why Kacchan was there at all.

            “Yes now,” Kacchan kicked him back before Hizashi placed a gentle hand on the boy’s leg, forcing him to stop. “Sensei is smart, and Hizashit knows a lot about focusing big quirks, so they can train you instead of……….” He scrunched his nose and looked at All Might. “Whatshisface over there.”

            All Might looked affronted, but Aizawa only softened more. “Good idea, Kacchan.”

            “Yeah!” agreed Hizashi. “BUT I need a better nickname, kittycat!”

            Aizawa snorted. “I don’t know. I thought it was clever.”

            “I admit” All Might said reluctantly. “That might be the better option. I don’t have experience in being a teacher, though I had planned to originally determine my successor through teaching a class at UA.”

            “Can I tell not-mom?”

            All Might looked alarmed. “Young man! You mustn’t tell anyone of my secret!”

            Aizawa nodded in agreement. “He’s right. I’ll tell her, so don’t worry about it.”

            “Kay.”

            “Aizawa kun!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

There was much tears and hugs when Inko was told, and she slapped All Might at least once.

All in all, it felt like a very successful day.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Yamada Hizashi had never had a big happy family.

When he was born, he blew out both his parent’s ear drums….they’d given him up for adoption shortly after. He’d bounced around, home to home until he was thirteen. By then, he’d been bitter at the world and hurtful with how he used his quirk—careful to never damage again, but not above talking just a bit too loud to make his point. Then, he’d been adopted by a crazy cat lady.

            Mrs. Watabe must have been four hundred years old, with ten thousands cats forever winding between Hizashi’s legs and in and out his open window. She was tiny, with spindly fingers and a croaking voice. She made the best tea and the worst burnt cookies. Her hair was long and crazy and her Static quirk made his own hair stand on end whenever she hugged him, which was often.

            She was deaf.

            He’d called her “Grannycat”. When he met Shouta, quiet and reserved, he’d brought his new best friend home to her, and she’d mothered him within an inch of his life. She’d tried to bring their favorite cat into his graduation ceremony from UA. She’d cried proud tears when they got their Pro Hero licenses. She’d passed on her love of cats and strays to his best friend. She’d taught them more humility and humanity than UA ever could.

            She’d died when he was twenty.

            It’d just been him and Grannycat, then it was them and Shouta, then it was just him and Shouta. But, then Shouta had seemed to grow distant and suddenly it was just Hizashi all over again. He understood, now. He knew that Aizawa didn’t know if sweet little Kacchan would be able to handle being around someone so loud. When Hizashi first met the boy, Kacchan had flinched and consistently stayed on the other side of Shouta.

            But it didn’t stay that way long. Somehow, Hizashi had won him over. Hizashi carved time out of his schedule for the boy, and his tiny Kittycat rewarded him with faux-reluctant hugs and cuddle time and the tiniest, cutest smiles. Along with his kitty came Izuku, not quite as volatile or erratic, but just as skittish and shy. The little greenette had such a fantastic, brilliant mind and a protective streak a mile long.

            Two, precious, precious boys.

            Hizashi watched Shouta moved around his kitchen, angrily muttering to himself and chopping up vegetables for their dinner. Shouta’s hair was pulled back in a messy tail, and his brow was furrowed deeply. The reveal that All Might had taken an interest in Izuku had shaken his friend. Hizashi knew that, on some level, Shouta took it as a personal insult to all the hours he’d put into training their younger boy. On the other hand, there was a very real fear that Izuku accepting this quirk might paint a bright red target onto the kid’s back.

            Hizashi rose and made his way over to Shouta, wrapping the smaller man in an octopus hug around his back, swaying them both side to side. Shouta sighed at him, but didn’t pull away. “He’ll be okay.” Shouta scowled deeper.

            “I know,” he snapped. “Yagi’s insane if he thinks I’m going to let him be alone with either of them.” Hizashi snorted and rested his chin on Aizawa’s shoulder, watching him prepare the food. Slowly, tension eased out of the smaller hero’s shoulders. “I’m surprised Kacchan wasn’t angry,” Shouta confessed. “I was expecting him to lash out, either out of jealousy or possessiveness.”

            “Yeah,” Hizashi agreed, frowning. “You don’t think he’s bottling things up, again?” Shouta stiffened, immediately, at the sudden reminder of how low Kacchan had gotten without them having noticed.

            “I…I don’t know,” Shouta put down the knife and hung his head, putting his face in his hands.

            “Hey” Hizashi turned him around, and squeezed him tightly.

            “Let go” Shouta growled, even as he turned his face into the crook of Hizashi’s neck, fisting the back of his shirt.

            “Never” Hizashi smiled lightly. “When they get back from Inko’s, I’ll see if Kittycat wants to go to the zoo again or something. We gotta decide on a kickass nickname for me!”

            “Why do you get one?”

            Hizashi spluttered, shoving his friend away, who was chuckling. “BECAUSE!”

            “I don’t have one.”

            “He calls you sensei”

            “Because I’m his teacher, idiot.”

            “Inko’s ‘Not-mom’”

            “She’s not his mom”

            “And Izuku is Deku.”

            “That’s an insult”

            “It really isn’t” Hizashi hummed. “I’m the only one without a nickname! I need something good! Something flashy! Something me.”

            “He calls you Hizashit.”

            “He got that from you, jerk.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Katsuki didn’t mind sacrificing some of his training time for Deku to have longer with Aizawa Sensei. He was fully aware that the kid would need all the training he could get in order to pass his exam—even Deku even decided to take it. The nerd might decide to just get in on recommendation, now that he had three pros to root for him. Mentally, Katsuki patted himself on the back. The first hurtle was cleared, all he had to do was survive until the entrance exam and make sure Deku did the same.

            “Ooooh, look at that, Kittycat!” Mic pointed at a bright blue butterfly that was flitting over the faces of some flowers growing by the sidewalk. “Haha. That rhymed”

            Katsuki rolled his eyes, but allowed the pro to take hold of his hand. Katsuki was honestly confused by Mic’s behavior. In his past life, while Present Mic had been friendly, enthusiastic even, he’d never been like this. Never been this close. It had been a surprise, the day that Mic had waltzed into his sensei’s home like he owned the place, but it had been an even bigger surprise when the loudmouth decided to make a habit of it.

            At first, Katsuki assumed that he was just being tolerated because apparently Mic was Sensei’s best and oldest friend—his Deku. But, then Present Mic had decided to start taking Katsuki places, just the two of them. At first, it was honestly kind of creepy. But, then, Mic had taken Katsuki to his house for a ‘movie night’ despite it being relatively early afternoon at the time.

            It was…sad.

            Aizawa sensei’s house had papers from his work scattered everywhere. Socks were randomly scattered about, partially from the occupants habitually leaving them places and partially from the cat picking them up and carrying them around, meowing loudly like she’d just caught a mouse. Books were left on tables and dishes were left in the sink. Pictures of Katsuki and Deku and Mic and Aizawa were all over the walls. Planters and pots with dying, cat-chewed flowers sat in window baskets. Snug blankets were draped over the back of nearly every couch and chair.

            Mic’s house….was empty.

            Sure, there was a nice couch and a nice coffee table and a clean kitchen and a polished, wood dining table. But the walls were bare of pictures. The shelves seemed almost too neat. The refrigerator had almost nothing in it, except an unopened half-gallon of milk and some fruit which had been obviously bought just for Katsuki. It felt cold and unlived-in.

            It was then that Katsuki felt an alien feeling of empathy. Mic was lonely.

            Even though he had his best friend right there with him, mostly available. Even though he was popular. Even though he was surrounded at both his work places.

            Katsuki…Katsuki knew what that kind of lonely felt like.

            “Why the fuck to you call me that?” Katsuki asked, curiously. Mic smiled down at him.

            “Because you’re my Kittycat, and I love you!”

            Katsuki gave him a measured look. His face was smiling brightly, but there was uncertainty in his eyes. Mic said that so easily, to everyone: Aizawa, Katsuki, Izuku, Inko, his coworkers and friends. If it were anyone else, the words might feel empty. But Katsuki just knew, in his gut, that Mic meant it 100% every single time.

            It made him feel awkward. There were exactly two people he felt comfortable just whipping those words out for, and only one of them even knew he existed at the moment. He knew Aizawa loved him in the way you can’t help but love pathetic things you’re stuck with, like their cat. He loved Aizawa, too. But he’d never say that. It just wasn’t who he is.

            He didn’t really love Mic, either. But he appreciated him. He understood him. He sympathizes with him. Love, though? Maybe one day if the moron stuck around. The best he could do was sneer at his dumb face and squeeze his hand.

            The idiot had been bugging him for a nickname. Motor mouth? Loudmouth? Frankenstein? No…had to be something more fitting than that. Something witty but sans a curse word….Present Mic…Present Mic….Present Mic…

            “Papa Mic.”

            Katsuki took another step, and realized that the Pro had stopped walking, mouth agape.

            “What?”

            Katsuki refused to feel embarrassed. “I want a burger,” he said, keeping his face level despite the vomit levels of kiddie-ness making him want to stick his fucking head in the dirt like a chicken. No, wait. Chickens don’t do that. Ostriches do. “Papa Mic.”

            “…..”

            “Why’re crying, you shithead!?”

            “I’m just so happy!”

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

“Gotta have a name for Shouta, now,” Mic said contemplatively, looking at his burger, fingering the sparkly blue scarf he now rarely ever left home without. He and Katsuki were sitting at a corner table at a fast-food joint, ignoring the gawks of the other patrons as they slowly began to realize that a pro hero was in their midst. A few people took out their phone cameras to ‘subtly’ take pictures.

            “Fucking fine.”

            Hizashi watched his kitty demolish the burger with something like pride glowing in his chest. Must protect this child. He smiled.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa was exhausted.

            He’d been awake for nearly four days at this point, save for a few catnaps he’d managed to snag here and there. He’d been breaking his back trying to ensure that Izuku wouldn’t blow his own head off the first time he used All Might’s quirk, going over every video on every file of All Might using his quirk to get a better understanding of it (the moron couldn’t give him a satisfying explanation of how it worked.) and training the boy to be able to handle the excess energy he would eventually be forced to hold within his own body. All this on top of managing his class full of wannabe’s and keeping his nightly patrol route crime free.

            He was exhausted. Even still, he forced himself he rise from his bed a meager hour after laying down in the first place, and wrangle his worn body into his tiny kitchen. Izuku and Kacchan had both slept at his place the night before. Inko wanted to take the two of them on a holiday for a couple of days, out of town.

            Aizawa busied himself making breakfast as well as packable food for them to take along. He knew Inko probably had everything covered, but a tiny niggling feeling of guilt was worming around in his chest. He couldn’t just hand them over with nothing. It’d just be a couple of days. Izuku could use the time to rest his body, and Kacchan always benefited from Inko’s mothering. They’d be fine.

            Aizawa would be fine.

            As he was plating up the servings, he heard the tell tale muffled BOOM of Kacchan doing his hair. It made him smile. “Morning, sensei,” Izuku said, wandering into the kitchen in bear feet and rumpled sleep clothes.

            “Make sure you get dressed before your mother gets here,” Shouta told him sternly, setting an omelet in front of the boy before attempting to smooth out the child’s impressive bedhead.

            “Yes, sir.”

            “I want pancakes!”

            Aizawa rolled his eyes as Kacchan bounded in. His stray was wearing his outfit for the day, already, but that was only due to the fact that the brat had slept in it the night before. Aizawa reached towards him to help the boy properly wind his scarf around his neck. “Hizashi isn’t here, today.”

            “Poo”

            Izuku giggled quietly, quickly shoveling a mouthful of egg into his face to stifle the noise. Aizawa rubbed his head to silently tell the greenette that he didn’t mind, before turning back to the stove to retrieve Kacchan’s plate. Hizashi had been excited when, a few days ago, Kacchan had seemingly out of the blue decided to start calling him “Papa Mic”.

            If Aizawa was honest with himself, which he wouldn’t be, he might acknowledge that he felt a little stung that Hizashi, who’d only been around for a few months, had gotten to claim that name. “Eat what you’re given, Kacchan.”

            “Make me.” In response, Aizawa picked up Kacchan around the waist, ignoring his protests and flailing legs, and sat down with Kacchan on his lap. Then, amid Kacchan’s struggles and Izuku’s laughter, Aizawa picked up Kacchan’s loaded fork.

            “Here comes the airplane” Aizawa drawled, completely deadpan. Kacchan stopped struggling, and sent Aizawa a decidedly unimpressed look. Izuku on the other hand had completely lost it, fallen out of his chair and was rolling around on the floor.

            The door slammed open. “GOOD MORNING MY LISTENERS!

            “Save me, Papa Mic,” Kacchan drawled. As he always did upon Kacchan using that nickname, Mic glowed and struck a ‘heroic’ pose.

            “Unhand him, villain!” Then he paused and looked down at the floor. “Who broke Izuku?”

            “I’m gonna pee-hee-hee-heeeee” came his answering wail.

            Somehow, breakfast managed to be eaten and cleaned up before Inko arrived bearing a gift of homemade baked goods for Hizashi and Aizawa and doling out hugs and kisses like she hadn’t seen them all for years. “Izuku!” she scolded after giving him a hug. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

            “Uh,” Izuku said with wide eyes as he dug around in his brain for an excuse. A second later he was off to his and Kacchan’s room to get changed. Inko sighed and shook her head, but she was laughing.

            “Thank you so much for letting him spend the night, Shouta,” she said, laying a motherly hand on his arm.

            “If I didn’t, Kacchan would have thrown a fit.”

            “I’LL SHOW YOU A FIT, OLD MAN!”

            “Down, Kitty,” Hizashi said absently. “You have everything you need? The hotel is all set up?”

            “Oh,” Inko replied. “We’ll be staying with an old friend, they’ve got room in their house so we won’t have to bother with hotels.” Aizawa wanted to protest, that staying in someone’s home might be upsetting for Kacchan, but in the end he bit his tongue. He wasn’t Katsuki’s father, and Inko had known the boy for far longer. He’d have to trust her to take care of him. He did trust her to take care of him. So, instead, he turned to the child in question.

            “You packed?”

            Kacchan raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m completely unprepared for this trip we’ve been planning for three weeks.” Hizashi snorted, but Aizawa lightly cuffed him over the head. “Ow.” Kacchan said politely in response.

            “I’m ready!” Izuku came back into the room, a wrinkled t shirt and jeans hastily thrown on, both his and Kacchan’s bags in his hands. Inko beamed and clapped her hands together.

            “Well, then! I guess we’ll be off.”

            Aizawa nodded, retrieving the baggies he’d packed from the table and awkwardly handing them to Inko. “Right. Call if you need anything.” Inko send him a warm smile.

            “Thank you, Shouta,” she said with a sincerity only a Midoriya could manage. She gave his unshaven cheek a dry peck, before doing the same to Hizashi and beckoning the boys to follow her as she walked out the door.

            Cue the tiny humans launching themselves at his waist. “Bye, sensei” Izuku said into his shirt before moving on to Hizashi. Aizawa watched as his best friend wrapped his arms around Izuku's shoulders, swaying this way and that, matching beaming grins on both their faces. Then, Aizawa turned his attention to Kacchan, who was still clinging to his waist.

            “You good?”

            “m’ fine.” Kacchan stepped back and accepted the hug Hizashi offered as Izuku stepped back, waving goodbye and skipping off after his mother. “Bye, Papa Mic.”

            “Bye, bye Kittycat.”

            A pang sliced though Aizawa, but it was fine.

            “You better fucking call, Dadzawa.” Then he was gone.

            Aizawa blinked.

            “What?”

            “AWWWWWWWWW THAT SO CUUUUUUUTE”

Chapter 9

Summary:

Happy Birthday, Min Yoongi.
I posted because it's his birthday, and he works hard so I felt guilty. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Text

Toshinori wasn’t sure how to win Aizawa’s trust. Their first meeting was within UA grounds, Principal Nedzu informing the current teachers of their latest addition to the staff, letting a select few of them in on the secret of One for All, and a few more of them know about All Might’s quest and reason for being at the school- to find a successor.

            Aizawa had been the most vocal, at the time, to protest letting All Might into the school as a teacher. He had tried to argue to not allow All Might teach, citing that he had no experience in the profession, and that teaching was a skill in and of itself. All Might had been somewhat miffed by this, to be honest. How hard could it be? All Might was, not to toot his own horn, arguably the best in his business. If anyone could prepare the next generation it was him, wasn’t it?

            Now, though…All Might believes he might understand, just a bit. All that morning, and for the past many mornings, he’d observed young Yamada and Aizawa teach their two (non-UA) pupils various techniques. He watched as they sparred, the children giving their all while the adults were careful to never harm, to make critiques and corrections as they move, were careful to never stop observing, even for an instant. As soon as the youngsters began to tire out past what was healthy, they were always swift to call for a break. They worked the two boys hard, but both children clearly adored them.

            All Might….honestly, had been at a sort of a loss as for how to contribute. Not only was Young Midoriya still in school for a few more months, and therefore was limited on how much of his time and focus could be directed towards training, but Young Bakugou was apparently out of school, though he was never filled in on the specifics of that situation. Though All Might had only intended to train and groom Young Midoriya….he thought that, in some way, Yamada and Aizawa (not to mention Young Midoriya) wouldn’t have been to happy with him ignoring the explosive young teen.

            So, when he presented his plan to have Young Midoriya clear the old, litter-mucked beach (ignoring Aizawa’s disbelieving snort and Yamada’s eewwww of disgust) he’d tried including Young Bakugou in the plan.

            He needn’t have bothered.

            Aizawa always followed them to the beach, sitting in the shade either on his phone or laptop or with some papers to grade. Young Bakugou sometimes sat with Aizawa, sometimes played in the surf, sometimes made sandcastles which he proudly showed to Aizawa or sarcastically cheered his friend on from the sidelines.

            All Might was aware that this young boy was most likely the friend Midoriya had mentioned during their first meeting, the friend that he desperately wanted to follow to UA. The friend who “got sad” and was often bullied. At first, All Might had been skeptical. How on earth could this young man be troubled or bullied as the only child of two doting fathers, a child who possessed not only attractive features but a powerful quirk (if Young Midoriya is to be believed, that is. All Might had never seen it in action for himself.)

            But…then All Might had spent a little more time with the boy.

            First…it was the staring. That was the first thing he’d noticed. Young Bakugou tended to stare off into the distance for indeterminant periods of time, his eyes glassy and his jaw clenched. Sometimes his breathing would be strangely shallow or alarmingly deep. Sometimes he’d be swaying. Sometimes his mouth would twitch as though he couldn’t decide on a smile or a frown.

            That was just a little odd, but, well, everyone has their (ahem) quirks. Midoriya, mumbles habitually, afterall. But, then it got alarming.

            All Might had taken the boys for a run, normal enough. Yamada had taken Aizawa’s place for this one, and Young Bakugou kept pace beside his “Papa Mic”. But, then, Young Midoriya had brought up some controversial topics on quirk regulation which got All Might and Yamada light heartedly debating the merits of a recent bill that had been passed.

            It must have been ten minutes before they realized Bakugou had disappeared.

            Yamada, of course, had been in hysterics. So, it had been up to Toshinori to deal with two emotional young men whilst looking for the third. They had eventually found him in the middle of watching a villain attack. Not “in the middle” as in “watching with the crowd”. No.

            “In the middle” as in “the insane child had slipped under the police line and was walking up to the villain for a chat”. Yamada had screamed, activating his quirk (Perhaps on accident) and pushed the villain away from his child. Bakugou had turned around in surprise. The villain, rising up again, and bracing himself against the next attack from Yamada, had attempted to use Young Bakugou as a meat shield.

            His mistake.

            The teen had screeched “THIS IS SELF FUCKING DEFENCE!” and blasted his (yes, it is very impressive) quirk backwards onto the villain’s crotch. Young Midoriya had begun to mumble about, due to it technically being self-defense, it wasn’t illegal for “Kacchan” to have acted without a license. Toshinori was shocked. How on earth could this child ever be considered for the hero track? He was far too volatile.

            But then he saw what happened next. Yamada had helped the heroes on site to secure the villain, before running to his child with his arms spread for an embrace. Toshinori had been appalled—that boy should be punished for his foolhardiness, not coddled and rewarded! He needs to understand that what he did was wrong! Then Toshinori got a look at “Kacchan’s” face when he said “I helped, Papa Mic!”

            Toshinori saw Yamada’s heart wrench through the pain on his face, bringing the boy closer to his chest. “Kittycat,” Yamada said. “You can’t be doing that.”

            “Why? It was legal. I checked. And right now you’re a civilian and this guy isn’t high profile enough for news people to be here, so no one would be able to pin my behavior on you.”

            “Katsuki,” Present Mic was completely solemn, looking the boy in the eye. Toshinori saw no rebelliousness, no righteous indignance, not even teenage sass. All he saw was confusion and fading pride of a job well done. “What you did was not wrong.” Toshinori forced himself to not interrupt, to stay quiet in his skeleton-form. “What you did was very, very brave and I’m so proud of you. But other people won’t see what I saw, they’ll see some punk kid looking for attention.” Young Bakugou’s face was suddenly considering and Toshinori was in awe of how the teen’s face would morph so suddenly from singular emotion to singular emotion.

            “So it’ll make you and Dadzawa look bad when I get into UA” Bakugou nodded like he agreed, like he understood. “I’ll wait until next year.”

            “Next year?”

            “I’ll have my provisional license then, won’t I?”

            Yamada sniffled. “Kittyyyyyy! Don’t think about growing up so quickly!”

            “Get off!”

            That had happened a few weeks ago and, to his word, Young Bakugou had not interfered with villain attacks. At all. In fact, he’d been very dedicated in walking in the other direction whenever the was an attack. It shook All Might, he hadn’t expected the boy to obey so completely, so immediately and without any argument. Perhaps he might have expected it from Young Midoriya….but this loud, violent, foul-mouthed teen?

            So, yeah. That made All Might stop and think.

            Then, he got exposed to how cuddly Young Bakugou was. At first, when he’d seen the two boys walking arm in arm, or hand in hand he’d assumed they were in a relationship. But, when he’d brought it up with Young Midoriya, the boy had looked horrified.

            “What? N-no! Mr. All Might, sir! I-I-I love Kacchan, b-but not like that!” Had the boy’s face gone red, All Might might have just assumed that his pupil was lying out of embarrassment. However, Midoriya’s face had gone pale with disgust, so All Might was inclined to believe him.

            The next day, he watched them interact more closely. It was Young Bakugou who most often reached for Midoriya. When they walked in a crowd, Bakugou would press himself along Midoriya’s side. When Midoriya happened to walk out of Bakugou’s line of sight, area of reach, there would always be the smallest moment when Bakugou would panic and call for his friend with the barest hint of fear in his voice. Bakugou had a habit of reaching for Midoriya, for Yamada, for Aizawa if the room had gotten too quiet for too long. Bakugou felt comfortable laying across Yamada and Aizawa’s laps, or sitting on their knees, or nudging his head against their torsos as though he were a much younger child. He made sure he was always aware of everyone’s positions at any given time.

            Then, there was the incident with the crate.

            And of course it happened the very first day Aizawa had attempted to extend enough trust to allow Toshinori to take the boys without supervision, seeing as how both Yamada and Aizawa had to be present for a meeting concerning a problem student at UA.

            Young Midoriya had been moving items of litter from one of the large piles on the beach: a refrigerator box, several abandoned tires, a rusting freezer, a car door. Sitting precariously at the top of the pile, unseen to Midoriya, was a wooden slat crate, probably meant for hauling produce of some kind. It had wobbled with every item Midoriya removed, but upon his removal of the car door it suddenly pitched forward, tumbling towards Midoriya.

            Before All Might could react, a tumultuous BLAST had rocked the very earth, an explosion so large and so blistering that it scorched Toshinori’s face from several meters away. The wooden crate, reduced to cinders.

            Midoriya’s eyes were wide and his eyebrows were gone. But, in front of him was where Toshinori’s eyes were drawn. Young Bakugou, right hand raised with his other hand thrown backwards to clutch Midoriya’s shirt. The horror on Bakugou’s face was something All Might had only seen on the faces of people who’d born witness to natural disaster, to catastrophe.

            To murder.

            Then, the child (for that’s all All Might could see him as at that moment) had crumbled. Bakugou fell to his knees and howled, clutching his stomach before blasting his own quirk onto his clenched eyes with a scream. Toshinori rushed forward to restrain the boy. Midoriya had scrambled for his phone.

            “Dadzawa! Kacchan is hurt!......I don’t know! I don’t know what happened! Please, Dad, he’s crying…..”

            As soon as Toshinori tried to touch the boy, Bakugou had wrenched away with a guttural gasp and a blast of his quirk to Toshinori’s chest. On instinct, Toshinori activated his quirk and tried to hold the boy, but, remarkably, Bakguou’s explosions were powerful enough to blast even his muscle form back several feet.

            But All Might didn’t give up. Especially not when it was so obvious someone needed his help. “Bakugou!” The child flinched. “…Kacchan” Toshinori tried in his softest voice. He melted out of All Might’s body and slowly reached for the boy. This time, Katsuki did not retreat. “Kacchan” Toshinori repeated, slowly rubbing the child’s back. “Your father is coming. It’ll be okay.”

            Young Midoriya dropped down next to the both of them. Katsuki sobbed and flung himself into his friend’s embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Deku. I’m so fucking useless. I’m sorry. What am I doing? What am I doing? I’m fucking everything up. I always fuck things up. You’re gonna die again, and it’ll be my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

            “Everything’s okay, Kacchan,” Midoriya cooed.

            Toshnori felt very helpless, unable to do much more than keep a comforting hand on the boys, wary of Bakugou suddenly lashing out either at Midoriya or attempting to harm himself once more. It was then, as they sat there waiting for Aizawa, that Toshinori realized just why this boy’s family was so protective of him. There was something very much not right about him.

            And yet, when it came down to it…Bakugou…Kacchan’s first instinct was to help people. To help people at expense of himself. Toshinori watched the young blonde with a newfound, growing respect. This, he thought to himself, is a hero.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “What did you do?”

            “Well, I-I-I-I-I-I-I”

            “It wasn’t him!” Aizawa swung his gaze to his smaller boy. Izuku wrung his hands. “Kacchan just suddenly used his quirk and started crying! But…”

            “What is it, Izuku,” Aizawa prompted him, reminding himself that it wasn’t his greenette he was mad at.

            “It was so strong, sensei. Stronger than anything he’s ever done in training!” Aizawa slowly nodded, having seen the damage. When he’d arrived, frantic and terrified, he’d seen his boys in a huddle in the middle of a fucking crater. Jesus Christ, he leaves them alone for an afternoon…

            Also, the lack of eyebrow’s on Miidoriya’s face probably hadn’t been a fashion choice.

            “That’s not quite it,” Yagi spoke up. “An old wooden crate had fallen loose and was sliding off of the pile Young Midoriya was working on. Before I could even move to help, Young Bakugou had flown in front of him and obliterated it. Completely. Then…he just broke down.”

            “He isn’t broken” Aizawa snapped, hackles raised.

            Yagi raised his hands in surrender. “That isn’t what I’d meant to imply.”

            Aizawa sighed. Kacchan was currently nearly catatonic in his bedroom and being cuddled by “Papa Mic” and their cat. It had been an adventure and a half removing him from Izuku. Something had happened. It’s obvious he’d been triggered into some sort of episode…but why? What trauma was Katsuki hiding? What didn’t Aizawa know?

            “I need to talk to his parents,” Aizawa said grimly. He’d been hoping to put this off.

            Yagi looked up in surprise. “You mean you aren’t…”

            “Not legally, no”

            “Ah. I’m sorry. I just assumed.”

            “It’s fine,” Aizawa tersely cut him off. “Izuku, go to Kacchan. I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re needed here tonight.”

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Katsuki was warm.

            It was a pulsing warmth that eased the tension from his tired body, pulling him in closer. A heart beat pulsed beneath his cheek. Katsuki hummed, snaking his arms up the firm, solid chest he was resting on to loop around his lover’s neck. “You’re cute in the mornings.” Katsuki smiled beneath a scowl as chapped lips pressed to the curve of his cheek.

            “You reek,” Katsuki drawled in reply. Nevertheless, he melted into Eijiro’s embrace. Strong arms held him close, and soft, red hair tickled his nose. Eijiro laughed at him, rolling over to pin Katsuki to the mattress, straddling him. Whatever Katsuki was expecting next, he shouldn’t have been. His fucking stupid fiancé  leaned down and breathed his disgusting morning breath right into his face.

            Katsuki groaned and tried to shove the laughing moron off of him. Eijiro fell to the side easily, but he stayed clinging to Katsuki’s side like a parasite. “I’d explode your ass,” Katsuki informed him, snuggling closer, “but I’m afraid your dragon breath is flammable, and I like these blankets.” Eijiro laughed again, pressing apologetic kisses to Katsuki’s neck, his ckeek, his eyelid, his nose.

            Their lips met, and Katsuki couldn’t help but ruin it by smiling. In a few hours, he’d roll out of bed and get breakfast with his idiot, then they’d go to work together. Maybe they’d grab a bite for dinner with Deku.

            Deku.

            Eijiro pulled back and cupped Katsuki’s face. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

            “You.” Katsuki tried to pull away. His vision wavered. This isn’t what happened. That’s not what he said. They were standing on a street suddenly, but it was the wrong street. There was a warehouse in front of him, not an apartment. What’s going on? Everything is wrong.

            “Hey, Bakubabe.” Eijiro’s voice was echoing in his ear. Laughter leeking from some happy day he’d lost forever. The vision before his eyes was rippling, like water was pouring over it. “Wanna make this thing like, official? For life?”

            No. Not water. The red of his lover’s hair, the red Katsuki loved so much, melted and oozed and bubbled and suddenly he wasn’t being held by Eijiro. He was just held, in place. Helpless. Useless. Frozen. Blood was staining his face, his clothes, his hands in splatters.

            He was a bloody statue in an empty void. Alone.

            “Help!

            Katsuki shot up, pouring sweat and heaving breaths. “No. No, no, no, no, no” he scrambled to his feet, tripping over the blankets that covered his feet. He looked down, and there was Deku. Katsuki reeled backwards. It was the same Deku that, so long ago, Katsuki had told to end his own life—a moment that had haunted him, and was apparently still haunting him. The Deku rose, eyes wide and face pale, like a ghost. Katsuki sobbed and ducked, covering his head.

            “I’m sorry, Deku. I’m so sorry,” Katsuki slid down against the wall. “I didn’t mean it I swear, I swear! I’m better now! I’ll be better, I promise!” Katsuki’s head and ears and stomach were buzzing with an all consuming static. When he risked a look up, Deku was gone. He was alone. Alone in the dark.

            His palms felt damp and suddenly flashes of red appeared across his vision. Vomit burned in his throat and his feet stumbled upright of their own accord, shooting him down the dark hall. He threw open a door and dropped to his knees just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

            “Kacchan” Katsuki flinched, but gentle hands took hold of his shoulders and guided him backwards so that he was leaning against his teacher’s chest. Aizawa had kneeled behind him on their bathroom floor. “It was just a nightmare. You’re okay, kiddo. I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen.” Aizawa cradled him, muttering comforting nothings into his ear. Mic showed up his a frenzy soon after, pulling both Aizawa and Katsuki into a ribcrushing hug. At some point, Deku joined the pile, and the whole household was clinging to each other on the floor of their bathroom.

            “It’s okay to cry, kitty,” Mic said softly, using a clump of toilet paper to wipe Katsuki’s face for him. Katsuki let him, didn’t have the energy to fight his family after wrestling with his demons. He was nearly overtaken with the need to tell them that it would be okay, because Katsuki would fucking make it be okay. But…that shit had already happened.

            Really fucked up shit had happened, and in some ways Katsuki couldn’t fix it. In other ways, Katsuki felt he had no choice but to let shit happen. But….was that selfish of him? Was it selfish of him to want to ensure that everything played out the same way it did that first, horrible time because it ended up not being so horrible? Katsuki had found happiness in the past timeline, and, sure, most days he was happy now. But guilt ate at him.

            He should be doing more.

            He should have done more. What has he done? He’s fucking wasted his second child hood, that’s what. He should have found 1-A and banded them together early, or something. He should have made sure Halfy was okay, for Deku’s sake if nothing else. He should have found Shinsou for Aizawa’s sake. He should have hunted down All for One for the world’s sake.

            But, no. What has he been doing? Playing house, that’s what.

            But what if he changes too much? What if he messes up so badly that one of their number is lost forever? Lost to death or a different choice or a different path? Lost because of him?

            Katsuki let himself be held and let himself cry, taking comfort in the warmth they were offering him, but feeling guilty for it all the same. He could have done so much more to make their lives easier. And he’s done nothing.

            Worthless.

            “Dad” he sobbed.

            Recently, it was as though his back were against a moving wall, shoving him closer and closer to the edge of a cliff or an enormous metal meat grinder. No matter how much he shoved down his feet, fought to stay where he was. The inevitable got closer and closer every day.

            “What is it, kiddo?” Aizawa was soft like this, softer than Katsuki’s brain was screaming that he should be. Everything was wrong. Everything was going to go wrong and it was all his fault.

            “Dad, I’m scared.”

            “Of what?”

            Of fucking up. Of accidently killing someone, again. Of ending up alone because why should anyone waste their time on him after he’s waster so much time of this second chance. That this new, unknown Eijiro Kirishima will hate him. That All Might’s gift to Deku will be for nothing. Of the year coming up and everything it was bringing with it.

            Katsuki laughed and told the truth. “High school. I’m fucking stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.”

            Aizawa tensed and held him tighter, it was painful but Katsuki relished it. “You don’t have to go to UA.”

            “I do!” Katsuki shoved backwards, palms smoldering against Aizawa’s chest. But his teacher didn’t let go, didn’t loosen his arms. If anything, Katsuki was brought closer as the tired older man pressed his scruffy lips to Katsuki’s hairline.

            “You don’t.”

            “I want to!” Aizawa let Katsuki lean back a little bit. Wet red eyes were blazing into Aizawa’s. The two pro heroes shared unreadable looks and Deku stayed quiet, for once, watching. Mic scooted closer.

            “Kittycat,” he said, taking Katsuki’s hand. “Why are you scared of high school?”

            “Because I’m stupid.”

            Aizawa looked angry and Katsuki couldn’t help his reaction as he flinched away, head down. Both pros reached for him at once and he ended up sort of balanced across both of them. It was Deku who answered. “If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll blow them up.”

            The bathroom was quiet for a moment, but then Katsuki started giggling. He couldn’t help it. All of the stress, the fucking emotions he wasn’t used to letting happen. They just sort of exploded out of him in the form of desperate laughter. Mic joined him, more reservedly, but relieved, and Aizawa just sighed his full body sigh at all of them, holding his family close.

            “You’ll be okay, Kacchan.” Aizawa whispered right into his ear. “I’ll be there with you.” And, even though Katsuki knew they had no fucking idea what they were talking about….it still made him feel just the smallest bit better.

Chapter 10

Summary:

hey guys. Sorry it is a little bit later and a little bit shorter. There has been some extreme flooding in my area, and the electricity and internet are on the fritz. Not only that, but my computer also decided it wants to start being super difficult. So....here's what I've got for you. Hope you like it.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi Shinsou wasn’t the type of kid to place to much value in “hopes” or “dreams”. Life hadn’t been kind enough to him for that. It was his belief that good things and bad things happened to all people at random, regardless of who they were and what they did. Nevertheless, he always did his best to take the high road when possible, to be the better person. Even when people beat him down, taunted him, spit on him, called him a baby villain.

            He wasn’t a villain. He was a kid. A kid whose only crime was being born with a quirk meant to deprive his victims of their free will. A kid whose parents hadn’t thought he was worth the trouble. A kid who the system and every adult involved thought he wasn’t worth the trouble.

            A kid who was going to get into UA if it killed him.

            He threw himself into another set, pounding out his frustrations into the ancient material of the punching bag. The gym, this time of evening, was mostly empty save for a few gym rats and the attendants. They all ignored him, which suited Hitoshi fine. They were all familiar, if unfriendly, faces he’d long grown used to.

            Except for the blonde guy.

            The blonde that kept watching him. Of course, the guy wasn’t being super obvious about it. In fact, he was doing a pretty good job of pretending not to notice Hitoshi, to be fully immersed in the phone he held in his hand, eyes trained on the screen, as he jogged casually on a treadmill. But you didn’t grow up the way Hitoshi did without learning to just know when you were being watched. It was foster-kid-survival 101.

            Normally, Hitoshi wouldn’t have cared. He was used to being stared at by other kids. He looked strange, he knew that. Strange with his wild, unkempt hair and rumpled, ancient clothing and deep purple bags beneath his eyes. But there was something different, something dangerous, about the spikey-haired teen across the gym.

            So, Hitoshi did what his life had trained him to do. He kept his head down and kept doing what he was doing, hoping not to attract any unwanted confrontation.

            “Wanna spar?”

            Shit.

            Hitoshi looked up, warily. The other boy looked about his own age, was wearing baggy clothing that hid his slouched figure. His eyes were a deep, soulful, blood red, but there was a strange determination in them. Almost a recognition.

            “Who are you?” Hitoshi asked pointedly. Apparently, the kid took this as an invitation for conversation and not the shut-down Hitoshi had intended it to be, because the other teen immediately stuck out his hand. Hitoshi looked at it for a second, wondering if the kid was trying to affect him with some quirk, before mentally shrugging and accepting the handshake, telling himself that there were too many witnesses for the other teen to try anything untoward.

            “Bakugou,” he said, quirking his lips into something that was probably meant to be a smile, but came off closer to a smirk. “Who’re you?”

            “Shinsou,” Hitoshi returned. “You want to spar?”

            “If you insist,” Bakugou’s smirk tilted up a little higher, and Hitoshi found himself smiling back almost against his will. “I won’t use my quirk if you won’t.”

            “Quirk usage is illegal,” Hitoshi said almost automatically, a conditioned response from years of accusation.

            “Lot of shit’s illegal,” Bakugou shrugged. “Asshats still do ‘em.” Hitoshi huffed out something that might have been a chuckle. That was certainly true enough. “You looked pretty confident,” the boy continued. “It’s been a while that I’ve trained against someone who isn’t my dad or my nerd.”

            “Train?”
            “I’m aiming for UA. You?”

            “UA” Hitoshi blinked in bemusement. “What’re the chances, huh?”

            “So we doin’ this?”

            “Yeah….you wanna see if a room is available…?”

            Bakugou held up a key card, which he pulled from his pants pocket. “Room 106, already asked the old fart up front.” Hitoshi examined the boy with a new respect. Bakugou was….odd. Hitoshi had been forced to learn to read people, not only to survive in the system, but also with the knowledge that the skill would be a necessary part of using his quirk for the forces of good.

            Looking at this boy, he saw contractions upon contradictions. The casual way he spoke, he walked, he stood he moved that held experience and confidence. This kid was cocky—whether or not that attitude was warranted was to be determined. Yet, there was the slightest hesitation to his words, in his eyes. He was nervous, self conscious. Hitoshi would bet his meager savings that this kid was thinking about every single movement he made, ever syllable he uttered, which is what caused his hesitation. That alone told Hitoshi that, not only was this guy nervous about something, he was also frighteningly intelligent. Or else, this kid knew something that Hitoshi didn’t. Was his quirk something mental?

            “After you,” Hitoshi said with a sweeping, elaborate bow. Bakugou quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing before sauntering down the hall.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “You’re pretty strong.”

            Hitoshi wheezed and tried not to take the words as patronizing. He had a feeling the other teen had no idea how demeaning he sounded. Bakugou held out a hand, and Hitoshi let himself be pulled to his feet. “You kicked my ass.”

            “Yeah, I did,” Bakugou threw a shark-like grin at him, and Hitoshi found himself returning it, yet again. No only did Bakugou not use his quirk (as far as Hitoshi could tell) but he’d also been holding back quite a bit. Hitoshi was well aware what it looked like what someone threw a punch with everything they had, or when someone was kicking with their full strength. Bakugou had done neither. In fact, it almost felt as though Bakugou had been herding him, correcting him, throughout the farce of a match.

            And Hitoshi had still ended up flat on his back. “Where did you learn to do that?”

            Bakugou shrugged, running his hands through his crazy, mane like hair. “My dad is fucking mental when it comes to training. I swear the old geezer is tryna’ kill me.” Hitoshi ruthlessly squashed down the envy and resentment the teen’s casual dismissal of his parent’s attention had caused.

            “You’re really lucky,” Hitoshi said, instead of letting loose the cutting, acerbic insult that had been sitting on his tongue.

            To his surprise, Bakugou had grinned. Truly grinned, blindingly with two deep dimples and shining eyes rather than the smirks and teeth-baring he’d done so far. “I know. Still fucking hate him, though.” Hitoshi scoffed at the obvious lie. “Where’ve you learned?”

            “The internet,” Hitoshi admitted with some shame. “Books, here and there.” He braced himself for derision

            What he got instead was “That’s really fucking admirable, you know that, kid?”

            First, Hitoshi frowned at being called a ‘kid’ by another kid, but then the frown dropped away as the rest of the sentence registered. “What?”

            “I’m awesome because I’ve got the best teacher, ever. You’re decent because you’re stubborn. I like that. Wanna meet my dad? I’ll bet he’d train you, if you wanted.” Hitoshi was shocked, flattered and suspicious. It was a very sudden thing, not only the random spar, but the offer for help. If Hitoshi knew anything, it’s that opportunities like this always cost something. Cost something big.

            “What’s in it for you?” he asked slowly.

            The other kid blinked. “Me?” The look of confusion on the other kid’s face was so pure, so perfect, so blankly bewildered that there was no way it was honestly real. No way it wasn’t the perfectly crafted mask of a mastermind. Hitoshi’s walls, which had been slowly lowered, immediately shot right back up.

            “Yeah,” Hitoshi snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks. If I get into UA…” he stopped, and looked Bakugou dead in the eye. “When I get into UA, it’ll be on my own terms.”

            He expected Bakugou to retaliate in anger, maybe finally reveal his quirk since they were alone in a private sparing chamber. But he didn’t. To Hitoshi’s surprise, Bakugou had slowly smirked. He looked pleased. Almost proud.

            “Cool”

            That was it. That was all he said. Hitoshi was bracing himself for whatever came next, but nothing ever did. Bakugou simply grabbed his back from where he’d dumped it by the wall and made for the door. “Good spar,” he said simply as he reached for the handle.

            “Wait!” Hitoshi said, a pit forming in his stomach. He’d just done something stupid, hadn’t he? Bakugou immediately stopped. “Why?”

            “Why what?”
            “This! Why anything?”

            Bakugou looked really confused, again. “What?”

            “What’s your quirk?” Hitoshi demanded.

            “What?”

            “What’s. Your. Quirk.” Hitoshi bit out. Had he somehow been manipulated? Had Bakugou done something to him?

            “Why?” And there was that perfectly crafted confusion, yet again.

            “You know why!”

            “I don’t fucking know why, or else I wouldn’t have asked, Shitstain!” Bakugou was looking more irked than confused, though there wasn’t much true venom underneath the words and it was confusing Hitoshi to no end.

Bakugou’s phone beeped. Grumbling, he dug into his pocket and pulled it out, answering with a curt “What!” as he swung the door open and stormed out. “I’m at a gym…. ‘cuz I wanted to?.....I dunno where, Dadzawa…some crap hole down a buttugly alley……It was empty.” Hitoshi followed Bakugou to the exit, not knowing what else to do. “I’m always careful! Yeah, it’s on you buttnugget.” Bakugou was silent for a minute, before ending with a surprisingly affectionate “Go to hell” and hanging up.

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. I climbed a building a few months ago and ever since he’s been stupid clingy.”

Hitoshi gave pause. “Why would you climb a building?”

“Cos I could.” Bakugou said it so matter of factly that Hitoshi was inclined to believe it was, in fact, the only reason Bakugou had probably given his father a heart attack. There was really nothing Hitoshi could say to that, so they walked in silence, Bakugou apparently having forgotten to be angry at Hitoshi, and Hitoshi no longer certain that Bakugou had been trying to use him.

Maybe this guy was just super awkward?

“Wanna spar again, sometime?” Hitoshi offered, hesitantly. Guilt flooded him at the way Bakugou turned to him with his eyes shining, smirk returning, obviously surprised and pleased. Almost, hopeful. Relieved.

“Fucking whatever, Shitstain.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Not even two weeks before the exam, All Might declared Izuku ready to take on the power for One for All. Sensei had tried to argue, but Papa Mic had actually backed up the Number One hero.

“I know you’re worried, Shouta,” Present Mic had said soothingly. “Yes. It’s dangerous. But, honestly, so is the exam and hero life in general. At least, this way, we have some time to prepare.” Izuku had never been so thankful for Papa Mic.

Of course, Izuku could have gone without having to swallow a hair. He was just glad Kacchan wasn’t there to watch, the other boy would have teased him mercilessly. That whole first day, Izuku focused inwards, trying to feel the supposed power changing him. But, he couldn’t feel anything. Regardless, Dadzawa had forced Izuku to stay at his place, where he could keep an eye on him incase something went wrong. His mother had agreed adamantly. Afterall, Eraserhead was probably the best person to take care of a kid with a new, untested quirk.

But nothing happened.

“Lemme punch you,” Kacchan had suggested over the dinner table. “Maybe it only works when you’re fighting.”

“No, Kacchan,” Dadzawa had said blandly. “Give it a couple of days.”

“Then I can punch him.”

“If you really want to.”

“Shouta!”

Dad

“Fucking Fantastic. I made a friend.”

The entire table stopped moving in unison, turning their eyes to the oblivious blonde. Papa Mic swallowed his mouthful of pizza before casually leaning towards him. “Really? That’s great, kittycat! What’s their name?”

“Shitstain.”

Izuku muffled a giggle, and Dadzawa looked equal parts amused and resigned. Papa Mic sighed and ruffled Kacchan’s hair. “That….okay. Where’d you meet them?”

            “Some crappy gym. His eyes look like Dad’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dead and stuff.”

“Gee. Thanks, brat.”

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            Aizawa really hated coming here. It was odd, because he visited Inko on a semi-regular basis on Izuku’s behalf, and the kindly greenette woman lived not twenty feet away from the place where Aizawa now stood, fist raised to knock. He pounded on the door.

            There was a shuffle and muffled shouts. The door whipped open to reveal Mrs. Bakugou, scowling in a manner that left Aizawa uncertain whether she was displeased at him, at something else, just displeased in general or if that was her default expression. He had a shit ton of mixed feelings about the woman. On one hand, this was the mother/the spitting image of Kacchan. It was obvious he got a lot of his personality from her, and, for the most part, she didn’t seem to be actively malicious or purposefully neglectful.

            But that didn’t change the fact that Kacchan hadn’t been to his own house for more than a few hours at a time for over a year, and this woman had voiced no concerns at all.

            That didn’t chance the fact that she hadn’t ever attempted to get her beautiful child the medical and professional help he needed.

            That didn’t change the fact that the child they both supposedly cared from had apparently been traumatized at some point in his past. A trauma that might be the reason, the root for some-if not the majority- of Katsuki’s issues. Looking through that lens, Aizawa questioned his previous assessment of autism—he wondered if the child somehow had PTSD, or some other manifestation of surviving some horror. History of depression, anxiety, or another mental illness often times increased risk of developing PTSD. Perhaps it was a worrying combination?

            “Mrs. Bakugou,” Aizawa said with as much respect as he could summon. “My name is—”

            “I know who you are,” the woman scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. She gave him a crooked smile. “You’re the guy Inko’s been letting play with the runts. Thanks, by the way. Katsuki seems pretty fucking happy nowadays.” Aizawa felt his defenses lower against his will, only to surge up again, then fall away and replaced with confusion. Fuck. It was like an ocean welling up and surging backwards. He couldn’t look at this woman and not see his kid.

            “It’s been my pleasure,” Aizawa drawled blandly, but not untruthfully. “May I come in? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

            “’bout the kid?”

            “About Katsuki, yes.”

            Wordlessly, she lead him into a surprisingly clean home. Aizawa had always assumed that the Bakugou family lived in a reenactment of a warzone, due to the explosive quirks and even more so personalities that the residence contained. But that wasn’t the case, at all. Everything was in perfect order, far more orderly than Aizawa’s own home. If fact, looking around, one wouldn’t think that a child like Kacchan lived here at all. The only clue that gave his relation away were the scant selection of his photos gracing the wall.

            Mrs. Bakugou motioned for him to sit on their couch before she disappeared into the kitchen, a clattering of dishes and cabinet doors tumbling out towards the living space. Aizawa let himself sigh, taking in the pictures of a toddler Katsuki, a kindergartener Katsuki, an elementary schooler Katsuki. He smiled a small smile at each of them.

            Mrs. Bakugou returned with a tray, bearing a kettle and two cups. A store-bought package of cookies were haphazardly rolling around as she plopped the try onto the coffee table and took a seat in a chair facing Aizawa and the couch at an angle. She helped herself to some refreshments, grunting at Aizawa to do the same, before blowing her hair out of her face and starting.

            “So,” she said in a huff, as though the whole scenario was exhausting to her. “What the brat do this time?”

            Aizawa clenched his teeth, but made himself prepare his tea before he responded, giving himself a chance to calm. “He had a panic attack.” To her credit, she froze. Disbelief warring with concern in her eyes. Aizawa measure her, and found himself resigned. This was not a bad woman, just an unprepared women who really shouldn’t have found herself being a mother.

            “What happened?” she demanded, setting her cup down. Her full attention on Aizawa.

            So, he launched into a brief, heavily-edited explanation: One of his co-workers had taken the two boys to the beach, to help with cleanup there, when a crate toppled towards Izuku. Katsuki flew to his friend’s rescue before immediately collapsing into hysterics.

            “Why didn’t you bring him home?” she hissed, accusation pouring from her blood-red eyes. Aizawa met them coolly.

            “Because it’s not wise to remove a distressed child from an environment they feel safe in,” he said directly. She winced and looked down at her lap. So, she wasn’t completely unaware of how she’d failed her son. Good. “He was well taken care of with Pro Hero Present Mic and myself, not to mention Izuku who Katsuki seems to view as a sort of security blanket. That’s not what I’ve come here for.”

            “Then why have you come here?”

            “I need to know why it happened,” Aizawa said. “And I’m not just talking about the panic attack. I’m talking about the relentless depression, the social anxiety, his asocial behavior, his problems with school.” Aizawa had to take a deep breath. “The fact that Katsuki attempted suicide a few months ago.”

            A silence, followed by a crack and the shattering of her china dishes.

Chapter 11

Summary:

I struggled a bit with the chapter. Hope you like it anyway.

Chapter Text

Masaru came home to his wife in tears and a stranger on his couch. Normally, he considered himself a rather mellow individual, particularly compared to his wife and son.  Yet, when faced with such a situation, he figures he can be forgiven for reacting as he did.

            Running to his wife, standing between her and the strange man, Masaru whipped out his phone. “Tell me who you are” he demanded, no nonsense in his steady voice. “Tell me, or I call the cops.”

            “Masaru, sit your ass down” his wife said, tiredly. Mitsuki was slumped, eyes red. “This is one of Katsuki’s teachers.”

            Masaru froze. “Oh.”

            He sat.

            Masaru expected some sort of mirth or teasing from the teacher, afterall, Masaru had made a pretty big mistake. But both Mitsuki and the stranger remained very dour and quiet. “Hello, Mr. Bakugou,” he pale man said. “I’m Aizawa Shouta. I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances.”

            “Has Katsuki done something?” Masaru asked incredulously. His son might be a bit high spirited, but, as far as he knew, the boy had done nothing truly worth punishment in…ever. He was relieved when Mr. Aizawa shook his head firmly.

            “I came today to get to the bottom of Katsuki’s behavior-“ the teacher started.

            Masaru smiled appeasingly. “He’s just a little boy! Boys are bound to be a little rough-and-tumble! It’s in their nature and-“

            “Shut up, honey,” Mitsuki said, but she was lacking her usual fire. Instinctively, Masaru reached for her hand. She clutched him like a lifeline. “That’s…that’s not it.”

            Mr. Aizawa sighed. “Mr. Bakugou…Katsuki suffered from a panic attack not long ago. He has a strong aversion to being touched by most people, and a worrying lack of skill in communication and social interaction. He’s a brilliant kid, and I’ve worked with more than I care to think about. But his intelligence only adds to his problems as far as his over stimulation is concerned.”

            “What do you mean,” Masaru asked. He felt strangely numb, not sure how to react to this information. Katsuki? His strong little Katsuki? There was no way. There had to be some mistake.

            “Too much noise and he shuts down. Too much anything and he retaliates by lashing out. When he’s out in public, around strangers, he retreats into himself. With the few people he does trust, he’s constantly seeking out physical reassurance.” Mr. Aizawa looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, even still his eyes bored into Masaru’s.

            “I need to know of any instance you can think of, when Katsuki might have suffered from any kind of trauma.”

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            “Hey, Whatsit!”

            All Might looked down, away from where he’d been watching Young Midoriya practice charging and releasing energy (a short but intense routine dictated by Aizawa-kun) to meet the gaze of Young Bakugou. The day was beginning to turn into evening, a gentle, crisp breeze fanning away the oppressive heat. The setting sun cast glowing shadows of orange and pink across the rippling water, there on the beach.

            “Yes, my boy?” All Might asked with a smile. The longer he’d gotten to know the children, the more taken he was with them. Young Bakugou was odd, to say the least, but the size and warmth of the young man’s heart rivaled that of his explosions. Present Mic perked up from his seat in a lounging chair on the sandy beach, seeing if he was needed. All Might waved his concern away, pushing down the slight irk he felt at still not being trusted alone with the boys.

            (not that he could really blame Aizawa-kun. Not after last time)

            “Where the hell is Dadzawa?” Young Bakugou’s nose scrunched in a sort of pout as he absently twisted the ends of the scarf Toshinori never saw him without. “I brought my dumbass friend.” All Might felt a brief flash of alarm, before he remembered that he was in his smaller form. Secret safe. He glanced around and there, standing awkwardly several yards away, was a lanky young man with purple hair and eyebags.

            “Ah. I believe he said he was running an errand concerning one of his students,” All Might said apologetically. “I’m unsure where in the city he currently is.”

            “Fuck all,” Bakugou said, bottom lip poking out. He turned to his friend. “GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!” He waited until the other boy had reluctantly wandered closer. “What’s your deal, Shitstain? He’s not gonna bite you. Look at ‘im. I’ll bet even you could take him.”

            All Might had had a lot of practice in not taking offence. “Hello, young man. It’s nice to meet a friend of Young Bakugou.”

            “Whatsit this is Shitstain. Shitstain, Whatsit.” Bakugou introduced them.

            The weary looking boy cracked a grin. “Nice to know I’m not the only one he does that to.” All Might chuckled. (I AIN’T DOIN’ SHIT, YA SHITSTAIN!)

            “I believe his little nicknames are how he shows affection” (“WHAT? FUCK OFF AND DIE!”)

            “I know. He’s adorable.” (“YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU BAG OF FERMENTED DICK JUICE”!)

            “Kacchan!” Young Midoriya pounded his way across the sand, smiling widely. “Is this the friend you told us about?” The greenette stuck out his hand to the boy. “I’m Midoriya Izuku!”

            “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

            “And I am Yagi Toshinori,” All Might offered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Young Midoriya’s eyes widen and jaw drop. Young Shinsou only nodded genially and shook Young Midoriya’s hand, then Toshinori’s.

            “Bakugou’s told me a lot about you,” Shinsou said. “I think, anyway.  You’re ‘Deku’, right?” Young Midoriya nodded, laughing weakly and pulling at his curls. “So you must be the one who helped turn Bakugou into an absolute killing machine.” (“I’VE ALWAYS BEEN ABLE TO FUCKING KILL PEOPLE!”)

            “Wha? Me!? NO! Kacchan is the one who helped me get strong. Our teacher is the one who trained him.” (YEAH! AND THAT’S WHO WE CAME TO SEE, SO WHERE THE HELL IS HE?”)

            “Well, yeah. But I mean, you sparred with him, didn’t you?”

            Young Midoriya shuffled his feet. “I guess so.”

            “Wanna spar?” (“DON’T FUCKING IGNORE ME, YA NERDS!”)

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It took everything Aizawa had to not restrain the two Bakugou parents as they mulishly left in search of their son. Aizawa followed behind them, glad he’d brought a UA car along rather than walking as he normally might. It was easy to see where Kacchan got his stubbornness, he thought to himself as he steadfastly ignored the swirling painful turmoil in his gut.

            This might be it, his traitorous heart was saying. This is when you’ll have to say goodbye.

            His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

            He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have involved the Bakugous. He should have just kept digging on his own. Why, why was he so stupid? They had no idea, supposedly, about what original trauma might be haunting the child. In their minds, Katsuki had only started acting this way after he met Aizawa. Put two and two together, and you come to the conclusion that the whole mess was something Aizawa had exposed him to.

            In the back of his mind, Aizawa was wondering the same thing. It couldn’t be. Kacchan had had his difficulties long before Aizawa came along, and he had the school records to prove it.

            But never this bad. Never a full on attack, not that he’s seen. Nothing bad enough to prompt his little stray to climb a fucking tower and…

            Unbidden, a flash of that day bombarded Aizawa’s mind. For as long as he’ll live, he’ll never forget that horror. It was the worst, most painful, most all-consuming feeling he’d ever felt. When he found Katsuki sitting on a ledge hundreds of meters in the hair, crying like his life was ending.

            Was it Aizawa’s fault?

            What if it was?

            The Bakugou’s suddenly swerved into a parking space, and Mrs. Bakugou leapt from the passenger’s seat through the thrown open door. They were at the beach, and Aizawa didn’t have to leave the car to see the distinctive shape of Katsuki. Aizawa just sat for a moment, breathing deeply, before he climbed out after her. Mr. Bakugou gave him a loaded look, full of pity and anger and resentment. Aizawa ignored him.

            He kept his eyes on Katsuki, who was standing beside Izuku and Yagi with his eyes wide and uncomprehending. Then, Mrs. Bakugou froze.

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Hitoshi really liked Bakugou.

            The guy was funny, scary smart and powerful to boot. Not to mention, as far as Hitoshi could tell, bluntly and reliably honest to a fault. Hitoshi trusted Bakugou at his word, because it struck him that the other boy was the type to tell the truth for no reason other than the fact that lying would take too much effort, or was somehow beneath him.

            They’d met up a few more times at the gym, then they’d gone for a run and exchanged numbers. They texted sporadically over the past week, and Hitoshi found himself growing fond of the weirdo. This weirdo who didn’t see Hitoshi as a threat.

            This weirdo who other people saw as a future villain.

            The first time it happened, Hitoshi was sure they were talking about himself, not Bakugou. Some random students, still in their uniforms, had been hanging out on some street corner trying to act cool. Hitoshi and Bakugou had just left the gym when they passed the kids by, and Hitoshi could hear one say very clearly : “Hey, look. It’s that delinquent.”

            Hitoshi had kept walking, continuing with whatever it was they had been talking about. He was used to it, afterall. But Bakugou stopped, turned and glared. “What was that, fucker?” All but one of the kids backed off, physically taking several steps back. But one seemed to be a bit braver, or a bit dumber, than the rest.

            “You heard me, fag!” the kid jeered. “Now piss off before I call the heroes on you.”

            Bakugou’s palms crackled and Hitoshi’s eyes snapped down to look in surprise. It was the first hint he’d gotten as to what his new friend’s quirk was. Then, as suddenly as Bakugou’s temper flared, the other boy huffed out through his nostrils. Hitoshi could almost see the billowing smoke, but then his friend just turned and kept walking.

            Hitoshi had followed, bewildered.

            Who the Heck could look at Bakugou and think “villain”? The kid was like…like…like an angry Pomeranian.

            But that wasn’t the last time Hitoshi had seen something like that, and he’d only known Bakugou a week. Maybe that was why Hitoshi felt so close to this guy. In some ways they must be very similar. The biggest difference being that Bakugou apparently had two doting fathers who he spoke about frequently, and a best friend he spoke about even more frequently.

            Hitoshi was both jealous and empathetic, along with a healthy dash of protective.

            Which is why when the angry woman stormed up to them on the beach, a terrifying glint in her eyes and her mouth gnashing and snarling, he acted on instinct. “Who are you?” he demanded, stepping in front of Bakugou.

            “GET OUTTA THE WAY BR-“

            “Stop

            It was the first time Hitoshi had ever purposefully used his quirk without remorse. The woman stopped dead, and Hitoshi got a good look at her. Then he did a double take.

            This bitch looked exactly like a Bakugou with boobs.

            It was uncanny.

            Also, kind of unsettling.

            He turned to Bakugou, who was staring with his eyes wide open. Hitoshi inwardly cringed, began to prepare himself for rejection. He hadn’t yet worked up the courage to tell Bakugou about his quirk. “Dude…” Bakugou said softly. “That’s my mom.”

            Hitoshi was ready to dig a hole and just lie in it. Forever.

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Aizawa was so grateful for that kid using his quirk to stop Mrs. Bakugou, giving him a chance to step around her frozen form and reach his stray. No sooner had he placed a relieved hand on Kacchan’s head, than did Mrs. Bakugou suddenly wheeze and curse, jumping backwards.

            “What the hell, kid!?” she screamed. Hitoshi flinched.

            “You startled me!” he said, defiantly, though he couldn’t meet her gaze. Aizawa made a mental note to thank the boy later, dig into who this boy even was, then turned to fact the Bakugou parents – Mr. Bakugou had finally caught up.

            “Get out of the way, Aizawa,” Mrs. Bakugou spat. “You’ve done enough harm, I think.”

            “Mom?” Kacchan said, sounding absolutely bewildered. “What are you doing here.” His mother reached out her hand, as though expecting Kacchan to take it like he was some kind of toddler. Unsurprisingly, Kacchan reeled back in distain. Aizawa felt suitably vindicated. Mrs. Bakugou wasn’t amused.

            “Come Here, Katsuki,” she demanded. “I don’t want you hanging around these freaks anymore.” Mic tried to step between Kacchan and his parents, arms help up to diffuse the situation. Mrs. Bakugou responded by trying to punch his lights out. Seeing as how Mic was a Pro Hero, he dodged nimbly, but the very fact this woman had done so spoke volumes.

            “Mom” Kacchan said, scandalized. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you damn hag?” She tried to step forward to grab him by the ear, but Aizawa maneuvered himself and Kacchan out of her reach. She snarled.

            “Give me my kid!” She screeched.

            “Stop!” Kacchan screeched right back. “Shitstain, make her stop!” The purple-haired kid opened his mouth, but Aizawa held up a hand to stop him.

            “Mrs. Bakugou,” he tried to imbue his voice with the same quality that made his unruly classes shut up and listen. “You have Katsuki. Let’s go somewhere, now, and talk. Like adults.”

            “Don’t you fucking tell me how to act, you asshole!” she hissed. “This is my kid, and apparently when I let other people deal with him he somehow managed to get fucking traumatized and you have the gall to accuse me?” There were tears in her eyes, and Kacchan looked appalled at the sight, disbelieving.

            “Stop that,” he said snarling at her with concern in his eyes. “Stop that right now, you stupid old hag!” Aizawa put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

            “GET YOUR FUCKING PAWS OFF MY SON,” Mrs. Bakugou was now being restrained by her husband.

            “I wasn’t accusing you,” Aizawa said, keeping his voice level. “There’s little doubt in my mind that you did what you thought was best for Katsuki. I have no assumptions of you causing his trauma.”

            “What the fuck”

 Aizawa plowed on, ignoring Katsuki for now. “Let’s go talk, with Katsuki. I’m not trying to take your son from you.”

            “No,” Mrs. Bakugou agreed with a derisive laugh. “You’re not trying. You already have.”

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            They wound up at Inko’s house, with Mrs. Bakugou glaring daggers at an impassive Aizawa, Mr. Bakugou looking jittery and anguished, and Katsuki slumped beside Aizawa, doing his level best to not look anyone in the eye. Inko bustled around the kitchen, nervously preparing tea that no one asked for or wanted. Oh, well. She was going to make it anyway – she needed something to do.

            “How am I supposed to trust you with my kid?” Mrs. Bakugou hissed at Aizawa. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you in.” Aizawa carefully measure his words, treating the woman like a ticking bomb. He wanted to throw the question back at her. Ask her how she could trust herself after all the many days, weeks, months that she’d gone between checking in with her son.

            “Turn me in? For what? The law trusts me with many people’s children,” he decided to say instead. “I’m a certified teacher, and I have Present Mic’s backing, as well as Principal Nezu’s.” He hadn’t actually spoken about the boys with the principal, but the rat probably knew and if the Principal had had any arguments, Aizawa would have heard them by now. “Furthermore, I have a witness in Mr. Yagi, a fellow instructor at UA and personal assistant to All Might. I’ve never done anything harmful to Katsuki.”

            “Listen here-“ Katsuki tried to interject, leaning forward. His mother cut him off.

            “What exactly are you doing to help him, since he’s supposedly all messed up in the head?” She snapped. “Taking him home and feeding him like some kind of dog?”

            “Since I’m not a parent,” Aizawa said. “I can’t put him into therapy.”

            “No,” Mitsuki growled almost victoriously. “You’re not his parent. So fucking get out and never talk to my kid again.”

            “Listen-“

            “And what about when he goes to UA? I’m a teacher there.”

            “He’s not fucking going to your craphole of a school-“

            “LISTEN TO ME” a thundering boooooom shook Inko’s windows. “Just shut up and listen. I’m going to UA. Sensei never hurt me, and what fucking right do you have to say otherwise?” Katsuki was on his feet, palms smoldering. Aizawa grabbed hold of his old scarf, ever present and wrapped around Katsuki’s neck, and gently tugged him back onto the couch beside him. Katsuki fell onto the cushions willingly, arms crossed.

            “I’m your mother,” Mitsuki said, flabbergasted. “That’s my fucking ‘right’, you brat!”

            “How does you having shoved me out give you the right to tell me how to live my life?”

            “I’M YOUR MOTHER!” Katsuki was unusually calm, his voice a steady level. It was unnerving. “Besides, you can’t be a hero if you’re as fucked up as your sensei says you are.”

            Katsuki furrowed his brow, and looked up at Aizawa. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head. “I’m not going to say that it will stop you from being a hero,” Aizawa told him, solemnly. Mistuki protested, loudly, but the Pro ignored her and continued. “Because that’s simply not true. Countless heroes suffered from some form of mental disorders, including PTSD.”

            “I don’t fucking have…” Katsuki trailed off. A considering look in his eyes made Aizawa go on the defense, though he wasn’t sure why. “PTSD? Nothing…Nothing’s happened. I’ve never fucking done anything.”

            “You were kidnapped by the slime villain,” this was the first time Masaru spoke up. “Katsuki. I know you’re strong. I know you are. But we all want to help you, even if none of us agree on how to do that.” Aizawa leveled a grateful look at Katsuki’s father, while Mitsuki seethed in betrayal. “If you don’t want to talk to us, I understand. But at least let me find you a professional you will talk to.”

            “I want him away from those bastards!” Mitsuki implored her husband. She turned to Aizawa. “What are his chances of even making it into UA? Huh? He’s an idiot, I’ve seen his grades. You’re just feeding him some pipe dream, him and little Izuku both!”

            “Both boys have the making of incredible heroes,” Aizawa maintained, before turning his attention back to Katsuki. “Kacchan,” he said softly. “I do want to know what’s going on in your head, but if it’s hard for you than your f-father is right.”

            “I’m being serious,” Katsuki looked irritated. “Nothing fucking” he stopped. “oh.”

            “Oh?” the Masaru and Aizawa exchanged a look.

            “Uh,” Katsuki looked uncomfortable.

            “Spit it out!” Masaru hushed his wife. Katsuki glared at her.

            “I don’t fucking know how to say it, bitch!” Aizawa put a hand on his shoulder, and Katsuki was silent for a few seconds. “When I was like, five or something, there was this girl who just got her quirk, right?” The adults said nothing, afraid of accidently causing the boy to stop talking. “And it was something…mental? I don’t know, it was forever ago. She just sort of touched me and I saw all sorts of shit and yeah I guess it bugs me, but I don’t have PTSD” Katsuki spat the disorder name like it tasted foul.

            “What sort of shit?” Mitsuki prompted him. She had started to calm as her son had been talking, though she kept throwing distrustful looks at Aizawa.

            “People,” Katsuki said, shaking his head and running a hand through his wild hair. “I don’t know, I haven’t fucking met them yet. I saw Deku get fucking squished like a giant bug, so there’s that.” Katsuki let out a shaky breath. “I don’t need any damn therapy. I’ll talk about it if you want, I just never thought it was important.”

            Then, he looked up at his mother. “I saw me. I was a hero. I was fucking awesome and I. Am. Going. To UA” his eyes narrowed. “If you try to stop me, I’ll never forgive you.”

            His mother had completely deflated by this point. “I know I’m crap at this mom stuff,” she admitted quietly, her eyes downcast and her hands finding that of her husband. “But I do love you. That’s why I kept shoving you over to Inko.” Masaru squeezed her hands. “I’ll let you take the test, but if you don’t get in you’re gonna go to some local school. You here me?”

            “I’m getting in,” Katsuki snorted. “I know who I’m gonna be, and it’s the only version of me I’ll settle for.”

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            Katsuki didn’t want to be around his mother that night. Emotions were too high, and he’d gotten far to used to the calm atmosphere of his sensei’s home. After much screaming from his mother, and soothing from Not-Mom and his father, Katsuki was finally in sensei’s borrowed car heading home. It was dark by the time they left the Midoriya home, and Katsuki leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger seat window, listening to Dadzawa talk with Mic on the phone, explaining what had happened and asking him to bring Deku to his mother, leaving out the information about the supposed source of Katsuki’s “PTSD”.

            How fucking lame was that? He hadn’t even lived through that shit, none of any of it was ever going to happen. Yeah, sometimes Katsuki remembered unpleasant crap and maybe sometimes he dwelled on it too long. But, that was normal, wasn’t it?

            Dadzawa hung up as he rolled to a stop in front of a red light. He dropped his phone in the drink holder, then reached across the seats to pull Katsuki closer by his scarf and drop a weary kiss into his head. Katsuki let him, briefly, before growling and shoving him away.

            “Will you tell me more about what you saw?”

            Shit. Katsuki was going to need to really flesh out this whole vision quirk thing, not to mention the fact that his sensei was probably going to search for this imaginary girl who fucked him up as soon as they got home. “I don’t remember a fuck ton,” Katsuki grumbled. “Deku got himself flattened by a crate in some warehouse. He looked really fucking old, too. Like, thirty.”

            Aizawa snorted.

            “There were a bunch of extras, but I don’t remember anything they did.”

            “Anyone stand out?”

            Immediately, Katsuki thought of Eijiro. He hesitated. Aizawa noticed. “Well?”

            “Just some moron with shitty hair,” then Katsuki slumped further towards the window, and refused to say anything else. The more he said, the deeper he’d dig this fucking hole.  

Chapter 12

Summary:

I literally have no idea what I'm doing

Chapter Text

Izuku went for a run early the next day. His mom probably wouldn’t be awake for hours, needing to sleep in after the hell of a night she’d just been forced to be a witness to. Mrs. Bakugou had stayed long after Kacchan and sensei had left. She kept pleading with his mother, asking her why she supported sensei so much. Izuku had to witness his mother retell the story of the day sensei had come home, eyes red and hands shaking.

            She told Kacchan’s parents that it had been sensei who had been the one to save Kacchan from himself. Mr. Bakugou had clutched at his head with a groan, his fingers digging into his scalp. Mrs. Bakugou had broken down, angrily punching the cushions on the sofa. Izuku’s mother had softly padded over and draped her arms over her friend’s shoulders.

            It was around then that Izuku had stopped eaves dropping and gone to bed. He didn’t know what more was said, but he continued to hear the faint mumble of voices well into the night as he stared at his ceiling, fingers itching to grab his phone and call Kacchan. He didn’t though. He knew that Kacchan would probably just want to be alone with sensei after all that.

            It took him a long time to fall into a restless sleep, and when he woke up the sky was still pink. A gentle fog caressed the ground, and when Izuku stepped across his room to crack open his window, he could smell the ocean. After a moment’s hesitation, Izuku threw on clothes and tiptoed downstairs.

            Within minutes, he was tearing down the pavement. His feet pounded on the cement. He breathed in deeply through his nose, savoring the morning air. He imagined that the power of One for All was coursing through him, making him fly. But, he knew that’s all it was: his imagination.

            Even though it had been a little while since he’d supposedly received the power from All Might, he hadn’t figured out what trigger activated it. All Might had told him to clench his but and scream, but the look sensei had given the Number One Hero at that certain piece of advice left Izuku wondering if he should follow All Might’s advice, afterall.

            On one hand, who would better know how to use this power? On the other hand…Izuku felt horrible for even thinking it, but he trusted Dadzawa’s instincts more than almost anything. Even All Might.

            “It’s just a fancy quirk,” sensei had told him a few days ago. “Let it be a quirk. It’s not ‘All Might’s quirk’, either. Analyze it, then put your knowledge into action. That is your true gift, Midoriya.

            So, that’s what Izuku was trying to do – had been trying to do for the past several days. One for All was a super OP augmentation quirk…except it wasn’t. And it was a stockpiling quirk…except it wasn’t. A quirk that gained power as it passed on. A quirk that filled All Might’s body, grew it the way that it did. The power that was released whenever All Might “smashed” something. Izuku knew it had something to do with energy.

            Kacchan, in an amazing moment of insight, had pointed out that “Whatsit shrinks when he’s not using his shitty quirk. But just because he’s not using it don’t mean he doesn’t have it anymore. Whatever the fuck it is doesn’t just vanish, Deku. Where the fuck does it go? Up his ass?

            Was One for All really just pure energy? The larger mass that All Might could assume would simply help with more efficient energy output, then. Oh, if only he were cool-headed enough to be able to grill All Might like he wanted to. But whenever he met with the hero, face-to-face, his fanboy self would tangle up his tongue.

            You’d think he’d be used to the guy, now, after having spent all summer with him. Kacchan certainly wasn’t starstruck by All Might. Not in the slightest. But, then, that’s Kacchan for you…

            Izuku breathed out heavily.

            Energy. It’s energy. Would the energy flow better inside his body, or along the surface? He didn’t have as much mass as All Might, so maybe…

            A wave of blue sparks engulfed Izuku, and it hurt like a thousands tiny needles all jabbing into his skin at once. Izuku yelped, the suddenness surprising him. He jammed his left foot down harder than he intended to, and  a shockwave blasted out from where his foot struck the cement. An ominous crack was the only warning Izuku got before he was thrown forward.

            Right into a wall.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

There was a new rumor rippling through the hero community.

Shouto wasn’t proud that he was up to date on the latest, juiciest gossip. It’s just, there really wasn’t much a guy like him could do for fun. He wasn’t really allowed to have friends, or leave the house without his father standing right there next to him at all times. The only time he ever even left his family property was to watch his father pummel some crooks into submission. Mostly, Shouto was left to hang out in his room or their gym.

Honestly, he lived pretty similarly to a shut-in.

So, you could say that he might be a little starved for social interaction.

Social interaction that he only got in little snippets as he waited for his father to finish deep frying some bag guys.

            “Did you hear” one small time hero would whisper to another. “Mount Lady has a secret lover – a girlfriend!”

            “Did you know, All Might is actually married?”

            “Know what I heard? Principal Nedzu has clones of himself hidden away in the basement of UA!”

            “You’ll never guess what! Thirteen is dating someone!”

            Sometimes, Shouto managed to maneuver himself into the conversation. He knew how to play the gossip game well, by this point. He’d show over exaggerated interest, then share a piece of “information” about his father (“It’s sad,” Shouto would say, wagging his head. “I feel sorry for my father, that he was never able to come out as a furry. I’m sure the community would have been understanding.”) then direct the conversation in the direction of the gossip he wanted to know more about. It was easy, and he had an easier time than some by virtue of inherently being in “the loop” as Endeavor’s son.

            Shouto only wished that getting his peers to talk to him was that easy.

            In any event, Shouto liked being in the know about what was happening behind the curtains in hero circles. Hearing about all the ways that the other heroes were less than perfect, were struggling in some way, were hiding something…it made him feel less like a freak. Less like an empty lie, painted and molded by his father.

            “I swear, I was standing two feet from him!”

            That was the first sentence that clued Shouto into the latest rumor in the mill. Some every day hero from a cloutless agency was whispering to another. Slowly, Shouto edged closer to hear better while keeping a reluctant eye on his father’s one-sided farce of a fight.

            What he learned sent his head spinning.

            Eraserhead and Present Mic were a couple. More than that, they’d adopted two boys.

            There was some debate over how old the boys were, but the seemed like late middle school or early high school age.

            Same as Shouto.

            The boys had caught the attention of the heroes when one of them was attacked by a slime villain earlier that summer. All Might had had to save them, when none of the other heroes present had had a chance. Eraserhead had been on scene, apparently. Nothing strange there, except he’d allegedly embraced the two boys right there in front of every one.

            At first, Shouto was disbelieving. Eraserhead was an underground hero, notorious for hating children despite being a teacher at UA. To do something like that was completely out of character for him.

            But then, Shouto had gone home and looked up footage of the situation.

            As soon as he’d been able to escape his father that evening, Endeavor huffing and growling about how incompetent the world outside of himself was, Shouto had ducked into his room and booted up his computer. It was a simple matter, to find the news story that had covered the “Slime Villain Incident”. Shouto watched as the camera cut from a pretty news lady to show a devastated street with overturned cars, smoldering rubbish, and a huge grey blob of slime that seemed to be attacking itself.

            The longer the camera stayed on the slime villain, the more evident it was that there was someone trapped inside the villain – and they were fighting back. A huge explosion blasted out of the side of the villain, making it roar in pain. Shouto’s eyebrow twitched in reluctant admiration. That was a strong quirk. Though, Shouto couldn’t help but think that his own quirk was more suited to fight that particular villain. All he would have had to do, was freeze the entire being.

            That said, the boy that had been held captive was doing an admirable job. Though, if the rumor mill was to be believed, the boy’s actions could be in thanks to training he received from Present Mic and/or Eraserhead.

            Shouto watched as the boy on his screen grew more and more tired, wearing himself out with his explosions and frantic struggling. Then, a greenish blur flew into view. A projectile was launched at the villain, smacking it right in its eye. A vulnerable spot, Shouto acknowledged with an approving nod. But then, the boy who had come to the hostage’s rescue seemed to abandon all rationality, and began to claw at the slime villain with his bear hands. Amazingly, it seemed to work, as the boy held hostage was suddenly able to release an explosion far larger than anything that he had emitted thus far. The hostage flew free, a menacing look on his face. Then, All Might showed up and it was over in an instant.

            The moment All Might appeared, the camera never strayed from the Number One Hero. Shouto clicked his tongue in annoyance. He was as big an All Might fan as the next guy, but it wasn’t the Number One that he had wanted to get good look at. Shouto exited the video and his fingers flew across his keyboard as he searched up other footage.

            Not surprisingly, there were a few other videos shot from the phones of bystanders. These videos more clearly showed how the heroes who had been on sight, had been standing around uselessly. It almost seemed as though they were willing to let the hostage die as they waited for someone else to step in and take care of the issue. Were they really prioritizing damage control over the life of a child?

            Then, he saw the appearance of the second boy. The one that had green hair. The green boy ran with a certain form one only saw from those who were trained to move with maximum efficiency. He cleared the length of the entire street in a blink of an eye, and it made Shouto wonder if it was part of the boy’s quirk, or just training.

            The blonde boy, when he flipped out of the villain’s grasp, propelled by what looked like an explosion quirk, also showed evidence of much training. In fact, the moment before All Might appeared, the boy had assumed a fighting position almost instinctively.

            Were they like him? They seemed to be about his age. What were the chances, that he would find not one, but two other children of heroes in his age group. Briefly, Shouto wondered if he would see them at UA, when the recommended students would be evaluated by Nedzu.

            Thankfully, the person holding the phone that was recording the scene kept their focus on the boys even after All Might appeared. They were rewarded by the sight of a scruffy man bursting through the crowd and wrapping both boys up in his arms.

            Something inside of Shouto’s chest constricted and twisted painfully.

            He recognized Eraserhead instantly, despite not having seen the man very many times in person. Afterall, the Erasure Hero was an underground hero. And Shotuo’s father was very much…not. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Eraserhead tenderly checked the both of them for injuries, then he sent one off on his way before helping the other one, the one who had been captured, to his feet. The video ended.

            Shouto immediately searched for another video. There were others, but none of them were very good, and they all showed much the same thing. Sighing in frustration, Shouto instead randomly started searching the internet for anything and everything relating to Eraserhead, Present Mic, and their kids.

            Not fifteen minutes later, Shouto found a fansite that was dedicated to “EraserMic”. It was like all the other fangirl-shipping-delulu sites that Shouto was far too familiar with. However, this one gave him pause. It gave him pause because of the profile picture and header. The profile picture was a blurry image of Eraserhead and Present Mic on a rooftop at night. Though the image was of poor quality, it was easy to see that blonde hero had his arms wrapped around the scruffy Erasure Hero.

            And then, the header.

            It was a picture of surprisingly high quality. It showed Erasurehead and Present Mic standing with their arms pressed together as they waited in line for a rollercoaster at some local amusement park. By their sides were the two boys from the Slime Villain Incident. Even more damning, the blonde boy was holding onto Eraserhead’s hand like a lifeline.

            Shouto sat back in his chair, an unfamiliar helpless feeling overtaking him.

            Present Mic was a well respected hero – not one of the top ten number wise, but definitely one of the more popular heroes. And Eraserhead was one of the most respected within the hero community. Yet…there they were, taking their kids to an amusement part. Shouto’s eyes kept drifting back to the joined hands of Eraserhead and his blonde son. The boy looked like he was Shouto’s age.

            Shouto tried to remember the last time he’d held his father’s hand. If he’d ever done so. He tried to imagine what it would be like, to hold his father’s hand now.

            His fists clenched, almost against his will.

            But, he shook himself out of it and began to scroll through the page. It was dedicated to, not only updated about the heroes and images of the heroes, but also the boys. Apparently, the boys’ names were Izuku and Katsuki. There was plenty of information about the boy’s cover families. Both boys had striking resemblances to their “mothers”, but the father of Katsuki resembled him…not at all. Izuku didn’t even have one legally in the picture.

            It couldn’t be more obvious that the “mothers” were surrogates hired by Present Mic and Eraserhead, and that the “families” were a coverup for the boy’s protection.

            There were plenty of theories in the posts on the site, about all the ways that they boys might have been adopted, or else were just being mentored by the heroes. Shouto dismissed those.

            A bright pink pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen. “Having fun? Want to subscribe?” it asked.

            Shouto didn’t hesitate as he clicked “Yes”.

 

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The days inevitably kept turning, and summer came then gave way to fall.

            Not much happened in that time, not from Katsuki’s perspective anyway. Everything happened in a strange, blurry sort of daze. His mind was constantly too full over everything he had to do, everything he wanted to do, everything he couldn’t do, and the impossible feeling of everything being impossible.

            The worse, however, was when Deku finally managed to finally activate One for All.

            The fucking nerd broke his leg. And his face. And his arm.

            Somehow, Deku had managed to kick the ground hard enough to send him flying face first into a wall, then shatter his lower arm when he’d tried to break his fall. Katsuki had been watching TV with Dadzawa when Not-Mom had called him. Katsuki could hear Not-Mom crying over the phone, and had immediately stiffened. Dadzawa had grabbed him by his hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold him still, and calmly asked what hospital Deku had been taken to.

            Katsuki felt like he’d fucking swallowed a rock.

            Sensei had had no choice but to take Katsuki along with him to the hospital.

            It shouldn’t have been hard to see. Katsuki had lost count of all the times Deku had mess up his limbs in his past life. Honestly, it had gotten to the point, before, where it was a running gag. He and Kiri would make stupid bets for how many bones Deku would manage to fuck up during the course of a fight.

            It shouldn’t have been that hard.

            But then Katsuki saw him, and it was like he was seeing double.

            Deku was lying on a bed, his leg and arm hoisted up into the air, wrapped in bandages and supported by beams. Katsuki saw Deku’s pale fingers, stretching out from the cast, and all too vividly remembered Before Deku’s fingers…the flatness of the arm…the acrid smell of blood.

            But then, he also saw the tiny baby Deku that had tried to save his fucking “Kacchan” from a two-inch stream.

            Seeing baby Deku broken shook Katsuki. It was just inherently wrong on far too many levels.

            He gagged. His legs shook, and he felt to the floor with a painful crack as he retched. Thankfully, nothing came up. Nevertheless, Katsuki had to close his eyes against the spinning, dizzying nausea.

            “Kacchan!” Sensei and Deku cried at once.

            “Katsuki!” Not-Mom rushed forward. Sensei was behind him, rubbing his back soothingly, and Not-Mom was cradling his face in her cool hands.

            “Kacchan what’s wrong?” Deku sounded like he was going to cry, and it only made Katsuki feel worse.

            He shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain, and couldn’t find the will to bother trying. He pushed away from the two adults and clambered up beside Deku on the bed. He was careful to not jostle Deku or the equipment. He was surprised when neither Not-Mom or sensei protested his actions, but even if they had, Katsuki wasn’t sure he would have listened.

            Katsuki wrapped his arms around Deku’s neck, squeezing to both comfort himself and punish Deku for being such a fucking moron. He was rewarded with a choked gurgle.

            “You asshole,” Katsuki whispered into Deku’s hair. “How dare you. How dare you.”

            “’m sorry, Kacchan,” Deku said forlornly. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t mean to.”

            “I don’t care, you fucker.”

            “I know, Kacchan. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

            “I won’t forgive you, if you do.”

            “I know, Kacchan. I won’t.”

            Katsuki had been skeptical, but for the past few days, Deku had kept his word. He threw himself into training with sensei, Mic, and All Might. He used he new quirk daily, and yet there hadn’t been another incident with broken bones beyond hairline fractures that medical professionals with healing quirks could fix in minutes.

            Katsuki was proud of his nerd.

            UA wouldn’t know what hit it.

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Hitoshi had been inconceivably worried after he watched Bakugo get dragged away by the scruffy man and the woman that claimed to be his mother. “Deku” and Present Mic (and holy cow, Hitoshi could barely believe that his new friend was close with the Present Mic) soon followed after. Soon, it was just him and Mr. Yagi, there on the beach and both at a loss.

            “Wait…” Hitoshi frowned. “Bakugo…he never mentioned having a mom.” Hitoshi felt stupid as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Afterall, Hitoshi had never mentioned that he was a foster kid. But Mr. Yagi had only nodded.

            “This is my first time seeing his mother,” he confessed. “For the longest time, I had assumed that Ya—that Present Mic and Eraserhead were his parents.”

            Hitoshi felt his brain stutter to a stop.

            “E-e-eraserhead?” His voice cracked at least twice as he tried to spit the word out. “Two heroes? He’s being mentored by two heroes?” Yagi had an unreadable expression on his face, but Hitoshi had no brain capacity left to ponder it.  He was too busy freaking out about the fact that Bakugo had offered to ask his “dad” to train him and Hitoshi had turned him down.

            “Young man, I feel like I must address,” Yagi turned a stern eye onto Hitoshi. Suddenly, he felt very small. “You wanting to protect your friend is an admirable and heroic trait. However, until you receive a provisional license, you mustn’t use your quirk in public.”

            Hitoshi hung his head. “Why?” He asked, bitterly. He kicked at the sand. “Because it’s a villain’s quirk?” Hitoshi wasn’t expecting an answer, in fact he was getting ready to walk away. A large hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him.

            “Young Shinsou,” Mr. Yagi said softly. “Your quirk is no more villainous than All Might’s. Think on it: that raw power? All Might could easily have become an unstoppable evil. However, he chose to become a force for good.” Yagi bent lower, just the slightest bit, to meet Hitoshi eye to eye. “Young man. There is no such thing as a villainous quirk.

            It was those words that Hitoshi carried with him throughout the next few days until the exam. No Such Thing he repeated like a mantra as he worked out with Bakugo in their ratty old gym. No Such Thing he chanted under his breath as he went for his morning runs, trying to get himself into shape. No Such Thing he told himself as he ignored the heckling of his foster siblings.

            “No such thing” he said to himself as he took his first steps onto the UA campus. Across the way, he saw Bakugo and Midoriya walking hand in hand. The greenette was babbling excitedly, almost bouncing. Bakugo was watching him with quiet, fond amusement. The blonde caught Hitoshi’s eyes, and raised a faux-snide salute, that Hitoshi interpreted as his new friend wishing him luck.

            Hitoshi smiled, and raised a hand in return.

Chapter 13

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Shouto didn’t know what to expect, going in for the Recommended Student Evaluations. He thought that, perhaps they would be given some sort of exam – physical or written or some combination thereof. He had anticipated the presence of some sort of judge panel. He’d expected there to be maybe a handful of student hopefuls.

            He should have known better.

            There were dozens upon dozens, if not hundreds of heroes with ties to UA. All of those heroes would have people close to them. The majority of those heroes would have people who would pester them into recommendation. It was only common sense, Shouto thought belatedly as he followed his father into a wide hall, that there would be a large number of teens all clamoring to get in. Afterall, UA was the pride of Japan. UA was the school to get in to, not only for hero-work, but for any vocation. If you got into UA, even just Gen Ed, it was almost a guarantee that you’d be hired as soon as you entered the market.

            Even Shouto didn’t recognize all of the heroes present. There sheer number was staggering. Each hero was standing beside at least one candidate. A few of the more bold were shepherding two or three kids. All sorts of quirks were represented, some that were physical and others that were less obvious. There were so many people, that it made the expansive hall look cramped, claustrophobic. Oppressively so.

            Entirely against his well, Shouto found himself falling into his father’s shadow, instinctively stepping into the space that Endeavor’s supremely unwelcoming aura had cleared in his wake. They drew looks from many people in the room. Some people tried to get their attention, tried to draw them into conversation. Endeavor sneered at all of them. Shouto ignored them.

            The far doors flew open.

            Many people, even some of the heroes, startled. Principal Nedzu, a small white animal-thing, entered alone. The babbling din of the crowd surged, then faded. The doors creaked on their hinges, slowly closing behind the principal as he cheerily made his way through the crowd, smiling and nodding at everyone. There was a rush of noise, and several more Pros – heroes who worked for UA – followed close behind.

            Cementoss, unflappable as ever, was next to step through after the principal, with Snipe not far behind. Present Mic, Eraserhead, and Ectoplasm entered together, apparently deep in some conversation. Lastly, Midnight sashayed in.

            Principal Nedzu quickly adjusted a wired microphone attached to his furry face, and clapped his forepaws to get everyone’s attention, not that he needed to. Everyone was already watching him in earnest.

            “Hmmm, not as many candidates this year,” Nedzu chuckled. Shouto’s eyebrow twitched. “Makes the decisions easier, then! As you all know, there is no limit to how many of you can be accepted into our student roster. The only determining factor is your potential as a hero! You all could have taken the entrance exam,” Nedzu gave a short laugh. “That would have been far easier. Instead, everyone here will risk their own future academic career and UA’s respect of the person who recommended them!”

            Shouto could almost feel the tension in the room. Endeavor let a hand drop onto Shouto’s shoulder. His grip was painful. Shouto could smell the fabric of his Tee burning.

            “Everyone!” Nedzu clapped his paws for attention again, and again it was unnecessary. No one dared take their eyes off the rodent man. It seemed like at least half the candidates had stopped breathing. “Along the far wall, please take note of the signs!” Shouto, and the majority of the other kids, turned their heads to see where the principal was gesturing. A row of screens suddenly turned on. Lit up on their faces were things like “A-E”, “F-L”, and so on. Beneath each sign, a teacher had stood.

            “Please line up according to last name!” Nedzu ordered. “You’ll all receive a pager, and have a one-on-one opportunity with a member of our staff to convince that hero as to why you would be a good fit. What that entails…” Nedzu smiles. “Well, you’ll just have to see. Anyone caught dealing out spoilers” Nedzu quirked his furry little head to one side. “Will be escorted from the property.”

            There was a pause.

            “Well? Go on!”

            The student hopefuls all jumped into action at once. Endeavor gave Shouto a non-too-gentle shove towards the correct line. Everyone moved quickly, eager for their turn, so Shouto was rapidly shuffled to the front of the line where Ectoplasm handed him a small, black pager with the number 31 glowing in red. Out of habit, Shouto fount himself returning to his father’s side.

            Endeavor took a look at the pager, and exhaled smoke in annoyance at the prospect of a long wait. Shouto didn’t bother addressing it, instead taking out his phone.

            “You’d better have a strategy ready, Shouto.” Shouto looked up at his father with a flat expression. Endeavor’s fire seemed to be more chaotic today than it normally was. Was there any question that Shouto would make it in? Shouto found it doubtful, if for no other reason than the fact that UA probably knew that Shouto had been training his whole life for the hero track.

            “Yes,” Shouto lied, as he opened up his internet browser.

            He’d managed to hunt down three other quality fansites for the “EraserMic” family, one of which was completely dedicated to just the boys. They all seemed to have multiple admins, several of whom were rather talented at getting candid shots.

            “Katsuki Bakugo has an explosion quirk” one user had posted. “His surrogate mother sweats glycerin. I’m not sure how Present Mic’s quirk works, since he keeps it so far under wraps. But if the surrogate’s quirk somehow combined with Present Mic’s quirk, would that explain Bakugo’s?”

            Shouto followed the thread with carefully hidden eagerness. The last time he showed too much emotion while scrolling through his phone, his father had demanded to see what was on the screen.

            Luckly, Shouto had managed to subtly tap the screen to switch tabs to a more…innocent site. But still, freaking heart-attack moment.

            Most of the replies were theorizing on the mechanics of Present Mic’s quirk, and Shouto had to admit that a lot of what they were saying sounded convincing. Shouto had seen the Voice Hero’s quirk in action and it was certainly explosive.

            “But what about the littler one?” commented another. “That would mean he’s Eraserhead’s bio kid. Mrs. Midoriya has telekinesis, doesn’t she? How would that combine with Erasure?”

            Shouto frowned. There weren’t any replies to this comment.

            And no wonder. The question was a puzzler. There was always a possibility that the Midoriya boy hadn’t gotten any of his quirk from his surrogate. Shouto wished he knew more about Eraserhead’s family quirk-history. It would give him a better idea of what exactly Erasure was. Shouto thought back to the Slime Villain incident. Shouto had watched every available second of footage, and he couldn’t see any sign of a quirk being used by the greenette.

            Was the green hair natural? Was that part of the quirk?

            Shouto flinched and fumbled with his phone as the pager unexpectedly started to rumble. His phone dropped to the ground with an embarrassing clatter, and several people turned to see the source of the commotion. Shouto managed to keep a straight face as he bend down and picked up his phone, inwardly sighing in relief as he saw that there were no cracks.

            “Get. Going.” Endeavor ground out from beside him. Shouto nodded and stuffed his phone in his pants pocket, clutching the pager and making his way to where Ectoplasm’s screen now displayed “Q-U; 31”.

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            Aizawa saw next to Principal Nedzu, unhappily staring at half a dozen screens where his colleagues were dealing with a bunch of wannabe-hero brats. Some were just chatting, some were in the middle of heavy debates, some were sparring, some were observing quirk usage. A young woman managed to create an entire armory’s worth of weapons out of her own body. Aizawa saw the dedicated look in her eyes, and nodded to himself.

            He flipped through the files until he found her assigned number. Momo Yaoyorozu, creation quirk. The daughter of a couple of billionaires, and yet here she was, trying to get into UA. Her recommendation was bought, no doubt about it. That wasn’t an issue though, to Aizawa, that only made it all the more impressive that this young woman actually deserved it.

            He rolled up her file and used it to smack a big green button underneath that particular screen. A light within the room shown on that screen lit up green. Midnight, who had been the one talking to her, gave her a bright smile.

            Nedzu chuckled. Aizawa bit his tongue, knowing better than to invite conversation with the damn rat. With a huff, Aizawa hit a red button underneath a screen that showed an immature child using his quirk to try and threaten Hizashi into letting him into UA.

            “Only one so far?” Nedzu prompted.

            Aizawa exhaled through his nose, deeply. “That’s one more than last year,” he drawled.

            “Hm~” Nedzu leaned back in his chair. “Now this is an interesting one. What do you think?” Aizawa turned to look at the screen the rat was currently gazing at. It was Endeavor’s boy. Aizawa knew that this kid would be here, today. There was no way on earth that Endeavor would miss a shot and showing off his prize creation.

            Normally, Aizawa would reject the kid just on principal. But three things surprised him, which gave him pause. The first surprise was that the kid didn’t challenge Ectoplasm to a fight, like Aizawa would have expected from the spawn of Endeavor. The second surprise was that Todoroki seemed…very subdued. Not at all like his father. He kept his face extraordinarily blank and his posture scarily perfect.

            Against his will, something in the back of Aizawa’s brain niggled at the familiarity of it.

            And, lastly…the kid had his hair styled…oddly.

            Aizawa hit the green button.

            Nedzu chuckled.

            Aizawa ignored him.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki mostly tuned Deku out as his nerd mumbled out observations during their first venture onto the grounds of UA high school. Well, Deku’s first venture. For Katsuki…

            It felt like coming home.

            Everything was familiar. The way the sun warmed his skin, his face. The sound of extras in the background. The sight of students swarming for the towering gates. Even the way the breeze curled around the buildings, the skyline surrounding the campus. He saw a smattering of his future classmates hidden among the extras. Despite the fact that he fucking hated their guts, he had to remind himself a few times that he couldn’t just call out and get their attention. They didn’t know him yet.

            Even still, he felt his face relaxing when he caught sight of Pikachu flirting with some chick, and Glasses robotically directing traffic like he was a staff member or something.

            Deku hugged his arm more tightly, getting his attention. “You’re in a good mood!” The wimp observed with a wide grin. “This is gonna be great! I can feel it! I wonder what the other people’s quirks will be like! I wonder if we’ll take the exam with anyone that we’ll end up being classmates with. Do you think we’ll see sensei at all there? I know Papa Mic said that he’d be around, but I cant remember if sensei said anything. I’m so glad that you’re happy, though, Kacchan! I-“

            The fucking moron tripped over absolutely nothing.

            Katsuki was content to just let the nerd faceplant, but a figure quickly ducked over and whapped Deku across the shoulder.

            “Are you okay?”

            Round Face.

            Katsuki was ready to tell her where she could stick her nose, but then he got a good look at her. Her face was…well..round. Rounder than he was used to, anyway. And she just looked…soft. Young, horribly young. Unmarred and unjaded. This didn’t look like the Uraraka that Katsuki had grown to trust to have his back in a fight. This was…

            “A fucking infant.”

            Round Face reared back.

            “Excuse you!” she said, appalled. “I am not!” Deku suddenly collapsed to the ground, Round Face apparently having released her quirk.

            “Wasn’t talking about you, Sweet Cheeks,” Katsuki lied. “I mean Deku. Fucking infant can’t even walk.”

            “Oh” first she looked pacified, but then she looked offended. “Hey! That’s not nice either!”

            “I-I-I-I-I” Deku’s entire face was red. Oh, that’s right. He had a crush on her at first, didn’t he. It’s weird to think about, considering the fact that Deku ended up being her “Bride’s Man” at her wedding.

            “I’m not nice,” Katsuki shrugged as he bent down to grab Deku by the arm. He hauled his nerd up onto his feet. Then grabbed his palms and checked for scrapes. “You need the fucking nurse, you klutz?”

            “N-n-n-n-n” Deku seemed to be growing more red by the second.

            “You hit your damn head?” Katsuki asked.

            “N-n-n-n-n”

            A giggle from Round Face stole Katsuki’s attention away from Deku. “Aw,” she cooed. Ah, that’s more like the Round Face he was used to. “You’re actually really sweet, aren’t you.”

            “Bite me,” Katsuki snorted, hiding a smile with a snarl. “and find out. I dare you.”

            “No thanks,” she grinned. “Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see you later! Try not to fall again, Deku! That would be bad luck!” She skipped off, and Katsuki frowned. He’d thought that she’d hung out with Deku during the exam. Did he change something again?

            “I talked to a girl!!!”

            Katsuki looked over at Deku, then huffed and ruffled the mop of green hair.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

ALLLL RIGHT, LISTENERS! EVERYBODY SAY HEEEEEEEEEY!!!!!!!!!!!

            The auditorium was filled with teens. Some were sitting on the edge of their seats. Some where sunk down, seemingly trying to hide. Some, like Izuku, were barely hanging on to coherency because of their excitement. Some, like Kacchan, seemed bored. Except, Izuku knew Kacchan. His best friend wasn’t bored, his Kacchan was thinking about something.

            But, that wasn’t surprising, Izuku could barely help the flow of words tumbling from his mouth. Everyone here was so interesting! And he was so excited to be able to use One for All in the exam! And to see Kacchan in action! And all the other quirks!

            Papa Mic was standing at the front with a microphone. As he tried to prompt the crowd into responding, he cupped one hand, studded with rings, around an ear. Izuku felt horrible second-hand embarrassment for Mic when it suddenly got so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

            Then.

            “Hey.”

            A quiet bubbling of giggles and chuckles peppered the room in response to Kacchan’s deadpan, entirely unenthusiastic reply to Present Mic. But, then, several other of the more excited students began to cheer and clap, some stamped their feet. Present Mic was beaming.

            “GOOOOOOD MORNING!” Present Mic laughed. Then, he launched into an explanation of the entrance exam. Izuku couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected that he and Kacchan would be tested in separate areas. Well, it made sense that they wouldn’t want friends to compete against each other during such a vital exam. After all, Izuku wasn’t sure what he would do if he were pitted against Kacchan. Then again, it could also be to ensure that no one teamed up with their friends to gain an unfair advantage…

            “And You!”

            Izuku started. “Me?” A stern looking boy with glasses was standing up, pointing at him. It seemed like everyone was suddenly looking at him. “You’ve been muttering this whole time!”

            “And you’re being rude,” Kacchan suddenly spoke up in a drawl. “It’s pretty petty to interrupt a pro hero’s presentation just to make fun of another kid. That’s not very hero-like, is it?”

            Izuku felt his ears go red, but it was nothing like the shame that suddenly seemed to overtake the boy with glasses who had stood up. The other boy gave a sincere apology, to both Izuku and to Mic, before bowing to the room at large and collapsing into his seat.

            Present Mic cleared his throat, regaining control of the room. “That was an excellent question though, listener! The fourth and final category of robot…”

            Izuku looked out of the side of his eyes and Kacchan, who didn’t seem to be paying much attention. That’s okay, though. Neither was Izuku, really. Sensei had already told them a lot. Not everything, but enough. Even still, Kacchan seemed really relaxed.

            Kacchan was never this relaxed in public. Especially not when faced with so many unfamiliar people. Was Kacchan…faking it?

            Izuku bit his bottom lip. He hoped Kacchan wasn’t putting on such a brave face, in order to put Izuku at ease. But, if he was, that was such a Kacchan thing to do. Izuku reached over and grabbed Kacchan’s hand, squeezing it between both of his own. His best friend looked over, a confused wrinkled between his eyebrows. But then he squeezed Izuku’s hand in return, before looking back towards Mic.

            He made a mental note to have a private talk with sensei when he and Kacchan got home.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki stepped off the bus with a deep exhale. It was uncomfortably hot.

            Perfect.

            Katsuki could already feel his sweat glands working overtime. Those dumbass trashbots wouldn’t know what killed them. All around him, extras chattered with nervous energy. Towards the middle of the bunch, Pinky and Pikachu had already made nice and were discussing some nerd show. Katsuki half wanted to approach them, but he knew that wasn’t how they met.

            Then he paused.

            How the fuck did they meet?

            Katsuki frowned at himself, scowling at the dusty earth beneath his shoes. In many ways…it feels like he’d always known them. They’d always just…been there. Katsuki growled and rolled his shoulders, pulling himself out of it. Cementoss would be giving the signal soon. He let his quirk spark, just a little.

            “You ready?” Katsuki snapped his head up.

            “You think I’m not,” Katsuki challenged, “Shitstain?”

            Shinsou gave him a tired looking smile. Katsuki sneered at him. Did the asshole really show up to the UA entrance exam sleep deprived? How the fuck was he going to…

            Katsuki’s eyes widened. What was Shitstain supposed to do against fucking robots?

            “I think the real challenge is gonna be getting to the robots before you blow everything up,” Shinsou was still smiling. But Katsuki could tell that the kid was worried. And for good reason.

            “Listen up, you little shit, I’m only gonna say this once,” Katsuki dropped his voice into a whisper. Shinsou’s face was suddenly very serious as he leaned forward to let Katsuki whisper near his ear. “Don’t go after the robots. Just focus on making sure no idiot get’s themselves squished or fried. Got it?”

            “What?” Shinsou narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try to get points?”

            “Trust me,” Katsuki growled.

            Shinsou’s posture lost some of its defensiveness.

            “What’re you going to do?”

            Katsuki bared his teeth.

            “I’ma kill some shit.”

            “TIME START!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

So, as many of you know, June is Pride Month.
It's also BTS FESTA month.
In light of this, I'm going to try to post more often. Feel free to pester me in the comments if I end up not following through. But, I'm really going to try to update at least three times a week for the duration of June. That said, I have absolutely no idea how long this story is gonna end up being.
Also, Also, In light of Pride Month, I decided to come out to yall.

Hi! My name is Wawa (she, her) and I'm asexual <3 I just wanted to tell you all, that no matter your age, skin color, religion, culture, sexuality or gender identity - you are valid, and filled with so much potential for good.

Love you <3 Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.

Chapter 14

Summary:

The exam.
Yeeeee

Notes:

See, guys! Another update! Hopefully I can keep up this momentum. I really want to update like I said I would.
Also, YOU GUYS ARE THE SWEETEST.
Thank you, everyone, who commented on the last chapter. Its your comments and kudos that make writing this story so rewarding. Thanks.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Izuku felt strangely alone, not having Kacchan with him. It was different than when he had to go to school by himself last semester, because, at least there, he knew a handful of people and the scenery was familiar. Here, there was nothing familiar for him to rely on. He awkwardly shuffled off the stuffy bus with the rest of his group, and onto the dusty dirt out front of a fake city. There were probably three dozen other kids. Izuku wondered how many wouldn’t make it.

            He was scanning the crowd, trying to get a read on his competition’s quirks, when he saw the nice girl from earlier. The one who had stopped him from falling. He smiled, widely. She had been nice to Kacchan, he remembered. And Kacchan seemed to not mind her so much. Instantly, Izuku found himself hoping that she did really well, so that the three of them could be friends the following school year. Izuku took a step towards her.

            A tall figure blocked his path.

            “You there!”

            Izuku flinched, and looked up slowly. It was the scary boy with glasses from earlier, who had called Izuku out for his muttering. The boy frowned at him. “While I will admit that I might have been out of line, confronting you in such a public and inappropriate setting, I cannot abide the thought of you distracting the other examinees!”

            “I-I-I-I” Izuku tried to defend himself, but then he realized that was exactly what he had been planning on doing, however inadvertently. Izuku hung his head. “Sorry,” Izuku said meekly. “I only wanted to make friends.”

            The boy’s stern face cracked, just the slightest bit. But, before there could be any more conversation, Izuku heard Papa Mic’s familiar voice scream “START!”

            Instantly, Izuku took off towards the gates, which had already begun to open. He ignored Mic’s further prompting of the students who had hesitated, instead, attempting to activate only the barest hint of One for All. He allowed a proud smile as the familiar needling raced up his legs, pretty blue sparks dancing along his pants and shoes. The wind flew through his hair.

            Then, he realized that the boy with glasses was keeping pace, right beside him.

            “You’re fast!” Izuku said in surprise.

            “So are you!” the boy replied, but the leaped to the side. Just in time. The space that the boy had been in moments before suddenly burst at contact with a bright red beam. Izuku yelped and dove for cover. He shuffled behind a wall, and took a peek backwards. They had reached the first of the robots. Many people had already begun to take them out. The pretty girl was floating them up and letting them crash to the ground. The boy with glasses was delivering some devastating kicks to their machinery. Some blonde boy was taking out a good number with his…bellybutton laser?

            Izuku clenched his fists. He felt the power in his bones. No, that’s a mistake. Closing his eyes, Izuku forced the power outwards, on the surface of his skin. Having that much energy contained in his bones was a recipe for disaster…and broken bones. Instead, Izuku manifested One for All on the outside of his skin, and watched with satisfaction as it crackled and shimmered like a forcefield.

            “Good luck, Kacchan” Izuku whispered as he knelt. Getting ready to jump into the fray. Izuku caught sight of a three-pointer, and locked on to his target. “Ready…and…” he took a deep breath.

            “DIEEEEEE!!!!!!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“TIME START!”

Eijiro nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout, as did many of the kids around him. Eijiro looked all around for the source of the voice, but instead of seeing some sort of referee, his eyes were drawn to the sight of a boy flying through the air towards the gates. He was throwing himself through the air with an amazing grace, considering that he was being propelled by fiery blasts exploding from his palms.

            And, the look on the guy’s face. Determined…didn’t even come close to describing that almost vicious smile. The dude made quite a sight, with his teeth bared and his cool scarf flowing out behind him like a cape.

            “He’s so manly…” Eijiro couldn’t help but gasp. Then, he realized that other kids were slowly beginning to follow the boy’s example, and rush for the gate. His eyes widened in panic. No! He was already behind? Eijiro pumped his legs harder than he even thought he could, managing to close the gap between himself and the group of examinees, then push through to the front of the pack.

            “What are you waiting for!” the voice from earlier seemed to taunt. “The exam has started! The clock is already running! You have one hour.” For a moment, Eijiro felt a little sick. But then, the nausea hardened into fire! Or…wait. Fire isn’t hard. BUT SPIRIT IS!

            ….wait, no it isn’t.

             A laser smacked him hard in the face. It knocked him back like two feet, but, luckily, his quirk was basically instinct at this point, or something, so he’d activated it just in time. Another shot arced towards some bird-like boy, and Eijiro was quick to throw out a (hardened) hand and catch it.

            “WHOOOO!” Eijiro cheered. “THAT WAS HOT! OW!”

            “…thanks,” said the bird-boy as some kind of creepy demon extended from his gut and slashed at the robot.

            “Duuude that’s so cool!” Eijiro smiled at him. “Bye!” He lunged forward, gripping the leg of a nearby robot. The robot tried to fling him off, and Eijiro let himself get flung into the air. As he fell back down, he curled up and activated his quirk, ricocheting off of the robot and onto another one, crushing both. “YAS!” Eijiro cheered as he stumbled back onto his feet, feeling just a tad dizzy. “THAT SECOND ONE WAS AN ACCIDENT!”

            “Watch out!”

            A hunk of broken metal, that looked wickedly sharp, sliced through the air past his ear. It would have taken off part of Eijiro’s head, if it hadn’t been for a dead-looking zombie kid that had pulled him to the side, last minute. “Thanks, bro!” Eijiro grinned at him. “Good luck!” Eijiro threw a thumbs up and jogged off, in search for more robots.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“SMASH!”

Izuku pounded both feet down onto the body of a robot, crumpling it like a soda can. Then, he took hold of a handful of the metal skin and launched it at a robot a dozen meters away. Izuku smirked in satisfaction as the projectile entered the robot on one side, and exited the other at a high enough speed that it imbedded itself into the body of a third robot.

            Izuku was feeling pretty good about himself.

            He’d been nervous when sensei first told him that they’d be facing down robots, but now that he was actually here…it almost felt too easy. The robots were nothing. The targeting functions seemed to only rarely actually target the test takers. Or else, the targeting functions were just really bad, because the robots almost always missed. Even at stationary targets. Also, they were slow and clunky.

            Izuku shrugged himself out of that train of thought. He needed to focus, he couldn’t afford to take it easy. Not only would that hurt his shot at actually getting into UA, but it wasn’t fair to sensei to not give his all. It wasn’t fair to All Might after he’d been given such a great responsibility. He shouldn’t coast. He shouldn’t accept being good enough.

            “PLUS ULTRA!” Izuku screeched as he zoomed towards his next target.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa sighed, watching his younger problem child throw around giant death-bots like they were action figures.

            “Someone’s having fun,” muttered Midnight from the observation station next to him.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi felt divided.

            On one hand, he did trust Bakugo. On the other, it just felt wrong to not be going after the robots. Would they really let him in without any points? Just because he was going around helping people?

            Hitoshi grabbed the arm of some pink girl with freaky eyes and forced her to duck beneath a jabbing robot arm. “Oh, geez!” the girl wheezed. “Scary!” Then she flung acid at it’s sensor. “Thanks!”

            Hitoshi nodded and kept moving, looking for someone else who needed a hand. Or a shove. Hitoshi scowled. That’s basically all he was doing – shoving or pulling or grabbing or throwing people out of the way of danger. The test was about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes in, and Hitoshi had a grand total of absolutely no points at all.

            But he did trust Bakugo. More than that, Bakugo’s dads worked at UA, so if anyone knew a secret, cheaty way for kids like Hitoshi – kids whose quirks were horrible for this test – to get in, it would be Bakugo. Hitoshi ran, then slid underneath the hulking body of a robot, managing to kick some short kid out of the way of a lazer blast.

            “Hey!” yelled the boy, shaking some weird purple orb at him as they regained their bearings. “Watch it, weirdo!” Hitoshi ignored him, and threw a piece of debris at a robot that was targeting some plant chick.

            The robot switched its attention from the girl to Hitoshi, or, it turned to where Hitoshi had been. Shinsou had been quick to slip away, leaving the short purple kid to deal with the robot.

            Hitoshi panted as he ran deeper and deeper into the heart of the fake city. Every now and then he’d pause to help someone out, but for the most part he tried to keep moving. He knew, he knew that he had no chance of taking down one of the robots. Not for the first time, Hitoshi was horribly jealous of Bakugo’s explosion quirk, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it for long. Afterall, Hitoshi’s quirk would normally work absolutely fine…just, not for robots.

            If only he were able to use his quirk against other students…

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“BOOYAH!” Eijiro howled as he sucker punched a robot in the face. “I’m awesome!”

            Eijiro fistbumped a robot to his left, sending it stumbling off course, before it was able to launch an attack at a fellow student-hopeful. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have hit it hard enough to completely render it dysfunctional. The robot skidded, sparks flying up from where metal hit pavement, but it still managed to fire several blasts at him. He was forced to duck and roll for cover, hardening his back against both the concrete and the attack. A metal arm smashed down in front of him. Ejiro laughed, and smashed his own arms down on top of it, quirk activated, actively severing the limb from the robot.

            A blast from the robot he’d, kind stupidly, forgotten about knocked him in the back of his unprotected head. Eijiro jumbled forward, ending up somewhat underneath the robot he’d just amputated. It smashed it’s body downward, with an absolutely manly squeal of terror, Eijiro hardened his entire body. It didn’t hurt him, but the sight of a death machine trying to belly squash you is not a fun one.

            Eijiro braces himself on his back, kicking both of his legs upwards. It sends that bot rolling, but it also clears Eijiro’s field of vision, allowing him to see that a third bot had joined up with the two he was already fighting. Eijiro groaned, and tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t used his quirk so much in one sitting since…ever. And, while he considered himself a pretty fit, active guy, who’s idea of a fun afternoon was hanging with his buds in the gym, or something, he was already beginning to feel like he was dying. His muscles ached, and his skin felt scarily brittle. Eijiro didn’t know if it was some unknown sideaffect of using his quirk so much – which would suck – or just his imagination.

            Two of the robots blasted at once. He managed to deflect the lasers, but wasn’t fast enough to stop the third robot from jabbing at him with its claw. Eijiro had a split second to worry about it, activate his quirk and pray, before an explosion erupted right in front of his nose.

            He blinked.

            The robot was gone. Four smoldering legs were all that remained.

            In its place, was the hot guy from earlier. The ends of his scarf were slightly singed, but honestly it just added to his whole manly aesthetic. One explosion to the left, fiery palm strike to the right and the other two robots were husks. Eijiro gaped. The guy turned, leveling his narrowed, ruby red eyes at Eijiro. He was standing with his head slightly tilted back, stance relaxed. One arm was outstretched, the hand smoking from the palm. This dude was fierce times, like, 10.

            Not to mention friggin ripped.

            The guy’s eyes widen as he meet’s Eijiro’s stare. What was the guy seeing, that made him look like that? Eijiro was overcome with the need to say something, anything.

             “I like your scarf” Eijiro blurted out. “It’s super cool. I mean, it actually looks kind of hot? WARM! It looks warm. It’s super warm today, so I was surprised you were wearing a scarf but, hey man, your fashion sense in on point.” Eijiro ended with an awkward laugh that sounded desperate even to his own ears and oh gods kill him now. Where’s a death robot when you need it.

            “Thanks. Bakugo.” It takes Eijiro a second to realize that the other boy is introducing himself. His face burns as he hurries to straighten himself and reply.

            “Kirishima! Bro, you’re so freaking manly. How did you do that? It was epic!”

            The boy’s face slowly turns a vivid pink, spreading from the apples of his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears, poking out of his ashy white hair. Eijiro is somewhat taken aback. How could someone so manly act so….?

            “Fucking whatever” the boy, Bakugo, looks away. Probably to hide his blush. “I’d better see you in class, Fuck munch.”

            So manly…but also…

            Then he’s gone, flown off with his manly quirk. Eijiro’s probably smiling real stupid as he replies to the dust cloud left in the other boy’s wake. “Cute.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

He hadn’t recognized him at first, and wow that hurt in ways that Katsuki couldn’t even begin to fathom. He hadn’t recognized his one time lover, boyfriend, fiancé. The idiot looked nothing like the Kirishima that Katsuki had in mind when he was psyching himself up to meet the other boy in class that fall. For starters…he was small.

Katsuki didn’t know why it kept shocking him, but it always managed to take him by surprise. In his memories, even young Kirishima, Uraraka, Deku, Kaminari, Ashido, Sero, Todoroki…they all seemed larger than life. Literally. Because when he saw Uravity, he couldn’t help but stare at her arms. Stare at how thin and pale and soft they looked. Sometimes, when he got a good look at Deku, he’d get a weird sense of vertigo. Because it was Deku, for sure, but also too small and delicate to be Deku.

And Kirishima?

He kid was obviously built, obviously a hard worker, obviously strong for his age. His age…which was a mere fifteen. His cheeks were still round and squishy. Even his nose was round with babyfat that would later disappear as Eijiro was molded by test and time into the chiseled, sharpened hero of the future. He was short. His shoulders were narrower than Katsuki remembered.

His hair was black. Katsuki hadn’t known that Eijiro only started dying it red after the exam. He’d only ever known a Kirishima with blazing red hair, as bold as his spirit and as bright as his smile.

He’d thought again and again, how he would treat this young Kirishima. Afterall, this wasn’t his lover. This was a kid who didn’t know him from Adam. He’d thought it be hard to remember that. He’d thought that it would be a struggle, separating the two Eijiros, keeping them both in their respective boxes.

But, when his eyes met Kirishima’s, and he’d recognized that face…

All he saw was a baby. He didn’t see his Eijiro. For a millisecond, he was overcome with pain. But then Baby Kiri had opened his fucking mouth and word vomited in a way that simultaneously made him feel better and worse. Baby Kiri thought he was manly. His face burned. Then his eyes burned.

He turned away.

“I’d better see you in class, Fuck munch.”

Then he took off. He didn’t want to look at the tiny version of the love of his life for even a second longer. All at once, the punk was everything he lost, everything he wanted, everything he stood to gain.

The fake city shook, a slow rumbling that quickly grew to resemble an earthquake. Katsuki’s heart was pounding in his ears. His eyes were still burning, and he could barely see because of the fucking eye sweat, but the took off in the direction of the source. Before long, the Zero-Pointer made itself known.

Katsuki rocketed straight for it. He screamed, more animal than human in that moment.

DIEEEEEEEEEE

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa was really freaking proud of his brats. For a second, he wished that he’d been able to bring the both of them back to his home, safe under his watch. He’d taken the night off, gotten a coworker to cover his patrol due to having to spend the last several days helping the rat with the entrance exams. It would have been nice to have both boys over for dinner.

            But, Izuku and Inko deserved to have some time together. Aizawa also had the sneaking suspicion that Yagi may have been invited over to the Midoriya residence to celebrate. Aizawa rolled his eyes, fondly. The problem child deserved to celebrate. He’d aced the written exam (as expected, but Aizawa was proud of Izuku nonetheless), and done very well in the practical.

            Aizawa slowly opened the door to Katsuki’s room. The moonlight from the window lit up a patch of his explosive little stray’s face. Katsuki was sleeping, soundly, his socked feet sticking out of his little blanket nest. Aizawa’s old, stolen scarf was still wrapped around the boy’s neck. Aizawa huffed and knelt beside him. With a gentle hand, he tilted Kacchan’s head upwards. With the other, he slowly unwound the scarf. Then, he relaxed Kacchan’s head back onto the pillow.

            He bundled the scarf into a misshapen ball, and tucked it between Kacchan’s arms. Instantly, the boy gripped it tightly, clutching it to his chest, and curling around it like he was actually a kitten. Aizawa felt that horrible, warm, bubbling feeling he associated with his boys rise up in his chest. Kacchan snuffled his face against the fabric of the scarf.

            Kacchan did well in ways that made Aizawa feel indescribably fulfilled. “Proud” didn’t come close to covering it. He did amazingly on the written exam, especially considering his academic history. He didn’t ace it, but he did place in the top 1%. Not to mention that he got the most points out of all the practical exam takers. 84 destruction points, and 33 rescue points. Add that in with the fact that he (like Midoriya) had obliterated the Zero-Pointer (except Kacchan seemed to have blown his up just for the fun of it. But, that’s okay. Let him have his fun.)

            Slowly, so as not to disturb him, Aizawa pulled the biggest blanket out from where it was bunched up and tangled around the teen’s limbs. Then, he spread it out over Kacchan’s sleeping form, tucking in the edges, and folding the top part down to uncover his face.

            One red eye slides open. Aizawa leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Kacchan’s brow. When he pulls back, the eye is closed again.

            With a groan and several joint pops, Aizawa stands back up.

            “Kittycat did so well,” whispered Mic from the doorway. Aizawa took a step to the side, to allow his friend room to say goodnight to the boy as well. Ever since Mic and Katsuki had bonded, his best friend had all but moved in. Now that Hizashi was around like this, now that Aizawa had had the chance to see Hizashi interact with the boys, he realized just how much he’d been missing his best friend when Aizawa had been trying to hide his students from him.

            How much better would life had been, if Aizawa had involved Hizashi from the get-go? But, then, not even Aizawa knew, at the start, just how much those two brats would come to mean to him.

            Aizawa watches Mic pet Kacchan’s hair for a few moments, before kissing the child in the same way that Aizawa had. With a blinding smile, Hizashi cast his shining eyes up at Aizawa, then back down at Katsuki. Aizawa experienced a brief, painful bout of heartburn. With a sad sigh, Hizashi got back to his feet and followed Aizawa out.

            “Gah” Snaps and crackles pop along Hizashi’s spine as he reaches towards the ceiling. Aizawa winces at the sound. “Shouuuuutaaaa. I’m pooped.”

            Aizawa doesn’t have the energy to respond with anything more than a grunt. Hizashi gives a snort, clutching the back of Aizawa’s shirt as the two make their way to the master bedroom. Idly, Aizawa tells himself that he has to pick up the house tomorrow. Their room is covered with discarded clothing and papers, and the bed has been unmade for the past month. But, Aizawa yawns, that’s a problem for tomorrow.

            Mic wanders into the conjoined half bathroom to get ready for bed, as Aizawa does little more than kick off his shoes and shuck off his shirt before collapsing on top of the blankets.

            He’s almost out by the time Hizashi finishes up in the bathroom.

            “Lazy butt,” Mic teases him when he comes back in, flicking off the lights before crawling over Aizawa to reach his own side, by the wall. Aizawa lets his friend wrestle with the comforter, until Hizashi rips it out from underneath Aizawa’s limp body in order to snuggle up and burrow underneath it. Hisashi melts along Aizawa’s side, and Aizawa finds himself relaxing into his warmth.

            “Our kid kicked ass,” Aizawa mumbled into his pillow, eyes shut wearily. He was expecting something like a Hell Yeah!

            But nothing came. Was Hizashi already asleep? Aizawa slowly dragged one eye open. He was faced with Hisashi’s watery gaze. “What?”

            A calloused hand cupped Aizawa’s cheek, prompting him to pry his second eye open as well. He watched as Hizashi slid forward until their noses were aligned, side by side, and their foreheads were pressed together. Aizawa slumped further into his friend’s space.

            “Yeah,” Hisashi laughed, wetly. “He did.”

            Aizawa smiled softly, letting his eyes fall back shut as a pair of dry lips pressed against his cheek.

Notes:

So, just some fluff. Because i like fluff.

Also, I'd love to hear any ideas you guys have for this story. What direction should I take it in? What random details should I add? I'm literally writing this as I go. Idk where it will end up or what will happen. I have no plans...
Sorry?

Chapter 15

Summary:

Kind of Filler

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Eijiro was in trouble. He knew it a solidly as he trusted his quirk. He was in trouble, and there was no saving him. He was doomed.

He watched in awe as Bakugo flew like a friggin bullet towards the Zero-pointer. Fear curled in his stomach. This thing was enormous, easily the size of an office building and menacing as hell. The street beneath it was crushed and crumbled like stale bread. A single swipe from it toppled structures. Kids fled from it in droves like ants.

            What the heck was Bakugo thinking? Eijiro’s feet carried him forward before he really had a chance to think about it. His eyes never left the flying figure as he bounded over obstacles and dashed between the retreating bodies of the would-be students. Bakugo’s quirk acted like twin jets, propelling him ever closer to the giant doom-bot.

            Building pieces began to fall, more and more, as he got closer. It was hard for Eijiro to keep his hardened form up while he was running, particularly when he was trying to be nimble. It made his joints stiff, but that’s to be expected, he supposes. Nevertheless, he tried his best to keep it up, letting the debris bounce harmlessly off of his skin.

            Somehow, Eijiro managed to keep running, even when Bakugo collided with the robot. With a deafening BOOM, Bakugo smashed into the thing, leaving a huge, smoking hole. Then, the boy expertly leaped back, away from the robot, using his quirk to maneuver midair, to blast…pellets? What the heck was this guy’s quirk?

            The robot batted at Bakugo, like he was some sort of fly. The explosive kid landed on the limb,  and smacked both of his hands downward with a blast. The robot creaked and shuddered as its now-useless claw dropped to the pavement. Eijiro was knocked onto his ass from the resulting earth-shaking force.

            “The moron…” Eijiro looked up. To his left was the zombie kid from earlier, just standing there watching Bakugo, cool as a cucumber. The zombie kid lifted the corner of his lips at Eijiro. “He’s really some kind of monster, isn’t he?”

            Eijiro felt indignant, ready to defend Bakugo, but something about zombie kid’s posture spoke more about respect than any ill-will. “He’s…something, all right,” Eijiro replied with. “I was gonna try and jump in, but,” he looked back up to where Bakugo had ripped out the robot’s eye-sensor. “It doesn’t look like he needs much help.”

            “Nah,” zombie kid agreed. “Bakugo can handle himself.”

            Eijiro’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know him?” He asked. “I thought they were separating people who know each other.”

            Zombie kid shrugged. “They separate kids who went to school together.”

            The Zero-Pointer began to tilt forward in their general direction, creaking and groaning. Eijiro couldn’t help but stare. It was like watching a huge, scary, metal tree fall. “Are you stupid!?” Zombie kid grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to his feet, then kept dragging him as the giant robot toppled downwards. The street where Eijiro had been not thirty seconds prior was completely smushed into ruin.

            “Uh,” Eijiro winced. “Thanks, dude.”

            Zombie kid scoffed, and looked back to where Bakugo was standing on top of the zero-pointer, still smiling that vicious, manly not-smile and stomping on it. There were no other robot’s in sight.

            “TIME!”

            With that, the exam had ended. People who needed medical attention were taken care of. Those who had not taken the written portion of the exam were herded off for a break to recover their wits before the test, and those who had already taken it were given a snack and sent home with instructions to wait for their results, which would be sent to them within a few weeks.

            Eijiro had walked home, feeling sort of numb and…strangely depressed?

            The thrum of excitement and action and manliness was still thrumming through him. It was like his body still wanted to fight, to run, to leap, to use his quirk even though his brain was telling him that it was time to stop. He got on the train home a bit robotically, not looking around at anyone. All of a sudden, it sort of hit him that he might not get into UA. UA, afterall, was a prestigious school. No, PRESTIGIOUS, with a capital EVERYTHING. And, well, Eijiro was no prodigy. He did okay in school, yeah. And he knew he was tough.

            But, whoa, if the students there were all like Bakugo…did Eijiro even have a chance?

            Bakugo would get in, for sure. The other boy had told him that he’d better make it to. Why would he say that? Had Bakugo seen him fight? Eijiro’s face flushed red. He hadn’t been doing so well when Bakugo had jumped in. Of course, that was probably why Bakugo had jumped in when he had. He was probably worried that Eijiro would get his dumb self hurt, because he’d somehow managed to get cornered by a bunch of dumb bots. Eijiro smiled softly in admiration. That guy…now that’s what a UA student should be like.

            Eijiro’s mind started to drift. What if they did both get in? Did Eijiro do well enough to get put in the same class as Bakugo? Was that even how classes were decided? If Eijiro didn’t make it into the hero course, would they let him into the General Studies or Support branches? And, if he did have to settle from a different track, would Bakugo still give him the time of day? Eijiro sighed.

            He remembered the way that Bakugo’s face had flushed. Something flittered in his chest, and he didn’t like it very much, so he smacked a fist onto his abdomen.

            The lady sharing the train car with him, the only other passenger, tried to subtly shift away from his space. Eijiro chuckled awkwardly. Bakugo…he already looked like some kind of action hero. Everything about the guy stood out. Eijiro held himself up, beside the explosion kid, in his mind. He found himself lacking.

            His quirk was…not the best for hero work. Heroes needed to be bold and bright and manly and awesome! Not only for PR, for the career and business and entertainment aspect of heroing, but also because…well, it’s the cool heroes that inspire people. All Might, for instance, inspires so many people, helps people not just by saving their physical bodies but also be cheering them up and giving them hope. The Crimson Riot has, very often, been a comfort for Eijiro. There’s just something comforting about knowing that these people, because they are just people at the end of the day, had managed to become something More. It made him feel like he could be more to. Not only that, but fans could meet online and bond over their shared love of a hero. It’s how Eijiro had met a lot of his internet buddies.

            He wanted to be like that. The kind of hero that people would look up to. The kind that just sparkled in your memory. The kind that seemed larger than life. A rock.  

            He wondered what Crimson Riot would do. Eijiro looked up as the train began to slow, easing into the station. He caught his reflection in the glass of the window. His quirk might not be flashy…but maybe he could be.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Hitoshi left the exam in a bad mood.

            He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad or depressed or anything. He just felt…bad. Just bad in general. Just, not happy. The exam had been fun, in a way. But, he’d also borne witness to dozens and dozens of UA-hopefuls. All of them at the kind of quirk that you take one glance at and go Yeah, that’s a hero quirk.

            All except for him.

            Bakugo had been in a weird mood to. On one hand, he seemed very satisfied with himself. On the other, he seemed almost sad. “Where’d the other fucker go?” Bakugo asked him, after they’d joined up by the medical station to get their scratches and scrapes healed up. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow.

            “What fucker?”

            “The hardass with black hair.”

            Hitoshi frowned. “He left. I dunno. Why?”

            To his shock (and he does mean shock, it took him a minute for his brain to reboot) Katsuki had BLUSHED.

            “Nothing. Shut up.”

            Hitoshi felt like he needed to sit down. “You…You…”

            Bakugo’s face grew steadily pinker. It was a surprisingly good look on him.

            “I SAID TO SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH, SHITSTAIN!”

            “You have a crush?!”

            “NO!”

            There was no denying it. The pink on Bakugo’s face had at last given way to cherry red. He was blushing so hard he looked angry. Or maybe he was angry, because he was blushing so hard. “It’s fine, man,” Hitoshi raised his hands, though his brain still had the loading circle doing laps. “I just thought you and that Midoriya guy were-“

            “Deku?” Bakugo’s face grew even redder. “Deku’s my baby!”

            “…okay?”

            “You’re fucking disgusting, Shitstain!”

            Hitoshi had watched somewhat helplessly as Bakugo started to storm off. “Spar session tomorrow?”

            “Fucking whatever, dipshit.”

            Having no money to take a cab, and having run out of uses on his train pass, Hitoshi had then started the long trek back to his foster parent’s house on foot. So, Midoriya was Bakugo’s “baby”? The way the conversation had went, and the way Bakugo clearly had a crush on the boy from the exam, it made Hitoshi doubt that he meant “baby” in the way that most kids their age used that word.

            Hitoshi chuckled under his breath. His friend was a weirdo. Hitoshi had seen the way Midoriya had trained on the beach. The guy could clearly take care of himself. But then, with how much of a powerhouse Bakugo had shown himself to be, Midoriya might actually be weaker than his friend. How much younger was Midoriya? Hitoshi had assumed that the greenette was their same age. Or, maybe Bakugo felt that way because of how small Midoriya was?

            Midoriya was a few inches shorter than Bakugo, not a huge amount, so as to be unnaturally short, but enough that he fell safely into the category of “petite”, particularly when combined with the wiry, cord like muscles that were often hidden beneath baggy hoodies and sweaters. All in all, he’d seemed like a cool, if shy, guy. The kid often stammered and ducked his head, and had a sort of awkward general demeanor. Maybe Bakugo was just weirdly protective of his friend?

            But, his “baby”?

            Hitoshi snorted again. He almost didn’t notice the car pulling up along side him.

            “Hey, Shitstain!”

            Hitoshi looked up. There, pulled up to the curb beside him, was a nondescript black car. In the back, with the window rolled down, was Bakugo. The two front seats held a pale man and a blonde man. Hitoshi blanched as he sudden realized who these two adults must be.

            “Why the fuck are you walking?

            “I can’t really drive,” Hitoshi muttered, but Bakugo heard him.

            The driver’s window rolled down. The pale man, Eraserhead (?) looked him up and down. “Get in.” Then the window rolled back up. Hitoshi hurried to comply.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa watched the two boys interact via the review mirror as he drove. He could tell that Hizashi was doing the same. Kacchan was strangely talkative with this kid. “Shitstain”, Kacchan called him. Though, he was fairly certain that the kid’s actual name was Shinsou. Brainwashing quirk.

            Shinsou wasn’t as talkative as Kacchan, which set off some alarm bells in Aizawa’s head, but then, maybe the boy just felt awkward at being suddenly confronted by his friend and two strange adults. He listened quietly as the two boys talked about the exam.

            Aizawa had a feeling that Kacchan had helped his friend out, because the quiet boy hadn’t even tried going after the robots. Instead, he’d spent the entire exam helping people. Aizawa, though, hadn’t really focused on the brainwashing kid, and so he wasn’t entirely certain how many points he’d gotten. Seeing how comfortable Kacchan was with this boy, though.

            Aizawa eyed Shinou’s long, purple, tangled hair. It was messy from how much running around they had done in the exam. Aizawa wondered if the purple was natural, or if it was dyed.

            In the back of his mind, Aizawa wondered how ethical it was to try and build his class around the needs of a single student. As much as it pained him, he told himself that he couldn’t mess with the results.

            (Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.)

            Though, Aizawa narrowed his eyes as the purple head of hair, he’d have to keep an eye on Shitstain.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi had rambled off the address of his foster home at the request (order) of Eraserhead (cue fanboy squeal). Though, as they got closer and closer to his crappy neighborhood, the more it kind of felt like he’d somehow swallowed a brick.

            Bakugo already knew what kind of neighborhood Hitoshi was from, right? Maybe he thought Hitoshi just hung out in crummy places, though? They hadn’t known each other that long. Afterall, Bakugo’s family was clearly well to do (they had to be, what with two pro hero dads. Wait, no, they aren’t actually his dads. Was his bio family poor, too?). What would he think, knowing Hitoshi’s only shot at paying for UA was due to a government grant he was offered because he was a Foster Kid with a 4.0?

            His fingers clenched at the fabric of his jeans.

            The rolled up to the house. Siding was missing, leaving patches of bare brick where there should have been protective covering. The fence was lopsided and drooping in places, and some of the mesh had just been completely ripped off. The lawn was brown and patchy, with splotches of brown dirt everywhere. Broken toys, dirty chairs and an ancient barbeque decorated the space. The front door seemed to sag in its base.

            Hitoshi avoided the eyes of the other people in the care. He quickly unbuckled. “Thank you for driving me,” he said as he opened the door.

            “Oi!”

            Hitoshi froze and turned around, heart thudding in his throat. His eyes met Bakugo’s red ones. “See you tomorrow.”

            Hitoshi relaxed, just a bit. He shouldn’t have been worried. Bakugo…Bakugo was a good guy. “See you,” Hitoshi threw him a lopsided grin. “Kacchan.”

            The resulting explosion from inside the car was a comfort more than anything else.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“We can’t seriously be leaving him here?” Hizashi asked in disbelief. “Shouta?”

            “What do you want me to do, Zashi?” Aizawa asked, weary. “I can’t take him home with us.”

            “Why not?”

            A small voice in Aizawa’s head was asking the same thing. “Shitstain’s okay,” Kacchan spoke up. “This family isn’t as crappy as the other ones. They stay out of his business. The broke bastards just want the check, so they let him do what he wants. That way he doesn’t ask to leave, and they don’t have to deal.”

            Hizashi turned in his seat, frowning. “Deal with what, Kittycat?”

            “His quirk,” Kacchan grumbled. “People are stupid.”

            Aizawa frowned, the small voice had grown into a large voice. It was telling him to turn the car around. “People are stupid,” Aizawa agreed. “If the situation changes for the worse, let me know.” Kacchan agreed, unbuckled and scooting forward in his seat. Aizawa would have scolded him, but Kacchan hooked his chin over Aizawa’s shoulder, one small hand coming up and tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

            Aizawa dropped his driving speed well below the speed limit, ignoring the impatient honking that resulted. Aizawa eyed the filthy fabric of his old scarf. “That’s gonna need to be washed.”

            “I do okay?” Aizawa reached up to ruffled Katsuki’s hair.

            “No.” Hizashi glared at him as Katsuki stiffened. “You did perfect.” Both of his loud blondes smiled, almost simultaneously. “Now sit your ass down and put on your seat belt.”

            “Fucking fine, Dad.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Now that the exam had come and gone, All Might had decided to cease training with Izuku. “Enjoy your last few weeks of summer” the Number One hero had told him. “It won’t be long until school starts. At first, Izuku had been reluctant, rebelliously planning on how to continue training on his own. Afterall, if he was just left with nothing to do, he’d only worry about his performance on the exam. He thought he did well enough…but…

            He shouldn’t have been worried. Kacchan and Shinsou seemed to hang out nearly every day after the exam. Kacchan always seemed really happy when Izuku tagged along, so Izuku had reluctantly put aside his plans to train, and instead joined the two other boys on their excursions to the mall or to the movies or to the beach. Dadzawa was acting somewhat strangely, particularly whenever Shinsou was around.

            It definitely wasn’t because he didn’t like Shinsou, though. Because Dadzawa almost always made huge lunches for the boys to take with them. More than that, there was always a ton left over, which he then forced Shinsou to take home. The purple-haired boy seemed both embarrassed and touched by this.

("You know, you can tell your dads that they don't actually have to do this. I might not get, I don't know, Family Dinners, but they've never starved me." "I'm pretty sure Dadzawa just likes feeding strays. Shut up and take the food, Shitstain.")

            Honestly, Izuku was somewhat surprised at first, by how close Shinsou and Kacchan had grown. They seemed to be polar opposites, at first. Shinsou was quiet, lethargic, somewhat meek. But, then, as the days rolled by and Shinsou grew more comfortable, he also shown himself to have a rather strange sense of humor, as well as a sarcastic edge that complimented both Izuku and Kacchan.

            On days when Kacchan didn’t feel like leaving the house, Kacchan would just invite Shinsou over to Dadzawa’s, and Izuku and Shinsou would watch Kacchan play some game on sensei’s TV, which Izuku dozed and Shinsou played with the cat.

            Now that Izuku wasn’t constantly training, constantly pushing himself…he almost always felt tired. Part of it, he knew, was just laziness because he’d gotten so used to having something to do. But, it was really nice to just be able to curl up beside Kacchan and relax. He realized, suddenly, that he hadn’t been hanging out with Kacchan as much as he always had.

            He’d missed him.

            It was easy to fall into the non-routine with the two other boys. So much so that by the time his results came in the mail, he dropped his phone in surprise. He’d forgotten. He grabbed the envelope out of his mother’s hands with a shouted “THANK YOU!” and dashed up the stairs to his room. With shaking hands, he opened it. Then he shrieked and flung himself backwards with a hologram of All Might flashed into view.

            “I AM HERE! AS A HOLOGRAM!” Izuku chuckled as he climbed back into his chair. “Young Midoriya,” said All Might, more sedately. “I apologize for not being as available these past few weeks. I felt it was important for you to just be a child, away from the world as heroes as much as you could be. This is because, my boy, you’ve done it.” All Might’s voice was gentle. “From this day forward, you are no longer an average civilian. You’ve taken your first steps down the road that will lead you to the start of your own story. Congratulations, my boy,” All Might’s smile became softer. Less like the blinding badge he wore as part of his costume, and more like the smiles that sensei secretly gave Kacchan. “You passed with flying colors. Not only have you received 43 points from the robots, but you showed what the actions are a true hero are by saving that young lady at risk of your own person. You’ve also received 72 rescue points. This adds up to a total of 115 points.”

            Izuku’s jaw dropped. “This would have been an all time record,” All Might smiled a bit ruefully. “If young Bakugo hadn’t gotten two more points.” Izuku beamed proudly, not caring in the slightest that Kacchan had beaten him. In fact, he was elated. Kacchan had beat him! Izuku felt like jumping up and down and rocketing off of the walls. Kacchan had beat him! They’d both gotten in!

            “Welcome to your hero academia!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

So, this was a little shorter, and the next one might be to. I'm trying not to sacrifice too much quality as I do this. Haha. Hope yall liked it.
I really liked all of your suggestions for scenes/ideas. If you have any more, I'd love to hear them, even if they're just for fun! Would that be something you guy would like? Random chapters that aren't really a part of this story, but just little plot bunnies to run rampant in my version of BNHA?

Chapter 16

Summary:

Shitstain and Shitty Hair

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Hitoshi subtly watched Mr. Aizawa show Bakugo the “right” way to prepare steak. It was odd to him, the way that Mr. Aizawa treated the other boy. The way that he treated all of them. Sure, more often than naught, Mr. Aizawa would speak somewhat abrasively, cuttingly. Nevertheless, it was always done while he gently prodded their shoulders, or ruffled their hair, or elbowed them in the arm or a million other little things that softened the blow.

            But, they weren’t babied either. Well, Hitoshi and Midoriya weren’t babied. Mr. Aizawa definitely spoiled Bakugo, though he was fairly certain that the explosive blonde didn’t really notice all the ways that Aizawa handled him a bit more carefully. Case in point, the way that Mr. Aizawa was currently cradling Bakugo’s entire body with his own, Mr. Aizawa’s much larger hands softly moving Bakugo’s as they added spices and tenderized the meat. All the while, the scruffy man spoke with a mellow, soothing tone.

            Bakugo was grinning. He looked up at his dad with one of his grins that showed off all of his teeth, like he was baring his fangs. Hitoshi quickly looked down, returning his gaze to the tomatoes he was slicing to put on their salads. There was some music playing at a low volume, Hitoshi didn’t recognize the song or the band, from the television in the living room. All of the windows were open, letting the fading summer sun slip through the glass. Outside, the clouds were painted orange with purple and pink wisps.

            The front door banged open, and Present—Mr. Yamada announced his arrival. Hitoshi could also hear Midoriya’s trademark mumbling. The greenette’s voice grew louder as the pair entered the kitchen.

            “…wonder if he has a skeleton, and if so, what it’s made out of? Would he have been born as a giant cement block, or would that have developed overtime as he grew and his quirk manifested? If that’s the case, wow would that suck. Does he have blood? How would his respiratory system work? Perhaps, the inside of him is more like clay, or some kind of igneous like rock? Would he be able to use his quirk on himself, to shapeshift? But then that begs back to the question of what’s inside his body. If his insides are delicate, and it’s just an outer square, then transforming himself could be a deadly risk. But, then, if his insides are like a regular persons, why is he a square…”

            Mr. Aizawa looked up as they walked in, then looked back down to what he and Bakugo were working on. Mr. Yamada dropped the bags of groceries he’d brought with him on the table near Hitoshi. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow once he realized that the bags were literally just filled with smaller bags of jellybeans. The pro didn’t bother explaining himself, he just grinned at Hitoshi, rubbed his knuckles into the top of Hitoshi’s head, then skipped towards Mr. Aizawa, who he pecked on the cheek before lovingly stroking the side of Bakugo’s face.

            “What set Izuku off?” Mr. Aizawa asked, absently.

            Mr. Yamada chuckled. “We ran into Cementoss.”

            “Ah.”

            “Oi, Deku!’ Kacchan growled. “Set the table, and help Shitstain. He’s fucking taking forever.”

            “On it!” Midoriya smiled at him. “How was your day?” He asked with a wide smile. He reached up into the cabinets for the neat stacks of plates. “Did you guys do anything?”

            “Not really. Pretty quiet,” Hitoshi returned his smile, though his may have been a bit smaller. “For the most part.” Midoriya chuckled. No day that involved “Kacchan” was ever completely quiet. “We hit the gym for a few hours, but Mr. Aizawa had us break two hours in, and we never really started again.”

            Midoriya shrugged. “Resting while you’re training is as important as working while you’re training. Otherwise, you could seriously hurt yourself. Especially with how hard sensei is during training.” Hitoshi nodded, still smiling, though a tad ruefully. Mr. Aizawa had been coaching Hitoshi, the past few days, on hand-to-hand maneuvers and physical fitness in general. Hitoshi knew he wasn’t the most athletic person. Most of his past homes hadn’t allowed him to join any extra curricular sports, and even when he was allowed to take part in physical games for gym class, the other students never made it particularly…fun. That’s not even taking into account the many homes who didn’t like it when he went to gyms, or went out for runs. Sure, Hitoshi was no slug, and he could hold his own against regular kids his age…but when he was compared to Bakugo? Ha.

             Even though Bakugo always kicked his butt during their gym sessions, Hitoshi could feel himself gradually improving. Now that Mr. Aizawa was giving him tips, correcting his stance, and showing him which exercises he could do on his own to help his strength and endurance, his improvement rate was encouraging, to say the least. 

            “Bon Appetite, fucker,” Bakugo said proudly, a few minutes later as he dished out the steaks. Hitoshi passed the side dishes around, filling up his plate as they went. Mr. Aizawa was insulting some rookie hero who had made a flub, earlier that day, had nearly gotten himself killed. Mr. Yamada was teasing him, asking “Shouta” if he was worried about the “kid”, or if he was just regretful that he hadn’t expelled the rookie when he’d had the chance. Midoriya had joined in, trying to defend the hero, but ending up spiraling into a mumble-fest about all the ways that the rookie could have handled the situation better. Then Bakugo threw in his two cents saying “The moron shouldn’t have even been there. Didn’t ya see? There were already two other pros with better quirks on site. The asshat just wanted to show off, fucking show pony.”

            To Hitoshi’s amusement, Bakugo’s rather crude assessment made Mr. Aizawa look over with pride in his eyes. Even Yamada laughed, agreeing with his “Kittycat.”

            Dinner at Bakugo’s house was always so nice.

            Hitoshi tried to hold on to that feeling as he walked up the sidewalk to his foster home. It was dark now, and the ancient street lamps of his current neighborhood flickered eerily, like something out of a bad horror movie. Hitoshi couldn’t help but pause and turn, watching the headlights of Mr. Aizawa’s car grow more and more distance, then turn a corner out of view. He imagined what it would be like for Bakugo, that night.

            With how his dads baby him, was Bakugo the type of kid to have them tuck him in? Did normal kids, with regular parents, get tucked in at their age? He could picture it, very easily, Bakugo scowling that pleased glare of his as Mr. Aizawa smoothed the comforter over him. Maybe Mr. Yamada would be the one to actually tuck Bakugo in, while Mr. Aizawa stood, pretending to be annoyed from the doorway.

            Mr. Yamada and Mr. Aizawa wouldn’t stay up late, screaming at each other. That’s for sure. For one, they wouldn’t want to disturb or upset Bakugo. For another…despite Yamada being Present Mic…Hitoshi had a hard time picturing the Voice Hero actually yelling at his partner.

            No. They loved each other too much.

            A crash from inside the house brought Hitoshi out of his daydream. Steeling himself, Hitoshi pushed open the front door.

            “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT YOU’RE SORRY! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR EXCUSES! I WANT TO SEE YOU CHANGE!”

            “LISTEN HERE, WOMAN! I WORKED MY ASS OFF ALL DAY! I DESERVE MORE RESPECT FROM YOU, BITCH! ALL I WANT IS A HOT MEAL AND A WIFE WHO DOESN’T FUCKING TREAT ME LIKE SHIT!”

            “OH! TREAT YOU LIKE SHIT? LISTEN HERE, ASSHOLE….”

            Hitoshi ignored the voices in the livingroom, going straight through the hallway past and up the stairs. The doors to his foster sibling’s rooms were shut tight. Hitoshi felt a stab of pity for them. There were two other foster kids, both of whom had been at this house for far longer than he, and one little girl who was the biological daughter of the parents. Mr. and Mrs. Sotomura fighting always hurt them more.

            It was with great relief that Hitoshi reached his room, closing and locking the door behind him. One amazing thing about staying here. Not only was he left alone, but he had a whole room to himself to be left alone in.

            A package caught his eye.

            His heart thudded.

            A thick manila envelope with UA’s symbol. Hitoshi slowly stalked over, like he was afraid the envelope would jump up and flee if he approached too quickly. With shaking hands, he picked it up, and slid a round, hard device out of it.

            A huge projection hologram sprouted out of the top of it. Hitoshi yelped and dropped it in surprise, falling backwards onto his butt. He watched, wide eyed, at the sight of a white bear-mouse things. Principal Nedzu.

            “Hello! Shinsou Hitoshi! Am I a dog? A mouse? A bear? I am Principal Nedzu of the prestigious UA high school.” The white animal-thing seemed to be smiling.

            “As you know, our school except only the most exceptional into our hero course. We take many things into consideration! Quirk! Quirk usage! Intelligence! Creativity! Determination! Heroic potential!” The principal now seemed to look down at the camera. All around him on the projection, smaller “screens” of the exam popped of. They were recordings of him, scrambling around. “You, Mr. Shinsou, did not use your quirk. At all.”

            Hitoshi would have looked down, out of shame, but he kept his eyes trained determinedly on the hologram. This was fine. There was still General Studies.

            “At it is for that reason,” Principal Nedzu produced a cup of tea from out of no where. “That I’m happy to congratulate you on achieving 42 rescue points, securing a spot solidly in the top 36 students, out of the many hundreds who” the animal giggled “applied.”

            It was then that Hitoshi realized that the small recording clips were all of him helping people. Shoving a girl out of the way of a laser. Kicking a robot off target.

            “Though it may not seem like it from this test, we do look for a value in our prospective students that go deeper than any quirk, no matter how powerful or, quote unquote, villainous.”

            “No such thing,” Hitoshi mumbled. Was this a prank? Was this real?

            Principal Nedzu smiled serenely.

            “I look forward to having you in my school, hero.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Eijiro took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs. His hands were half hardened, because otherwise they’d be trembling, and that just was not manly. At all. His mama was in the kitchen, frying some eggs, and his little sister, Kannon, was seated at the table happily coloring on a note book. Eijiro gave her a rough squeeze from behind, startling her into activating her quirk. Eijiro made sure to harden as dozens of razor sharp points erupted from Kannon’s skin.

            “STOP!” She shouted at him. She tried to stab him, but it bounced harmlessly off of his skin.

            “No quirks before noon,” his mama said, tiredly. Eijiro laughed, apologetically.

            “Sorry, Mama,” he said, leaning up to kiss her cheek. She served up a plate full of his favorite food, and he took it thankfully, despite his stomach being tied in knots.

            He sat down next to his sister, who had gone back to her coloring. “You excited for your new school?” she asked him absently. Then she looked up and him, eyes wide. Eijiro grinned. “Your hair is pretty!”

            “My hair is manly,” he corrected her.

            “Pretty!”

            “Manly!”

            “Pretty!”

            “Manly!”

            “Pretty!”

            “Manly!”
            “ENOUGH!”

            Kannon and Eijiro both froze. Mama rolled her eyes as she gave Kannon her breakfast. “Who says that pretty things can’t be manly? Hush up and eat, you ruffians. Kannon, your bus leaves in twenty minutes. Eiji, I’m pretty sure you’ve got a train to catch.”

            “Shit!” Eijiro bent over his place and shoveled his food into his face. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he scrambled to the door and retrieved his shoes.

            “Language!” Mama scolded him, but she was smiling.

            “Wait!” Eijiro paused, halfway out the door. Kannon ripped her picture out of her note book, and hopped off of her chair. “Take this with you!”

            Eijiro took the picture from his little sister. It looked like…a monster eating a tree. And everything was on fire. He looked her in the eye. “It’s beautiful.”

            “No! It’s Manly!”

            “Beautiful!”

            “Manly!”

            “Beau-“

            “Leave!”

            He left.

            He was still a bundle of nerves when he got off the train near UA. He felt like he wanted to run in circles and jump up and down. But also harden up and crawl into a hole. But, that wouldn’t be manly. And spinning around like a corgi probably wouldn’t make him any friends, either.

            Eijiro put on his brave face, his raser sharp smile. The further he went, the more excited he got. First, it was just bits of blue speckled throughout the crowds of people on their way to work and school. Then, it was an ocean of blue. So many students. Most of them were probably support or general studies. Even still, he was here. Among his fellow UA students.

            The need to bounce up and down intensified. He was a UA student!!!

            Then he died.

            Because among the crowd of blue, he recognized a certain head of fluffy blonde hair. His heart spluttered once, twice, then gave up the ghost. His brave-face-smile fell away to something so much less cool. He probably looked really dumb, but he couldn’t care less because Bakugo made it in, too! Well, of course he did. The guy had been soooo friggin manly. Would they be in the same class? What if they were in the same class?

            “Hey!” Eijrio called out, before he could talk himself out of it. It seemed like every head except Bakugo’s turned to look at him. Eijiro paid them no mind. “Hey! Bakubro!”

            Bakugo froze, and for a second Eijiro was wondering if he’d done something wrong. But, then, Bakugo turned. And oh. Mama was right. Manly things could be pretty.

            Really, really pretty.

            Eijiro’s dumb smile got dopier, he could feel it. He raced towards Bakugo, who still hadn’t moved. “Hey! Man! You made it in! This is epic! Never had any doubt about you making it, though. Broooo you were so cool!” Eijiro gave two thumbs up, and then he wanted to kill himself because why would he do that? Why? Whyyy?

            Bakugo snorted. “Obviously. Nice hair. Suits you.”

            His heart fluttered. Jesus. Eijiro was gonna have to get that checked out, later. Was it too early to go to the school nurse? “Thanks, man!”

            Someone cleared their throat. Eijiro looked slightly to the left.

            The boy was adorable….soft, green and freckled. He was cute in the way that bunnies and puppies were cute – unavoidably. “Hi!” The boy’s voice was both soft and cheerful. “I’m Midoriya Izuku! You know Kacchan?”

            “Kacchan?” Eijiro asked dumbly.

            “He means me,” Bakugo clarified with a sort of tilt to his lips. “He calls me that because he’s mentally four.”

            “Kacchan

            Eijiro laughed, almost automatically. But his emotions hadn’t quite caught up with his body as they maneuvered him through the appropriate social cues. “I’m Kirishima Eijiro,” he said, though he was rapidly losing grip on his energy. He pushed his all forward in a surge. No! He couldn’t let this phase him! He had to be manly! Bakugo was a cool guy, so any happiness the guy felt was a good thing! Besides! Eijiro didn’t even know him… “I hope we can be friends!”

            Midoriya Izuku was holding Bakugo’s hand.

Notes:

Sorry if this is rough. I literally got home from work, brain barfed this out on my laptop, then uploaded it.
BTW all of the ideas you guys have given me are soooooo cute? These two scenes are inspired by some of the comments I was given. I know it's not much, but I wanted to put something out before bed. I might be busy the rest of the week, and so I didn't want to go back on my promise. <3
Love yall.

Chapter 17

Summary:

Quirk Assessment

Chapter Text

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He’d been dreaming, he was sure of it. He was also sure that it hadn’t been a particularly fun dream, based on the way his heart was pounding and his throat was clenched. Shouto slowly sat up, letting his blanket fall away. His right side was covered in a cold sweat – literally, as his sweat had frozen into tiny beads all along his skin. His left side was uncomfortably dry.

            Shouto cleared his throat, careful not to make too much noise, as he unclenched his muscles and slowly got to his feet. He stepped lightly across the room, ears searching instinctively for any sign that his father was already awake. He heard the sound of someone in the kitchen, and the sound of his brother’s closet and drawers sliding open or shut.

            That was all. Shouto released a sigh as he knelt before his dresser, pulling out a small container of cream, which he smeared all over his dry, aching left side. Meanwhile, he used a low portion of his fire to melt his right.

            Once he felt a little bit more like a human, Shouto pulled on his new school uniform. He stood. There, reflected in his floor length mirror, was a mirage of the weapon that Endeavor had so painstakingly crafted. Not even the bland cut of his uniform his the battle-hardened edges of Shouto’s frame. His unsightly left side stood out uncomfortably against the cool blue of the uniform. Shouto tried pushing his hair back, neatening it. It just seemed to make his scar bigger. Shouto pulled his bangs forward again.

            He wasn’t nervous for school. Not at all.

            He’d never had reason to be. Shouto’s face was plastered periodically in every hero magazine, ever. Every time he did something relatively well, it was reported on. When he’d graduated from both elementary and middle school, it had made the local news. Everybody knew who he was, who his father was, and no body wanted to mess with Endeavor’s kid.

            He wasn’t nervous.

            He was, however, excited.

            Shouto’s lips twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to be happy that he was finally going to UA, something he’d been dreaming about for ages. There, he’d finally be able to perhaps find people who understood him. Who were like him. Maybe he’d even make friends.

            But, there was also a large part of him that was disgusted. This was his father’s dream. His father’s goals. His father’s school. By going to UA, he was just taking another step down the path that Endeavor had laid for him since before he was born.

            Shouto’s phone beeped.

            He stepped away from the mirror, and bent to retrieve his phone from where it was plugged in to the wall by his pillow. A notification from an EraserMic fansite.

            Shouto’s lips decided on a tentative smile.

            There was a new post. A picture.

            A casually dressed Eraserhead and Present Mic, dropping their kids off at the train station for their first day of school. Both boys were dressed in the same uniform that Shouto was wearing.

            Shouto’s eyes widened.

            They were already heading to school?

            His eyes flicked upwards the look at the time shown on the upper corner of his phone.

            Oh my god I slept in!?

            Shouto was flying out of the house, grabbing his backpack and shoes as he went. He didn’t live too far from school, but he’d wanted to get there early. He wanted to be able to observe the two other hero’s kids before class. Of course, the one day that his father had apparently decided to give him a break was the one day that Shouto’s internal clock decided to stop working. He normally didn’t need an alarm, not with his father’s daily, morning training routines.

            He didn’t stop rushing until the towers of UA was in sight. Other UA students, in their uniforms, were giving him weird looks, so he forced himself to walk. He felt awkward in the sea of his peers. Many of them were talking to each other. Most of them seemed to be talking to each other, actually. Was that something that you were expected to do? Shouto tried to subtly look around for people that he knew. Networking was an important part of heroing, afterall.

            No luck. Shouto wetted his lips and pulled out his phone. More out of habit than actual desire, Shouto opened up the fansite.

            Most of the conversations were about the rumor that a robot the size of an office building had been taken out by one of the EraserMic kids. According to some, it was the blonde one with an explosion so powerful that it made a mushroom cloud. Someone else argued that it had been the green one…with a single punch.

            Shouto didn’t know what was the truth, but he figured he could always ask.

            Was that something you could ask someone on your first meeting?

            Shouto knew what robots the netizens were talking about. He’d seen them first hand years ago, when Endeavor had been roped into monitoring the exams, dragging Shouto along for the day. They were massive.

            What if they had taken out those bots? What sort of training had those boys gone through to reach that level? Shouto knew he’d probably be able to one-shot them. But…the other boys? Shouto’s mind painted unfavorable pictures, images of the two being forced to “spar” as he had. Shouto didn’t think that Present Mic and Eraserhead would have done that to their kids.

            He hoped not, anyway.

            His eyes drifted back down to his phone screen, where the header of the fansite looked back at him. He stared at the image of Eraserhead holding the explosion blonde’s hand. He accepts, almost instantly, that they’re probably not like him. At all.

            Then, he sees them.

            They’re…holding hands?

            Shouto bites his bottom lip. His family…wasn’t very affectionate. He knew Fuyumi loved him. He knew Natsuo loved him. He…he hoped that his mother still loved him. Nevertheless, they weren’t the kind of family to randomly hold on to each other, or reach for each other, or embrace each other. He’d seen other families, where older siblings would play with their little siblings. He’d watched other families, where members gave out kisses and hugs more freely than anything had ever been given to Shouto.

            Shouto couldn’t help

but

            smile. Seeing the two brothers so happily being together, it made him happy. There they were, two potential heroes, the sons of pros, walking in to UA high school side by side and hand in hand. There was no competition between the two.

            The shorter green haired boy was chattering away, a wide smile on his face and his eyes open so wide it seemed like his eyeballs might just roll out of his head. The blonde was looking down at his brother with a patient sort of fond exasperation hidden behind a scowl. A red head that Shouto didn’t recognize was skipping along on the other side of the blonde.

            Shouto realized, suddenly, that he’d drifted closer without meaning to. The blonde, Bakugo, turns at meet’s Shouto’s eyes. Shouto expects to be called out, or, at the very least, be given some sort of confused frown. After all, he’s just some weirdo who’d started following them out of the blue.

            Bakugo does scowl, and Shouto tries not to visibly wilt. But, then, the blonde raises his free hand in a sort of salute. Shouto gapes, and waves back.

           

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They’d somehow picked up an extra.

            No, Katsuki told himself, firmly. Not just an extra. Halfy. Deku’s Halfy.

The little nerd was so happy, he was nearly vibrating in his excitement. Katsuki kept his eyes on Deku, that way, he wouldn’t have to look at Baby Kirishima. Deku was rambling about the structural design of the school, and all the many reasons why it had to be altered over the years to accommodate students.

            Icyhot drifted closer and closer, probably to try and hear what Deku was saying. The blurry, overwhelming crowd of extras didn’t seem as bad as usual. Not with Kirishima and Deku flanking him with Halfy at his back. UA was in front of him. He was safe.

            “You really know a lot about quirks, Midoriya!” Kirishima grinned. “Where’d you learn all this stuff?”

            “O-oh,” Deku blushed. “Well…uh, I’ve just always liked them? They’re so fascinating, and everyone’s seems to be slightly different! There’s so much to know, and so much that we don’t understand! Even though it seems like quirks have just always been around, the fraction of humanity’s history that quirks have exists is such an impossibly small amount! Just think of how quirks have mutated and grown and adapted in the short time that they’ve been around. Have you ever thought about what quirks will be like in a few decades? In a century? The more we know, the more we can predict! And if we can predict quirks accurately enough, we can better prepare for the future that they’ll exist in. Already, we use quirks in society in such innovative ways, but there’s still so much that we’re lacking! In many ways, in appearance of quirks has halted our technological progress, but if we can utilize quirks properly, we could bolster it in hitherto unprecedented ways! Not to mention-“

            “Wow…” Kirishima interrupted, but still sounding appropriately impressed. “I didn’t understand any of that.”

            Deku blushed. Katsuki snorted.

            “Now try living with this mess,” he jeered, sneering affectionately at the twerp. Kirishima choked.

            “You guys live together?”

            Katsuki was about to answer, when Deku suddenly stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. Icyhot bumped into his back, shrinking away like he’d touched something nasty and muttering apologies under his breath.

            “We’re here,” Izuku said, reverently. Katsuki had to swallow down something painful. He remembered the first time he saw these doors.

            The doors of class A-1.

            Katsuki leaned in close to Deku. “It’s called a door. Revolutionary, huh?”

            Kirishima wheezed, and Deku pouted at him.

            “Kacchan!” he whined. “This moment it’s-it’s-it’s a moment that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives!”

            “It’s a door.”

            “Kaaaachaaaan”                                                                                                    

            Katsuki dropped his hand and breezed past him. He kicked it open. “Howdy-fucking-do, assholes.” He slumped through the crowd of, now frozen, A-1 students, making his way to his desk. He sat down, his fingers loving running across the familiar wooden surface.

            “Mind your manners!” Katsuki looked up to see Glasses waving his robo arms around. One of Deku’s friends. The guy had offered to be Deku and Katsuki’s wedding planner. Katsuki gave him a friendly smirk. “Have you no respect for the school or your fellow classmates?”

            “What’ve you all done to earn my respect, Glasses?” Katsuki shot back, leaning back in his chair and lazily propping his feet up.

            He almost laughed at the way Glasses’s eyes widened in affront. “Think of the craftsmen who made this piece of furniture! As a fellow student of UA, I ask that you sit properly!”

            “Nah.”

            “Kacchan…” Deku stepped around Glasses and lightly tugged at Katsuki’s pants leg. Katsuki heaved a very put upon sigh and removed his feet, one at a time, slowly and making it very apparent just how much of a chore it was to do so. Deku beamed at him anyway. Then he got a good look at Glasses and, for some reason, blanched.

            “Oh,” Deku looked down at his feet. “H-Hello.”

            “You!” Glasses pointed his robo hands at Deku. Deku flinched. Katsuki glowered at Glasses, warningly. Then, Glasses dropped into a bow. “I feel as though I must apologize, once again! Not only was I too quick to judge your character, but you also have shown far greater discernment than me in discovering the true meaning of the entrance exam. You have my respect!”

            “Th-th-thank y-y-y” Deku was mumbling at the flow, his cheeks a pale pink.

            “Whatdya talking about, Private School?” Katsuki asked. “There’s no hidden meaning, or any shit like that. It’s obvious that a hero school would prioritize selfless actions. It’s a hero school, dumbass.”

            Glasses straightened and sniffed. “I would wager that you didn’t receive any rescue points.”

            Katsuki held up both his hands, as though to weight his options. “Blow shit up. Help random extras. Blow shit up. Help random extras…”

            Glasses looked scandalized. “You’re horrible! Are you sure you want to be a hero?”

            Katsuki was actually enjoying their conversation. It reminded him of many a talk he’d had with Ingenium in the past-future. However, Deku forced himself between the two of them.

            “Kacchan is not horrible!” Deku retorted. “You just said that you were too fast to judge me! Why would you make that same mistake, right after acknowledging what you did was wrong? A hero learns from the mistakes he makes.”

            “Here, here,” said a dry voice from the back of the class. Shitstain was smiling crookedly. “Besides, if Kacchan had decided to go for rescue points, I doubt I would have been able to get in. I only got rescue points, and Bakugo is an absolute demon.”

            “You would’ve been fine, Shitstain.”

            “Fine!” said Glasses suddenly. “I admit I may have been hasty, and yet you can’t deny that “Kacchan” has been rude and disrespectful since he first came in! However, I will reserve my judgement. For now.”

            “I didn’t do fucking shit, you freaky robot.” Katsuki frowned, confused.

            “Even the way you address people is rude!”

            “I don’t fucking know you, Robo.”

            Glasses seemed to look shocked, then repentant. “Ah! Please forgive me! I got ahead of myself. I am Iida Tenya, of Soumei Junior High School!”

            “Private school,” Katsuki nodded. “Fucking called it.”

            “Midoriya Izuku,” Deku said. “And this is Bakugo Katsuki!”

            This prompted for Shitstain and a few other people to begin to introduce themselves as the door opened and shut, letting in the later arriving students of class A-1. Katsuki found himself looking into the back corner, where Halfy was sitting quietly, not talking to anyone. Todoroki looked up, and their eyes met. Katsuki made a face at him, which made Icyhot’s cheek twitch. Katsuki rolled his eyes and faced back to the front.

            “It’s you!”

            Round Face ran to Deku, throwing her arms around his neck. It was alarming, how quickly his face turned completely red. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou I never got to thank you!”

            “Wel…come…” Izuku squeaked.

            “Oh!” Ochako caught sight of Katsuki and waved, which he returned with a limp wristed hand-flop. She giggled. “Hi Deku’s-Scary-Friend! I’m glad you made it in, too! You both seemed really nice, so I hope we can be friends!”
            “Him?” Glasses said, aghast. “Nice?”

            “Screw you, Robo,” Katsuki grinned ferally. “You heard the princess. I’m a fucking delight.”

            Hitoshi snorted.

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            Aizawa was proud of how Katsuki was handling himself. There was a moment where he had wanted to step in, to stand up and make his presence known. That Iida kid, Aizawa saw he had the potential and the drive to be a great hero. However, the kid clearly had some strict vision of what a hero was supposed to be. Aizawa had no earthly idea where such ideas could have come from. He’d gone to school with Tensei, and that guy had been a teacher’s nightmare.

            Nevertheless, Izuku had come to the rescue. As had Shinsou and the Uraraka girl. The two recommended students were yet to show much interest in interacting with the rest of the class, but their characters would show themselves soon enough.

            He found himself looking over at the two boys who had walked in with his kids. Both of them had rather odd hair styles. He wasn’t sure which one he had to be careful of. Better watch the both of them…just in case.

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            It was interesting, watching the two EraserMic kids interact – both with each other and with the rest of the students.

            However, it was far more interesting to see that their Homeroom teacher was none other than Eraserhead, himself.

            “Settle down,” said their teacher, still wrapped in a very warm looking, yellow sleeping bag. The exhausted hero’s weary gaze drifted over the room, though Shouto could see him pause on his own children for a few more seconds than was strictly necessary. Shouto was briefly surprised that he would be allowed to teach his own kids. But, then, this was UA. They were known to be odd, and to allow their teachers freedom that other schools didn’t dare to.

            “It took you all twelve seconds to shut up,” Eraserhead continued. “That standard of reaction time is unacceptable for heroes in training. From the depths of his sleeping bag, the hero produced a large cardboard box. “My name is Aizawa. I’m your teacher, and these are your uniforms. Put them on. I expect you all down in the training field within fifteen minutes. Don’t. Test me.”

            There were several audible gulps.

            “Now.”

            The students rushed forward to grab at the box, where there were clear packages containing folded gym clothes. There was a name on each package. Iida Tenya was quickest to the box, and so he began pulling out each uniform, and calling out the name written on it, before ordering the students around him to fireman pass the packages to their owner. Shouto had to admit that his method was effective.

            Soon, the students had all gotten their set, made their way to the locker rooms to change, and headed down to the grassy field where various equipment was set up. There were also several sand pits, various weights and the running tracks that one would expect at a school. Mr. Aizawa was already there, sans his yellow bag.

            Shouto was surprised when Bakugo decided to just walk right up to their teacher and stand by him. Sure, this was his father, but was it really okay for them to be acting so familiar in school? Wasn’t it a secret? Shouto wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Several other students were whispering to each other about how the teacher didn’t seem to mind the brash, rude, loud student standing so closely to him.

            “Yaoyorozu.” Mr. Aizawa said suddenly.

            A hush fell over the class. A tall girl, with strong features and a bushy pony tail, stood up straighter, as though she were coming to attention. “Yes, sir?”

            “What is your record for the softball throw in middle school?”

            “59.3 meters, sir.”

            Aizawa nodded. Then, he held out a ball in her direction. Bakugo looked affronted that the other student had been chosen to go first. Shouto wondered if the boy had been expecting preferential treatment. The girl stepped forward and took the softball, looking down at it and inspecting the odd mechanical components.

            “Try it, but now, use your quirk.”

            “Sir?” She asked, surprised.

            “I need to gauge where you all are, power wise. This means how creatively you can use you quirk, as well as raw power. I don’t care how you throw that ball, just don’t leave this circle” the teacher gestured with his toe at the painted circle on the ground. Yaoyorozu nodded in understanding. Then, she lifted her shirt.

            Some of the boys made alarmed noises and covered their eyes. Shouto simply looked away, focusing more fully on Bakugo. He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden show of skin, and was blandly watching the girl. The girls seemed confused, but supportive, particularly once it became obvious what she was doing.

            “Is that…a gun?” asked a girl with elongated earlobes.

            Yaoyorozu loaded the ball into her makeshift bazooka, hefted it onto her shoulder, and fired it with a deafening blast. The softball was launched up into the sky and out of sight. The kids gasped as they tried to follow its trajectory.  Aizawa held up a small monitor device. “504 meters.” The other students cheered.

            “This is gonna be so much fun!” said the blonde boy standing off to Shouto’s left. The pink girl seemed like she was going to agree, but the teacher's low voice cut across them like a whip.

            “Fun?” Aizawa’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Fun? If you think that hero training is going to be you having fun, then I suggest you leave now. I refused to teach children who don’t take what they learn here seriously. What you learn, from day to day, could very well save your life, the life of a fellow hero, or that of a civilian.”

            A somber cloud fell over the class. “Let’s make sure you understand me,” Aizawa said, still glaring at the blonde boy who had spoken up. “This is now a competition. The unlucky brat who gets last place will be expelled.”

            Silence reigned.

            At least, it would have, if it weren’t for Bakugo tugging on his dad’s sleeve. “I wanna go next.”

            Iida looked scandalized at how Bakugo was treating their teacher, a pro hero, so casually. But Aizawa only sighed and picked up another mechanical softball from the pile at his feet. He tossed it in a light underhand to Bakugo. “Go nuts, kiddo.”

            Yaoyorozu willingly vacated the pitcher’s circle with a confused expression on her face that was mirrored by the rest of the class. Even after what the teacher had said, Bakugo was treating the assessment so lightly. They didn’t know what Shouto knew. There was no way that Bakugo was getting kicked out.

            “DIE!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

            “923 meters.”

            “FUCK YEAH! BEAT THAT, BITCHES!”

  • ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 18

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Toshinori watched as Aizawa led the class. He was relieved to see that neither Young Midoriya nor Young Bakugo received preferential treatment, not that he ever had any doubts about Aizawa’s teaching ability. Toshinori just knew, for himself, that it would be hard to put distance between himself in a teacher’s role, and the two boys that he’d come to adore.

            Toshinori frowned, just lightly, as he peered around the corner. Young Midoriya was having a good time, when it wasn’t his turn to show off his skills, getting to know his various classmates, not really giving Aizawa much attention outside of what was expected. Young Bakugo, however, had been standing at Aizawa’s side the entire time. Aizawa, to his credit, was not much acknowledging the boy, aside from occasionally addressing him for his turn to shine. Toshinori felt a little bad for the child. It must be odd to have your doting father suddenly ignore you. He made a mental note to prod Aizawa and Yamada into having a family night this evening, just to make sure Bakugo understood that the sudden lack of focus on him wasn’t due to anything the child had done.

            He tore his eyes away from his two favorite students, and instead admired all of the creative ways that the children were using their quirks. For the dash, one young man used their naval laser, backwards, propelling him in front of his fellow students. Young Shinsou used his quirk to force a stern faced young man with an engine quirk to carry him across the finish line. A young boy with electricity powers used a controlled burst to launch his softball a respectable 400 meters.

            Nevertheless, despite all of the obvious potential in the class, Midoriya and Bakugo (much to his pride) remained at the top or close to it throughout the trials. Midoriya, using a small percentage of his quirk nearly constantly, resulting in his emerald sparks dancing across the boy’s skin. He ran as quickly as the engine boy in the races. He all but flew across the field for the long jumps and side jumps, and in the softball throw Midoriya had cast the device through the stratosphere, leaving the clouds rippling in its wake.

            And Bakugo was most definitely nothing to sneeze at. In the races and long jumps, he used his explosions like rocket jets. In the strength exercises, he did markedly better than the average for the class, despite his quirk having nothing to do with physical strength. Though, he did notice the how the explosive blonde was nearly constantly turning to look at Aizawa with a questioning gaze. Toshinori’s heart ached for the boy, seeing how Young Bakugo’s confusion at Aizawa’s indifference was growing.

            Bakugo had just finished his turn at the 50 yard dash, again immediately returning to his father’s side, looking up at Aizawa’s blank face. Clearly, Young Midoriya had noticed what Toshinori had, and so had walked over to his friend, and gently taken hold of his hand to lead him over to where the other students were congregated, a few meters away from Aizawa.

            Yes, he would definitely mention the idea of having a family night to Yamada. Surely, Aizawa wouldn’t be adverse to taking the night off from his patrolling.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi was getting really annoyed with his classmates.

            Already, he hadn’t exactly expected to get along with them. Afterall, they were all gifted with amazing, heroic quirks. They’d probably been told since birth that they could be heroes, unlike himself. Himself, who had been cursed with-

            “No such thing”

            Hitoshi sighed. Of course, both Midoriya and Katsuki had incredible quirks, and they were two of the nicest people he’d ever met. He tried to tell himself to give his classmates a chance, but he hated how the morons were gawking at Bakugo. Yeah, the guy was a little weird, but c’mon.

            “I can’t believe Hothead over there is trying to act all buddy buddy with Aizawa sensei,” the pink girl said, under her breath. “I hope sensei doesn’t get too annoyed with him. Doesn’t Mr. Aizawa seem like the type to expel people just because he doesn’t like them?”

            “A teacher wouldn’t do that!” said the floating girl-uniform.

            “This is UA,” said the plain looking boy with funky elbows. “Teachers can do whatever they want here. And Bakugo looks like he’s really annoying the teacher.”

            “While I hope for our classmate’s sake that you are all incorrect,” said the Iida kid with a downward robot hand slice. “I do see your point! Bakugo has been acting disrespectfully towards our teacher and to his classmates!”

            “Kacchan isn’t doing anything wrong!” Midoriya predictably came to the rescue. “He’s just standing next to sensei. If sensei has a problem with it, then wouldn’t he have spoken up? If sensei doesn’t say anything about it, then Kacchan can’t be punished! Not in fairness.”

            “Kinda looks like he’s sucking up,” shrugged the blond kid with bolts in his hair, as they watch the bird guy, the recommendation girl, and the boy with the half-and-half dye job race against each other. “Does he think he’s winning brownie points?”

            “I don’t think that’s it,” croaked the frog girl. “Look at his face, kero. He admires sensei very much.”

            The pink girl and her invisible friend coo in harmony. “He’s a fanboy!” they squeal together. The girl with long ears nods with what looks like respect.

            “I get that,” she says. “I mean, all of the teachers here are basically celebs, right?”

            “I don’t recognize our teacher, dudes,” said the red head with shark teeth. “It’s so cool that Bakugo does! It’s awesome that he idolizes a lesser known hero, instead of like, All Might or Endeavor. Not that those two aren’t super manly, but, like, it’s easy to like the popular people. You know?”

            Many of the class nod sagely along, and Hitoshi snorts. He elbows Midoriya, who’s standing next to him, mumbling quietly under his breath – something about ‘cover’ and ‘good enough of an explanation’. At Hitoshi’s nudging, Midoriya flinches and looks up.

            “Go grab McSplodey,” he tells his little green friend. “He probably doesn’t realize how weird he looks.”

            Midoriya winces, but nods as he crosses over to his mentor and best friend. Hitoshi smiles inwardly at how casually Midoriya grabs Bakugo by the hand, and how willingly the seemingly abrasive boy allows himself to be led. Hitoshi, absolutely against his will, finds the sight of the massively built and intimidating Bakugo fondly holding on to the petite bunnyrabbit that is Midoriya horrifically endearing.

            “Are they dating?” asked the electric kid. “Man! It’s already not fair that they know each other! I wish I had a girlfriend in class!” He turns to the cool-looking girl with the long ears. “Hey, Jiro! Date me!”

            She gives him a bland stare, then holds up both thumbs and goes “Wheeeeeeee”

            Pinky and invisible girl lose it. Electric kid looked embarrassed, and tried to slap Jiro’s hands down. “Staahhhp!” he whined. “That only happens when I over use my quirk!”

            “Wheeeeeeee

            “Jiroooo”

            “They’re both, like, super manly,” said the friendly red head. “Just imagine if they become a hero duo, one day. Lots of pro couples do that, right? They’d be unstoppable!”

            Hitoshi snorted. He recognized the dude, despite the fact that he’d dyed his hair the color of a fire engine. Didn’t Bakugo have a crush on this guy? That was going to get awkward.

            “Next!” Called Aizawa. “Sero. Shoji. Hagakure. Front and center.”

            “Last group,” grunted Bakugo, who had decided to stand between his redheaded crush and Hitoshi, with Midoriya standing at his front. Bakugo had one arm slung almost protectively around Midoriya’s neck, a motion away from having the greenette in a headlock. Midoriya didn’t seem to mind, though.

            The half-and-half kid trailed behind his group as they returned to the rest of the students. Recommended girl, Yaoyorozu, sort of stood by herself as she observed everyone else. The bird guy with the freaky demon seemed comfortable walking up to the boy with the tail, and the quiet kid with the weird face.

            Half-and-half, however, seemed to be almost lost as he observed how most of the kids had already separated into cliques. Honestly, Hitoshi wasn’t even sure what that had happened. Some kids just seemed to naturally seek out others. Maybe it was due to who had battled in the same area? Maybe some of them went to middle school together, like Midoriya and Bakugo. Hitoshi frowned. Did that mean that he and Eraserhead’s kids were a clique?

            To Hitoshi’s surprise,  Half-and-half drifted over to where he, Midoriya and Bakugo were. Bakugo pretty much ignored him.

            “Hello!” said Midoriya brightly. “I’m Midoriya Izuku! This is Bakugo Katsuki! You did really well, today! The way you used your quirk was really smart! You used it really naturally to! You must have a lot of practice, which is admirable. Are you able to launch your ice as projectiles, or do you need it to remain somehow connected to you as you use it, like as a stream? I noticed that you never really broke your flow, but then none of the exercises really need it…” Midoriya continued to mumble, and the poor half-and-half kid looked overwhelmed.

            It was funny.

            Hitoshi watched as the boy seemed to be internally struggling with something, his face muscles spasming ever so slightly. The kid shifted his weight from one let to the other, his fists clenching. All the while, his face was completely blank.

            “HI!” the boy suddenly said. That was all, then his face went back to being blank. Midoriya blink, his mumble rant having been interrupted.

            “Hi?” Midoriya said, slowly.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto wanted to die.

            Just, lie down on the grass and die. Maybe, if he asked Bakugo really nicely, the other boy would blow him up.

            “Todoroki Shouto,” Shouto added, forcefully making sure that his voice was at a more level, quiet tone this time.

            “Shinsou Hitoshi,” the purple haired boy said, quirking an eyebrow. He looked amused. Shouto looked away in embarrassment. See, this is why he doesn’t have any friends.

            “Nice to meet you,” said Midoriya pleasantly, regaining his blinding smile.

            “Yeah,” Shouto said, intelligently.

            Bakugo snorted. “You freeze your brain, Halfy? Maybe if you try using your other quirk, you’d be able to carry a fucking conversation.” The explosive boy leaned against his brother casually, a light smirk on his face. It didn’t feel malicious though…it seemed…fond.

            Shouto was as confused as he was warmed by it.

            “Bakugo!” the Iida guy reprimanded, disgruntled. “Again! I must protest the way you treat your fellow classmates!”

            “What the fuck are you talking about, robocop?!” Bakugo exploded.

            “I’m not entirely sure, either,” Shouto found himself admitting. What had Bakugo been doing that was offending Iida so terribly. As far as Shouto could tell, Bakugo’s questions thus far had all been genuine questions. With that thought, Shouto realized he should probably answer Bakugo. Ignoring a question was rude, afterall.

            “I don’t like using my other quirk,” said Shouto. “But thank you for your concern.”

            Bakugo seemed to accept his simple answer. “That’s fucking stupid, Halfy,” he said dismissively. Shouto agreed, honestly. Bakugo didn’t know the deeper reason that Shouto avoided using his fire in public, so it probably did seem pretty stupid that Shouto was risking hypothermia just because he didn’t like his other quirk.

            Iida seemed to just get more upset. “Language!” he said, appalled. Then he turned to Shouto. “Todoroki! I must apologize on behalf of our classmate!”

            Shouto frowned, looking from Iida to Bakugo to the rest of the class. “For what?”

            Bakugo shrugged. Iida looked startled.

            “That’s enough,” came the voice of their teacher. Bakugo and Midoriya instantly straightened up. Shouto followed suit. He figured that they knew their teacher best, so it would probably be in his favor to follow their lead. A projection was emitted from the device he had been carrying and cast on the side of the school’s brick outer wall.

            Bakugo had gotten first place, with Yaoyorozu in second. Himself in third, and Midoriya in fourth. Shouto wasn’t surprised. Yaoyorozu was a recommended student, and the three of them were the children of pros. The rest of the class hadn’t stood a chance. He glanced at the name of the unfortunate soul in 20th place. Shouto’s eyes widened, and felt nothing but pity.

            “Here are your results,” Eraserhead drawled. “Clearly, you all have quite a way to go. Nevertheless. Hagakure.”

            The invisible girl.

            Shouto sighed in his heart. It was really unfair. The girl had obviously somehow managed to defeat numerous of the robots, despite her quirk just being invisibility. It was admirable, that she’d gotten this far. Honestly, she was basically quirkless. Despite that, Shouto knew that invisibility would be an amazing quirk from stealth missions, hostage situations, and combat missions, as it was hard to land a hit on an opponent you couldn’t see.

            “I expect better from a UA student,” Aizawa said, turning his gaze onto the trembling uniform. “Shinsou.” The guy with purple hair snapped to attention, looking worried. Shouto wasn’t sure why he was getting called out, since he’d placed eight due to using his quirk to force other students to take the tests for him. “Aoyama” the sparkly boy paled. “Jiro. Kaminari. Sero.” The class was growing more and more tense as time went on.

            The teacher dropped the projection and stuck the device back in his pocket. “For the foreseeable future, you all will have extra classes added on to your schedules for basic physical fitness. It doesn’t matter how good your quirks are if you neglect your bodies.”

            The people whose names had been called out all breathed deep sighs of relief. It looked like the invisible girl might have been quietly crying. The frog hopped closer to her, and patted her back soothingly. “It is mandatory for those six students, but it is available for any of you who would like to join. I encourage all of you to think about it. Class dismissed.”

            “One moment, sensei!” interrupted Iida. “You stated earlier that one of our number would be expelled.”

            “Are you volunteering?”

            Iida blanched. He was a mess of stutters and weird hand motions. Eraserhead sighed. “You weren’t taking this seriously, so obviously I had to use a logical ruse in order to get you brats moving.” He looked at his class, eyes hard. “I don’t waste my time, but I don’t expel on whims. As long as you prove that you have potential, I will teach you.”

            He glared. “Don’t. Waste. My. Time.” He looked back at Iida. “Any other questions?” The boy quickly shook his head. “Class dismissed.” Aizawa waved for the staff people waiting along the side of the field to come and start clean up, before he lead the way back into he building.

            When he was gone, the invisible girl fell to her knees. “That was so~ scary!” she wailed. “I thought I was done for!”

            “Dude’s super intense,” Jiro agreed. “But…I’m happy he’s making us do the extra class. Honestly, it would be nice to have some help getting in to shape.”

            “Yeah…” whined the electric boy. “But…more classes?”

            “Just be glad you didn’t get kicked out,” snorted the guy with weird elbows.

            “When you think about it,” came the logical voice of Yaoyorozu, “it does make sense that he wouldn’t actually expel any of us.”

            “But for a teacher of UA to so blatantly lie!” Iida said in disbelief.

            “Shut up, robocop,” Bakugo snapped. Shouto took a step back, to that he was more behind Bakugo, not wanting to be faced with the boy’s ire. He probably wasn’t too happy about his dad being spoken about in such a manner. “He wasn’t lying.” That made everyone stop and pay attention. Since Shouto was standing behind Bakugo, it felt like every eye was on him. If he had been in Bakugo’s shoes, he wouldn’t have been able to get any words out. However, Bakugo didn’t seem to have the same trouble. “It was only a ‘ruse” he made finger air quotes “because you idiots have potential. If you didn’t have potential, he would have kicked you out.”

            There was quiet, and then a small voice of the invisible girl asking “So that means…”

            “It means he thinks you morons got what it takes.” Bakugo snorted as he grabbed his brother by the hand and started stalking off the field. “Don’t let sensei down, extras!” he shouted over his shoulder. Most of the class took on a look of determination (Iida just seemed offended to be called a moron/extra), and Shouto had to agree.

            Someone who wasn’t his father, who hadn’t seen his fire, thought he had potential.

            Shouto felt a small smile creep on to his face.

            He had expected Eraserhead to be a good person. He was glad to have been proven right.

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            “So, Shouta,” Nemuri leaned against the wall near his desk. From across the office, Snipe not-so-subtly paused in his grading to eavesdrop. “There’s an itty bitty little rumor going around…” Shouta sighed. Hizashi…you shit.

            “And what would that be, Kayama?” he asked, deciding it was probably better to just address the issue than let it fester. He put down his proposed class schedule that he’d been tearing apart with a red pen, and crossed his arms giving her his full attention via his most withering stare.

            She was fazed not at all. An unfortunate side affect of being one of his past classmates. “When the fuck did you and Mic get hitched?”

            Aizawa’s brain just momentarily stopped working. “What”

            “I’m hurt, Shouta,” She said. The worst thing was, is that she did seem to be genuinely upset, for some reason. “You know I would have supported you! You guys are like my baby brothers! I’m happy for you, honestly, babe, but why didn’t you invite me to the wedding? I would have been the best First Maid!”

            “What”

            “And then to not only hear that you guys are an item from Thirteen of all people, but then Hizashi starts spouting off about how proud he if of his babies? Shouta? Did you guys adopt? When did you get married? It had to have been a while ago, or did the adoption only go through recently?”

            “Wait,” Aizawa shoved away from his desk. “Nemuri, hold on. Who thinks we’re married.”

            Across the office, Snipe slowly raised his hand.

Notes:

In case yall havn't noticed, I started that collection of one shots. They're all super short, but meh.
I put it in a second part to this story, so it's listed as a series, now.
Thanks for reading <3

Chapter 19: Sorry it's been forever, I have no Excuses, forgive me I love you

Summary:

I'm Sorry TT

Chapter Text

Toshinori hoped he wasn’t stepping out of line, asking to see Midoriya before school.  Just to be on the safe side, however, he’d asked both Inko and Shouta. A small voice inside his head scoffed at him having to ask permission to see his own successor. But, Toshinori reminded himself, he had really inserted himself into Midoriya’s life in a rather alarming fashion, were it looked at from a third party point of view.

            Despite how short a time he’d known Young Midoriya, only really having had the summer to bond with the boy, and despite their abrupt meeting, he found himself inordinately fond of the boy. Midoriya Izuku was smart, and he knew how to use his intelligence. He was strong, and he applied it in ways that made Toshinori just burn with undeserved pride. He even enjoyed Young Bakugo’s company. The fiery child was smart, no doubt. And strong. So, so very strong – in more ways than one. Bakugo was blunt and cautious and savage and earnest and affectionate, bundled up in a package that can only be called charming. Viciously so.

            He and Midoriya were going to do great things. Honestly, Toshinori had considered meeting with Bakugo, as well. But, not only did he not believe that Aizawa would allow him to spend any extra time with his son than necessary, but Toshinori didn’t want to take away any more of the child’s already diminished time with his fathers.

            Seeing Bakugo yesterday was actually why he’d wanted to meet up with Young Midoriya. He would begin his role as teacher today. Not mentor, not friend. After seeing the confusion on little Bakugo’s face, yesterday, at his father’s apparent cold shoulder, Toshinori wanted to ensure that Young Midoriya felt no such grief at Toshinori’s hands.

            The beach was quiet, the only sound being the waved and the gulls. The cityscape soundtrack was all but absent, muted by the morning air. Toshinori released a breath, letting his shoulders relax in the chilly breeze, tasting the salt and mist. It was early enough that the sky was still tinged with the slightest blush of pink.

            “Mr. Yagi!”

            Toshinori turned to see Izuku running up to him, kicking up sand in his excited wake. The boy’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright. He was dressed in his UA uniform, backpack slung across his back. His successor smiled widely up at him. “Did you need anything from me? Was there something I had to go over before class today? We start hero training today, don’t we? Kacchan told me that you were watching yesterday—oh no! Did I do something wrong? I wasn’t really focusing too much on technique yesterday, I was too busy trying to figure out everyone’s quirks! OmigoshMisterYagididyouseethem!? I-I-I mean, not that that’s any excuse for doing poorly, I’m so sorry!” Izuku swiftly bent forward in a bow.

            Toshinori couldn’t help but bellow out a belly laugh, resting a gentle hand in the crazy green hair. “Not at all, my boy!” He grinned. Here, Izuku looked up shyly, a slow grin growing on his face. “You did extraordinarily well! Do I need to have a reason to see you?”

            It was cute, watching Young Midoriya’s face flush a soft pink. “N-n-n-n-n-“

            Toshinori gave the greenette’s hair one last ruffle, before settling down on to the sand. He waited for Izuku to do the same. For a while, he didn’t say anything as he gathered his thoughts and stared out into the ocean. Beside him, he could feel Izuku’s excited shaking calm into giddy confidence.

            “So, you’ve been analyzing the quirks of your classmates?” Toshinori prompted his successor. “What have you learned, so far?” With wide eyes and a deep gasp, Toshinori sat back and listened as Izuku word vomited a rather organized slew of information. It was impressive, slightly creepy, and completely adorable.

            “…And they’re all so much nicer to Kacchan!” soon, surprisingly enough – or perhaps not surprising at all – Izuku moved on from quirks to his friend. “Even the kids who don’t seem to like him very much aren’t cruel like the kids at my old school were! There’s this one kid, Iida, who really doesn’t like Kacchan. But, I think Kacchan thinks he’s funny? I mean, Kacchan always kinda smiles at him, and it’s so weird but I’m happy Kacchan is happy?” Izuku gave a short laugh. “And Todoroki seems awkward, but I don’t think it’s the same way that Kacchan is? The two of them get along really well, though! Todoroki-kun and Kacchan that is! I’m really happy! And Shinsou has been great, really! Some of the other kids were talking about Kacchan, nothing mean I don’t think, but still kind of rude to be doing it at all, and Shinsou was getting really angry on Kacchan’s behalf. And, you know I’m just really happy! Kacchan was really scared about high school, so I’m glad our class is mostly nice!”

            “Young Bakugo was scared?” Toshinori frowned. “Is that why he stayed close to Aizawa yesterday?”

            Izuku froze, then a sad look clouded his big eyes. Toshinori felt regretful to be the cause of that, but, he felt it was a needed question to ask. “I…I’m not sure actually. I’d thought it might have just been out of habit, because he always stays close to Dadzawa when he can. But…oh. Do you think so, All M—I mean Mr. Yagi? Kacchan was crying really hard one night because he had a nightmare about it. It took a really long time for him to calm down.”

            Toshinori’s eyes widened. “He was…he’d..” Toshinori mulled it over for a minute, before sighing. “Originally, I thought much the same. I was worried that Young Bakugo was upset because your sensei wasn’t giving him as much attention as he was used to. However, I think you’re correct, Young Midoriya, in being grateful for such a welcoming class. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but be sure to make sure at least one of your friends is there to support Bakugo. It wouldn’t be a good thing, to make him be alone in a place he doesn’t feel confident. You, Young Shinsou, and Todoroki you said?”

            Izuku brightened. “Yeah! And Uraraka and Kirishima! They’re really nice!”

            A small beeping noise coming from Toshinori’s pocket startled Izuku. He glanced over as his mentor pulled his phone from his pocket, blanching when he saw the time. “Gah! I’m gonna be late! I’m sorry, Mr. Yagi! I was just rambling the whole time!”

            Toshinori waved away his concerns. “Don’t worry, my boy. I enjoy hearing you talk.” Toshinori paused, wondering if that was something slightly weird to say. His worry was proved unfounded though, when Izuku’s small arms wrapped around his emaciated waist. Yagi chuckled, returning the embrace just an instant before Young Midoriya gave an embarrassed squeak and darted away, leaving a ghostly trail of emerald sparks behind him.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto felt mildly guilty.

            He’d taken a picture of Eraserhead and Bakugo.

            He…he couldn’t help it, okay? It’s like his hand, the hand that was holding his phone, grew a mind of its own for the three seconds it took to snap a picture of the two of them as they were leaving campus together the day before. After he’d had it, well, it was his responsibility as an active member of the EraserMic Family fanclub to upload it to one of their sites.

            The replies had been rolling in within seconds.

            Omg the fluffiness TT

            I wish my dad walkd me to school and stuff

            I hope his first day went well!!!!!!!

            Waefdscaiwuedfskjcwrug I want one

                                    Which one?

                                    Yes

            OMG is that a matching scarf!!!???!!!

            Family goals

                                    Periodt

Shouto smiled softly. Something soft and warm and bubbly had made a home for itself in his tummy ever since class the previous day. He was in a class with Eraserhead AND his kids. Both of them! Seeing them made him long for a family life he’d never known, while simultaneously making his heart leap at this visible proof that such a reality was possible.

            He ended up watching Eraserhead closely throughout the day, all of the little ways he and his sons interacted. Bakugo seemed to be the favorite, honestly, with all the little glances and smiles sent the blonde boy’s way. However, far from being jealous of his brother, Midoriya seemed to be happy for his brother getting the attention. Midoriya must really look up to Bakugo.

            It’s easy to see why. The explosive boy had a charisma around him that made people stop and listen, even when all Bakugo was saying was nonsensical swears. Bakugo, Shouto thought, was easily the most approachable classmate out of 1-A. The other boy was so straightforward, that Shouto simply knew where the two of them stood. There was no guessing, no confusing social cues. If Bakugo had a problem with Shouto, Shouto was confident that the other boy wouldn’t be shy about letting him know about it.

            It was nice.

            Iida was scary, but aside from him everyone appeared to be welcoming, if a bit baffled by Bakugo’s behavior towards their homeroom teacher. Maybe…maybe there was a way to share the EraserMic fanpage…but discretely. Shinsou seemed to be a close friend of the EraserMic kids, and so most likely already knew. Kirishima and Uraraka seemed friendly and trustworthy. He shouldn’t do anything rashly though. But, surely, after a week or two he’d know who was trustworthy enough.

            It would be nice to have someone to talk to about those sort of things. Somehow, Shouto didn’t get the impression that Bakugo would share anything about his dads or brother too freely. Midoriya might. Shinsou seemed to be a possibility.

            Shouto found himself smiling softly, biting his bottom lip to keep his grin from getting too out of hand, as he gripped the straps of his backpack and loped towards UA. Already, a throng of students were passing through the looming front gates. In the mass, Shouto could spot a few of his classmates.

            Including the EraserMic boys. Shouto bit his lip harder as he walked just a little bit faster.

            “Hi, Todoroki!” Midoriya was smiling brightly, hanging off of his brother’s arm like he always was. Shouto paused as he took in Bakugo’s appearance.

            “Won’t you get in trouble for breaking dress code?” Shouto asked, confused.

            Bakugo had a very familiar looking scarf slung over his neck, the ends so long that they kept brushing against his knees despite the fabric having been looped several times around his neck. It was a good look on him. Cute. Bakugo shrugged. “Papa put it on me.”

            Shouto nodded. If a teacher had okayed it, then that was that. Then he frowned. Was “Papa” Present Mic or Eraserhead? Was it okay to ask? Wait, did Bakugo know that Shouto knew?!

            Before Shouto could ask anything, though, Midoriya spoke up. “Accessories wouldn’t challenge the dress code unless they were dangerous, lewd, or otherwide inappropriate.” The greenette sounded like he was quoting from some handbook, which just made Shouto wonder if there was a handout or rule book that he was supposed to have gotten.

            In the end, Shouto just gave Bakugo an awkward smile. “I think it looks…cool?” the slang came out of his mouth as naturally as a jackalope, but it had the effect of making both boys snicker, so Shouto couldn’t really be upset.

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            Hizashi had class second period with his babies, and he couldn’t be more pleased. Second period, in his opinion, was the best class to have them in. It was close enough to the start of the day that he got to begin every work day on a high note, but having it be second period also gave him a little bit of a chance to wake up and warm up.

            Hizashi couldn’t help his grin as he gathered up his materials for Shouta’s class, stuffing the papers and utensils into his workbag. It dimmed a little when he thought about his best friend. He was somewhat regretful about having blabbed so much information to Nemuri. But, it was Nemuri. They’d known each other for EVER, and she was as trustworthy as friends come. Besides, it’s not like he told her EVERYTHING. He didn’t reveal any names, just that there were a couple students that he loved more than life itself and he’d die for them and he was so proud of his babies because they were the best already because of course they were the best because they’re his babies!

            So, maybe he’d said too much.

            BUT! But, all of his coworkers (he might have been screaming about his babies in the middle of the fairly filled break room) who had heard the news had been so supportive. At least four of his fellow UA teachers had very kindly informed him that, if he ever needed a babysitter, than Hizashi and Shouta could always give them a call.

            True, Kittycat and Izuku were probably too old for a babysitter, and Hizashi shuddered at the thought of any babysitter meeting a bitter, violent end at the hands of his Kitty. Still, having the option is nice.

            It seems like Shouta didn’t share his sentiments, though. He was weirdly cold last night, only really talking to Kacchan during their evening meal and almost completely ignoring Hizashi. Did Shouta really not want anyone knowing about their babies? Hizashi had walked in on him showing off some pictures of the boys on his phone to Nemuri. So, surely, Shouta couldn’t have been that mad about it. Could he?

            Shouta didn’t even let Hizashi cuddle him, pulling away and laying on the very edge of his bed, as far away from Hizashi as he could get.

            As he hurried down the hall towards class 1-A, he started to make plants for a “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did” gift that would help get him back in Shouta’s good graces.

            Maybe his babies could help him pick something out.

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“Yes!” cheered Kirishima. “Finally, some action!”

            A cold look from Aizawa Sensei had him, and the rest of the class, quieting. It was day two, their first full day, the last section of the school day. After the inevitable, boring introduction classes that every school year started off with, it was such a relief to be told to get into their hero uniforms.

            Maybe having Aizawa Sensei’s weird test thing first off had their expectations skewered, but there was something odd about walking into English class, seeing a Pro at the front, and then having said Pro launch into a rather standard tirade about academic expectations and responsibilities. Sure, there was some hero jargon smattered throughout, but it was nothing like the class had been expecting after being forced to test themselves for their limits during “Orientation.”

            Speaking of “odd”, Kirishima had a sneaking suspicion that Bakugo was a pretty big fan of Present Mic, as well. Much like with Aizawa Sensei (who’s hero name he’d found out from Midoriya was Eraserhead) Bakugo stayed as close to the front, and Present Mic, as possible, choosing one of the front row seats. Oddly enough, Present Mic seemed to appreciate Bakugo’s attention, calling on Bakugo more than any other student, except maybe Midoriya,  who everyone knew by now was a major nerd about heroes.

            Eh, it made sense. Present Mic was known for his warm interactions with fans and media alike. It’s part of what made him such a popular hero.

            Now, though, Aizawa Sensei was dropping them off at one of the fake cities that had been used in the entrance exam. They’d all been dismissed to don their hero costumes. In the boy’s locker room, almost everyone had been dressed and ready to go within minutes. However, no one could resist the urge to stop in front of one of the mirrors and pose heroically.

            Except Todoroki, who wore a rather plain looking blue uniform that seemed to be built for practicality rather than fashion. Ice crystals were rapidly collecting on one of his sides, though, and Kirishima had to admit that it was a really cool effect. Todoroki had gotten dressed quickest, but instead of leading the lockeroom to go back where their teacher was waiting, he’d stood in the corner like he was waiting for someone.

            Shinsou stepped out of a stall, wearing a hooded uniform with a full face mask. There was some sort of mechanism on the neck of his costume, which was a dark purplish grey, but Kirishima had no idea what it could be for. Something that augmented his quirk? But, Shinsou’s quirk was brainwashing, wasn’t it?

            Before Kirishima could ponder it, too much, his breath was stolen away. Bakugo Katsuki’s costume was the most manliest thing he’d ever seen. Huge grenade like gauntlets hung from his forearms. His toned chest and arms were highlighted by a black, skin tight, low cut top with a red X cutting across it. His feet were clad in heavy black boots that were decorated along the edges and soles with the same splash of red as his top. A black domino mask flared out into small explosion-esque decorations that highlighted his expressive red eyes and…was that eye-liner?

            Then, around his neck, was the heavy-duty scarf he’d been wearing all day.

            Earlier that day, when the class first started assembling, the strict kid, Iida, had tried to make him take it off.

            “It goes against regulations!” he’d said with several oddly places karate chops to the air. “It’s one thing to be rude! It’s another entirely to so blatantly disregard school rules and mock our teacher!”

            “It’s not against…” Midoriya had started to protest on Bakugo’s behalf, but then trailed off, looking confused. “Mock? Why would Kacchan mock Sensei?”

            “I’m not sure why!” Iida looked relieved that someone else was as confused at Bakugo as he was, mistaking Midoriya question for agreement.

            To Kirishima’s surprise, it was Todoroki who spoke up. “It was Aizawa Sensei who gave him permission,” he said in his deadpan tone of voice. “We ran into each other on the way inside.”

            That stopped Iida cold. The entire class looked at Todoroki in surprise, making the quite boy sink subtly down into his desk, and then to Bakugo for confirmation. Bakugo had shrugged.  “It was actually Pa—resent Mic. But Sensei was there.” Weirdly enough, Todoroki seemed to nod in understanding. Midoriya looked…surprisingly suspicious about their icy classmate. But the suspicion evaporated so quickly it was like it was never there.

            “I-“ Iida looked like he didn’t know what to say. He opened and closed his mouth several times. Then, he bowed. “I apologize! It seems….” The boy seemed to lose some of his energy. “It seems that I havn’t learned my lesson. Forgive me for being so quick to assume!”

            “You’re good, Robocop,” Bakugo said dismissively. “I might as well tell you that it doesn’t just look like Sensei’s scarf.” Midoriya looked slightly alarmed by this admission, while Todoroki and Iida both looked increasingly interested. “You know what we’re doing today, don’t you?”

            Iida hadn’t. Neither had the rest of the class, except maybe Midoriya. Bakugo hadn’t wanted to explain, but now, here they were, and things were falling into place for Kirishima.

            “I see!” Iida exclaimed. Looks like Kirishima wasn’t the only one who was finally able to make sense of things. “You knew about the hero training, exercise and prepared accordingly! An admirable motive!”           

            “Dude!” Eijiro gave Bakugo two thumb up. “You look epic!”

            “I know” Bakugo’s grin was like a shark. Only Midoriya’s sudden appearance kept him from swooning.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            All Might felt a burst of pride as his students began to file out of the building, and gather in front of him. They all…they all looked like heroes. Miniature ones. Tiny, cute little heroes.

            His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to grab them all and shove them in his pockets to take home. “GOOD AFTERNOON, STUDENTS!”

            “All Might!” a few of them cheered, but most just stood there expectantly.

            “You all look the part,” All Might told them, approvingly, his gaze lingering on Bakugo – who was wearing one of his father’s scarves – and Midoriya – who’s green costume was clearly inspired by Eraserhead as well. Midoriya’s uniform was built for the quirkless hero-in-training he had been planning to be, with pockets for gadgets and sturdy fabric for fighting. However, there was a grinning face mask connected to a head piece, which had two elongated pieces that served no discernable purpose…

            He looked like a tiny green ninja bunny, and Toshinori loved him.

            “But,” All Might forced himself to continue. “Can you act the part? Today, you will all be divided into teams. Two teams will be pitted against each other. One team to act as the villains, one team to act as the heroes! Thirty minutes a group! The villains will be given a McGuffin to guard, and the Heroes must secure either said McGuffin or incapacitate both villains within the time limit! Failure to do so means a victory for the villains!”

            “Sir!” the hand of a tall, blue-haired boy shot up. Iida, Toshinori recalled. The boy who seemed to be at odds with young Bakugo.

            “Yes, Young Man?”

            “How will the teams be decided?”

            “By lottery!”

            Iida looked taken aback. He seemed about ready to protest, but was cut off by Bakugo.

            “Makes sense,” the boy said from behind his scarf.

            All Might couldn’t help but chuckle fondly. “I’m glad you approve, young Bakugo.”

            Bakugo grinned at him, but Iida finally worked up the steam to ask. “How does it make sense? Shouldn’t the teams be carefully thought out? Should we not work along side those whose quirks compliment our own?”

            “I mean, ideally, sure,” Bakugo shrugged. “But what happens when some asshole shows up out of no where, and wham, you’re fighting next to some turd nugget B-lister with a shittyass quirk?”

            Iida seemed torn between praising Bakugo for his insight, and scolding him for his language. In the end, he just nodded somewhat weakly and stepped back. All Might bit back another laugh. It wouldn’t do to have some of his students think that he was laughing at young Iida.

            In the end, Midoriya was paired up with Uraraka, who All Might recalled was one of the students the boy had spoken well of that morning. Todoroki and Shoji. Yoayorozu and Shinsou. Bakugo and Kaminari, and so on until every one was paired.

            All might was somewhat concerned when the first two teams were chosen.

            Team A for the heroes, and Team D for the villains.

            Midoriya and Uraraka, vs Bakugo and Kaminari.

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Chapter 20

Summary:

Lol its official
I have completely lost the plot help what comes next

Chapter Text

Katsuki couldn’t stop the shit eating grin that was spreading across his face. He saw it mirrored on Deku as well. The dumb bunny was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Katsuki was barely listening as All Might was explaining the rules of the game. Same old shit it was before, but this time it would be more interesting. Not only was he still against Deku, but the wimp had more training under his belt. Yet, Katsuki knew still Deku inside and out. He knew all of his classmates better than they knew themselves.

            For the briefest moment, Katsuki considered not going for a one-on-one with Deku. It would definitely throw everyone, because that’s what they were expecting. However, this wasn’t a serious battle, and the temptation to finally go all out against baby Deku was just too much.

            All Might finished up with the explanation, ushering the students into the viewing area, where they would observe the fight via monitors. The “villains” were left to enter the area and prepare while the “heroes” were guided a little further away.

            A throat cleared to Katsuki’s left. Pikachu stood there, nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Soooo, hehehe, Bakugo,” Pikachu was fiddling with the edges of his sleeves. “Got any, uh, plans?” Katsuki was already walking into the empty shell of a building, taking in the shape and size of the rooms.

            “Fuck yeah,” Katsuki grinned at his previous and soon-to-be friend. “How much control you got?”

            Kaminari blinked slowly. “What?”

            Bakugo kept walking, leaving his partner to catch up, jogging slightly being Katsuki’s shoulder. “Control, Pikachu. How much control you got? You able to limit your put-outage?”

            “My—oh!” Kaminari nodded eagerly. “Kinda, yeah. I haven’t have much practice, but, ya know. Hero School. Why?”

            “You’re gonna be our booby trap,” Katsuki grinned at him. “Hurry your ass up” he called behind him as he broke into a sprint up the flight of stairs.

            “Right!” Katsuki didn’t even have to look behind him to know Kaminari was smiling.

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Izuku could barely control his grin, swallowing back the small seed of worry he had for Kacchan. He’d go all out against his friend. Kacchan would accept nothing less. Even still, Izuku had All Might’s power running through his body. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, on accident. Izuku shook himself. Kacchan was strong. Stronger than anybody.

            And, besides. If UA wasn’t a safe environment to experiment with their full capabilities…what was? All Might would stop them if it got too far out of hand. “You ready, Deku!” it was phrased like a question, but filled with too much confidence to actually leave any room for an answer. Uraraka continued without needing Izuku to actually say anything. “I’m so excited! No doubt that Kacchan is one of the stronger students. You too! This is gonna be epic!”

            Her sweet-looking face was almost radiant with her pure joy, eye shining and cheeks flushed. Izuku felt his own cheeks flushing.

            He was alone with a girl!!!

            In the back of his mind, he could hear Kacchan cackling.

            “W-ww-we-ll um, U-u-u-u-ur-ra-ra-ra” nerves were making his teeth practically clack against each other as he tried to talk. He could feel his face growing redder. His ears were burning. He tried clearing his throat. “I-I mean, Kacchan is probably stronger than me. A-a-and Todo-do-do”

            Uraraka looked mildly amused, but also sympathetic, so Izuku didn’t feel like she was judging him too much. “You’re right,” she agreed easily. “Tododo is pretty strong.” Izuku didn’t think it was possible, but he thought that his blush might have been spreading down towards his arms. Uraraka giggled. “Still! This should be interesting! I’m not really sure what Kaminari’s quirk is, so it’ll be cool to see it inaction.” She clasped her hands behind her back, and rocked back and forth on her feet.

            “You know Kacchan best, though. Obviously. Got any plan to take him out? Should I be the one to, you know” she mimed fist-punching the air. There. This was territory that Izuku was familiar with.

            “Actually, Uraraka-“

            “Ochako!”

            “…Ochako,” Izuku corrected himself. “With Kacchan’s quirk and fighting style, I think I’m the better equipped of us two to fight him, even with him knowing my tendencies and habits. It balances out because I know his. Also, he doesn’t know you as well as he knows me, which means he wouldn’t be able to do much to guard the McGuffin against you. Then again, we don’t know much about Kaminari, except that he seems to generate electricity. But I haven’t had much of an opportunity to really examine him using it much, since he didn’t really use it during the quirk testing Aizawa Sensei did. I wish I knew what wattage he averaged at, and what his limit was. I wonder how well of a conductor he himself is, most people have a natural resistance to their quirk…but not everyone. So it might theoretically be able to be used against him, or else against Kacchan depending on how closer they stay to each other. Though, knowing Kacchan that wouldn’t be likely. Then again…you need to touch him for your quirk to work…”

            “But,” Ochako interrupted him. “I don’t necessarily have to touch him. I can make random stuff float, and make obstacles. Or I could make myself float. Though not for very long,” she admitted. “I get kinda…sick.” Izuku nodded, eyes wide. Only Kacchan and Aizawa Sensei had ever really been able to follow his train of thought once he went off on a mumble rant.

            A slow smile crept onto his face.

            “So it’s decided then!” Ochako said, an even wider grin on her own face. “You take care of Kacchan and I’ll go get the muffin! Good thing I teamed up with you, Deku!”

            Aaaand the blush was back.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Yes!” Pikachu cheered. “I’ll take care of Cute Girl while you handle the scary bun-bun!” Katsuki stopped walking and turned to face the idiot. Pikachu froze, eyes wide at whatever he saw on Katsuki’s face. “Uh…I say something?”

            Katsuki raised a hand, and Pikachu flinched. Katsuki smirked as he gently bopped Kaminari across the side of the head. “Listen up, Sparky,” Katsuki said. “Female Heroes tend to be more vicious, more crafty, then the ones with dicks. Know why?”

            “Why?” Pikachu asked cautiously, rubbing the spot that Katsuki had smacked, more out of surprise that it was such a light tap than because it stung.

            “’cuz of assholes like you, who make ‘em feel like they got something to prove. Who make them need to prove themselves on a level that guys like you and me? We don’t have to. The heroes who are men? We’re all starting from ground level to beat each other, the veterans, and the villains. The girls? It’s a fucking fight to get to ground level, and then they got stigmas and society to tackle on top of everything else.”

            Katsuki looked Kaminari in the eyes, needing him to understand. “And guess what, Pikachu?”

            “What?” Less cautious, more admiring now.

            “They’re all fucking badasses for it.”

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There was silence in the observation room. The timer hadn’t even started yet, but at least half the class was watching with rising passion and fisted hands, smiling wide through bared teeth.

            “Midoriya and Uraraka are probably the nicest people in our class,” Ashido said solemnly. “But ddaeng I want Bakobro over there to win.”

            “Right?” Jirou said, lowly. “I don’t even care that Kaminari would win, too.”

            All Might listened with pride, wishing that Aizawa would have stuck around to see his son earn the respect of his classmates, not with his quirk, but with his sheer morality and passion. Aizawa and Yamada did well, raising that boy. He heard a soft sniffling that broke him out of his thought bubble. A little worried, he looked around for the source of the distress.

            He found young Kirishima standing in the corner with Sero. The red head had his hands covering his mouth, his eyes filling with unshed tears. Sero, however, didn’t seem concerned. Just resigned.

            “Everything all right?” he asked, curiously.

            Kirishima looked up at him, earnest and distraught. His voice a mere whisper. “He’s so manly….”

            All Might backed off with a slow nod.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The moment that Izuku entered the building, the lights flickered off. All of a sudden, the area as cast in eerie shadows. Visibility near the windows was fine, due to the daylight streaming in. However, if the power had been shorted out throughout the entire building, as Izuku suspected it might have been, it would grow to be more of an issue the further into the building they went.

            “Ochako,” Izuku said into his earpiece. “You ready?”

            “Ready!” Came her instant response.

            Their plan was a simple one. The chances were pretty high that Kaminari would have taken the McGuffin as high as they possibly could. The ledges on the windows were small, but enough of a hold for Ochako to climb up in small bursts, hopefully keeping her from getting too nauseated on the way up. Meanwhile, Izuku would draw Kacchan as far away from Kaminari as he could. He knew Kacchan wouldn’t be able to risk the appeal of a one-on-one.

            He’d just have to trust that Ochako would be able to find and deal with Kaminari by herself. That’s important, he reminded himself as he OFA-ed up the stairs, leaving an energy trail in his wake. Heroes have to trust their team members.

            A solid arm clothes-lined him.

            Izuku choked, his jaw slamming against his skull. He saw stars. Also Kacchan. Kacchan, who was standing above him with the capture tape looking disappointed.

Even though the room was still spinning, Izuku kicked away, sliding across the floor and rolling to his feet. He stumbled a bit, but he couldn’t take the time to collect himself.

            Kacchan was already blasting across the room after him, sparking with crimson and orange that casted a vivid glow against the happiest, toothiest grin Izuku had ever seen. Izuku caught Kacchan’s wrist, the huge gauntlets making it difficult to maintain to hold, in a desperate grip, flinging him off trajectory.

In a moment of glorious skill, grace one wouldn’t normally equate with Kacchan, the explosive boy twirled in the air, his wild hair flying around his head, his booted feet landing loudly on the wall.

Hands slapped the concrete wall near his feet in the next instant, and ricocheted Kacchan back towards Izuku, elbow jutted out forward. They connected, and Izuku felt the air leave his lungs as he folded forward, collapsing like a cut marionette around the harsh blow to his solar plexus.  

            Kacchan didn’t let up. Fiery pellets burned scorched through the air towards him. Izuku powered up OFA, like he’d practiced, forming a  crackling layer of pure power just above his skin. The fire seemed to evaporate against the green energy.

 Izuku barked a laugh and threw a punch too fast for the eye to follow. It landed square against Kacchan’s cheek. Blood and saliva flew from Bakugo’s mouth as Izuku rained down blow after blow.

            Then, remarkably, Kacchan leaned sideways. Izuku’s arm was made to graze across his cheek and into thin air, throwing the greenette off balance. With a sweeping kick, Izuku was back on the ground and rolling out of the range of yet another explosion.

            Kacchan stalked towards him, quirk popping menacingly. He was still grinning with blood leaking through his teeth.

            Izuku couldn’t help but smile back, before spinning around and flashing away around a corner.

            “COME BACK AND FIGHT WITH ME, DEKU!”

            “You’re it, Kacchan!” Izuku laughed over his shoulder. He got an explosion in reply, the heat from it rippling down the hallway in a tangible wave. Izuku rounded a corner again, coming back to the stair well, with Kacchan nowhere in sight. He was about to resume his climb, when he realized that Kacchan was right there. At the top of the flight of stairs.

            He hadn’t been chasing Izuku, he’d been waiting.

            With a vicious laugh, Kacchan leveled his gauntlet at Izuku. Izuku gasped and dove for cover. However, once again, Kacchan surprised him. Instead of blasting Izuku to kingdom come, he aimed at the staircase.

            “I win, Deku.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kaminari had only just finished setting up his (Bakugo’s) epic trap when the whole building started to shake. He was nearly knocked on his butt. He tapped his communicator. “Blasty? You good, dude?”

            He got a grunt and heavy breathing from the other end. “Deku’s taken care of.”

            Well. That sounded ominous as hell. “Uraraka still hasn’t shown yet,” Kaminari reported. All around him, where he stood on top of a raised platform of random shit, was broken piping and leaking water. The water pressure in the fake building was garbage, but that’s to be expected, and it actually helped in this case. All of the doors were open, letting the water spill out as far as it could. The McGuffin was sitting in a puddle, and Kaminari would be protected by his insulated boots.

            Uraraka wouldn’t be.

            Also, the water would let him know as soon as someone was on their way, because it would be too dark to see the water before they’d already splashed in it.

            And speak of the devil.

            “That you, Bakugo?” Kaminari whispered into his ear piece.

            “Doubt it,” came the response above a strange, loud, background noise. “I’m still like six floors down.”

            “Then, I think I have company.”

            “You got this, Pikachu.” For some reason, the dismissive tone Bakugo used to deliver the line made it worth that much more. Kaminari grinned.

            Taking a deep breath, he stuck his hands in the water.

            And let the energy curl out from his fingers.

            It as a strangely beautiful sight, the electric rippling across the shallow water spill in the darkness. There was a shriek and then sudden silence. Kaminari stopped instantly, sudden fear clogging his throat.

            He didn’t kill her did he?!

            But, then there was a huge splash from a good distance away.

            Frowning, Kaminari stuck his hands back in the water. Once against, a low pulse of electricity spread across the water like a crackling fog. There was another sound, like something being taken out of the water.

Realization struck Kaminari, and he repositioned himself grimly. He was on his knees, one hand still in the water, and the other bracing himself for balance. His eyes he kept trained on the ceiling.

It was hard to see, because, of course, the lack of light affected him as well. But, soon enough, a shadow crept across the ceiling and into the room.

            “Remember” Bakugo had told him. “She doesn’t know you can’t aim. Use that.”

            “How do you know I can’t aim,” Kaminari had pouted.

            Bakugo had leveled an offensively blank look at him.

Now, though, Kaminari risked using a bit more of his power. The electricity erupted out of every part of him, illuminating the room. He help up one palm towards her.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Kaminari said. “Surrender, and you don’t get French fried!”

Uraraka was looking kind of sick, or maybe she was trying to intimidate him.

After Bakugo’s speech…it was kind of working.

She launched herself off the ceiling, cancelling her quirk, and landed behind him on the platform just beyond the range of his electricity. He pounced towards her, having to remove his hand from the water. The electricity fizzled out, and visibility dropped once again. Only Kaminari remained as a light source.

Uraraka prepared to jump for the McGuffin, but Kaminari frantically shoved to into the water. Uraraka cried out because of the direct contact with his quirk. Hurriedly, Kaminari knelt to charge the water again. Moments before he’d managed to, Uraraka was, once again, braced against the ceiling, and looking ill.

He could do this.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki fell backwards, downwards, as the staircase crumbled, blocking both he and Deku below. The nerd had dove for cover, away from the debris, but had still ended up face down, half covered in chunks of staircase. It took two moments to secure his dazed friend with the capture tape.

He patted Deku fondly on the back, then blasted a window into smithereens, before flinging himself out into the open air.

His com beeped. “Blasty? You good dude.” Pikachu.

“Deku’s taken care of,” Katsuki grunted. He jetted his way up the side of the building, flying up across the class and concrete. One. Two. One. Two. A calming dance that was as natural to him as violent murder.

“That you, Bakugo?” Pikachu’s voice was hard to make out over Bakugo’s quirk.

            “Doubt it. I’m still like six floors down.”

            “Then, I think I have company.”

“You got this, Pikachu.” Then Bakugo cut the connection and focused on going faster.

Without missing a beat, Katsuki slammed his palm down onto a window. The explosion he used to bust it flung him backwards. He used his feet, huge bursts emitting from both of them, to regain balance. Then, with all four blasting points – his palms and his soles – he rocketed forward and landed in a crouch and a splash.

In the distance, he hurt the sounds of rough-housing. Not an actually fight. It kinda sounded like they were just pushing each other around, like a couple of playground brats. Katsuki grinned despite himself.

Kids.

A crackle and a glow alerted him that Kaminari was charging the water. Katsuki leaped and flew close to the ceiling, using it as leverage to kick him along faster.

Straight into a wall.

With a deafening, crashing BOOM, the wall gave way with piece toppling onto Pikachu’s little platform, knocking him off balance and into the water. Katsuki attached himself to Urarka’s back, legs wrapping tightly around her midsection.

She was bound in the next breath.

“VILLAINS WIN!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1-A erupt into cheers. Even Iida seemed energized by watching the first match.

            “Dude!” Sero grinned. “Bakubro is a beast.”

            “So manly

            “Uraraka was cool, too, though. Did you see the way she was just leaping up the side of the windows?”

            “Okay, yeah, but Bakugo was freaking flying.

            Shouto was clutching his phone to his chest. He definitely had not been filming the observation monitors, nope. His heart was definitely not racing, nuh uh. He swallowed hard around his dry throat.

            Shouto looked down, hard at the ground, to hide his smile as he shuffled his feet, feeling a strange sort of energy bubbling all through him that make him want to laugh and jump up and down.

            And Todoroki’s did not randomly giggle or bounce. That was for sure.

            But…but…they were so bad they were great! It as obvious, in the way they had fought almost desperately, that they didn’t normally go all out. Just another reason to appreciate their fathers as heroes and human beings.

            But, when they fought…it almost seemed like…they were playing? Every attack was vicious and full of intent, but not intent to harm. Just…to push. To irritate. To show off. Shouto’s mind wandered as he wondered what it would be like to play like that with his brother. Maybe the EraserMic kids would let him spar with them, one day. Would it be weird to ask?

            The doors opened to laughter, showing Bakugo carrying his brother in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder, Kaminari and Uraraka almost vibrating with post-fight excitement behind him. Izuku was still bound with an absurd amount of tape, though Todoroki was fairly certain the greenette could break free if he really wanted to.

            Bakugo walked up to their teacher with a “Hey, Whatsit. Catch” Before lobbing his brother towards the unprepared All Might. All Might gasped and sped to catch his student, holding him closely.

            Tenderly?

            Shouto narrowed his eyes at the sight of All Might and Midoriya Izuku.

            Then, he thought.

            And thought.

            And then he uploaded the video he took.

            “Is it just me, or does Midoriya’s quirk look like All Might’s?

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Shouta grumbled under his breath as he pulled the glass tray of lasagna out of the oven. Setting it on the table, he glanced towards the living room where he could hear the sound of explosions and exciting action music emanating from the television. With a soft huffing sigh, he yanked his hands out of the worn, pink oven mitts and tossed them to the countertop.

            “Dinner!” he hollered as he slid three plates out of a cabinet.

            “One sec, Shouta!”

            “Hold up, I’m fixin’ta kick his ass, Dad!”

            A horrible warmth smoothed its way across the inside of his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he stalked his way to the open end of the hall that looked into the living room. Leaning against the door frame, Shouta crossed his arms and watched as Kacchan and Hizashi battled it out on a game console connected to the television.

            With a gleeful shout, Kacchan leaped up and threw his controller down onto the couch cushions, where Hizashi was wailing in faux despair. On screen, Kacchan’s character was posing victoriously over Hizashi’s bloody corpse.

            “Why can’t you play something less violent?” Shouta asked mildly. “Didn’t I buy you that car game? You haven’t played that one much.”

            “Papa’s shit at that game. It’s no fun.” Kacchan pouted behind a hateful glare. “’Sides, waitin’ for Deku and Shitstain to put together enough online players for a prix.”

            Shouta nodded, pretending to understand as Hizashi got up, stretching. Kacchan waltzed passed him, following the smell of the lasagna. Shouta came up behind him, dishing out the servings as Hizashi hummed, opening the fridge to retrieve the milk jug. “Have a good first day, Kitty?” Hizashi asked.

            “I murdered Deku.”

            “You two got paired for the exercise, today?”

            “Nah, I got stuck with Pikachu. Fucker makes a good boobytrap though. Deku and Round Face were the heroes, and we destroyed them.”

            Shouta let Hizashi fill his plate up, before picking up his fork and digging in. “All Might named him MVP for the round,” he informed his best friend. “He was the one who came up with the winning strategy, and captured both heroes.”

            Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You captured both of them? What was your partner doing?”

            “Tol’ ya” Kacchan said around a mouthful of steaming food. “’e wa’ ma boo’y trap”

            “You’re going to choke, Kacchan,” Shouta pushed his brat’s cup closer to him.

            “You first, old man,” thanked Kacchan as he took a drink.

            Hizashi was smiling so widely, Shouta was sure his teeth were going to just pop out. He reached over and grabbed one of Shouta’s hand with both of his own, tightly. “I can’t believe he’s at the top of his class!” Shouta gently shoved him away.

            “Technically, the Todoroki boy got the best score,” Shouta said mildly, ignoring the frown sent his way by Hizashi.

            To his surprise, Kacchan seemed perfectly fine with having been bested by someone other than Izuku. “Halfy did good,” he nodded, contentedly as he checked his phone. The boy gave a soft, snuffling little giggle, then tapped out a message. The two adults shared a confused look.

            Katsuki didn’t giggle, often.

            “You texting ‘Zuku?” Hizashi asked.

            “No.” Shouta froze. Mind running through the other possibilities.

            “Shinsou?”
            “No.”

            Dread was pooling in Shouta’s stomach.

            “…wanna share?”

            “Nah.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#generalchat

ActuallyDead98: okay but are we ignoring the fact that you literally have two bombs attached to your costume?

IidaTenya: I, too, am surprised you were allowed to utilize such dangerous equipment in a training exercise.

RedMight: I think its manly bro!!!!!!!!

RedMight: ( ఠ)

RedMight: ~‾͟͟͞(((ꎤ >ㅿ<)̂—̳͟͞͞o

PikaPikaChuuuu: k y do thos look exactly like bakubro tho

PinkyPie: because he angry boi

Dekuzu: no he just need squishes

Dekuzu: ♥(ˆˆԅ)

Kacchan: I squish your fucking femur into your pancreas.

PinkyPie: vioelent angryyy boi

PikaPikaChuuuu: ミ●

Kacchan: The fuck is that supposed to be.

ActuallyDead98: No no. I see the resemblance.

Dekuzu: lol

PinkyPie: XDXDXDXD

EarJaxx: Heh.

PikaPikaChuuuu: I MADE HER LAUGH.

PikaPikaChuuuu: SHE LOVES ME.

PikaPikaChuuuu: WACH YALLS BACKS COS THER A NEW POER CUPLE IN TON

EarJaxx: Learn to spell, Fuckwit.

Kacchan: Heh.

IidaTenya: Please remember that this group chat was originally intended for school related conversations!

IidaTenya: Thank you!

YoItsMomo: Ass classmates, aren’t we all technically school related?

Kacchan: Ass Classmates

YoItsMomo: as classmates, aren’t we all technically school related? [edited]

SeroShitsGiven: Too late. Got receipt.

SweetCheeks: Lol, besides Iida there are other channels we can make for important stuff.

SweetCheeks: So it’s fine to spam this one.

SweetCheeks: If we’re annoyin g you you can mute this channel <3

IidaTenya: Ah! Thank you for informing me. I only just downloaded this app, as I have never used it before. So any additional information regarding standard usage is most helpful.

PinkyPie: girl lol, love the user name.

SweetCheeks: It’s what Kacchan calls me! Haha!

PikaPikaChuuuu: Same.

ActuallyDead98 changed their name to Shitstain

Dekuzu: Same.

Shitstain: Same

Halfy: Same.

PinkyPie: Hi Todoroki!

SweetCheeks: Hi Tododo lol

PinkyPie: Also same.

Halfy: @SweetCheeks ?

Dekuzu: Don’t worry Todoroki, she’s making fun of me.

SeroShitsGiven changed their name to SoySauceFace

SoySauceFace: Same.

SoySauceFace: Abt the Bakubro name, not making fun of you Tododo.

RedMight: I don’t have a nickname?

RedMight: Bakubro?

EarJaxx: Don’t need one Thnx

Halfy: Iida is Robocop.

Shitstain: He called you fuckmunch, once.

Dekuzu: ya, but he’s called everyone that at least once. Even sensei.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Bakubro how you walking around with balls that big

PinkyPie: Ew

EarJaxx: Ew

SweetCheeks: Ewwwwwwww

YoItsMomo: Kaminari…

RedMight: Why don’t I get a nickname…

Kacchan: You havn’t been stupid enough for me to bother with one yet.

Kacchan: I like your name.

RedMight: Waitt like this user name or my real name??

RedMight: Bakubro?

Kacchan: You want me to fucking insult you, Shitty Hair?

RedMight: I thought You liked my hair :’(

Shitstain: don’t worry. He does.

Dekuzu: He does!

Halfy: Why haven’t you changed your name yet?

RedMight changed their name to ShittyHair

Kacchan: It doesn’t suck as bad as Shitstains.

Shitstain: Id get offended but honestly mood.

PikaPikaChuuuu changed channel name to #BakuSquadOnly

PikaPikaChuuuu: Hail the Dark Lord

Shitstain: Hail

ShittyHair: Hail

Halfy: Hail

Dekuzu: Hail!

SweetCheeks: Hail

PinkyPie: Hail

EarJaxx: So we’re a cult now?

EarJaxx: Hail

SoySauceFace: Hail

Gloves: Hail

YoItsMomo: Hail

PrinceyPrincey: Haiil!!! ( ´ ´) ノ*: ・゚

Tails: Hail lol

TheMuffinMan: Just Backread lol. You’re nuts.

TheMuffinMan: Hail

KojiKoda: ?

LotsaJazHandz: Hail

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Hail oh Great Dark One.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: May your reign cast Darkness upon the wretched blinding ignorance of our society

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Hail

IidaTenya: I left for five minutes.

Chapter 21

Summary:

Short and filler, but I had fun. Next up will be the additional PE class, I think. Ima take some time just exploring this world and these characters, because that's what I find most fun about writing. I hope you guys don't mind the chat thing becoming more of a thing. Its just a really fun format to write in lol

anyway, I hope you enjoy

Chapter Text

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

There was a lazy sort of humming in the air that spread pleasantly across Katsuki’s skin. The air was cold, the way he liked it to be when he slept, and his thick, plush blankets were bundled up around him in a very tell-tale way. Papa had probably checked up on him at some point in the night, perhaps after his Sensei had ended patrol for the evening.

            He stretched luxuriously, gently unleashing a controlled burst of his quirk into his hair, fluffing it up away from his face. Then he grabbed his scarf from where it had pooled, tangled on the floor and wound it around his neck.

            He was still buttoning up his wrinkled uniform as he padded barefoot into the kitchen. The air didn’t smell like pancakes, which meant Dadzawa was the one “cooking” this morning. Sure enough, Aizawa stood in his usual attire, hair mussed and snarled and piled in a manbun, chopping up a melon. Several nearly empty boxes of cereals had been tossed haphazardly onto the breakfast table next to a place setting.

            Katsuki grabbed one of the cereal boxes before boosting himself onto the counter next to where Aizawa was working. He shoved his hand into the box to retrieve a handful of the unhealthy peasant food, which he then tossed into his mouth. Aizawa grunted at him. Katsuki gave him one in return.

            “GOOOOOOOD MORNINGGGGG!” chimed Mic as he slid in, socks on tile and arms spread wide. When he reached Katsuki, those arms latched themselves around his shoulders and squeezed, hard, lifting him off the countertop. Katsuki grunted at him as well.

            Hizashi hummed as he grabbed some glasses from the cabinet behind Katsuki, after he had released the boy, then pried open the door of the refrigerator with his foot. He poured a liberal glass of milk, some of the liquid carelessly sloshing onto the floor, and then offered the cup to Katsuki.

            Bakugo grunted and grabbed the carton from Mic, and took a swig straight from it. Aizawa swatted at him halfheartedly, then handed him a bowl of uneven melon slices. “Fifteen minutes,” Aizawa said, his voice rough, before slouching towards the coffee machine. “If you’re late, I’m leaving without you.”

            “Papa, he’s being mean to me.”

            “*Gasp* how dare! Villain!”

            “Just fine, thanks”

            Mic left early, as he always did, smacking wet kisses on Katsuki’s and Aizawa cheeks as he dashed passed, leaving them to wipe away the messy evidence of his affection as he rushed to drop of some work at his radio station. Ten minutes later, Aizawa and Katsuki began their leisurely trek to the train station. The past couple days Katsuki walked by himself, when Aizawa needed to arrive earlier than Katsuki was willing to wake up or when Katsuki had planned to meet Deku before class, and Aizawa hadn’t wanted to be spotted by his students outside of the class. Today, though, there was nothing special going on, so they walked together in comfortable silence.

            It was this kind of mornings that Katsuki liked best, he thought as he buried his face into his scarf. The crisp morning air seemed to be wrapping around his head, flowing easily into his lungs. Traffic noise seemed muted and the few people out and about were hurrying, wordlessly, to work. The station had maybe half a dozen other people there, in total, and none of them were paying attention to either Katsuki or Aizawa, well, except for one middleschooler who was openly gaping. But, when they noticed that Katsuki had seen them, they’d squeaked, turned red, and buried their face in their phones. Katsuki snorted and leaned a bit closer to Aizawa.

            Sensei looked down at him, blankly, then quietly adjusted Katsuki’s scarf and patted his shoulder. Katsuki offered him a friendly glare, which sensei returned readily.

            He slipped out his phone. The night before, he’d turned off the sound and vibration, something he’d never really had to do before this time around. However, Before, they’d had a class A-1 chat that most of them used regularly, though Katsuki had never really participated. He’d just read the stupidity that the others put there. Still, back then, the frequent rumbling in his pocket was a warm, happy sort of annoyance that he’d happily lived with, though he’d never had admitted it.

            He’d missed it.

            Slipping a glance upwards at Sensei, who was looking like he was half asleep standing up, Bakugo tapped the sound option to vibrate-only, then opened up the Discord app and unmuted the server.

            To his absolute surprise not at all, the chat was already active.

Class 1A Discord Server

#BakuSquadOnly

IidaTenya: I do not wish to change my user name!

Shitstain: Kill joy

ShittyHair: I think your BakuName is super manly dude!!!

SoySauceFace: Better than yours, anyway

Shitstain: None of us have any room to say anything

SweetCheeks: I like my name!

EarJaxx: That coz Bakugo actually likes you

PikaPikaChuuuu: Lolol dont let Midoriya hear u say that. Ull hurt his feelings. Anyway I like mine too!

Gloves: I don’t have one   ( 个_ 个)

YoItsMomo: It’s only day three, lol. I’m sure he’ll get around to naming all of us.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Goodmonrnin BTW

IidaTenya: Good Morning, Kaminari!

ShittyHair: Sup, bro! I wonder what we’ll be doing today!

Shitstain: Death

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Oh, to be gifted with the blessed silence of eternal sleep.

Shitstain: mood

TheMuffinMan: not to interrupt whatever this is, but I accidently made too much batter.

TheMuffinMan: If I brought a couple loaves of banana bread, would you guys eat it?

ShittyHair: HECK YEAH BRO

PikaPikaChuuuu: YAAAAS

YoItsMomo: That sounds quite good, actually. Thank you, Sato.

SoySauceFace: DUDE PLEASE YES

Gloves: O, yummy! I’ll eat a little! I need to watch my figure, tho…

PinkyPie: Yay! Sounds great!

Dekuzu: hahahaha that would be amazing I forgot breakfast

SweetCheeks: I will never say no to free food!

SweetCheeks: Also Oh no! Deku! You should remember to eat!

Dekuzu: I know I know! It’s just, I left my house early to meet up with mr. yagi and I forgot!

Shitstain: tbh yagi looks like he could use like, eight consecutive meals. U should get ur dad to feed him.

IidaTenya: Midoriya! As your fellow UA classmate, I must insist you be more diligent about caring for your health!

PikaPikaChuuuu: wait I’m lost. Who Yagi?

Dekuzu: uuuhhhh ahahahahaha nobody lol

ShittyHair: ?

EarJaxx: ….

SweetCheeks: Well now I’m just curious

YoItsMomo: Seems like Shinsou and Mr. Midoriya both know this person, so it can’t be anyone harmful or suspicious.

SoySauceFace: Idk man, Shinsou’s pretty sus himself

Shitstain: Fuck you

IidaTenya: Please let us respect Midoriya’s privacy! If he does not wish to share information, he is by no means required to!

IidaTenya: Also, I must ask that you please watch your language!

Kacchan: What up ya bampot assmonkeys

Shitstain: ^ reason 30284710 we’re friends

ShittyHair: Hii Bakubro! Goodmornign!!!

PikaPikaChuuuu: Sup, Kacchan!

SweetCheeks: Hi Kacchan! <3

Dekuzu: Did you eat breakfast?

IidaTenya: Once again! I must ask that you be polite, Bakugo! A hero must think of their image!

Kacchan: Papa was busy, so I ate cereal.

Kacchan: Still hungry tho, so banana bread sounds awesome Muffin Man.

TheMuffinMan: That’s *THE* Muffin Man, thnks.

Kacchan: Wanna keep ur thymus?

TheMuffinMan: Whats a thymus

Kacchan: I can rip it out and show you

TheMuffinMan: No thnx im good.

PikaPikaChuuuu: We jus gonna ignore the back that McBlasty calls his dad Papa?

SweetCheeks: So cute <333333

Gloves: I has many uwus

ShittyHair: So manly ( ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣o˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)⁼³₌₃

Kacchan: I cant call him Dad too. That’s fucking stupid.

Dekuzu: Kacchan has two fathers! He calls one Papa and the other Dad!

PinkyPie: Somehow even cuter!

SweetCheeks: ^^^^^

Shitstain: Their family gives me cavities. His Papa calls him Kittycat

EarJaxx: so that’s where he gets the nickname thing from

PikaPikaChuuuu: LOLOLOL cuuuuuute bro!

Gloves: Can I call u Kittycat, too!!??

ShittyHair: I think it’s epic that he’s so close to his parents!

Halfy: Same.

IidaTenya: If you are still hungry, Bakugo, you can have a breakfast bar once we are both in class! I always have several that I bring, due to my quirk taking a large amount of energy and calories! Furthermore, I find no shame in you and your fathers having an affectionate dynamic!

SoySauceFace: Ima call you Kitty from now on.

Kacchan: DO ANY OF YOU WANNA KEEP YOUR LIVERS!?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: You can have mine.

Shitstain: Mood.

            A shadow suddenly loomed across Katsuki’s phone screen. Instinctively, Katsuki pressed its face against the front of his uniform, covering the screen even as his thumb flicked the power button, darkening the screen. He scowled up at his “Dad’s” impassive face.

            “You’re texting.”

            “No duh, Dad.” Katsuki said, sarcastically. Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, probably trying to figure out why Katsuki was being so suspicious. He wrinkled his nose. “Muffin Man’s bringin’ banana bread or somthin.”

            Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “You were messaging Sato?”

            “No.” Aizawa sighed as the train rumbled into the station, halting the conversation. A warm hand dropped across the back of Katsuki’s neck, gently guiding him onto the train.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto woke up smiling.

It probably had something to do with the fact that his phone had been quietly buzzing since around six thirty, which might have annoyed most people. Well…Shouto guessed the he just wasn’t most people. He’d had discord for a while, usually from links on various EraserMic fanpages, so it wasn’t like he was new to the idea of this sort of chat like Iida was.

            But, at the same time, there was something inherently different about the Class 1A server. Something better that made him feel accepted. He wondered if this meant that they were all friends? They were certainly friendly with each other, but then he’d been homeschooled and tutored his whole life, so maybe this was just regular classmate behavior?

            As he got dressed, he pondered what the difference between “acquaintance” and “classmate” was, and were the boundary lie between those two group and “friends”. He thought about Shinsou and the EraserMic kids. They were certainly friends. Uraraka also called herself their friend. However, there was a distinct difference in the friendship between the boys and Shinsou, and the friendship between them and Uraraka. He just wasn’t sure what that difference was.

            He thought about Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima. The three boys had stuck together throughout the past few days, and so were probably friends. However, there was a certain awkwardness that lingers around them. The same lack of familiarity that was between Shouto and the other 1A students. A sudden pattern of heavy footsteps clomped passed his door, pausing briefly, before Endeavor huffed and continued on in the direction of the kitchen.

            Shouto frowned. He was hungry, but it was nothing unmanageable. He reached towards his phone to check the time. He still had a half an hour before he had been planning on heading out. He sighed and got comfortable on his sleeping mat, unlocking his phone.

            He almost went to open up the EraserMic fanpage, but then decided to check and see what his classmates were talking about. The sight of the notification, telling him he had 157 unread messages made his irritation at having to skip breakfast in order to avoid his father fade away.

            The idea of sharing a morning snack with his friends….classmates?...made his stomach twitch. He wasn’t sure what banana bread was, but he liked bananas, and it was made by one of his classmates….friends?...so he was more than happy to try some. The conversation shifted over towards talking about Bakugo’s parents, much to his glee. The information that Present Mic had a penchant for nicknames was both not useful and very welcome. Also, Bakugo seemed to be implying that Present Mic usually cooked him breakfast.

            Shouto imagined for a second what it would be like to have his father prepare him a meal. Then, he brushed the thought away. If Endeavor ever cooked anything, Shouto would instantly assume it was either poisoned or else laced with some experimental drug meant to boost his quirk.

            As the conversation slowed, Shouto switched over to the fanpage. Then he frowned. Usually, whenever he posted something, he would only get somewhere between two or ten upvotes. Maybe a reply if he was lucky. But his account was as generic as you could get, with randomly smashed out numbers as his account name and a picture of a frowning ice cube as his avatar. He wasn’t one of the most vocal or the most popular on the sites.

            Or anywhere.

            However, the video he posted the day before had exploded. More than three thousand people, about two thirds of the subscribers to the page, had upvoted. Nearly as many had left a comment.

 984539483: [uploaded video 8.52 minutes]  3.4k upvotes

-Is it just me, or does Midoriya’s quirk look like All Might’s?

2.8k replies

 

-omg how did you get this video

-nah different color

-EraserMic Kid says respecc whamen.

-Am confusion

-lol nice edit bro

            --[nah different color -reply] that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Look at the way Midoriya is using it!

-OP who are you? Is this real?

-Look closely, there’s like a shield of energy or something that he’s using to augment his body. All Might doesn’t have that?

-those biceps tho yum

--[ Look closely, there’s like a shield of energy… -reply] do we know that for sure tho? All Might’s so fukcing massive that his quirk might be just massive energy blasting through his body constantly. Maybe Midoriya will get more like that as he gets bigger?

--[ do we know that for sure… - reply] but hold on. All of this is interesting, but I thought we’d agreed that Midoriya is probs Eraserhead’s bio kid? If that’s true, how tf does he have All Might’s powers?

-Forget Midoriya!!! The HEeCK Bakugo???? I’m in LOVE???

-WTF??? Yes?????

-Can we just appreciate how EraserMic taught the kiddos to be so freaking respectful to women?

--[ but hold on. All of this is… -reply] I’ve got it!! What if Eraserhead is sterile! Then, that would mean he would have had to ask someone to be a sperm donor! That someone could be All Might!!! They could be friends??? It’s possible, yeah?? I mean, they both work at UA?????

--Op, how you get this video??? Where is this???

-It’s official. Bakugo is my favorite

-- [Op, how you get this… -reply] this looks like a UA practice arena…OP, are you a UA student???

 

Shouto kept reading through all of the comments, and then on to original posts inspired by the revelation that his video had brought about. He mentally noted that he probably shouldn’t leave any more videos. He wouldn’t want people to find out who he was. If Endeavor found out about Shouto’s…hobby…well, Shouto didn’t know what his father would do.

He absently noted that the number of people who followed his mostly empty account had skyrocketed. Shouto chewed on his lip. That was interesting?

Ah well. He’d just have to be more careful from now on.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki got to class before anyone else, thanks to having arrived with the teacher who slunked behind his wide, wooden desk to step into one of his many sleeping bags, zip it up, and flop sideways onto the floor. Katsuki snorted in amusement as he dropped his back behind his own desk and threw himself into the chair, propping his feet up.

            Almost exactly two minutes later, the door was loudly thrown open as Iida walked through. “Good morning, Bakugo!” Iida said cordially as he walked towards his explosive classmate, who raised an eyebrow. "I recalled from the discussion this morning that you were hungry!” The severe boy pulled a breakfast protein bar from his backpack.

            Katsuki took it with a small smile, a flashing memory briefly chasing nostalgia through his mind. Before, Iida had always been looking out for the others in the group, always had a stocked pack of medical supplies and high protein snacks ready and on hand. “Thanks, Robocop,” Katsuki said as he tore the package open with his teeth.

            Iida gave him a strange, considering look.

            Katsuki frowned at him, pausing before he took a bite. “What?”

            Iida startled a bit, looking unsure. “Your smile makes you look kind.”

            Katsuki snorted. “That’s the point, ain’t it?” Iida nodded, conceding the point as he made his way to his own desk.

            “I hadn’t realized that you utilize nicknames as a form of endearment,” Iida said in that annoying, earnestly blunt way of his. “I don’t understand, but I can respect that it seems to be a learned behavior!”

            Katsuki finished off the bar with a slow blink. “What?”

            “Though I do not find it to be ‘cute’ like our classmates do, I’m honored that you’ve gifted me with a my own!”

            “What?”

            He watched, bewildered as Iida pulled out his phone and started messing around on it. He was somewhat taken aback. The strict young man normally wasn’t the type to leave off a conversation in the middle in favor of playing on his phone.

            The door swung open again. Halfy and Ponytail walked in, quietly talking amongst themselves. When they realized that he and Iida were already there, Yaoyorozu smiled warmly at him. “Good morning, Bakugo! How has your morning been so far?”

            “S’fine, Ponytail. What’s it to you?”

            Inexplicably, Yaoyorozu beamed, whipping out her phone as well.

Halfy didn’t seem to be ask confused as Katsuki, for once. He just turned to him and gave one of his weird, constipated smiles. “H-hello, Bakugo. Your idea to create a server was a good one. It makes conversation….easier, I guess.”

“I agree!” Momo smiled, not looking up from her phone. “With all of us planning to be heroes, we’ll have to learn to depend on each other. A group chat that we can use for fun is a great way to get to know each other!”

Iida dropped his phone. “So that was the purpose? To build camaraderie amongst our fellow heroes in training?” Iida leveled a weird salute-hand at Katsuki. “Bakugo! Once again, I have underestimated you!” Then he frowned at his phone.

“ha!” Momo smiled as more people began to show up.

Class 1A Discord Server

#BakuSquadOnly

YoItsMomo changed their name to PonyTail

PonyTail: I have been blessed by the Bakugo.

ShittyHair: Congrats dude!

Gloves: lol Baku ur so cute!

Katsuki rolled his eyes, not bothering to reply, instead watched as the various other students in the room – Jiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Hagakure – as they smiled at their phones.

“Oi!” Katsuki threw his breakfast bar wrapper at the invisible girl. “I’m not cute!”

Hagakure made a sound that told Katsuki she was sticking her tongue out at him. “I’ll stop calling you cute the day you give me a nickname!!” Katsuki racked his brain, trying to think of shit he’d called her, then feeling mildly amused when re realized that his go-to for her was a tie between “See Through” and “Gloves”. Once of which already happened to be her user name.

He gave her his deluxe snide stare. “The one you got works fine, Gloves.” Unfortunately, she wasn’t cowed. The bubbly girl just giggled. Iida was still frowning at his phone. “Yaoyorozu, may I ask for your assistance?”

Momo looked up in surprised. “Of course! What do you need?”

“How does one change their user name?” Iida asked earnestly, prompting laughter. Jiro snatched his phone off his desk.

Class 1A Discord Server

#BakuSquadOnly

IidaTenya changed their name to ROBOCOP

Shitstain: the fact that its all caps makes me happy

ROBOCOP: Who shoved a fucking stick up my damn ass

Shittyhair:????

PikaPikaChuuuu: 「( ゚< ゚) ゙??

LotsaJazHands: (☉_☉)

KojiKoda: (‐ ^‐

Halfy: I want to make a face.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Here use this one ( / ╹□╹) /* +?

Halfy: Thank you Kaminari.

Halfy: ( / ╹□╹) /* +?

            Jiro, looking very pleased with herself, handed Iida’s phone back to him. The boy thanked her profusely as he took it back, before seeing what she had written and blanching impressively.

ROBOCOP: THAT WAS NOT ME!

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Denial is the surest path into the nadirs of ignorance, wherein only death holds salvation.

Shitstain: Dude, you and I need to hang out.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: °˖ ✧◝( ⁰) ˖°

ROBOCOP: Tokoyami! You saw Jiro take my phone!

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Who can know which reality they see, and which reality they must trust?

Kacchan: Shitstain, don’t join that fucking chicken’s cult. You’re depressing as fuck as it it.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds changed their name to ThatFuckingChicken

Shitstain: I’m in love.

ThatFuckingChicken: Love is dead and death is inevitable

Shitstain: that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever told me

ThatFuckingChicken: (•ө•)~♪ ♡♡♡♡

Shitstain:

Katsuki wrinkled his nose and looked up at where Shinsou seemed to have suddenly appeared in his desk. Both he and Tokoyami were smiling at their phones while everyone else seemed mildly disturbed.

            Well, Katsuki thought to himself as his entire worldview shifted. This is new.

Chapter 22

Summary:

It's a little shorter today, but this was strangely hard for me to write, and I'm not sure why. also, college started up again this week.
Dude....I'm dying. It's like...none of my professors realize that I'm taking more classes besides their own, so they all assign homework like it's the only thing I could possibly have to do at all this week.
It's the Friday of the first week, and I already have a 20min presentation on Hindi-cinema to prepare to give, two three hour videos to watch and take notes on (and be ready to participate in a class discussion on) a butt-load of required reading to do, a short essay on a time when I was "aware of grammar" I-shit-you-not that is the ACTUAL TOPIC LIKE WTF PROF???? And also I'm supposed to watch the Matrix, which isn't too bad, but then I have to organize the plotpoints according to the Hero's Journey template and....like...I'm also working 25+ hours a week....and I need sleep.... Also I work on a fan-run blog for BTS (it's not out yet, otherwise I'd promote, still in the prep phase rn )
....
....dudes I'm like....actually considering dropping out of college and just...being a hobo.
凸ಠ益ಠ)凸凸ಠ益ಠ)凸凸ಠ益ಠ)凸
*ahem*
anyway, hope you enjoy
ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Aizawa watched over the class as they (mostly) quietly worked with heads bent low over their desks, finishing up their homework for other classes, doing assigned reading, studying, or blandly staring off into space.

They had fifteen minutes before their next teacher would arrive to take over, and he suggested they’d use the time productively. Apparently, for one Shinsou Hitoshi, “productively” meant “naptime”. The purple-haired kid had laid his head down directly after Aizawa gave the announcement, and hadn’t moved since. Shouta would have been more annoyed, but, well, he felt he knew Shinsou well enough to trust that the boy had already finished up with anything urgently needed done.

            Against his will, his eyes drifted over to Kacchan, who was frowning at his homework. Aizawa frowned as well. Hadn’t Katsuki finished everything the night before? Shouta wracked his brain, mentally going through a list of all the subjects that he and Katsuki had worked on last night before bedtime.

Nothing coming to mind, Aizawa stalked down the row of desks, ignoring the wary glances his students threw at him, stopping beside Kacchan’s desk and leaning over. He huffed out a soft laugh, just one. The boy had made a rough sketch of Izuku (complete with bunny ears and a toothy grin), as well as a detailed list of quirk attributes and theoretical uses.

            Aizawa felt a burst of pride, ruffling the boy’s hair without really thinking about it before walking back up to his desk and slumping down into his chair. He’d readily admitted (to Hizashi) that he’d been nervous about letting Kacchan come to UA, and why he’d fought to vehemently with Nedzu to allow him to have his son in his class. It wasn’t uncommon for heroes in training to be loud, brash and insensitive to the needs of others. Empathy always ended up being the hitch that caused many of his ex-students to be thrown out on their ears.

            But this class…this class was a good one. With the exception of Iida, who seemed to have a genuinely good heart aside from the stick up his ass, all of the kids seemed to accept Kacchan for who he was. No questions asked.

            In fact, Kacchan seemed to be thriving here, being more social and vibrant than Aizawa had seen him be in, what felt like, far too long. Aizawa never had found out what had caused his explosive little stray to become so withdrawn these past couple years. And he had been looking. Some days, he’d even gone so far as to follow his brats to school, shadowing them. What he found had…upset him.

            No one out and out touched Katsuki, physically bullied him or pushed him around – nothing that wasn’t more than a shoulder shove in passing. However, the other students seemed to treat Kacchan as though he were somehow diseased, giving him wide birth and sneers, snide comments and muffled mocking laughter.

            Yet, Katsuki always seemed to brush them off, not really caring. In retrospect, that might be were his attitude about “extras” had stemmed from. Aizawa had always thought that Katsuki was managing it by himself; the boy had always stood so tall and independent. Aizawa had been worried, but not overly so, confident in Katsuki’s capability to handle his peers.

            And, then, suddenly he wasn’t.

            Now, though, now Aizawa saw just how sad, how beaten down Katsuki had really been. The contract couldn’t be more drastic. Thinking back over the last few days, Kacchan had been in his element. He’d won over his classmates’ admiration, he’d secured a spot at the top of the class (it was early days yet, but Shouta was certain that his kid would maintain his lead), and he’d even, apparently, taken initiative to start a group chat, fostering a bond between his classmates that Aizawa usually didn’t see start to form until several weeks into the school year – if one even ever formed at all.

            Now, he’d just have to wait until he was able to ask Hizashi just what a “discord” was.

            The periods passed by with little fanfare, though Aizawa could see the children getting more and more dazed and restless as it grew closer to lunch time. The bell rang, and instantly Kaminari, Sero, Sato, Ashido, and Hagakure all shot out of their seats, scrambling to grab their bags. The teacher present dismissed them quickly, probably equally eager to go eat their own lunch.

            Katsuki, however, lingered behind, only following the class when Izuku grabbed hold of him gently by the hand and to lead him along.

            Aizawa frowned, eyes trailing after his boys. For an instant, he wants to go after them, but forced himself to make his way to the teacher’s lounge where Mic was sat, waiting with a stack of bentos. Aizawa gave pause, looking at them. “The boys went to the cafeteria” he said dryly, grabbing the one off the top.

            He collapsed onto the sofa seat beside his friend, popping the lid off of his lunch and starting at the smiling face of rice and veggies that greeted him. Mic was already happily mowing down on his own lunch. “One is for Nemuri,” he said after swallowing a mouthful, smacking his lips. “She did a favor for me, yesterday, so I said I’d make her something yummy.”

            “That’s still one too many,” Aizawa said, stabbing at the last box with his chopsticks. Mic only hummed, eyes sparkling as he took another bite.

            The door opened. “Can I eat with you?”

            Kacchan was peering through the door, he’d opened it only just enough for one ruby eye to be seen through the crack. Mic shot a victorious look Shouta’s way. “C’mon over here, Kitty,”

            That was all Katsuki needed, shoving his way in, shoulder first. He was holding a loaded lunch tray, but he visibly brightened when he saw that Mic had preemptively made him lunch. He clomped over, dropping his tray on the low table in front of Aizawa and Mic, before grabbing one of the remaining two bentos, plopping between the two of them contentedly as he tore into it.

            Hizashi tenderly brushed some stray white hairs out of Katsuki’s face, asking him about his day, his classes, his friends. “I like it fine,” was Kacchan’s response. “It’s…” Katsuki hand, the one holding his eating utensils, drooped a bit away from his mouth. He stared hard at the wall. “I like it here.”

            Shouta stopped eating, looking down at him. “…But?”

            Katsuki shifted a bit, leaning closer to his side. “They’re a real fucking lot, Dad.”

            Aizawa couldn’t help it. He snorted. “Yeah. That was my impression of UA when I was your age.” Katsuki let loose a small smile at that piece of information. “Hizashi was constantly in my face. I swear, he never turned off his quirk.”

            “Lies!” cried Hizashi. “Lies and slander” Katsuki grinned, kicking Mic in the leg.

            “I’ma stay for the PE class you’re making the wimps take,” Katsuki said as he munched on his lunch, moving on from his demolished bento to the tray he’d brought with him. “Wanna give Shitstain some crap for siding with That Fucking Chicken.”

            Aizawa frowned. “Tokoyami? Did he do something?”

            Kacchan shook his head, not noticing how the two adults at his side relaxed. “Nah. He’s just a Fucking Chicken.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Iida Tenya might not have gotten off on the right foot with Bakugo Katsuki, but that didn’t mean that he did not admire the other boy. For one, Bakugo had repeatedly shown amazing sense and judgement when it came to practical heroics and leadership. For another, according to the rest of the class, Bakugo’s nature caused him to show respect and admiration in…less than conventional ways. And, while Iida may not think such ways were fitting for a hero in training, he was mature enough to admit that they were still students, and Bakugo had several years to work on his hero persona.

            And so, Tenya was suitably concerned when their normally loud, volatile classmate had quietly put a few side dishes onto a tray and then wordlessly left the cafeteria, alone. Kirishima had called after him, asking the boy if he’d wanted company, but the blonde hadn’t seemed to hear him. Not even Midoriya went with him, instead sitting with Uraraka, Shinsou, and Todoroki.

            Tenya, after getting a full and balanced meal, set his food down beside Todoroki with a huff. “Midoriya, I couldn’t help but notice that Bakugo did not procure enough of a meal to ensure he meets basic caloric and nutritional requirements for his body type! Is he not feeling well?”

            “Kacchan?” Midoriya frowned. “I-I mean…he was looking a little tired, today. Maybe he just went to go lie down in the Nurse’s office? Or maybe he went to talk to sensei in the teacher’s room?”

            Ururaka made a soft noise. “Deku…I get that Kacchan admires sensei…but you might want to talk to him about not annoying him, too much. I don’t want him to end up getting on the teacher’s bad side.” Midoriya flushed, violently, but still managed to look suitably grateful at Uraraka’s concern.

            “Th-th-thanks, Ocha-chako” he stuttered out. “But…just b-believe me when I say that Kacchan won’t annoy sensei.”

            Todoroki looked up at Midoriya, seemingly hesitant to say something.

            “Do you have something to say, Todoroki?” Iida asked, gesturing for him to speak up. “Do you, perhaps, have something to add?”

            Todoroki looked down at his plate. “I think sensei really likes Bakugo, he just shows it…strangely…much like Bakugo himself…” Todorki spoke very quietly, face towards the table with an expressionless mask, hardly moving his mouth. To Tenya’s surprise, Midoriya beamed.

            “Yeah! That’s exactly it!” he seemed very happy.

            “You talking about Aizawa sensei?” asked Ashido, she was sitting at the next table, leaning backwards in her chair so that she was closer to Uraraka. “Did you see what sensei did? SOoooo cute!”

            “I must admit,” Tenya said regretfully, ashamed at having missed something their teacher had done. “I don’t know what it is you’re referring to.”

            “You’re talking about sensei giving McBlasty boi some pats?” asked Kaminari with a laugh. He was sitting beside Ashido and Kirishima, who both laughed along with him. Kaminari looked to Iida. “Yeah, he came and peaked over at this doodle Bakubro was drawing, then he kinda smiled and rubbed his head or something. Sensei definitely likes him.”

            Todoroki smiled, to Tenya’s shock, softly, still looking determinedly at his place. “It’s not surprising though, is it?”

            With that, all of his classmates within earshot were admiringly declaring their respect for the explosive student with the bristly personality. It was then that Tenya made up his mind.

            “It’s not good for someone as active as Bakugo to not eat a proper lunch!” he declared, passionately. He bowed away from the table, and made his way to Lunch Rush to grab a second tray of food, grabbing a couple cartons of milk as well, on the way past.

            First, he checked the infirmary, but upon not finding his classmate, turned on his heel in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. Upon his new discovery of his teacher’s attitude about Bakugo, it suddenly did not seem so far fetched for him to have retreated to the teacher’s lounge.

            The door was open, a slight crack, and Iida tried to balance the tray of food onto one hand in order to free the other hand to knock. But he stopped, upon hearing the sound of Present Mic and Midnight arguing over who got to cuddle “kittycat”.

            At first, he was surprised that the UA teachers would have smuggled in an animal. Then he recalled the classroom chat from this morning.

            Bakugo’s father called him “Kittycat”, did he not? Iida quickly pulled out his phone, with intention to double check.

            “You’ve had him all to yourself, Hizashi!” Midnight was saying. “Gimme my nephew!”

            “Get your own, Nemuri! I licked him so he’s mine!”

            “Wha-? No you didn’t!”

            “FUCKING HELL! GAH! DAD! Make him stop!”

            “I’m eating.”

            Iida froze, slowly backing away from the door. Then he shook himself, pocketing his phone. He no longer felt the need to check the message history. He knocked, loudly. The voices quieted, and moments later, Midnight opened the door, her body blocking Iida’s view from the rest of the room. “Hey, kiddie,” she smiled at him. “Need something?”

            “I couldn’t help but notice that Bakugo did not take a full meal,” he quickly held out the tray of food. “I brought this for him. Midoriya informed me that Bakugo probably came to rest in here?” Midnight smiled, taking the tray from him. As she did so, Iida got a brief glimpse into the lounge, where Bakugo was laying, eyes closed, with his head on Aizawa sensei’s lap.

            “Thank you,” she said, nudging the door closed.

            Iida stood there, blinking. His mind racing.

            As the younger brother to a pro hero, he’d, of course, been privy to various rumors. He dismissed all of them, out of hand, since a hero shouldn’t indulge in idle gossip.

            But he had heard the rumors. However, especially after meeting sensei, it had seemed too out of character for the stoic underground hero...

            And yet…

            A presence behind Iida made him flinch in surprise, spinning around.

            “Todoroki?” he asked the blank-faced boy.

            The other student looked at him impassively, yet his frozen face somehow conveyed understanding. Todoroki looked from Iida, to the door, then back to Iida again. After a few moment, the boy seemed to have worked up the momentum to speak.

 “Knowing other kids who’re like me…it’s nice.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, Todoroki.” Iida paused, wanting to take another peek into the teacher’s lounge, but also not wanting to breach his teacher’s privacy, nor intrude on such a precious moment for the small family.

 He looked his classmate and fellow Hero’s Kid in the eye, and something seems to slide in to place for him. “I hope we can be friends,” he says, simply.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Okay, so you just have to put in the numbers here, under your name, into this box. That’ll make you and Kittycat friends, and then I can add you to the server!” Aizawa watched as Hizashi tapped away on Katsuki’s phone, grabbed up after the kid had passed out on his lap. “Aaaaaand done!”

      Aizawa was handed back his own phone, staring down at his screen, silently.

Class 1A Discord Server

#BakuSquadOnly

TheDadzawa just joined. Everyone, look busy!

It's a bird! It's a plane! Nevermind, it's just PRESENTPAPAMIC.

      “And, why, exactly,” Aizawa asked with a sigh, “do you want to know what my class is talking about?”

      “Just…incase…” Hizashi said vaguely as he scrolled through the server, thumbing down idly as a smile grew steadily on his face. “Awww…baby Kittycat is popular.” The idiot brushed away an imaginary tear. “He gets that from me.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. No one liked you.”

      “No, honeybear, that was you.”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

      Back in the lunchroom, seventeen students simultaneously drop their phones.

ThatFuckingChicken: Welcome. To the Black Parade.

Halfy: Hello, sensei. I have a question about the English assignment. Does two pages mean two pages front and back, or would one page back and front suffice?

PRESENTPAPAMIC: HEYYYY LISTENER! JUST TWO PAGES, ONE SIDE PLEASE!

PRESENTPAPAMIC: ♪~♪ ໒(⌒o⌒)ノ ♪~♪

Halfy: Oh okay. Thanks.

Halfy: :)

Notes:

I promise, I'll get to the remedial PE class *eventually*

Chapter 23

Summary:

Does anyone know anything about Bollywood? I'm taking a Viewing Bollywood class for my honors colloquium, and I'm supposed to prepare a slideshow and presentation about a movie called Bhumika. I can't find much supplementary material about it online, though, and It's really starting to stress me out.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The class was oddly silent when Bakugo returned to them. It was nice, spending lunch with his old people. Midnight seemed a little weird at first. He wasn’t as used to her, despite having known her just as long as Mic, technically speaking. But…she was obviously close with Mic and Aizawa. If Mic was his sensei’s Deku, then Midnight would be his Round Face. It made sense to play nice with her.

            Also, she had a wicked sense of humor that left Mic scrambling to cover “Kittycats” innocent ears.

            Heh.

            He was in such a good mood, it took him a moment to realize that 1A was acting…off, when he kicked open the door to the classroom and began stalking to his seat.

Kaminari and Ashido both openly gawked at him as he sidled into the classroom, before squeaking at being caught, looking down into their laps. Nearly the entire class, by that point, had returned to the classroom to wait for their next period. Iida looked constipated – which was his normal look, so nothing weird there – but so did Momo. Kirishima kept making aborted motions, like he wanted to say something, but then stopped himself each time.

            Katsuki frowned as he slid into his seat, he turned around to look at Deku. “Oi.” The greenette smiled grimly at him. “Sum’thin happen?”

            Izuku sighed, shaking his head, curls bouncing. “No? It’s just…” he looked like he was struggling to figure out what to say. He pulled out his phone. “Was it you who added…the teachers?”

            “Added the teachers?” asked Katsuki, baffled. “To wha- oh.” Katsuki scowled, digging his own phone out of his pocket. Opening the discord app, he glared as he began to piece together what had happened. He was friends with two people he hadn’t been friends with before. Two new conversations with said friends had appeared in his history, the only contents thereof being invites to the Class 1A server.

            As administrator, well, Katsuki couldn’t just leave that be.

            Within moments, the #BakuSquadOnly channel had been renamed #Only4Emergencies. Every student was given the additional “Classmate” role, with Classmates then given permission to access a new locked channel, which was dedicated #StayOutGeezers, effectively condemning the two sneaky infiltrators to the solitary unlocked channel.

            His classmates watched him work with a healthy balance of amusement and appreciation.

            “Smart move, man,” said Kirishima, appreciatively. “How’d they even get in, in the first place, though?” The redhead was shaking his head in disbelief.

            Katsuki sneered, fiddling with his scarf self-consciously. “I had a headache, so I crashed in the teacher’s lounge. Guess Mic Sensei thought it’d be funny to steal my phone.”

            From across the room, Aoyama gave a sudden, hysterical giggle. “How wonderful,” the sparkly boy said “to have such a class! Imagine, mon amis, if we had said something to regret in the server!” Iida looked positively sick at the thought.

            “But!” Momo cut in, “We never said anything in the server that would be considered rude or disrespectful. If that’s not a mark in our favor, I don’t know what is.” She got several head nods in response.

            “’sides,” said Sero airily. “How do we now they even back read? It was probably just a prank to tease Bakubro for passing out in the teacher’s space.”

            “Dude,” said Ojiro, “They totally backread. Or…at least Present Mic did. I have a hard time imagining Aizawa sensei having a sense of humor like this.”

            “Why do you say that?” Sero asked, eyebrows furrowing together. Ojiro gestured at his phone screen, tail flicking a bit, showcasing his discomfort.

            “Look at their usernames,” he pointed out, his voice pitched lowly. “If Present Mic added them to the server to mess with Bakugo…”

            Tsuyu suddenly started laughing, a strange, gravelly, bubbly laugh. “Kerokerokerokero,” she chuckled. “Oh, kero” she tried to hold back her giggles with her wide hands. “I just got it, kero!”

            “Got what?” demanded Kaminari, but then the door opened, revealing a bedraggled Aizawa himself, dragging his big yellow sleeping bag behind him.

            “In your seats,” he growled at them. “Get ready for math. Have your homework ready for Ectoplasm.”

            “Aye, aye, Dadzawa,” Shinsou drawled, looking decidedly unimpressed.

            Aizawa froze.

            Tokoyami let out a loud squak that startled Kouda, who sits to his right. Tokoyami’s shoulders were shaking, hands brought up to clutch his traitorous beak, and Katsuki realized that the Fucking Chicken was laughing.

            Aizawa slowly turned to Shinsou. “In the classroom, I expect all students to refer to me as Sensei, do I make myself clear?” He arched an eyebrow.

            “Like piss, Dadzawa Sensei,” Kacchan said helpfully, causing Iida to stiffen – looking like he was torn between wanting to be understanding and being affronted on the teacher’s behalf - and Tokoyami to give up and smack his head against the top of his desk, wheezing and chirruping in laughter.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Midnight watched as Hizashi tried to convince Shouta to let himself be taken to some fancy restaurant that weekend, attempting to persuade with much hand waving and begging. Shouta kept glaring and casting wary glances in her direction, which she’d dutifully pretended not to notice.

Nemuri loved her two idiots.

She’d watched them dance around each other since their first year, attending UA as highschool students. She’d watched as they matured into the fantastic heroes they were, still dancing around each other, each year bringing them closer and closer together. Despite the fact that they’d, to her knowledge, never made it official before, they’d also never dated anyone else. They remained, almost from the day they met, the most important people in each other’s lives.

And damn, if she wasn’t here for that shit.

She and Tensei had had a bet, in school, for how long it would take for the two idiots to get over themselves and ask each other out. They’d both lost, because it’d never happened. Not during school, not at graduation, not as Pros.

Or so they thought.

She wanted to strangle those two. Here she was, invested in their love lives, and they don’t even bother to tell her that they’ve moved in together? That they have kids?

And then they STILL tried to convince her that, nah, they’re still best friends despite the fact that they’re sharing everything from their home, to their family, even their fucking careers. Worse still, she wasn’t even sure they were lying!

These idiots!

“C’mon Shouta,” Hizashi was whining, pulling at Aizawa’s sleeves and scarf, staring up into his face with big eyes and pouty lips. “It’s been forever since we’ve just hung out! Just you and me! Like the old days!”

She’d been angry, no lie, but desperate to swallow her own emotions in favor of listening to their side. She didn’t want to harm any potential, fledgling family that was finally finally beginning to form just because she was bitter. And then she met Katsuki, and was so very grateful.

What a child, what a young man! What a darling that needs to be protected!

“I’m busy” Shouta said, flatly. “And so are you.”

“Just one evening! Not even a whole evening! Just dinner!”

“Why?”

BECAAAAUSE

She’d walked in on her two idiots sandwiching the smol firecracker in the lounge, the boy pretending like he wasn’t enjoying having their full attention. Her heart melted at the way Katsuki seemed to just sink into their sides, then the way that he’d thrown himself across both of their laps after he’d finished eating. He’d seemed suspicious of her, at first, guarded and reserved, but seemed to decide, soon enough, to just ignore her. Which, to be perfectly honest, she was fine with.

There would be plenty of time for Auntie Nemuri to win him over. First, she’d need to meet her second nephew, of course. But then she’d bug Shouta and Hizashi until they let her steal them away from a weekend or something.

After dealing with those two being numbnuts for so long, she deserved Auntie privileges.

“I can watch the kiddles,” Nemuri offered slyly, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” She smiled, sweetly at them. “You two deserve a date night.”

As she watched, her two idiot’s faces turned a bright red.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

They were given twenty minutes to change back into PE or workout clothes, then told to report to the south field. Of the twenty students, eleven stayed for the extra class despite only six being required. Afterall, why not? The sun was shining, with the breeze flowing like refreshing spring water. You could smell freshly cut grass on its crest, the clouds seemed more like decorations on the vast blue sky than harbingers of rain, despite the promise of it lingering in the air.

Of course, some had after-school jobs, like Uraraka. Some had prior made commitments, and some were just exhausted from the already full day of school. Still, more than half of the class was a decent turn-out. By the time Shouto made it to the field, the six required students – Hagakure, Shinsou, Aoyama, Jiro, Kaminari, and Sero – were already there, chatting on the grass. Tokoyami was with them, lurking in a shadowy area beneath the nearby bleachers.

Shouto paused, not sure if he would be welcome to join them. He looked around for the EraserMic kids, heart sinking when he realized that neither of them were present. He sighed, forlornly, but then steadied his shoulders. Even if the two boys he’d started to consider his friends weren’t there, it was still a pleasant excuse to not go home directly after school. All it took was an unpleasant conversation with Endeavor the evening before, explaining that there was an optional hand-to-hand class after school, and that it would be beneficial for him to receive the extra experience.

Endeavor had been unwilling, at first, but eventually conceded, after Shouto promised to put in additional time to their morning routine equal to the time he was “wasting” with the optional class.

Shouto slowly crept stiffly towards his classmates. Aoyama looked up and caught his eye. “Bonjour! Todoroki! So glad of you to come!” The exuberant boy spread his arms, wide, with a smile that made Shouto wonder if the guy mixed glitter into his toothpaste. Shinsou gave him a soft, half smile and a nod. Todoroki returned it, picking up speed to go and stand beside the purple haired boy.

“Surprised you decided to stay, Halfy,” Shinsou said, amused, using the nickname that Bakugo had given him. It made Shouto feel happy. Accepted. “If anyone in our class doesn’t need extra work-out time, it’d be you.”

Todoroki inclined his head. “Both Midoriya and Bakugo are formittible, not to mention Yaoyorozu.”

“True,” Shinsou said. “But they aren’t here.”

Todoroki tried not to look to put-out at the reminder, keeping a blank stare. “I like being here.” He decided to say. Shinsou leveled an unreadable look at him, then he frowned.

“Yeah” was all he said.

“I’M HERE,  YALL!” Shouto flinched at the sudden screech in his ear. Ashido had arrived with Yaoyorozu, without him having noticed them. He mentally chastised himself, sternly telling himself to be more aware of his surroundings.

“Hello, Yaoyorozu,” Shouto told her, politely. “I’m glad to see you stayed.” She flushed, lightly.

“I hope no one thinks I’m trying to be an overachiever, or anything,” she said, with a self-conscious smile. “It’s just…I don’t have much experience being around like-minded people my own age! It’s a wonderful opportunity, I think.”

“I agree.” Shouto glanced Shinsou’s way, who rolled his eyes.

“I’m here because I felt like it,” Ashido harrumphed and crossed her arms. “Which is the beeeest reason to do anything!” she declared, pounding a fist against her palm. “Also, FRIENDSHIP! YEAAAAAH!”

“Shut the hell up, Pinky!” Roared a welcome voice. Todoroki found himself suppressing a smile at the sight of Bakugo, rumbled, baggy outfit and all, stalking across the field. “If you’re gonna be that obnoxious, join a fucking cheer squad.”

“Awwww,” Ashido cooed. “Okay, Bakubro! I’ll be your cheerleader!” She pumped one fist in the air. Hagakure giggled from beside her, making Shouto jump because he hadn’t noticed her, either. He narrowed his eyes. He should know better than to let his guard down around hero-hopefuls.

“Yay!” Hagakure mimicked Ashido’s pose. “Me too!” She seemed to be standing on one foot, a fisted gloved quirked on her hip with the other raised into the air. “Gimma a M!”

“M!” cheered Ashido.

“Gimma a C!”

“C!”

“Gimma a Blasty!”

BOOOOOM went Bakugo’s quirk, knocking her backwards with a yelp.

“What’s that spell?!” Ashido took up the cheer.

“McBLASTY!” screamed Kaminari, throwing his hands in the air. Even Momo was laughing by this point. Shouto, meanwhile, was admiring Bakugo’s quirk control. It must have taken a lot of practice to learn how to produce and direct explosions in a non-harmful way. Particularly when at such close range.

“What you looking at, IcyHot?” Bakugo asked him.

“I was just thinking about your quirk,” Shouto informed him. “How do you practice? It must be hard finding appropriate facilities.”

“Nah. There’s like, this fucking junk pile I blow shit up in. Also, my dad’s got a dojo.”

Ah, yes. He should have guessed that. “Efficient,” Shouto nodded, appreciatively. “Is my nickname IcyHot, now?”

Bakugo made a face that told Shouto he hadn’t really been thinking along those lines. Or maybe he was sneering. Shouto wasn’t very good at reading facial expressions.

“Fucking whatever,” Bakugo shrugged. Shouto nodded, making a mental note to ask Midoriya which he thought was the better “Bakuname”.

Speaking of Midoriya. “Where’s your brother?” Shouto asked, suddenly thinking that it was odd the two weren’t together.

“He’s got a special quirk trainer,” Bakugo replied, not seeming to mind the question. “The shitty nerd developed late, so we found some skeletor to shape him up.”

Shouto frowned, feeling sympathy for his friend (?) As the son of two heroes, it must have been harrowing to be a late bloomer. He couldn’t imagine the mental agony the other boy had gone through while waiting for it to arrive. He shuddered to think of Endeavor’s reaction, had Shouto’s development been delayed in such a way.

“How late?” he asked curiously.

Bakugo snorted, loudly. “Last summer, late.”

“WHAT?!” Shinsou suddenly screamed, making Shouto flinch closer to Bakugo, who simply raised an eyebrow at him, sending the bi-colored boy hurriedly stepping back. He’d forgotten that they were surrounded by other kids, close enough to hear. “Last summer?

Bakugo nodded. “When the fucker got it, he fucking flew face first into a wall. So now he’s got a trainer.”

“HOW'S HE SO POWERFUL ALREADY??!! THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

“Hell is empty, and demons are here.” Shouto thought that Tokoyami might have been trying to console Shinsou. He wasn’t sure, though.

“Man,” Jiro fiddled with her earlobes. “That sucks. ‘Specially when he’s got a sibling with such an explosive quirk to be held against.”

Bakugo looked angry. “Fuck you implying, Earjack?” he sneered. “I made sure no one gave him shit. S’not his fault!” Jiro held up her hands, peaceably.

“Didn’t mean you held it against him,” she said, calmly. “Cool of you, though. Really.”

Shouto’s heart hurt at the thought of Midoriya Izuku having to go so long, not having a quirk. Particularly when his fathers were who they were, and with his brother being who he was. Now, he realized, it made sense for as to why Bakugo was so protective of his younger brother. It made sense, if Bakugo was used to having to defend his quirkless younger sibling.

Shouto wished he and his brother were like them, more.

 “It must have been hard,” Yaoyorozy added. “I knew someone, once, who didn’t receive their quirk until they were nearly seven years old. They got a lot of disrespect for it.”

“Dude,” Kaminari whistled. “So, how old’s your brother, anyway?”

Bakugo gave him a confused, withering glare. “Deku’s our age, moron. How else would he be here?”

The class froze.

“Wait,” Sero made abortive motions with his hands. “Wait, wait, wait”

“Bro, I thought he was your boo!” Kaminari said, eyes wide. “He’s your brother?”

“All are grey in the dark” Tokoyami said, solemnly. Kaminari spun to face him.

“Wait, did you know?”

“No,” said Tokoyami.

“Yes” said Shinsou.

“Mourn my tender soul,” said Tokoyami, forlornly. “for I am betrayed.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Shinsou said, darkly.

“Line up and stop talking.” Aizawa was there, wearing his ever-present track suit, stuffing a recently emptied jell pack into one of his deep pockets. The kids scrambled to stand shoulder to shoulder in front of their teacher. “If you’re here, you’re here to either catch up with the rest of the class or to behave and not be a distraction for your classmates who are required to be present. If any of you tag-a-longs end up being a detriment to this class, you will be banned from returning and given detention.”

He met them all, one by one, eye to eye, as he spoke. When he landed on Bakugo, it was clear to see a minute softening around his eyes. “We’ll start with stretches. Then, we’ll work on stamina. Eight laps, fast as you can. No quirks.” Aizawa sensei gestured at the track that ran around the field. “If everyone completes it in under ten minutes, we’ll work on hand to hand.”

TEN MINTUES?” stage whispered Jiro. Kaminari and Sero were cringing.

Mon dieu,” Aoyama said, mournfully.

“If not,” Aizawa went on, silencing them, “we’ll continue testing your endurance until the time is up.”

Bakugo snorted, knowing full well how the class time would end up being spent.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shinsou was dying.

As was expected, Bakugo, Todoroki, Ashido, Momo, and even Tokoyami managed to complete the eight laps within the time limit. Both Bakugo and Todoroki had oodles of time to spare, with Ashido and Momo not very far behind. Tokoyami just barely managed it, but magaed it none the less. Hagakure didn’t do too badly, and Sero managed to complete the run in just over twelve minutes, though he was gasping as he stumbled across the finish line.

      Aoyama was a pathetic sight to behold, running with his arms and legs flailing like limp noodles, panting with his mouth hanging open. Jiro was plodding along with more dignity, slower, but steadily with a firm, determined expression. Her breathing was also far more controlled than anyone, besides the five students who only showed up for shits and giggles.

Kaminari was so worn out, he kept tripping over his own ankles, clearly not used to running like this. Shinsou, thanks to being trained by Aizawa and his boys, however briefly, managed a respectable pace, passing the finish line just moments before Sero.

Nevertheless, they’d still failed. So, instead of being rewarded with hand-to-hand fighting practice, they were put through the torture of body-drills, repetitive and painful. They were made to stretch until their muscles seemed to creak with the effort.

Pushups, sit ups, chin ups, crunches, lunges.

By the end of the hour (how did this torment only last an hour? It felt like an eternity!), the six bottom tier students were on their backs, dying. Even Ashido and Tokoyami were looking pretty dead.

“If I were dead, I wouldn't be sad, and I wouldn't be glad, because I wouldn't be,” Tokoyami said to the ground from where he was beak-down in the grass.

“Mood” Shinsou coughed. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, looking to where Bakugo was sitting with Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. The girl was in the middle of securing away her belongings into her backpack, going slowly as she chatted with the two other top students. None of them looked the slightest bit winded. In fact, they could have just stepped away from a professional photoshoot with how hot and put together they all were.

Jerks.

“See you tomorrow!” Yaoyorozu smiled, raising a hand. “This was fun!”

Shouto nodded, and Bakugo scoffed. “It’ll be better once the fuckers get their asses in gear. That run time was ridiculous.” Yaoyorozu shrugged, and moved to say her farewells to Ashido, Hagakure and Jiro, who were moaning and groaning in a clump a little further away, massaging their aching legs.

Shinsou managed to get his feet back under him, slumping towards Bakugo. Earlier that day, Midoriya and he had made plans to try and to a backwards run of Rainbow Road on Aizawa sensei’s TV. Something neither of them had managed to do yet, though Bakugo claimed to have succeeded ages ago.

The Jerk.

Nevertheless, he’d be catching a ride with the Jerk and his Dads over to their house. With the current state of his body, he doubted he’d survive an attempt to walk there. Bakugo grunted at him as he came close. “You ready?” he asked, mockingly. “Or you need a sec to scrape yourself off the track?”

Shinsou retaliated by collapsing onto the blonde’s lap, receiving an angry curse and a gentle whap across the back of his head. So, he knew Bakugo didn’t mind. If he had Shinsou would have been bodily thrown several feet. As it was, his friend just dug his elbows into his back, settling forward comfortably, using Shinsou’s limp body as a sort of lap cushion.

“Meh” replied Shinsou.

“Ready?” Todoroki inquired, wearing that same blank look he always did. “Will you two be training more? I could be of some assistance if that is the case?” Shinsou looked up at him, and felt more than a little pity at how hopeful the kid seemed to be at the prospect of spending more time with them. It also made him feel pretty good about himself.

Then again, the other boy could just be avoiding going home. Something Shinsou more than understood. “Ugh. Absolutely not.” Shinsou groaned. “No more training. Dead.”

“Wimp,” Bakguo snorted. Then he looked to Todoroki. “Deku and Shitstain wanna try ta beat me at Mario Kart.” Todoroki nodded in understanding, seeming to slump just the slightest bit. Bakugo’s face underwent the series of changes that meant he was dealing with feelings. “You can come over, if you want.” He offered, his voice pitched more gently than it usually was. “It’s up to four-player,” he explained. “And if three people play, there’s this useless extra square that gets really fucking annoying. Sometimes Papa plays, but he’s shit at games.”

“I…” Todoroki shifted, awkwardly. “I would very much like to,” he said quietly. “If…If that’s okay. I’ve never played…Mario Cart before, though. So I’m not sure I’ll be very good either.” Todoroki stared off into the distance like some sort of emo model. Shinsou felt he’d found a kindred spirit.

“Meh,” Shinsou said. “You’ll do fine. Besides, Bakugo’s actually pretty crap at it, too.”

“SAY THAT TO MY FACE, ASSHOLE!”

“Just did, Kacchan.”

“FUCK YOU!” Bakugo shoved him off of his lap, and Shinsou flopped uselessly on the grass. “I’m the best out of all of us, and you know it!” Then he looked back to Todoroki. “You gotta let someone know where you’re gonna be, Halfy?”

“Oh,” the boy said blandly. “Yes. I’ll do that.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto was nervous, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d texted his father, saying that he’d discovered three of his classmates had been invited to receive extra training from Eraserhead and Present Mic, and that he’d managed to get invited along. His father only said that his morning training would be extended further, so Shouto assumed that it was fine.

He’d told Bakugo as much, and his friend (?) had smiled. Sort of. It might have been a sneer, but the other boy seemed to use those two facial expressions interchangeably, so Shouto didn’t worry about it, too much. “Let’s go wait for them, then.” Bakugo said, gruffly. “Me and sensei took the train this morning, but the other geezer took his car. Assuming he’ll be driving us all back.”

They’d already changed out of their sweaty PE clothes, and back into that day’s uniform, heading down the hallway together.

Shinsou looked over at him, thoughtfully. “You do know, don’t you? You figured it out?” The exhausted teen was looking at Todoroki, searchingly. “And you know you can’t exactly spread that information?”

“As the son of the number two hero,” Shouto said. “I’m aware of the strain of being in a heroing family. Furthermore, I hadn’t intended to…let it slip, that you and Midoriya are brothers. I apologuise” Shouto bowed, stiffly, pausing in his step. Bakugo looked back at him, amused.

“You know, he’s not like…my blood brother, yeah?” Shouto frowned.

Well, if his theory was correct then, yes they wouldn’t be related by blood. However, the way Bakugo phrased it gave him pause. “So, he isn’t your brother?”

Bakugo shrugged. “I don’t care if the extras think he is,” Bakugo growled. “Better than thinking we’re a fucking couple.” Todoroki suppressed a grin, and knew Shinsou was doing the same. “But nah. Our old people are just super close, and I’ve known him since forever.”

Todoroki blinked. “Oh. I…I’m’ sorry, I just assumed from the way…” Todoroki wasn’t sure how to finished that sentence. From the way it looked from the pictures I found of you online? From the way my fellow EraserMic shippers speculated? Instead he went with, “I supposed that explains your quirks,” he settled on. “They’re very…different from each other.”

Bakugo barked a laugh. “Yeah, but Deku’s quirk is identical to his old fart’s.”

Shouto paused, mind racing. “I see.”

They reached the staff parking lot, where Present Mic, dressed in civilian clothes with his hair down, was waiting, leaning against a nondescript car. He brightened when he saw them, but then paused, unsure, when he saw Shouto. Todoroki tried not to feel hurt.

Bakugo pushed him forward. “Halfy knows, because you ain’t subtle.” He said, loudly. Present Mic looks abashed.

“Heh, yeah,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Nemuri said the same.” He grinned, brightly. “So! You coming for dinner, lil’ listener?”

Shouto looked at his feet. “I have received permission from my father…if it’s too much trouble though, I can-“ Present Mic cut him off with wildly waving hands.

“No trouble! No trouble at all!” He said cheerfully. “The more the merrier! And Kittycat can use more friends! Never can have too many friends!”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Bakugo scoffed as he slid into his seat. “C’mon, IcyHot.” Obediently, Todoroki slid into the middle seat. Shinsou got in behind him, as Present Mic started up the car.

“We just gotta pick up Shouta from up front,” Present Mic said. “You kiddo’s got everything?”

      “No,” Bakugo said, snidely.

      “Yes, sensei.” Todoroki said, quietly, feeling like he was an intruder. Happiness at being invited to a friends house for the first time ever warred inside him with awkwardness, and the strong desire to run home to familiar routine and rules. Except he didn’t want to go home. He sat, ramrod straight in his seat as Bakugo and Shinsou both slouched back. Shinsou seemed ready to pass out, while Bakugo just looked comfortable.

“Call me Hizashi, listener!” Present Mic, Hizashi, told him warmly. “Not in class right now, are we?”

“No…sir.”

Hizashi smiled at him via the review mirror as he pulled around to where Aizawa Sensei was waiting with a briefcase on the pavement. His homeroom teacher slid into the passenger seat with a sigh, taking a glance into the back. “’Zashi, you picked up an extra.”

“I’m sorry,” Shouto said quietly, looking down at his lap, missing the way Aizawa frowned, and the way Hizashi glared at him.

“I’m joking, kid.” Aizawa sighed. “You’re fine. Did Kacchan tell you?”

“About your family? No…I figured it out.” Shouto told him, picking at loose threads on his uniform. “I didn’t tell the others, though I think Ojiro might know because of your discord user names.”

Aizawa smacked Hizashi on the arm, but the boisterous blonde only laughed. “Eh, it’s fine. They’ll probably just take it as a joke between teacher and student!”

Shinsou and Bakugo both snorted disbelievingly. Aizawa seemed…softer, somehow, when he wasn’t being a teacher, Shouto thought to himself. It was odd. Also, nice.

“Don’t say anything outright,” Aizawa told them, wearily. “I should have checked what Mic was doing, though. Damage is already done, so there’s no point worrying about it. Honestly, it’s nothing that hasn’t already made it’s way around the hero gossip rings, if Nemuri is to be believed.”

Todoroki avoided all eye contact.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

ThatFuckingChicken: I have learned one lesson in all this and I will share it knowing it will do no one any good. The lesson is this: "There are none more complicit in one's undoing than one's own heart".

PikaPikaChuuuu: U good bro?

ThatFuckingChicken: Dark is the night in which your companion does leave you desolate, with nary a goodbye.

ShittyHair: Something happen at the remedial class?

ThatFuckingChicken: So it's back once more, back up the slope. Why do they always ruin my rope with their cuts?

EarJaxx: Nothing that I can think of??? @PonyTail?

PonyTail: I thought it all went rather well!

Pinky: Yeah! I had lots of fun!

PrinceyPrincey: I did not ✧* 。ヾ( 。> ﹏< 。) ノ゙ ✧*

Pinky: Also I’m dying and I want to melt my own legs off! (ᗒᗩᗕ)՞

ThatFuckingChicken: The day is dark and mired in the knowledge that the one I trusted is the one I trust no more.

ROBOCOP: Tokoyami! If you are in need of assistance, I have a list of phone numbers for your usage, should you require it!

PrinceyPrincey: Mon amie, I require immediate help! ꒰⁎× ×⁎ ꒱՞

PrinceyPrincey: My hair, it’s pas fabuleux du tout! ( ⼼_ ↼)* ゚*

ShittyHair: @Pinky you were there, too!

PrinceyPrincey: mes cheveux sont abîmés! ☆( -o-)~~

SoySauceFace: You should have stayed, bro!

ShittyHair: Ahhh, I will! I promised to watch my sis today, so I couldn’t

ThatFuckingChicken: Behold the emptiness of meaningless joy.

Shitstain: Next time definitely come, though. Kacchan missed you.

Kacchan: FUCK OFF

ShittyHair: Wait, you went to the class, too, Bakugo??? I didn kno that???

ThatFuckingChicken: Woe is my soul, for the one I yearn for is IGNORING ME

ThatFuckingChicken: (;; Д  ̄)ノヾ(((( ;゜ д ゜))__

Shitstain: Dude, chill out, I said I’d text you.

ThatFuckingChicken: (•ө•)

Shitstain: (•͈ •͈*)

Kacchan: The fuck

Notes:

I've really been appreciating all of your comments, by the way. They really make me want to keep going with this story, even though I've been busy. You guys are my inspiration, and I'm so grateful for you
°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Chapter 24

Summary:

I'll be getting to USJ pretty soon! So...stay tuned I guess lol.

Chapter Text

Katsuki was getting a little too used to seeing double.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Halfy. Small, timid, awkward Halfy. In the back of his mind, he saw Todoroki Shouto. Big, awkward, married to Deku Shouto. The two images overlaid each other, and it gave Katsuki a headache that leaked all the way down to his chest where it burned.

 

Todoroki looked at Katsuki, eyes wide and panicked. Icyhot’s hands were shaking, and Katsuki could see frozen-over beads of sweat on his brow.

“Dude…” Denki said in amusement. “I’d say chill out, but, honestly, you kinda need to defrost before you ruin your tux.”

“He’s fine,” Katsuki grunted as he roughly adjusted Icyhot’s cufflinks. They’d been a present from Sensei, but apparently the half-and-half bastard didn’t have any class, because he’d thought they were earrings, the moron. “Just don’t catch Deku on fire.”

One of Todoroki’s ears immediately caught flame. Shouto turned his hand over, catching Katsuki’s, ignoring the way steamy mist and pops escaped from between their clasped palms. “Bakugo,” he said desperately. “Don’t let me mess this up.”

Katsuki sneered at him as he made a half hearted attempt to crush Shouto’s finger bones. “You’re hitching up with the world’s worst number two,” he scoffed. “You’re already messing up.”

“Bakugo,” the dork sounded like he was about to puke. “I-I….I’m not ready…”

Katsuki blinked at him, bewildered. “You were the jackass who proposed, Icyhot!”

“….it was spur of the moment…and he’s so beautiful...”

Katsuki grimaced. “Shut the fuck up. No, he’s not; you’re just blind. And you’re in luck, because Shitty Deku is just as fucking blind so stop freaking out! You’re supposed to be the damn ice prince, aren’t you? Deku’s probably already broken one of his femurs, so get your shit together, because god help us all if one of you isn’t mentally capable for this fucking farce of a ceremony.”

“Why am I getting married? Marriage is just a trap where freedom goes to die.” Todoroki looked at Katsuki in horror. “Am I ruining Izuku?”

“Izuku’s already fucking ruined. You couldn’t make him much worse than he is if you tried. Also, you’re too much of a fucking donut to hurt that idiot. You’re fine, Icyhot now fucking LET GO OF MY HAND.”

Icyhot had given Katsuki a long, considering look. Then he’d smiled.

It was really fucking creepy.

….

Katsuki blinked.

Halfy was sitting, hunched into himself, clutching his phone in his lap between both hands. Katsuki gently tore it from his grasp with a grunt. It was open to the discord server for class. Katsuki snorted and closed the tab, flicking into Todoroki’s contact page.

When he tossed it back into Halfy’s lap a few minutes later, it had five more numbers plugged into than there were before. “If you fucking text me after ten,” Katsuki threatened genially. “I’ll rip off your nose and shove it up your ass.”

Shinsou unsuccessfully suppressed a giggle, still pretending to doze.

Halfy looked at Katsuki with wide eyes, then back down at his phone. Slowly, like he was afraid the phone was going to bite him, he tapped something out.

 

Unknown Number:

 :)

Katsuki:

I mean it asshole.

Halfy:

(^-^)

 

Katsuki rolled his eyes, kicking Todoroki’s leg where it hung next to his own.

Shouto looked up at him through his fucking birdnest bangs. And he smiled.

It wasn’t quite as creepy as Katsuki recalled.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto liked to think that he and Katsuki were friends, now. Not only had Shouto walked to school with the explosive boy and his (not) brother, as well as having had several successful and pleasant conversations, but now Shouto had been given Katsuki’s phone number.

He’d only ever had his siblings and his father’s numbers, occasionally a teacher or hero would offer him their out of courtesy for who he was, but that was all.

Shouto treasured the warm fluttering he felt in his heart.

Present Mic…Hizashi Sensei pulled the car up into the driveway of a small house. Shouto looked at it in surprise. It appeared to be roughly half the size of the Todoroki courtyard. He wondered how there was enough room for all of them to fit, but then he realized that perhaps they didn’t need as much room since Izuku was not Eraserhead’s biological child (apparently). Though, didn’t Bakugo say that they had a dojo? Where did they put it?

Also, there was a cat.

A monster of a cat. Easily the size of a medium dog, with long, fluffy tan and white fur. Globe-like yellow eyes watched Shouto as the followed the family towards their front gate, where the feline was perched like a gargoyle, its shoulders bent like a hunchback. The left side of its head was oddly shaped, giving the wretched thing a permanent scowl. The ear on that side of its face was round and large, with a torn chunk ripped off.

A red ragged collar hung around its neck, holding a tag and a bell that jangled when the cat shook its mane-like fur.

The cat leveled a stern look at Shouto, before arching its spine. “MYEEEEEEEEEEEEERT”

Shouto froze.

“Sup ‘Splodo” Katsuki grunted, picking up the giant beast like it was nothing, and tossing it over one of his shoulders. The cat hung there happily, razor sharp claws kneading the air. Aizawa Sensei scratched its head as the teacher opened the gate and let everyone in.

“That’s Explodocat,” Shinsou spoke up from where he stood behind Shouto. “Kacchan’s spirit animal.” The purple haired boy looked deeply amused. “Don’t worry if he hisses at you. That’s just how he says hello. Splodo likes pats.”

Shouto nodded, a bit dubious, but he followed after Bakugo all the same.

Inside the house seemed every bit as tiny as the outside suggested, and Shouto wasn’t sure where to go. Hizashi sensei had already gone into the livingroom, plopping down on a cushy chair. Kacchan had gone deeper into the house, out of sight, with his monstercat. Aizawa sensei was in the kitchen, pulling utensils out of drawers and pans out of cupboards.

Shinsou kicked off his shoes and went over to the television. “C’mere Halfy.”

Todoroki went to him, obediently, after carefully removing his own shoes, lining them next to where Hizashi sensei and Aizawa sensei had placed their own.

“MYEEEEEEEEEEERT” Shouto flinched. The Explodocat lumbered into the room, glaring at everyone, before pouncing onto the table with a heavy thud. Shouto frowned in confusion. He’d thought that cats were supposed to be graceful. Hizashi Sensei leaned forward in his chair to stroke the cat’s back. Explodocat hissed like a stick of dynamite, despite leaning into the man’s touch. Shouto’s eyebrow twitched.

Explodocat seemed familiar, somehow.

Explodocat, as though reading his mind, turned to look Shouto in the eye. The cat was very obviously not amused. Shouto slowly reached out his fingers, pausing when Explodocat hissed at him as well. Then, the cat huffed and stretched out its massive neck to sniff at the tips of Shouto’s fingers. It gave his index finger an exploratory nibble, then rubbed its wet nose across his hand. Shouto watched in amazement.

He’d never been allowed to have pets. He’d snuck a treefrog into the house once, kept it in a little plastic pencil box with a water bowl he’d taken from the kitchen, and some sticks and leaves from their courtyard. He’d named it Frog.

He cried to himself the night after his father had crushed Frog in a fiery grip.

Another nibble to his finger woke Shouto out of his musings. Encouraged, Shouto scooted a little closer, and pat the cat on the head. The cat looked confused.

“I like cats.” Shouto informed no one in particular.

Hizashi sensei had an odd look on his face, though the man didn’t seem to be upset with Shouto, so the boy didn’t worry himself with it. Instead, he focused on the cat, and the way it glared as it nuzzled against his palm.

Hizashi stood, and Shouto stopped immediately.

“Sorry” he said, hurriedly backing away from the cat. He probably didn’t appreciate Shouto using the cat that belonged to his son. Hizashi sensei raised both hands in an odd gesture that Shouto didn’t recognize, before becoming Shouto over to the couch. He came closer, and flinched when strong hands gripped him at his shoulder and elbow.

Hizashi released him like he’d been burned.

Shouto looked down at himself to double-check he hadn’t accidentily activated his quirk.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch, little listener?” Hizashi Sensei suggested, hands raised again in that odd gesture. His voice sounded odd, but Shouto didn’t want to question the man in his own home, so he sat on the couch.

The cat was unceremoniously plopped onto his lap a moment later.

It started purring.

Shouto looked down at it with wide eyes. He’d, of course, already known that cats were want to purr when they were happy. It was common knowledge after all. But, there was something different between knowing a fact, and feeling a fluffy mass of contradictions rumbling against your chest.

“I think he likes your quirk,” Shinsou said, amused. He had turned to smirk at Shouto, pausing at what he was doing. Belatedly, Shouto wondered if he should have offered to help set up the game. Then, he realized, he had no idea how to set up a game.

He would have felt guilty, but he was too distracted by the way Explodocat was melting across his lap. Shouto ran his fingers through the long strands of fur. Shouto chewed his bottom lip. He didn’t like his fire. He hated it,  in fact. If he could go with never, ever using it again, he would be happy. If he could somehow rip it from his body, he’d be even happier.

But he also liked this cat.

Shouto, with a creased brow and an intensity of concentration and focus he’d never needed to use before, reached for the heat that was always simmering just beneath his skin. Warmth flared up. He did not catch fire.

Explodocat’s rumbling got louder, and it rolled onto it’s back. The fluffy belly was faced up, and Shouto dug his fingers into the softness with something like wonder.

He barely noticed as Hizashi sensei snapped a picture and fled the room.

Though, in the back of his mind, he did feel less guilty about all the pictures he’d taken of Midoriya and Bakugo.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouta!” Aizawa tried not to sigh as his best friend latched himself onto his back.

“What, Zashi?” he said as he pinched some seasoning over the sizzling pan.

“We need to keep him.” A phone was shoved under his nose. Aizawa leaned backwards, taking the device and holding it at a better distance. Something horrifying pulsed in his chest.

Todoroki was sat on their couch, buried under Kacchan’s demon cat, with sparkling eyes and a wide grin. The capable young man Aizawa knew from his classroom looked achingly small in the picture Hizashi had taken. Though, that might just be due to the sheer amount of cat in the frame.

Please can we keep him,” Hizashi begged, pulling at Shouta’s shirt.

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m somehow thinking that his father might take offense to that.”

“Well I’m taking offense to his father!” Hizashi said, a little too loud. Shouta hushed him with a forkful of food. Hizashi swallowed, then continued in a softer tone. “His little face, Shouta. I…I can’t explain it but I need to-to-to” Hizashi didn’t seem to know what he was trying to say. “to give him blankets!”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

Hizashi spluttered. “You know what I mean!”

“Zashi,” Shouta sighed. “We can’t just keep him. We’re already crossing a lot of boundaries as it is. Not only with Todoroki, but also Shinsou.”

Hizashi pouted. “Since when do you care about that stuff?”

Aizawa sighed, leaning back into the warm chest that was still slouched against him. “We need to be realistic, Hizashi. This is fine,” Aizawa motioned towards the living room. “And Kacchan gave him our numbers.”

“What?” Hizashi asked. “When?”

“And” Aizawa continued. “As his homeroom teacher, I can keep an eye on him. Believe me, if I’m ever given a valid reason, I will take action. I’ve already had my suspicions. But With Endeavor being who he is, as high up as he is, suspicions count for nothing. I’ve mentioned my concerns to Nedzu. He agrees that our hands are tied, for now.”

Hizashi looked depressed. “So…what? We just gotta wait for him to get hurt?” Aizawa sighed.

“Or for him to bring us evidence on his own.”

Hizashi didn’t look happy, but just then, there was a knock on the door. A heavy pounding like thunder.

“MYEEEEEEEEEEERT”

“Go get that?” Shouta asked. Hizashi sighed.

“I want to talk about this later, tonight,” he warned. Shouta nodded in acquiescence as Hizashi pressed a dry kiss to the side of his head.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki, now changed into pajamas, emerged to find Yagi (in stick form) and Deku in his living room. Halfy had stolen his cat, and the traitor was purring like a fucking tractor on the bastard’s lap. Shitstain was already selecing his Kart.

“You gonna stay for dinner, Whatsit?” Katsuki asked as he swiped a free controller from where Shitstain had dumped them on the coffee table. Yagi smiled at him.

“I would, Young Bakugo, but I must meet with Detective Tsukauchi this evening. Perhaps another time,” the zombie man had the audacity to ruffle Katsuki’s hair. It was only the knowledge that Yagi was fragile at that moment which kept Katsuki from blowing his hand off.

Yagi turned to Deku, looking down at him with a wide grin. “Make sure to rest well tonight, Young Midoriya. I’ll see you bright and early, tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Deku said, happily. Yagi chuckled, with an awkward pat to the nerd’s freckled cheek. He turned to Shinsou and Todoroki. “Have a good evening, young heroes!” he said, cheerfully.

“Get out of my house.” Dadzawa was glaring at Yagi from the hallway. Yagi only grinned at him and, with a cheeky salute, the skeletor left.

“That man is your quirk tutor?” Halfy asked Deku with a bland look.

Deku flushed, pulling at his hair. “Uhhh haahahahah yup! That’s my t-tutor!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He was gonna have to teach the nerd how to lie one of these days. Halfy looked suspicious. He glanced to Katsuki. Katsuki shrugged. “Whatsit’s kinda a tutor, kinda a babysitter when no one else wants to deal with him.”

“Hey!” Deku squawked.

“Enough,” said Sensei as Papa Mic brought in steaming bowls of food. “Izuku, go get eating utensils and plates.”

“Okie dokie!” Izuku said, cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the kitchen.

Todoroki frowned. “We’re…eating here?”

Katsuki plopped down next to him, resisting the urge to steal his cat back. “We haven’t fucking played yet, Halfy.”

Todoroki frowned. “O-oh” Shinsou handed him a controller, which he took gingerly. “What if we spill?”

Dadzawa sat next to Katsuki, squishing the two boys closer together, as Deku came back and handed everyone a plate. “Then we’ll clean it up. Don’t worry about it.”

Once everyone had a plate filled and balanced somewhere near them, Deku took the fourth controller and sat leaning against Aizawa and Katsuki’s legs.

“FUCK YOU I’M BOWSER!”

“But Kacchan You’re always Bowser!”

“THAT’S THE POINT SHITSTAIN!”

“You should be Boo, Shinsou!”

“Tryna say something, Shorty?”

“Uhhhhh”

“Hey, Halfy, you should be Rosalina, you fucking princess.”

“Okay….which one is that?”

“No, wait wait, you should be Shy Guy!”

“Okay….which one is that?”

“No, Halfy! The one with the blue dress!”

“Okay.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto felt very content.

Also warm.

He’d passed his controller off to Hizashi Senei about a half an hour ago, contenting himself with watching the man get shoved off the race track by the other boys, who all cackled with glee each time it happened, taking joy in the Voice Hero’s wail of despair. Explodocat had long since spread himself over both his and Katsuki’s laps, like a fluffy, humming blanket. His stomach was full, pleasantly so, and at some point Shouto had slid downwards until he was leaning tucked up against Bakugo’s side. The loud blonde didn’t seem to mind.

His eye were growing very heavy.

The tell-tale sound effects of Bowser winning the race, making him force his eyes open for just a bit longer. Hizashi sensei pouted, lightly tossing his controller at Aizawa sensei, who caught it with a poorly hidden smile. Shouto watched them. He’d been watching them.

They were nice people.

“Alright, Shinsou, Izuku, Todoroki,” Aizawa said as he gathered up some empty dishes. “Get your things together. I’ll drive you home.”

Todoroki feels a sharp pain in his chest, but that isn’t a surprise.

What is a surprise, is that he sees the feeling mirrored on Shinsou’s face. Aizawa leans down and scoops up the cat, who seems angry at having his warm bed stolen. “MYEEEEEEEEEEEEEERT”

“Up,” Aizawa tell him and Bakugo. “We all have school tomorrow.”

“It’s only seven, you old man.”

“And it’ll be eight by the time I get everyone home. Let’s move it.”

Reluctantly, Todoroki helps pick up the living room. He can’t help but move as slowly as he can without being rude. He notes that Shinsou is doing the same. As is Hizashi Sensei, who is in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes. Todoroki quietly sets his and Bakugo’s dinner plates on the counter near the sink, and hesitates, wondering if it would be rude of him to simply leave them there for Hizashi to wash. His unasked question is answered when the man simply grabs them and plunges both into the water. A few second later, and he’s trying his hands on his pants.

“Ready to go, little listener?” Hizashi sensei asks him.

No, he’d like to say. “Yes.”

Hizashi sensei gives him a soft little smile. “You call me or Shouta if you need anything, okay Shouto?” Todoroki looks down at his socks, unsure how to respond to the usage of his given name.

“…yes…Hizashi Sensei.” A slightly damp hand cards through his hair, then tweaks his nose. Shouto looked up in surprise and Hizashi laughs, bright and loud.

“Hurry up!” calls Aizawa sensei from the living room.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

They drop off Midoriya first. The greenette cheerfully says his goodbye as he slams the car door shut. Shinsou and Todoroki both watch him bound up the steps to a small apartment building, where the door is opened by a plump green-haired woman, presumably his mother, who greets him with a hug.

Both boys look away.

Shinsou’s house is the next closest, though Todoroki can’t help but notice that his new friend (?) is growing more and more uncomfortable the closer they get. Outside the car windows, the houses get shabbier, and the roads get dirtier. The grass on lawns turn yellow and brown. Shinsou sinks down in his seat.

They pull up at a large, but ugly house, with many dirty things in the lawn. Even from within the car, Todoroki can hear raised voices coming from within. Distantly, Todoroki understands why Shinsou is embarrassed. However, he realizes he is somewhat grateful that Shinsou didn’t get to see the Todoroki’s prison-like estate.

Shinsou doesn’t look at Shouto as he gets out. He mutters a thank you to Aizawa and scrambles to leave. Todoroki curls in on himself, wondering why his friend (?) hadn’t said goodbye. Surely, the house wasn’t that embarrassing? Or was it the vulgar curses emanating from the broken windows, because Todoroki had heard far more crass things from Kacchan during their game of Mario Kart.

They begin to pull away, and Shouto’s stomach drops as he realizes where they are headed.

After a moment of quiet, Shouto clears his throat. He sees his sensei’s eyes flicker to him via the review mirror. “Thank you for dinner, sensei. I like your cat.”

Aizawa sensei gave him a small smile. “You’re welcome any time, Todoroki.”

Shouto managed a small smile back, despite his growing dread.

Then, he realized why Shinsou didn’t say goodbye.

Unknown Number:

I wish I could have stayed at sensei’s house.

Hitoshi:

Lies. You just want to steal their cat.

Todoroki huffed at that.

Hitoshi:

Me too.

They pull up to the foreboding gates in front of the Todoroki estate, and Shouto has to force himself to get out of the warm car. “Good night, sensei.” Todoroki said quietly.

“’Night, kiddo.”

Aizawa didn’t drive away until Todoroki had opened the door of his house and stepped through the threshold. Even then, the teacher idled for a moment longer, before slowly pulling out.

He heard light footsteps behind him. Fuyumi.

“You’re back late.” His sister sounded nervous. Being late was an offense met with harsh punishment.

“I asked permission to…” Shouto wanted to tell his sister about his new friend(s?), but wasn’t sure if his father was within earshot. “…indulge in extra classes.”

Fuyumi frowned, still concerned. “Shouto, honey, you shouldn’t work so hard when you don’t have to.” Her voice was pitched low, but not to the point where she was whispering. This meant that Father was not yet home, and it was safe to talk.

“When will Father return from patrol?” Shouto hazarded a guess at what his father was doing.

Fuyumi shook her head. “He never tells me.”

Shouto nodded, heading down the hall with his sister in tow. “You must be starving, having practice this late,” she frets. “I can heat up some dinner for you, unless you’d rather I make something fresher? Yes, I think I’ll do that. You deserve to have a nice meal, working so hard at school…”

Shouto instantly felt guilty for worrying his sister. “Fuyumi,” he said quietly. “I went to my friend’s house. His fathers fed me well.” His face lit up, remembering the most important detail. “They have a cat. His name is Explodocat.”

Fuyumi froze, in shock. Then she broke into a radiant smile, and threw her arms around his shoulders. He allowed it, back stiff. “Oh…thank goodness. I’d…I’d thought he might have talked to your teachers…or…or…” Fuyumi sniffled, but then pulled away. “Come with me. I’ll pour us some tea, and then you must tell me all about your friends.”

It was nice, just talking with his sister about the EraserMic family. She seemed just as pleased as he was, that there was a hero family like them in the world. The little flame of warmth that had been kindled at sensei’s house stayed burning softly, but steadily, just under his skin. Even when Endeavor woke him painfully early the next morning, trying to force his fire out of him, punishing him for asking permission to take his ‘extra classes’, even then the little bit of warmth didn’t go out no matter how much ice he used, and how chilly his body got.

And, to be honest, it felt a little like Explodocat’s purr.

Chapter 25

Summary:

Hey yall, sorry about the wait for this chapter.
Finally, we're seeing some plot progression! I think we're gonna start seeing a lot more in the way of landmarks from the anime, and more frequently!
As always, I love getting comments about where you'd like this story to go! I'm kinda writing this just chapter by chapter as I get inspiration. I do have a vision for where I want this story to go, but nothing super solid.
Also, I want to give a huuuuge thank you to user w3dn3sd4y for the freaking SONG they're writing! Honestly, I wish I were HALF as creative. No one's ever made anything like that for one of my stories before ( ˃̣̣̥ω˂̣̣̥ ) this honestly made my day and guilted me into finally updating, so it's all her fault that this chapter exists haha!

I hope you enjoy <3

Chapter Text

Eijiro wasn’t actively trying to stare at Bakugou. It’s just, the dude walked into class looking really good, you know? For one, his sensei-scarf looked comfy and badass, which is a really hard look to pull off. For another…Bakugo was just wearing the prettiest smile.

            (A part of Eijiro balked at assigning the term “pretty” to anything having to do with Bakugo, because the guy was manly as all heck. The manliest mans. Nevertheless, Mama said manly things could be pretty and, honestly, there’s no other word that came to mind when Bakugo slouched into class, bag thrown over his shoulder, wearing such a bright, happy grin.)

            Of course, like always, Midoriya came in with Bakugo, and Kirishima did his best to not let his spirit be dimmed because Hey! Midoriya was super nice and manly himself! The explosive blonde was pulling on tuffs of Midoriya’s curly green hair, poking his round cheeks, and calling him a “Fucking broccoli child” and “How the hell is your hair this fluffy?”

            Subtly, Eijiro reached up and tugged on his own hair, which had lost some of its baby-soft texture after he’d started dying it. A warm presence slid behind him, leaning against his shoulder. “Soooooo, duuuuuude…” Kaminari was grinning, arms crossed in the way that said the electric blonde was pretending to be attempting to be cool. Eijiro smiled back, suspicious but willing to play along.

            “Dude,” he returned.

            “Bro.”

            “Bro.”

            “My man.”

            “Sup, man?”

            “The dudeface himself. The splosion. The McBlasty. Da boi.”

            “What about him?”

            Kaminari’s grin got a bit slyer. “So…I heard a little birdy say that Midoriya and Bakugo had dinner together last night. Games and” Kaminari winks “stuff.”

            Kirishima looked behind Kaminari’s head to where Tokoyami was sitting. Shinsou was perched on the birdboy’s desk, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other. Eijiro looked back to Kaminari, whose smile was getting alarmingly wide. “…that…is cool? Games are a valid date option.” Kirishima ignored the lumpy feeling in his tummy. Everything was fine. He was fine. Bakugo laughed across the room, and Eijiro’s eyes wandered over to where Katsuki and Midoriya were showing Todoroki something on a phone.

            When Bakugo laughed, he kinda bared his teeth and barked, eyes and nose all scrunched.

            Cute.

            “It’s also a valid class-bonding option,” Kaminari said sweetly dragging Eijiro back to the conversation. What were they talking about, again? “Wonder if McSplodey would like hanging out at one of our places. Tonight. To play games. But not mine, because I like, just redid my room and I like my posters not blown up.”

            Oh. Eijiro frowned, sensing that there was some secret bro-message hidden in Kaminari’s words. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what the heck Kaminari was talking about. “I mean…that sounds fun.” And it did. An uncomfortable notion about having to see how cuddly Bakugo and Midoriya were outside of class did rise up – after all, if that (Eijiro looked over to see Midoriya clinging to Bakugo’s elbow, despite the taller boy pinching the greenette’s nose as the two of them chatted with Todoroki) was how they acted in school, how must more so would they be in a casual setting?

            But, then again, most of class 1A were awesome! Actually, all of them were. Kirishima just hadn’t gotten the chance to really get to know everyone yet. A game night was the PERFECT way to really bond with all the epic people in his class.

            “That sounds fun!” he said with a bit more conviction. “Not tonight, though. My little sister is already having a sleep over and, no offense, it’s weird for more than one sibling to have friends over at any given time.”

            Kaminari’s smile got a little weird. “I dunno, bro. How old’s your sister?”

            Kirishima felt no guilt in the fist punch Kaminari received to the face.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The class collectively held its breath as they all waited for Aizawa to announce their plan for homeroom that day.

            “Just choose a class representative. Assign officer positions. I don’t care who gets picked as long as you’re done before bell.”

            With that, Aizawa retreated like a sloth-snail into his big yellow sleeping back, and inched his way behind the desk. Everyone started shouting at once.

            “C’mon dudes!” Kaminari said. “I’d make an awesome leader!”

            “Wheeeeee

            “Shut up, Jiro!”

            “I wouldn’t mind having the position,” Momo delicately raised her hand. “I do have some experience in group management, and I feel it would be a fun challenge for me.”

            “It wouldn’t be a challenge for me, at all!” declared Ashido.

            “If I’m elected president, I’ll pay all your student debt!” Hakagure declared, stomping one shoe onto the face of her desk.

            “Do any of us have debt?” asked Sero. Uraraka muttered unhappily, before pumping her fist in the air.

            “We deserve a leader with brains and cuteness! Marketable and capable!” She declared. “Deku! I chose you!”

            “M-m-m-m-m-mm-m-m-m!!!????”

            “Please! Fellow students!” Iida karate chopped the air. “Let us all bring this to a vote! Like civilized men!”

            “And whamen,” Katsuki added, amused.

            “And whamen.” Chorused Ashido, appreciative.

            “But then everyone would just vote for themselves?”

            “I’ve only known most of you for like, a week. So…”

            “Exactly!” said Iida, triumphant. “Therefore and thusly, whosoever has more than one vote has the clear attributes valued in people of leadership!”

            “I vote Robocop.”

            “No, Bakugo! The ballots must be written and anonymous—wait, really?”

            Katsuki shrugged. “I don’t wanna be rep. Deku’s too much of a fucking mouse to be rep. Shitstain would just lead us all off a cliff-“

            Hitoshi snorts. “I’d be offended but honestly, yeah. Yeah, I would.”

            “Kirishima is too nice-”

            “Aw…bro…”

            “Pikachu is a twit-“

            “hey!”

            “Pinky and Gloves are just…everywhere. Ponytail doesn’t have the confidence needed for this fucking group of rabid clowns. Sweet Cheeks, neither. Tails, Koda, Frogger, Jazz hands, Muffintop and Chickenhawk are too quiet. Halfy doesn’t want the position. Earjack is too laid back; she’d just let everything catch on fire. Soysauce Face would set the fire himself and watch because he’s a fucking turd. And if I missed anyone, it’s because you’re not relevant enough to the plot to be rep.”

            “Tête de noeud!” Aoyama snapped with an irate cloud of glitter rising off his uniform.

            The resulting reaction was torn between offence and self-recognition, smattered with a healthy dose of humor. There were some nods, some pouts, but mostly thoughtful consideration. Voting was wrapped up quickly.

            Iida received sixteen votes. Bakugo got three, and Momo got one.

            With pride in his teary eyes, Iida place one hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to uphold this duty to the best of by ability!”

            “Haaah?” Bakugo scowled at the chalk board tally. “Who the hell voted for me?”

            “Sorry not sorry,” Shinsou smirked. Midoriya slowly raised his hand.

            “You can’t be upset since you voted for yourself, too,” Sero pointed out. Bakugo whirled to face him.

            “I didn’t fucking vote for me! I voted for Ponytail so she’d be the vice representative!”

            Momo’s face flushed. She looked flustered. “O-oh?” She wringed her hands. “That’s very sweet of you, Bakugo.” Bakugo sneered, embarrassed.

            “Someone’s gotta balance out Robo, over there.”

            “But, mon ami,” Aoyama pointed out, still salty from Bakugo’s earlier comment. “You received more votes, oui? That would make you the vice.”

            “No,” Bakugo spat. “That means I’m Sargent at Arms! And that means I can whoop your asses if you toerags tip outta line!”

            “Pretty sure that’s not it.”

            “What about the other positions?” Momo asks, carefully. “Secretary and Treasurer. Historian. Peace Officer.”

            “I dunno. Robocop?”

            “First, we should see who wants them! Keeping in mind that this is a responsibility to be taken seriously!”

            In the end, Secretary went to Jiro. Treasurer went to Uraraka. Historian went to Midoriya. And Peace Officer went to Tsuyu. Peace reigned in class 1A, until lunch.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “But, wait. Who was Bakugo’s third vote?”

            “…” “….” “…” “…”

            Kirishima casually slid out of his desk, and absolutely did not rush for the door.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 The cliff is getting closer. Katsuki can feel it coming, like a pull on his gut or a ringing in his ear. It’s throwing him off balance, and he knows Deku can tell there’s something wrong with him. There’s nothing he can really do, though. Is there? If he goes looking for whoever Handsy sent to get the intel, there’s every chance that he’ll mess up what happens at USJ. His classmates could be killed. His sensei very nearly was, the last time. All Might could die.

And yet, if he acts now, he might be able to save his sensei the pain of getting his head smashed in. Spare his classmates the trauma they didn’t deserve to go through, were far too young to face just yet.

But there was always the very real possibility, that if he cornered Handsy, or whoever was sent, now – while they were both at a school full of untrained or barely trained or hardly trained little kids. Who knows how many wanna-be’s would step up to help fight, only to get slaughtered?

Fuck. Deku would be right behind him. He’s always right behind him.

What should he do? What could he do?

            “Kacchan?” Deku looked worried.

            They were sitting with Robocop, Round Face, IcyHot, and Shitstain. One of the fuckers seems to have gotten a tray full of food and plopped it in front of Katsuki without his noticing. Fuck. He was off his game. He needed to be more mentally present. He had to be ready. He was running out of time. What should he do? What should he-

            “Do you need Sensei?” Shitstain spoke in low tones, only Deku and Katsuki were close enough to hear him. Nevertheless, it shocked him out of his head, making his shoulders shudder and flinch with the stress they held. The table quieted, looked at him in concern. Katsuki kept his eyes to the table.

 Deku’s hand kneeded Katsuki’s arm, comfortingly. Slowly, Katsuki nodded. What would he tell sensei though? It would be too convenient to say that the girl who caused his so called “trauma” had also given Katsuki forewarning about this very specific day, at this very specific time. They might try to count on Katsuki’s forewarning another time when Katsuki didn’t remember, or about something that changed, if Katsuki tried to come up with some other explanation, or – worse yet – told the truth.

            What was he supposed to do?

            “We’ll be back, guys,” Deku told the extras. “I think we’re gonna ask sensei a question about…um…”

            “Class stuff.” Shitstain said, as equally unconvincingly. “Like, the fieldtrip next week.”

            Something was weird about the air. Katsuki could see the air. Were you supposed to see air? Why were the lines all wobbly? Someone’s bubble quirk must be acting up, because little orbs of light were obscuring his vision. Why couldn’t Katsuki swallow right? His throat felt weird. Sticky? His chest was aching. He couldn’t catch his breath. Why was the air so weird?

            “Katsuki? Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay! Shit!” Shitstain sounded like he was freaking out, too. Not that Katsuki was freaking out. He was completely calm. He just…just needed to get away from these morons in the cafeteria, that’s all. They were making the air weird.

            “’M…m’fine.” Katsuki shoved Deku away. Shitty nerd was always clinging to him these days.  “Jus’…just, gon-na go find Dad.” His hands were acting fucked up. He hoped his quirk wasn’t affected by…whatever this was. He needed to be ready. It was coming. It’s coming. He clenched his fingers into fists and found that stupidly hard to do. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t catch his breath.

            “Kacchan, I…I think you’re having a panic attack,” Deku’s voice kept climbing to a higher pitch, like it always did when the twerp was panicking, which just made Deku’s accusation all the more ridiculous.

            “Leave… me alone, fuckwad,” Katsuki growled, laboriously. His bottom hit the tile. Fuck. Fuck, no, he had to do something! Someone seriously needs to take care of the light bubbles. Handy’s gonna be here any minute, any second. He has to do something.

            If he does something Deku will die. Deku’s right here. He can’t do anything, he has to let it just happen.

            But what if something goes wrong next week and he kills sensei? Or All Might? The world still needs All Might. Deku needs All Might. But Katsuki needs sensei. But sensei will be fine, won’t he? What if he’s changed too much.

            What if he hasn’t changed enough?

            “Stay here! I’ll get help!” Deku took off running. Thank god. Katsuki just needed some space. Some space to think and he’d be fine. Katsuki pressed back into the wall and pulled on his hair. When did he end up on the floor?

            “Bakubro?”

            Kirishima. Steady hands gently pressed against his arm. Eijiro. Thank god. Thank god.

            “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch someone having a panic attack…”

            The hands disappeared quicker than a wink. Shut the fuck up, Shitstain.

            “He’s having a panic attack?!”

            Katsuki must have made some sort of sound, because Kirishima sat down next to him. “Bakugo? Is this okay?” A hand gently grasped his own. Katsuki clenched it with both of his own. Eijiro. Eiji was always the anchor that Katsuki needed. His burning forehead pressed against their twined hands, hard. The pressure helped, some.

            Wait. Wait, no! He was wasting time! What was he doing?!

            Katsuki leaped up, and instantly crashed back to the ground. “Whoa, whoa! Hold on, you’re okay! You’re safe, bro!” Oh. He forgot to let go of Kirishima.

            How long had he wasted? How much longer did he have? Have to do what though? What could he do? What should he do? Fuck. Fuck. He was fucking everything up. “Midoriya went to go get the teacher. He should be back, soon.”

            “The teacher? Shouldn’t we take him to Recovery Girl?”

            Katsuki needed to get away from them. They shouldn’t be here. They should be in the cafeteria. Everything was wrong.

            The Alarm.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kirishima was having a pretty awesome day, for the most part. Sure, voting was kinda’ crazy, but finally, their class got a taste of normal, high school stuff. Also, Bakugo had taken charge like a friggin boss, and the dude wasn’t even doing it to get the Leadership position!

            Also, also, actually, actually – Bakugo called him “nice.”

            So, it took him a little by surprise when Bakugo was practically carried out of the cafeteria by Midoriya and Shinsou. It was strange. He went from confident and sneering, to…whatever this was. Bakugo’s face was scarily pale, and his eyes were…well, his eyes were always red, but something made him look…very small. And, though Bakugo was many things, small was not one of them.

            The other students left at the table watched them go, worried. Todoroki had made a motion to follow after them almost instantly. Though Iida had stopped him. Luckily, Eijiro had been sitting at another table with Ashido, Sero and Kaminari, too far away from Iida to stop him from going after Bakugo.

            “You want us to come, too?” Kaminari asked, his face uncommonly serious.

            “…I don’t think he’d want too much of an audience,” Eijiro said, uncertainly. Afterall, Bakugo probably didn’t even want him there. But, crush be damned, Kirishima wasn’t about to let any of his friends just suffer without doing everything in his power to help. “Maybe…I’ll see what’s up, and if I need something, I’ll text you okay?”

            “He looks like he needs Recovery Girl?” Ashido said, uncertainly.

            “Hopefully that’s where they’re headed,” Sero said as Kirishima pushed his chair back and stood up. “Wonder if he ate something bad?”

            “What, like an allergic reaction?” Ashido scoffed.

            “I’ll go see,” Kirishima lightly jogged towards the cafeteria’s exit, maneuvering around other students and food-laden trays.

            In the hallway, Kirishima was stopped cold in shock.

Bakugo. On the ground. Head in his hands. Hyperventilating with his back against the wall.

Midoriya was no where in sight, and Shinsou seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Kirishima had, instinctively, reached for Bakugo. “Bakubro?” Kirishima tried to keep his tone light.

            He didn’t get an answer, but Bakugo seemed to lean towards him. Before he could puzzle through Bakugo’s actions, Shinsou had pulled lightly on his shirt.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to touch someone having a panic attack…” Kirishima tore his hands away.

“He’s having a panic attack?!” Oh, god. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know anything about medical stuff, much less panic attacks specifically! Eijiro freed his phone from out of his pocket, tapping out a hasty text to his classmates. He didn’t bother closing the app that was already open or switching to his actual texting app. That would waste time he didn’t have.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

ShittyHair: Get Recovery Girl now

ShittyHair: In hallway

PikaPikachuuuu: On it

PinkyPie: Take care of him!

SoySauceFace: Should we get a teacher?

SweetCheeks: Guys? Is Kacchan OK?

ROBOCOP: Please give us more information!

Halfy: I’m getting help. Stay where you are.

            Kirishima felt the vibrations of responses almost immediately, but he didn’t even bother looking at them. He just shoved his phone back away, and tried to get Bakugo’s attention. The normally stoic, passionate, manly boy gasped for air.

            It sounded like a sob.

            Kirishima instinctively reached for Bakugo again, but he didn’t want to upset the boy. What was he supposed to do. “Bakugo? Is this okay?” Instead of enveloping his crush in a hug, like he desperately wanted to, Kirishima gently laid his hand over one of Bakugo’s. Bakugo’s eyes flew open, and Kirishima was afraid that he’d messed up – but then Bakugo clasped Kirishima’s hand with both of his own, pressing his head down on top of them, almost folding in half, so harshly that Kirishima was afraid he’d bruise himself.

            Then Bakugo almost seemed to convulse, standing and collapsing within a single breath. Kirishima caught him, heard pounding. Where were his classmates? “Whoa, whoa! Hold on, you’re okay! You’re safe, bro!”

             “Midoriya went to go get the teacher. He should be back, soon.” Shinsou said, his normally deadpan voice trembling.

            “The teacher? Shouldn’t we take him to Recovery Girl?” Bakugo was only seeming to grow more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

            So, of course, the alarm had to go off. Like the rumbling of a thunderstorm, Kirishima could feel the stampede of students coming in their direction. He acted before he could think about it.

            He scooped Bakugo up like a doll and hauled ass down the hallway, Shinsou at his heels. Protocol meant evacuation to the front lawn through the nearest exit. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in all his life. Not at the entrance exam, not in Mr. Aizawa’s crazy test, not during hero training.

            But how could he run any slower? When he can feel Katsuki’s fists clinging to his shirt, and his face pressed against Kirishima’s neck. “Messed up. I messed up. I messed up. Too fucking late.” Katsuki was muttering. Eijiro held on tighter, heart hurting for his friend.

            The fresh air had never tasted so sweet. The gates were very clearly closed tight. In the distance, the irritated clamoring of the media personnel could be heard. Was that what set off the alarm? The freaking news people? Didn’t these jerks have anything better to do than stand outside a school? Shouldn’t there be some law that made it illegal for strange adults to just lurk outside a school?

Kirishima jogged around a corner to find a somewhat private area, and eased Bakugo to the ground, face flushing when the other boy was slow to relinquish his grip. “C’mon, man. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

            Eijiro gently squeezed Bakugo’s shoulders, frowning at the stiff tautness in them. “Bakugo?”

            “Kirishima.” It wasn’t Bakugo who answered. Shinsou. He was pointing in the direction that Bakugo was staring, wordlessly. Bakugo’s face was pale, bloodless. Eijiro followed the line that both Bakugo’s eyes and Shinsou’s finger were pointing. There, in the wall that stood to protect the students from the outside, that stood tall and white and firm, was a hole.

            And a man stepping through.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 26

Summary:

Getting there, next chapter should be up soon! Thanks for the comments and support, they really motivate me like nothing else (。♥‿♥。)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Todoroki wasn’t sure what had happened.

            Before class, during class, Bakugo had seemed perfectly normal. Well, normal for Bakugo, anyway. He had been his usual straightforward, outspoken self, exuding the confidence that Todoroki saw in nearly every professional hero. Burning bright and charismatically vulgar.

            As always, Todoroki had arrived early. His arrival perfectly matched the two EraserMic boys (could he even still call them that? Now that he knew that Midoriya wasn’t actually their son?). Midoriya had happily babbled some conspiracy concerning a series of videos online, and a potential story plot which tied them all together, speaking with the same depth of thought and intensity that he usually reserved for analyzing quirks. Bakugo had been amused, affectionally scornful.

            During the election for class president, Bakugo had made some solid points that Todoroki had no qualms about following – though he did privately think that Bakugo or Midoriya would have made a fine class president.

            But, as soon as the bell rang, Bakugo had fallen silent. He kept alternating between paranoidly glancing over his shoulders or out windows or across the room, and having his eyes glaze over as he stared into space. Todoroki recognized the pattern.

            It’s one he adopted whenever both he and his father were home, simultaneously.

            Bakugo was afraid.

            Afraid of what? Shouto didn’t know.

            Todoroki followed Bakugo and Midoriya, as usual, to a table. When Bakugo made no move to get his own tray of food, Todoroki filled one for him, though the normally explosive boy made no move to eat it. Midoriya wasn’t eating much, either. Too preoccupied with monitoring his friend. Then something changed.

            To be honest, Todoroki wasn’t entirely sure why, but suddenly Shinsou and Midoriya were making excuses and leading a dazed-looking Bakugo away from the table, towards the exit doors. Todoroki stood, to follow, but Iida gripped his elbow firmly.

            “We mustn’t invade his privacy,” Iida said, sternly. “Midoriya is a very responsible friend. I’m sure that he would ask if additional help was needed.”

            Unhappy about it, Todoroki returned to his seat, watching as his three friends disappeared behind the swinging cafeteria door. In a gust of wind, Kirishima bolted past, and Todoroki couldn’t help but feel envious.

            Iida clucked disapprovingly at their redheaded classmate but didn’t chase after him. “Really, I don’t think Bakugo would appreciate having so many people hovering around him at once.”

            “I could help,” Shouto tried to argue.

            Uraraka placed a gentle hand on Shouto’s wrist. “I’m sure Deku knows how to take care of him. They’ve been friends for so long! It’ll be okay. I heard there was some kind of stomach bug going around a few weeks ago? Maybe it’s something like that?”

            Todoroki knew he should probably answer her, but before he could decide what to say, his phone started vibrating. Acting on instinct, Todoroki retrieved it from his pocket. He dimly noted that Uraraka and Iida did the same, almost in unison.

            He was gone before Iida could even react, headed in the opposite direction from where Kirishima had disappeared to. He typed as he ran, keeping one eye on his phone screen and one eye ahead of him to avoid a collision with one of his fellow students.

Halfy: I’m getting help. Stay where you are.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

EarJaxx: Cmon dude, respond! How is he?

ThatFuckingChicken: Shinsou?

Gloves: Why aren’t any of you responding???

KojiKoda:???

KojiKoda:!!??

Frogger: Stay calm. Help’s coming.

TheMuffinMan: Did he eat something that made him sick?

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Izuku flew down the hall. He left behind scorching rubber sneaker-stains and emerald sparks in his wake. No time to spare a thought for that, now. Izuku’s eyes darted across the number plates on the doors. No, no, no, no. Wrong door, wrong door, wrong door. The school was still new to him, all hallways fairly similar in appearance. Yes, he had various room numbers memorized, but that did him little good when the numbering system seemed to leap all over the place.

            Bingo.

Izuku slammed open the metal door of a stair well and took the stairs five at a time. He passed by a teacher who called at him “No quirk usage in the halls!” and an older student who only shouted “Walk!”

            He didn’t slow down - didn’t even consider it - until he reached the Teacher’s Lounge. Some of One for All must have been coursing through his arms, because one tap from his palm and the door of the lounge was sent crashing into the wall. Dust of drywall flaked off into a dirty cloud that drifted across the now silent lounge.

            There must have been nearly a dozen, or maybe more than a dozen, teachers lounging about enjoying their lunch or getting some last-minute grading done. And every single one of them was looking straight at him in shock or reproach.

            Under normal circumstances, Izuku would have died.

            One, the room was filled with heroes. Many of whom Izuku had followed and fanboyed over for years. Two, the room was filled with annoyed adults, and Izuku was never the kind of kid who made a habit of getting on adults’ nerves.

            But this wasn’t normal circumstances, and Kacchan needed help.

            His eyes zeroed in on Hizashi, and Izuku rushed (without his quirk) towards him. Present Mic turned away from Snipe – they must have been in the middle of a conversation, Izuku distantly hoped he wasn’t interrupting something important – and frowned at Izuku.

            “Hey, lil Listener?” Hizashi eyed Izuku as the boy wrung his hands. “What’s…are you okay?”

            “Kacchan’s…” Sick? Upset? “Hurt, and I don’t know what happened. He isn’t saying anything, and he fell. I don’t know if he…I didn’t know what to do, Shinsou is sitting with him in the hall outside the cafeteria, Kacchan looked really bad, but I’m not sure what’s wrong because he seemed fine this morning, but he was also kind of distracted but it wasn’t anything that unusual, at least I didn’t think it was anything unusual, because you know how Kacchan gets sometimes, but his breathing got really weird and he wouldn’t look at me, but it’s like he couldn’t see me, not because he was ignoring me, and then he fell over and so I came here where’s sensei?”

            Present Mic’s face was serious in the way it only ever was when he was truly being Present Mic. Not Hizashi, not Papa Mic.

Voice Hero Present Mic took Deku by the arm and lead the way out of the teacher’s lounge.

            “Lead the way,” Present Mic told Izuku. “I’m calling Shouta.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa dozed underneath his desk.

            He knew he’d regret it later this evening, when he was out on patrol or when he was dealing with the remedial PE class, if he didn’t at least choke down a jelly pouch or a protein bar. But, lunch time was prime time for nap time. He finally had an empty room to himself. As much as he loved his kids, his best friend, his cat, it really was the best when he finally had a second of silence to just close his eyes and drift off.

            Aizawa breathed deeply, hand digging into his side pocket, where he had a couple protein jelly packs, warmed by his body heat, ready for consumption. He’d eat them…in a minute. Eh…or…he could…eat them…during….class……

            His phone suddenly started going off, vibrating in an unfamiliar, erratic non-pattern. At first, Shouta thought, annoyed, that Hizashi had changed his notification settings. Then, he realized that no, it wasn’t a different sitting; he was receiving dozens of messages all at once from that stupid discourse app-thing.

            He’d thought he’d had Kacchan switch the settings on that thing to only go off if one of the kids mentioned him by name, or something.  With a groan, Aizawa unlocked his phone and flicked open the app.

            Messages popped in faster than he could read them.

Class 1A Discord Server

#Only4Emergencies

PinkyPie: @TheDadzawa we need you!

PikaPikaChuuuu: @TheDadzawa where are u?? Bakugo’s sick or smtign!!

Tails: @TheDadzawa

Gloves: @TheDadzawa we don’t know whas wrong w him!

Tails: @TheDadzawa I hope he’s still awake somewhere

ThatFuckingChicken: @TheDadzawa Shinsou has requested help. He is in the hallway by the cafeteria.

SoySauceFace: Has Kirishima found you,yet? @TheDadzawa

Frogger: @TheDadzawa Sorry sensei.

EarJaxx: We kinda need you right now @TheDadzawa

PrinceyPrincey: @TheDadzawa @TheDadzawa @TheDadzawa

Frogger: @TheDadzawa Kirishima seemed really upset in the other channel

TheMuffinMan: @TheDadzawa they rushed out in the middle of lunch. Bakugo looked really terrible

PrinceyPrincey: Where are you!

Ponytail: @TheDadzawa I apologize for bothering you, but due to our being unsure for as to whether Bakugo is sick, or if it is another form of distress, we’re unsure how to help our classmate.

SweetCheeks: We havnt heard from deku in a while…

ThatFuckingChicken: @PRESENTPAPAMIC have you heard from him?

PikaPikaChuuuu: I want to help but I dont want to like upset Blasty, He already looked horrible.

PinkyPie: @TheDadzawa are you already with him?

ROBOCOP: @TheDadzawa Sir! While several of our classmates have already left the cafeteria with Bakugo, we would be grateful if you could give us instructions for how to help alleviate the situation!

EarJaxx: Would you let us know if he’s okay?

LotsaJazzHands: Did something happen? To be perfectly honest, he didn’t appear to be sick.

SoySauceFace: What else could it have been?

Tails: He looked like someone died.

Gloves: Dont say that!!!

KojiKoda: @TheDadzawa

            More messages were pouring in, and Aizawa felt like he was watching a trainwreck – more bad news, more teenage fear crashing against what was already there, making it almost impossible to fully absorb what the kids were attempting to communicate, but he was unable to tear his eyes away, even as he flung his legs out from his sleeping bag and stumbled up from under his desk.

            Something had happened. What could have happened? He’d seen them all not twenty minutes ago.

            His ringtone for Hizashi went off. Aizawa answered before the end of the first ring.

            “Zashi,” Aizawa tore through the halls towards the cafeteria. “What’s wrong with the kids?”

            “I don’t know.” Present Mic sounded just as worried. “I’m with Izuku, we’re headed there now. Where are you?”

            “On my-“ Alarms. Doors and hallways locking down. Somebody was trespassing. Somebody had broken in.

            “Shit” “Shit”

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            Todoroki finally had a reason to be grateful for his father.

            Thanks to Endeavor being who he is, having insisted on familiarizing his creation with UA years early, Shouto was able to navigate the labyrinth-like twists and turns with ease. A sturdy film of ice spread on the soles of his sneakers, Shouto all but glided across the tile, swerving to avoid people walking around him.

            He didn’t know what was wrong. Had someone hit Bakugo with a quirk? Was Bakugo ill? Had something happened? Should he have instead searched for Bakugo’s parents, rather than heading straight for the medward? If he had been affected by some unknown quirk, it might have been better to seek out Eraserhead. He would be able to cancel it out, probably.

            Shouto couldn’t ponder that train of thought for very long – he’d already arrived. He heard raised voices before he saw the door.

 “…this seriously! You’re overextending your already--.” Todoroki barged into the medward with far less concern for social niceties or for privacy than he normally ever would. Recovery Girl spun around, eyes wide, hands clutched over her small chest as though he’d startled her into a heart-attack. Todoroki immediately felt guilty, but his concern for Bakugo quickly assuaged it.

            His eyes snapped to the second person in the room. The gaunt face with a mane of golden hair, lanky frame, and yellow ill-fitting suit. Todoroki racked his mind. This man, he’s close with EraserMic, Deku’s trainer. “Mr. Yagi” Todoroki bowed to him. “Recovery Girl. Bakugo Katsuki requires medical attention.”

            “Why wasn’t he brought over to me?” Recovery Girl snapped even as the old woman began gathering up supplies into a nurses’ bag, deftly zipping it shut. Yagi slid off the examination table he was sitting on, tucking in his white button-up shirt as he did so. His piercing blue eyes seemed to cut right through Todoroki, waiting for him to continue.

            “Unsure,” Todoroki struggled to keep his palms from steaming. “I was only asked by Kirishima to get you. This was shortly after Bakugo was escorted from the cafeteria by Shinsou and Midoriya.”

            Recovery Girl bustled past him, hauling the bag that seemed to be nearly as large as she was. Mr. Yagi followed close behind. Todoroki wasn’t sure what the man could do to help in a medical emergency, though he supposed the man might have some greater insight into what was upsetting Bakugo, being employed by Eraserhead and therefore having some level of familiarity with him.

            “Where are they?”

            “As far as I know,” Shouto answered her, having to jog to keep up. “Still in the hall just outside the cafeteria.”

            Yagi kept pace close behind, though he didn’t say anything. In the back of his mind, the part of his mind that wasn’t worrying about his friends, Shouto noted that the man was struggling to breath steadily. In fact, every now and then, his inhales would sound distinctly wet. Shouto hoped that he hadn’t pulled the man away from an important checkup. He told himself that, if it were serious, Recovery Girl wouldn’t have stopped in the middle in order to check up on Bakugo.

            Still, Todoroki couldn’t help but wonder why this man was Midoriya’s quirk trainer? Quirk trainers, by virtue of what they were, had to have (at the very least) similar quirks to their trainee. Midoriya was a powerhouse. Strong and fast with insane endurance. Yagi didn’t seem to really have any endurance.

            Stop it, Todoroki scolded himself, focusing on keeping stride with Recovery Girl. Now’s not the time. Get to Bakugo. Make unnecessary theories later.

            They’re halfway back when the alarms start going off.

            Mr. Yagi curses under his breath in another language. English, probably. Recovery Girl only speeds up with a muttered “What this time…”

            “The reporters…” Mr. Yagi frowns as they run past a wide window, his voice was only slightly steadier than his breathing. It’s easy to see the crowd of paparazzi in a swarm like compost beetles just outside the wall. “They’ve set it off.”

            “They’re probably here for All Might.” Todoroki said, blandly annoyed. Reporters and cameras have been an unhappy staple in his life for as long as he could remember. Mr. Yagi must not have been as used to the blood-thirsty ways of the media, however, because the man couldn’t quite manage to suppress a rather alarming flinch.

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            Voices. Shouting. Calls of panic and fear. Screams. Confusion. A babble of chaos lofts down the hall, getting overwhelming the further they go. All of the students who were in the cafeteria attempted to evacuate at the same time, causing a terrible jam.

            “Children!” Recovery Girl shouted as loud as her old voice would allow her. “Children! Calm yourselves, please!” No one could hear her. Mr. Yagi made a motion, like he was going to stand taller, or perhaps jump. Recovery Girl glared at him.

            “Oh no you don’t!” she snapped. “You’re already too worn thin as it is.”

            Todoroki tried to subtly glance at Mr. Yagi. Why would Eraserhead employ someone who could wear themselves out so quickly? Or had Mr. Yagi been in some terrible fight, recently? Was he injured? But he had been training Midoriya only last night?

            “We need to get through,” Mr. Yagi sounded…petulant. Like how Midoriya sounded when he tried to pout his way out of trouble, or into getting what he wanted. Recovery Girl was having none of it.

            “ATTENTION!”

            Iida.

            Todoroki’s class president had somehow perched himself on top of the emergency exit sign, balancing precariously as he desperately shouted for order.

            “ATTENTION STUDENTS! THERE IS NO NEED FOR PANIC! IT IS MERELY THE MEDIA WHO HAVE TRIGGERED THE LOCK DOWN! I REPEAT! THERE IS NO DANGER!”

            Now that the students have stopped shoving and writhing against each other, Recovery Girl did not hesitate to wriggle herself between bodies, making her way through the packed crowd. Iida, thankfully, seemed to see her struggle. Or, perhaps, he saw Mr. Yagi trying (failing) to copy her.

            “PLEASE CLEAR THE HALLWAY IN AN ORDERLY FASHION! CONGESTING THE WALKWAY IS A SAFETY HAZARD!”

            Todoroki caught up to Recovery Girl, only feeling a little bad as he froze his fingers to gently prod people out of his way. “I don’t see your friend, Todoroki,” she said, mouth pinched.

            “The crowd must have forced them to move,” Yagi glanced all down the hall.

            Todoroki grimaced, remembering how pale Bakugo had looked. “I’ll attempt to call Midoriya.”

            “Here!”

            Midoriya flung himself from between the retreating members of the student body, catching his balance by grabbing Shouto’s arm. “Where’s Kacchaaa—M-m-mr. Yagi?!”

            “Young Midoriya,” Mr. Yagi’s face couldn’t seem to decide on smiling or frowning.

            “Where’s my kid.”

            Aizawa was there, and he wasn’t happy. He has his phone pressed to the side of his head. “Katsuki isn’t answering.”

            Recovery Girl set her bag down to the side with a heavy thud and massaged the bridge of her nose. “Please children, explain to me what has happened, quickly. I want to check to see if the principal has returned yet. See if he has anything to say about these darn reporter people.”

            “Kacchan had a panic attack, again,” Midoriya said in a quiet rush. “I think, anyway. I don’t know why he was upset he just started freaking out and it was like he couldn’t breathe and-“

            “-And we need to find him right fucking now,” Aizawa growled. Present Mic put a hand on his friend’s arm.

            “Should I call for him?”

            “If he’s panicking that’s not going to do anyone any good,” Aizawa bite out, stabbing the redial option on his phone screen.

Recovery Girl frowned at him.

            “Do you have any idea where he would have gone to escape the noise?”

            A ringing sound cut through the tension. Todoroki calmly held his phone flat on his open palm, set to speaker.

Calling Shinsou Hitoshi

            It picks up.

            “Hitoshi!” Midoriya almost cries with relief. “Where are you? Is Kacchan-“

            “Shhhhhh!” Shinsou urgently hushes him from the other end. “Deku! Get sensei. There’s…there’s a villain….I think.”

            “Shinsou,” Eraserhead took the phone from Todoroki. “What is your position?”

            “Sensei.” Todoroki could hear Shinsou’s relief. “We’re…outside. Katsuki and Kirishima are with me.”

            “And the villain?” Mr. Yagi prompted.

            “Why do you say ‘villain’?” Recovery Girl asked, scooping her bag back up. “Did he hurt any of you?”

            “No, he…uh…melted the wall.”

            Sensei was running. Todoroki struggled to stay next to him, needing to hear what would be said next. Emerald Sparks told him that Midoriya wasn’t far away. “Where is he now?”

            “He teleported but…I think Katsuki followed him.

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Shigaraki.

            He’s here.

            Bakugo’s heart thudded in his chest as he pulled away from Eijiro. It was undeniable. The hole in the wall, the edges, they were worn away, eaten away in such a distinctive manner. It couldn’t be anyone else. He watched, almost as though through someone else’s eyes, as the hooded figure that was almost definitely All Might’s archnemesis’ protégé stepped through the opening and looked around himself, casual as you please.

Eijiro and Shinsou were there with him. But so is Shigaraki. Crossroads and cliffs. Cliffs and crossroads and walls and mazes and panic and pain and inevitable hurt. Should he let the villain escape, only to cause death and destruction and burning cities and bleeding heroes…or does he go after Shigaraki, plunging himself and everyone he loves completely into the unknown?

But…he’s here.

That bastard is here.

The one who kidnapped him so, so very long ago,

Who acted as the nail in the coffin of All Might’s career.

Who hurt so many of Bakugo’s people.

His…friends.

            He’s standing and stalking towards Shigaraki before he fully realizes what it is that he’s doing.

            Kirishima grabs his wrist. “Dude. Bakugo, what are you doing? He could be dangerous!”

            Katsuki torn his hand away, sneering. “The asshole just broke into UA. Of fucking course he’s dangerous. S’why he needs to be put down.”

            “We’re just students!” Shinsou argued. “Shouldn’t we get a teacher?”

            “If he kills someone –“

            Katsuki froze, mid-sentence.

            “I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Shinsou clenched his fists. “I’m not going to let you walk into danger. Go get sensei.”

            Face blank, but arms trembling, Katsuki slowly begins to turn back towards the school’s side door.

            “Dude,” Kirishima whirled towards Shinsou, hissing as loudly as he dared, not wanting to attract the villain’s attention…now villains’. A second figure has joined the first. “What did you do?”

            “Brainwashing.” Shinsou said, bitterly, not meeting his eyes. “That’s my quirk.”

            Kirishima swallowed, dry. “G-good thinking.” He took one last look at the villains and began to back away. “Shit.”

            He backed into Katsuki.

            Katsuki wasn’t walking.

            Shinsou furrowed his brow. “Katsuki, go get sensei!”

            Katsuki’s arms shook harder. The tendons in his neck, his shoulders, were almost jumping out of the constrains of his skin.

            “Go!”

            There was a pop like a fire cracker. Thick smoke that smelled like burned caramel and sweat curled from between Katsuki’s fingers. Slowly, Katsuki looked up at Shinsou.

            The pop must have startled the villains, or, at the very least, they must have heard it. The second figure, a purple cloud of miasma in a suit, created a swirling portal. Both men crossed through it, disappearing, not even sparing a glance for the students.

            Shinsou gripped Bakugo’s shirt. “How did you do that! Tell me!”

            Bakugo didn’t sneer, he didn’t scowl. If anything, he looked…mournful. He turned to Kirishima, not addressing Shinsou. “If he kills someone, and I did nothing, that’s on me.”

“What can you even do? He’s gone, now.”

            “I know where they’re going.” Katsuki waits until the portal is closed, winking away like the rip in space was never there at all. Then he charges around the side of the building. Kirishima and Shinsou sprint after him, only to find him standing stalk still at the base of the school, staring upwards.

“How could you possibly know?” Shinsou demanded, ready to use his quirk a second time. But, expectedly, Katsuki didn’t bother answering. He just started scaling the wall. No quirk, no equipment. Just bare hands on brick and mortar. Straight up. And up. And up.

The side of the building.

            He’s heading towards the principal’s office. Even in the daylight, Shinsou could see a faint purple glow emanating from the other side of the office’s window.

            “What are we gonna do?” Kirishima asks. “Bakugo’s…something…I don’t understand! You don’t just bounce back from panic attacks like that. Do you?” The red head searched Shinsou’s face for answers that he didn’t have. “He clearly knows something! Knew something! You’re like, his best friend, aren’t you? What happened today?”

            “I don’t know.” Shinsou said grimly. He rolled up his sleeves. Clenched his jaw. “But I’m not letting him barrel in headfirst. Alone.”

            Kirishima watched helplessly as another one of his classmates began an impossible ninja climb several tens of meters into the air.

            And of course, of course Shinsou had to decide to answer his phone whilst balanced precariously between brick concrete and windowpane. Of course. Why not?

Notes:

Another Cliffhanger, sorry....

Dont worry, the next chapter should resolve this bit!

Chapter 27

Summary:

So, yeah, I took some liberties with the detective's quirk, but, like, i couldn't find where his quirk was offically stated online and on the wiki it just said "unknown." however, I know his sister has got like, the Polygraph quirk, so it's reasonable to assume that he has a similar quirk. Anyway, it's my story, so you you have a problem with that....!
.....I'm very sorry, please forgive me and enjoy this chapter anyway, thank you.

Chapter Text

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            One hand then the other. Unblinking.

            His palms hurt like hell, the left one throbbing hotly from when he’d literally blasted himself out of Shinsou’s control. That kid was going to be formidable one day. Katsuki had been barely able to break free. His fingers were raw and scraped, his nails scuffed and torn. Still, he moved upward, carefully, quietly. Hand over hand.

            Shitstain was a few meters below him, moving more slowly, but at a respectable pace. Except, then he stopped and – for some dumbass reason – answered his phone. Katsuki looked down at him and mouthed to “Keep your mouth shut.” Unfortunately, Shitstain still spoke into the receiver, but he did so quietly enough that Katsuki couldn’t hear him. So, he doubted that the villains in the principal’s office would be able to. As far as he was aware, neither Kurogiri nor Shigaraki had augmented hearing. They should be fine.

            Katsuki pulled himself up the last few inches, peering over the edge of the window’s sill. Kurogiri stood silently by the door of the office like a dark guardian. Shigaraki sifted through papers in filing cabinets, ruffled through what was left out of Nedzu’s desk. In the dim lighting off the office, where the lights were left off, only illuminated by the sunlight, Shigaraki’s pale skin seemed to glow. The hands that hung off of him appeared chalk white. Katsuki’s arms shook, but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t climb in. He had to think. What should he do? It was now or never. Now or never. Now or –

            “Kacchan!”

            Deku.

            What was he doing here?

            Katsuki ducked his head down beneath the glass, hoping that no part of him was visible from inside the room. Seeing as how the villains were at a school, he prayed fervently that they were assume some random yelling kid was just some student calling to a friend – not some random student calling to a friend who was currently hanging on for dear life not three feet away from them.

            “Why are you just standing there, uselessly?” Shigaraki whined in a monotone. Katsuki’s stomach did flips. He pushed himself upward once more. Peered through the glass. “The search will go faster as a party mission. Doing it as a solo quest is inefficient.”

            “One of us needs to keep watch,” Kurogiri said. “The principal could return at any time, and who knows which hero could come barging in.”

            “Where is it, where is it, where is it?”

            “Calm down, Shigaraki.”

            “Don’t try to control me, Kurogiri. I’m the player.”

            Someone was climbing up after him. Katsuki risked a glance down. Sensei was climbing up after him. Quickly. Shinsou had already jumped down into Mic’s waiting arms. All Might and Recovery Girl stared up at him. This was terrible. This was a disaster. This was…

            …an opportunity.

            Katsuki raised his less damaged hand and slammed an explosion against the glass. Unfortunately, it only cracked. Fortunately, there was more where that came from.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

SHATTER

            The glass rained down, scattering both inside the office and down the outside of the building. Katsuki hoped sensei had had the sense to close his eyes. With a mighty heave, Katsuki catapulted into the office. One hand his Nedzu’s desk, and he flung forwards, not halting for a moment, only building in momentum. His foot met Shigaraki’s face.

            Handsy went smashing into a metal filing cabinet. Kurogiri extended his arm-portals, reaching for his boss. Katsuki tore out one of the shelves and chucked it at his middle. The villain gave an oof and stumbled back. Handsy reached for Bakugo’s leg.

            Katsuki kicked him in the nose, but the villain was just as quick. All five fingers closed around his ankle.

            It disintegrated through his pants leg in a second, and a searing pain scorched Katsuki’s very bones. An explosion to the face shook him off, but Kurogiri had already recovered.

            “Let’s go!” The portal was already open and ready.

            “NO!” Shigaraki screamed. “I don’t have it, yet! Sensei entrusted this to me! I have to complete the mission!”

            “We’ve already found enough, let’s leave before a hero arrives!” Bakugo leaped between Kurogiri’s portal and Shigaraki, blocking the villain’s escape, just in case Handsy decided to listen to his crony and make a run for it. Katsuki’s palms crackled.

            “All Might’s gonna kick your ass,” he taunted.

            “You little brat,” Shigarki snarled, advancing on Bakugo. His fingers twitched as they scraped at the dry skin of his neck. Katsuki could almost see flakes spraying off despite the darkness of the room. Shigaraki launched towards him.

            A heavy scarf smacked him aside. Unfortunately, that gave Kurogiri all the opening he needed. A flash of motion, and they both were gone. Katsuki stood in the middle of the room, fire scorched papers and carpet, shattered class, overturned furniture. The plans for next week laying on the desk…free for anyone to see.

            “No…” Katsuki slumped to his knees. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—”

            Aizawa pulled him to his feet and spun him around to face the teacher in his livid eyes. “Bakugo Katsuki.” He couldn’t meet his teacher’s gaze. He’d failed. “What on earth were you thinking! You could have been killed, or captured! You could have led your friends into danger, no you did lead your friends into danger! You explain to me what the fuck was going through your head right this second or I’ll—!”

            Katsuki leaned forward onto Aizawa’s chest and screamed.

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            Ever since he’d started working with children, Aizawa had often heard some variation of “once you become a parent, you never stop being terrified.” He’d doubted this statement at first. Afterall, raising children was a matter of structure and discipline.

            He believed it now.

            He was angry. He was worried. He was sick to his stomach. He was scared out of his mind. Nevertheless, he stroked a hand down Katsuki’s back, and held him as he wept.

            Wept. Somehow, that word doesn’t feel like enough. Doesn’t fully encapsulate the way the boy’s chest heaved, the way Katsuki’s forehead pressed into Aizawa. Hands, nearly as large and calloused as his own, clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Despite his cries, Aizawa could feel no tears. It felt different this time, then the last time Aizawa had held Katsuki as he cried like the world was ending. Then, he seemed hopeless and resigned.

            This? This was pure anguish.

            It frightened something deep and primal in Aizawa.

Aizawa hooked his chin over the top of Katsuki’s head.

            “What were you thinking, Kacchan?” he asked, quietly, desperately.

            Katsuki was saying something, muffled bawling into Aizawa’s chest. Aizawa tried to pull away, in order to hear him more clearly. But Katsuki only clung on tighter.  “Talk to me. Please.”

            It was hard to make out what the boy was saying, but once Aizawa understood. His blood ran cold.

            “You’re gonna die and it’s all my fault. You’re gonna die and it’s all my fault. You’re gonna die and it’s all my fault.”

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            Of course, not fifteen minutes later, the fucking rat showed up.

            “Well, well,” Nedzu said, strolling into the medward where Recovery Girl was patching up Katsuki’s hands, a thick bandage already wrapped around his wounded ankle. He’d been out for the majority of that day, taking care of interviews for the internship programs. On one hand, that meant it was no coincidence the villains chose to strike then. On the other…no one knew about that except for Nedzu, Aizawa, Recovery Girl, and a few select others – and of course the people he was meeting.

            Katsuki didn’t look up at the talking animal. He just sat there, staring at the gleaming flooring of the medward, wondering how the fuck he was going to talk his way out of his mess. He couldn’t outsmart Nedzu. Yeah, he was a genius, but Katsuki knew he wasn’t Nedzu level genius.

            “Those villains had everything figured out. Wait for the media to get antsy enough that they set off a false alarm, effectively rendering them all but useless. Break directly through a wall, bypassing the teleportation blockers set up on the parameter. Of course, all security footage seemed to fail at once. They certainly did their homework; it should have been an easy in and out mission, assuming, of course, that all they were after was information that could be found in my office.”

            Nedzu tilted his head, observing Katsuki. “But it wasn’t that easy. Was it? Because someone else knew their stuff, as well.”

            Katsuki still didn’t say anything, and Recovery Girl seemed content to put 100 percent of her focus on cleaning up Katsuki’s scrapes. Smacking a wet kiss on his forehead, leaving Katsuki to grimacingly wipe it away, she scooped up some incident paperwork and shuffled off behind a parting curtain.

            Luckily, Katsuki wasn’t completely alone, even though Yagi had taken the four other boys back to class, and Present Mic had had to return to his own class, as well.

            Aizawa, however, had refused to leave.  He stood, glowering at the rat, and moved to place a comforting hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, standing in between his student and his employer. “Say what you want to say.” Aizawa addressed Nedzu, though he didn’t take his eyes away from Katsuki, letting his fingers card through the boy’s hair. Katsuki didn’t lean into his touch. He didn’t.

            “Very well, Shouta,” Nedzu might have been smiling, but it was hard to tell. “Mr. Bakugo?”

            Katsuki grunted. Didn’t look up.

            “I hear that you’ve been having a rough day.” Nedzu’s voice was sympathetic. Bakugo didn’t bother responding. “Young man. Did you know about the robbery? Did you know that it would happen? It would certainly explain why your friends were so concerned about your behavior, concerned enough to bring Recovery Girl to you. You wouldn’t be in trouble, I can promise you. Your actions clearly show that you had no part in the criminal activity.”

            Nedzu stepped forward, directly beneath Katsuki, into his line of sight. The rat-bear-dog looked up into Katsuki’s face. “However, that does not explain how. Or why you didn’t tell your teacher.”

            Katsuki closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

            Aizawa took Katsuki’s face into one of his hands, angling it upwards. “Can you try to explain to me, then? Please?”

            Katsuki opened his eyes again. He saw his teacher, the bags under his eyes. The pulsing veins that told of weeks with too little sleep. He wondered how much of that was Katsuki’s own fault. Katsuki chewed his bottom lip. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Would…would it be…would it be okay? If…if he told the truth?

            He didn’t trust the rat as far as he could throw him. But…but sensei was…sensei was sensei. If if Katsuki couldn’t trust him, he couldn’t trust anyone.

            He opened his mouth.

            Someone walked in.

            “Sorry I’m late. Wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything in the office.”

            Katsuki snapped his mouth shut.

            Aizawa growled out a sigh and released Katsuki. He turned to greet the newcomer. “Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi,” his eyes narrowed. He looked at Nedzu. “Don’t tell me you want to question Kach—suki.” Aizawa stumbled over the nickname, wincing a bit at himself.

            Nedzu spread his paws, appealingly. “I don’t mean to imply that I think the boy was involved in the crime. I simply want to understand, and, in any event, Mr. Bakugo was present during the crime, which makes him a witness.” Aizawa didn’t seem convinced.

            In this timeline, Bakugo would have no reason to know about Tsukauchi’s quirk. But, that only made it all the more necessary that he tell no lies. No, not no lies. Just purposeful ones. Katsuki swallowed and looked down at his feet. “Hello, young man.” The detective had a friendly, open look about him. As expected of one of All Might’s closest friends. His demeanor and quirk, Lie Detector, made him all the more dangerous, considering what his occupation was.

            “Hello.”

            “Will you tell me your name?”

            “Bakugo Katsuki.”

            “Hello, Bakugo. I’m Detective Tsukauchi. I heard you weren’t feeling too well, earlier.” Aizawa scoffed and shifted his feet, like he wanted to storm off, but didn’t want to leave Katsuki alone to the wolves. “Will you tell me what was wrong?”

            “I felt sick.” Not a lie.

            “But why? You have to understand, young man, that, from where I’m standing, it really looks like you knew about the villains. That they’d be coming. If you have information, it’s your duty as a student of UA, as a future hero, to help us policemen out.” Tsukauchi smiled, gently.

            “I don’t know how to explain.” Not a lie.

            “Please try. I promise no one will hold it against you.”

            Katsuki pulled on his scarf.

            He had an idea. He looked Tsukauchi in the eye, and made sure to keep playing with his scarf. The thing about liars, is that they always go still. Petty thieves in gas stations, pocketing candy? They keep their upper bodies still as they stash the treats. Someone trying to convince someone of an untruth? They almost always seem to hold their breath, afraid of some small tick giving them away.

            If you’re telling the truth, however, you aren’t so self-conscious. Katsuki looked over at Aizawa, bunched and unbunched the scarf. “The girl…”

            “What girl,” Tsukauchi tried to get Katsuki’s attention back on him.

            “When…years ago, there was a little girl.” Truth. She was little compared to his age at the time. And it was, in fact, years ago. “She hit me with her quirk.” Truth. “I don’t know what it did, exactly.” Truth. “I saw things that happened. But they didn’t happen the same way it happened now.” Truth.

            “What do you mean?” Tsukauchi looked suspicious, confused. “Speak more clearly.”

            Katsuki looked him dead in the eye. “I saw All Might die.” Truth. Tsukauchi froze. “I saw Sensei’s head get smashed in.” Truth. “I saw people get burned alive and I saw villains rip people in half.” Truth. Messed up things happened in the world of heroes and villains. “Sometimes I feel like I’m a hundred years old.” Truth. “Sometimes things happen almost exactly like I remember.” Truth. “Sometimes I change things.” Truth. “I change things that I don’t mean to, and sometimes I try to change shit, but nothing changes anyway.” Truth.

            “Katsuki,” Sensei picked up his hand. Bakugo looked back to him. “Why…I thought you said you didn’t remember anything.”

            Katsuki wracked his mind, trying to remember what exactly he had told sensei about his bullcrap story. “I don’t like thinking about it.” Truth. “It’s not important, anyway.” Lie. “It doesn’t scare me.” Lie.

            “Aizawa,” the detective stepped closer. “Did you know about this?”

            Sensei shook his head. “Not much. I knew that something happened when Katsuki was younger, concerning a girl with a mental-class quirk that causes his…occasional stress responses. But…I hadn’t realized it was quite this…this…”

            “I thought I could fix everything.” Truth. All three adults looked back to Bakugo. “I wanted…I wanted…I didn’t only…”

            “Breathe, Bakugo,” Nedzu encouraged him. “There’s no rush. It must be difficult for you, thinking about what happened.”

            “It hurts.” Truth. “I don’t know what’s real or what my mind’s making up.” Truth. “I don’t know what’s actually going to happen, or what’s already been changed.” Truth.  “It’s always different.” Lie. “I’m not supposed to be friends with Deku.” Truth. “But I don’t want him to die.” Truth. The Detective stared at him, unblinking.

            “Who’s going to kill him?” The detective asked, calmly, ignoring the way Aizawa snarled at him.

            “I don’t know them. I haven’t seen them yet.” Truth.

            “Can you tell me why you were so scared about today?”

            “It’s not about today.” Truth.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I saw that bad guy more than once. He’s the one who hurts sensei and All Might.” Truth. “I…I couldn’t decide.”

            “Decide what?” Nedzu seemed to have relaxed. If Katsuki had so say, he would have said that the principal seemed almost sympathetic.

            “What to do!” Truth. “I mess things up all the time!” Truth. “I’m fucking horrible!” Truth. “I’m going to kill everyone.” Truth. “It’s all my fault.” Truth. “I could have stopped him…if I was quicker.” Truth. “But I didn’t want to.” Truth. “Because if I did, and I caught him, then something even worse might happen than what I already had to see happen.” Truth. “But if I let him go…what I saw would happen all over again.” Truth. “And then it would be my fault.” Truth. “I didn’t know what to do! I-I don’t know what to do.” Truth.

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Aizawa didn’t bother keeping up appearances once Katsuki’s tears finally started to flow. He wrapped his arms around the child, grateful that the boy had managed to cry properly. In his experience, it was better when there were tears during an upset. The lack of tears means something worse was coming, tears meant that the worst was over.

            He glared over Katsuki’s head at the detective. To the man’s credit, he looked somewhat ashamed at having made Bakugo so upset. “Thank you, young man.” Tsukauchi said quietly. “I know getting that all out wasn’t easy, but that does explain your behavior. Is there anything you can tell us? Anything that could help capture these men?”

            Katsuki shook his head, silently. But, then he slowly nodded. “I…I heard them say their names. Kurogiri, and…and Shigaraki. They’re both working for someone.”

            “Who?”

            “They called him sensei. They didn’t say his name. I’m sorry.”

            Aizawa glared harder. “You can ask more questions later, or, better yet, email your questions to me, and we’ll get back to you when it’s more convenient for us.”

            “Aizawa,” Tsukauchi sighed. “I understand that you’re upset-“

            “I wasn’t aware you had children.”

            “I don’t but-“

            “Then you don’t understand.” Aizawa turned away from him, peeling himself away from Katsuki, and checking the wounds on the boy’s palms. It was already mostly healed thanks to Recovery Girl. However, it was clear that his student was exhausted, physically from his climb up the building and the healing session, and emotionally from reliving the trauma that already haunted his every day.

            There was silence behind him for a moment. Then “We’ll be in touch.”

            Aizawa snorted. “Goody.”

            There was another beat, and Aizawa gave in, looking over his shoulder at the detective, who was tapping away at his phone. Tsukauchi then tucked it away, and gave Katsuki a nod, then Aizawa a meaningful smile. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Bakugo.” He tipped his hat.

            Fuck.

            Katsuki hadn’t lied. Aizawa had been hoping, as farfetched as he knew the possibility was, that Bakugo had been making at least some of it up. But, no. This child had lived through terrors that hadn’t happened to anyone else. No wonder he acted so isolated, sometimes. In some ways, he was.

            Both the detective and Nedzu stepped out, quiet words were exchanged. But Aizawa wasn’t paying attention to them. He tucked some stray hairs behind Bakugo’s ear. Katsuki looked devastated, ashamed. “Katsuki,” Aizawa tucked the scarf around Katsuki’s neck more cozily. “You could have told me. I would have listened.”

            “Saying it makes it more true.” Katsuki whispered. “I don’t…I don’t….I don’t want…” Katsuki screwed up his face and looked away. “Fuck this.” He said, his voice strangled. “I’m worse than Deku.” He angrily swiped at his eyes. “I’m stronger than this. I’m stronger than them!”

            “You don’t have to be,” Aizawa told him, bending down to examine his wounded ankle. “You have me, All Might, Izuku, Hizashi. All of your friends. Whatever happens, it’s not going to happen to you, alone.”

            “I wish it would.” Katsuki whispered.

            Aizawa’s head snapped up.

            “If I’m alone, then no one else will die.”

            Katsuki looked at him, and Aizawa felt the pain that he saw reflected in those red, red eyes. “But I’m selfish. So people will.”

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Shouta

I’m putting him in therapy.

Hizashi

Didn’t you already try that years ago?

Shouta

not just a school councillor this time.

An actual therapist

Hizashi

Wait.

Did something else happen???

????

Shouta?

Shouta

I’ll tell you tonight.

Hizashi

Are you okay?

Is he okay?

Shouta

We’ll talk tonight.

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            “I’m telling you, it wasn’t just the media!” Eijiro felt like tearing his hair out. Sensei hadn’t come back to class yet, so everyone was just milling around. However, they seemed unwilling to believe that actual bad guys would ever infiltrate UA. Afterall…it was UA. “We saw bad guys!”

            “Well, we saw the news people. So…” Kaminari looked dubious.

            “Indeed! We had a very clear view from the hallway!” Iida karate chopped the air in the vague direction of the outer wall. Shinsou growled, clenching his fists. Todoroki had yet to say anything. He simply stood near Midoriya, who sat slouched in his desk. Todoroki had awkwardly patted Midoriya on the shoulder a few minutes ago, and neither of them had really moved since.

            Eijiro was about to argue his point again, when the sound of a whip cracking pierced the air. Midnight strutted through the open door of classroom 1-A. “That’s right, kiddos,” she smiles, lazily. “Principal Nedzu just debriefed me. He doesn’t want any misinformation being spread,” she raised her eyebrows at Kirishima and Shinsou in particular. “It was just a few journalists who got…over enthusiastic.”

            “But!” Shinsou tried.

            “If,” Midnight cut him off with a stern look, her mouth in a flat line, “you would like more information, please ask your teacher the next time you see him. As for right now, you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day. You’re welcome.” She gave them all a dazzling smile.

            “Where’s sensei?” asked Jiro as the rest of the class began to shuffle uncertainly towards their seats. No one was entirely sure what they were supposed to be doing.

            Midnight’s face softened a bit. “He’s ducking out for the rest of the day. Family emergency.” Midoriya’s head snapped up.

            “Kacchan? Is he-“

            “He was sent home.” That got a reaction from the class.

            “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

            “Hey, man, that’s not cool!”

            “It’s not like he wanted to freak out!”

            “Just because his panic attack happened at a bad time…”

            “That’s not fair!”

            “Why?!”

            Midnight massaged her temples and leaned on Aizawa’s podium. “Listen, kids. It’s sweet of you, it really is. But Bakugo isn’t in trouble.”

            Eijiro could see the class physically biting back their protests. Momo raised her hand. “Please, ma’am…then, why was he sent home?”

            Midnight shrugged. “All I know is that it was at Recovery Girl’s recommendation with his father’s approval, so that can really only mean it was a medical issue, which I, being neither his guardian nor the school nurse, am not legally allowed to be privy to without permission.”

            Tsuyu put a considering finger to her chin. “So, kero, he really was sick. I hope he feels better soon, kero.”

            “The stampede of students probably didn’t help, anything,” Sero said under his breath.

            “Poor Kacchan,” Uraraka said mournfully. “You better do your best to cheer him up then next time you see him, Deku!”

            Eijiro felt something uncomfortable churn in his gut as he watched Midoriya agree cheerfully. His mind, unbidden, started conjuring up all the ways that Midoriya would cheer up Bakugo. Eijiro grimaced and scrubbed at his eyes.

            “I’m surprised that you didn’t go home, too, Mido!” Hagakure said. “If your dad already came to pick up Bakugo, it only makes sense that he would have gotten you, too. Doesn’t it?”

            Kirishima frowned. Confused. Mind racing. He looked up at Hagakure, then to Midoriya. No one else in the class, except Ochako, seemed to find anything wrong with what Hagakure had said…but…why could Midoriya’s dad pick up Bakugo?

            “Wh-what? Oh. But I’m not sick?” Midoriya looked confused. Midnight sashayed to the back of the classroom, checking her watch, as they chatted amongst themselves. “I’ll probably go home right after class though…”

            “Not staying for remedial?” Todoroki asked him, quietly. Midoriya shook his head.

            “Are we even having it, today?” asked Ashido. “Sensei’s already gone.”

            “Ah!” Midnight spoke up, smile gleaming. “You lucky heroes get the pleasure of my company this afternoon! Won’t that be fun?” she clapped her hands together.

            Awkward silence.

            Midnight pouted, but the class was saved when the door creaked open, and Ectoplasm entered. The students breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled out their math textbooks.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

Kacchan: Did anyone stay?

PrinceyPrincey: Oui.

PrinceyPrincey: Unfortunately.

EarJaxx: eh. it wasnt so bad?

ThatFuckingChicken: life is but a greyness that preludes the black.

Shitstain: I feel that.

Shitstain: In my soul.

ThatFuckingChicken: You don’t have a soul.

Shitstain: I felt it in my pancreas.

ThatFuckingChicken: (⁽ؔ˙⁾ ⁽ؔ˙⁾)

Shitstain: Don’t you roll your eyes at me.

Gloves: It was…kinda awkward.

Gloves: She’s so cool…

Gloves: But like…

PikaPikaChuuuu: hehe I enjoyed myself

EarJaxx: Oh, go suck on a toaster.

SoySauceFace: Well she is called the 18+ only hero.

SoySauceFace: That means kids shouldn’t have to put up with her weird sense of humor.

PikaPikaChuuuu: I think you mean *Mature sense of human

PikaPikaChuuuu: *humor

Kacchan: Oi, Chicken.

Kacchan: why the fuck did you go?

ThatFuckingChicken: Misery loves company.

Shitstain: it was really nice of you, Tokoyami.

ThatFuckingChicken: (  ^ Θ ^)

Frogger: There is an owl café that opened a few blocks from school.

Frogger: I felt it was important to mention.

Kacchan: Fucking stop right there

SweetCheeks: Hi, Kacchan <3 are you feeling better?

Kacchan: I wasn’t actually sick.

Kacchan is typing….

Several people are typing….

Kacchan: Just tired. Going to bed. See you losers tomorrow.

Several people are typing….

 

 

Private chat

ShittyHair, Kacchan

ShittyHair: You sure youre okay?

Kacchan: No.

ShittyHair: oh

ShittyHair: Is there anything I can do?

Kacchan: Not really.

ShittyHair: Bro…

ShittyHair: I know we’re not like…close or anything

ShittyHair: but, you know, I kinda think were friends?

ShittyHair: If you ever wanna talk, I’m here for you

ShittyHair: Because wer friends

ShittyHair: right?

ShittyHair: god im sorry i didnt mean to assume…

ShittyHair: Just ignore me

ShittyHair: but also I mean it!

ShittyHair: you can talk to me

ShittyHair: if you want

ShittyHair: Ill stop bugging you now

Kacchan: thx

Kacchan: ur a good friend

ShittyHair: You too!!!

ShittyHair: I mean thanks for saying that!

Kacchan: today was the anniversary of something bad.

ShittyHair:…how bad?

ShittyHair: You totally dont have to answer.

Kacchan: Dads thinking about getting me another therapist.

ShittyHair: that bad…huh

ShittyHair: another?

Kacchan: made the last one quit

Kacchan: fucking pansy

ShittyHair: well…that doesnt seem very professional of them.

Kacchan: Thanks for earlier.

Kacchan: I was a fucking mess

ShittyHair: dude you chased a villain

ShittyHair: I mean no problem, tho. I didnt rly do anything. I was a mess about you being a mess.

ShittyHair: just because I was worried

ShittyHair: because were friends

Kacchan: I wasnt thinking straight.

ShittyHair: teacher said that the principal said it was just the media

Kacchan: confirming that it was a villain would cause panic

Kacchan: UA is a safe place. One of the most safe.

Kacchan: right now anyway

ShittyHair: I don’t like the sound of that Bakugo.

Kacchan: I’m sorry.

ShittyHair: I hope you dont mind…but…I gotta say

Kacchan: ?

ShittyHair: You seem different

Kacchan: ?

ShittyHair: over text I mean.

Kacchan: because its just text

Kacchan: also m tired

ShittyHair: you gonna be okay?

Kacchan: eventually.

Kacchan: bout u?

ShittyHair: me?

Kacchan: yeah dumbass

Kacchan: u ok?

ShittyHair: oooh wow uhyeah

ShittyHair: pretty good

ShittyHair: i mean kinda freaking out

ShittyHair: because of the villain

ShittyHair: no other reason lol

ShittyHair: anyway yeah im good!

ShittyHair: how r u?!

ShittyHair: wait i already asked that nvm

Kacchan: you wanna hang out?

ShittyHair: you free tomorrow?

ShittyHair: haha wow. braincell

Kacchan: fucking dork

Kacchan: yeah im free.

Kacchan: you hear about that owl café?

ShittyHair: I might have :)

Kacchan: :(

ShittyHair: Wat! y the frowny face!

Kacchan: smiley faces r for losers.

ShittyHair: oh, yeah of course.

Kacchan: only wimps smile

ShittyHair: and you sir r no wimp

Kacchan: fuck yeah, Im manly

ShittyHair: the manliest

Kacchan: :(

ShittyHair: :(

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 28

Summary:

Just some build up to the next chapter, the date, and some therapy.
Love you guys

Notes:

Sorry this took so long to get out. I've been really struggling creatively lately. I'm a writing major in college, and this is my senior year, so not only am I swapped but I'm churning out just so much academic writing for school. I have two poetry classes, a Form and Theory where I write mostly prose, a Screenwriting class, and a graphic novel class. Hehh....
Idk about you guy, but I find it so hard to switch gears from academic writing to writing that I actually want to do. Lol, maybe I'll just start thinking about updating this as another class? Give a deadline for myself? What do you guys think?

Chapter Text

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            Shouta sank into his mattress, bouncing lightly against the comforter. Hizashi quietly bustled, folding socks and shirts and tucking them away. They didn’t really have separate areas where they kept their own things. Just one closet, one dresser of drawers. They existed together with ease, finding familiarity in each other. Shouta could use all the comfort, all the familiarity, he could get his hands on.

            “It’ll be okay.” Hizashi’s voice was quiet, steady.

            “How can we know that.”

            “I just do.”

            “Zashi…what else isn’t he telling me?”

            Hizashi didn’t answer right away. He closed up the sock drawer and leaned a hip against the dresser, looking, head tilted, at Shouta. “He is a teen, Shouta. Secrets are bound to happen. He’s not a baby, anymore.”

            “He’s not like other kids his age. It isn’t healthy for him to be keeping things like this from me.”

            “Think of it this way,” Hizashi spread his hands. “At least now we know.”

            “Do we? What is it that we know, Hizashi? That his trauma is far worse than anything I could have imagined? I don’t know how long he was stuck in this…this…vision? Was it a vision? A hallucination? There’s clearly been some accuracies, if yesterday is anything to go by.”

            “We know Katsuki’s motivation,” Hizashi said calmly, sitting on the bed, dipping the mattress a bit. Shouta pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to force away the pounding in his head. Hizashi gently picks up Shouta’s hands, and cradles them between his own. “He wants to be a hero, because he sees it as the best way to prevent whatever terrible things he saw from happening. He’s protective of Izuku because he foresaw his…his death. And he’s clingy with you…because…” Hizashi gave a joyless, soundless laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t like this anymore than you do, Shouta. Really. It’s just…we can’t drown ourselves in negativity. We can’t brood on it. We’ve got to stay present, in the present, because Katsuki’s having trouble remembering just what the present is. We’ve got to ground him.”

            “Why’m I grounded?”

            Both men whipped their heads towards the open door, where Katsuki stood in sock-feet and pjs, Explodocat thrown over one shoulder. “I thought you said I wasn’t in trouble.”

            “Didn't mean that kind of grounded, Kitty,” Hizashi cooed at him, reaching out a hand. “How’re you feeling?”

            “…fine.”

            Shouta sighed, grasping hold of Katsuki’s shirt as soon as he’d trudged within reach. Pulled the child onto the bed with him and Hizashi and tucked his arms securely around him. “ge’off,” Katsuki mumbled into Aizawa’s sleeping shirt, stress easing out of the stiff lines in his back. Shouta pressed his lips to the side of Katsuki’s head, and loosened his hold – though he didn’t quite let go all the way.

            Not a baby his ass.

            “Did you need something, Kitty?” Hizashi asked, sliding down to rest on the pillows. He folded his hands on top of his stomach, and peered down through his glasses, which sat on the very tip of his nose. Shouta ran his knuckles down Katsuki’s cheek, then reached over and plucked the glasses off of Hizashi’s nose, folding the arms, and laying them on the side table. A bit of maneuvering, and Shouta was cozily positioned next to Hizashi, his head on his partner’s shoulder, with Katsuki laying bonelessly between them.

            “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Katsuki said, his voice barely a rumble. Shouta curled a lock of his hair around and around and around one finger, waiting for Katsuki to continue. “I…what if…if I tell you something’s going to happen…but it doesn’t happen because I did something different then I was supposed to?”

            “It’s impossible to always prepare for everything,” Shouta said, quietly. “But having protection that isn’t needed, or preparing for the wrong danger, is better than having no preparation at all. If you’re ever afraid that something might happen, if there’s ever anything you need to tell me, please, Kacchan. Please tell me.”

            Katsuki was quiet, then, he slowly nodded, eyes closed.

            “How clearly do you remember?” Hizashi asked, hesitantly. Katsuki rolled over to look at him. Aizawa glared, warningly. “It’s been years, about a decade if my math’s right. How detailed was the…uh…quirk?”

            Katsuki’s face pulled, like he was in pain. “It…it didn’t…it didn’t feel like a quirk.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Sometimes…it’s like…like I’m living everything twice. It lasted a long time, but…but when it was over…” Katsuki seemed to be struggling to put the experience into words. “It was thirty years…that lasted about four seconds.” Aizawa shook his head, unable to comprehend, pulling Katsuki closer, and himself closer to Hizashi.

            “We don’t know everything about this quirk, Katsuki,” Aizawa forced the words out. “We don’t know how accurate what you saw will end up being.” He felt more than saw Katsuki nod. “We can prepare without cutting ourselves off from other options. Just because we ready ourselves for one eventuality, doesn’t mean we’re incapable of being ready for any eventuality. Yes?”

            “I guess.”

            Katsuki breathed out, deeply. “…it wasn’t like this.”

            “What?”

            “I didn’t have this.”

            “Have what, Kitty?”

            “You. This….s’nice.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            It felt a little strained the next day, despite both Katsuki and Aizawa acting as though nothing had happened the day before. During breakfast, Katsuki grumbled and complained about life, as per usual, and Aizawa dozed into his coffee cup, leaving Present Mic to awkwardly stumble through their morning rituals, trying to find his footing.

            “I’ve got a thing, today.”

            Aizawa froze, his face quietly thunderous. But Katsuki didn’t see, he was far too busy glaring at his fruitloops. Aizawa bit his tongue and swirled the small splash of coffee remaining in his mug, his eyes all but spearing Mic to the wall behind him. Hizashi opened his eyes wide, choked down the mouthful of cereal he had in his mouth. “A thing, kitty?”

            “With Kirishima. From class.”

            “I know who Kirishima is,” Aizawa bit out, shortly. “Are you sure that this is wise?”

            Hizashi sunk down into his seat. Oh, okay. Nevermind, so they were addressing it. Good. That’s good. His kitty probably needed to get something things off his chest. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

            “Just gonna go to that owl thing. Frogger suggested it.”

            Oh? So, we are acting like nothing happened?

            “Be home by six.”

            “Fine.”

            Oh, okay. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

            Hizashi made a mental note to remind Shouta about the idea of putting Kacchan in therapy….and maybe bringing up the possibility of Shouta himself booking an appointment or ten. Heck, Hizashi could use a safe space to vent. He’ll do the research himself.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Izuku had worried all night about Kacchan, though his mother had insisted that he give his friend some space to just be around his “fathers.” Sometimes, Izuku wonders if his mother forgot that Kacchan used to live next door, the son of her supposed close friend. Or, maybe Inko just realizes that Kacchan himself mostly doesn’t remember.

            Izuku was quietly angry that, despite the fact that he knew the Bakugo’s had to have been notified of the incident yesterday – it was on the news for Pete’s sake, not the Kacchan part, but still – they hadn’t even tried to contact Kacchan. Or, maybe they thought that it would help Kacchan to keep away.

            Though, if Izuku truly let himself think what he wanted, he wondered if Mrs. Bakugo thought outside of her own sphere enough to even recognize that her son might have wanted her, or else, might have wanted her to keep away.

            Izuku was really grateful to have Aizawa and Yamada in their lives. Even still, when he finally met up with Kacchan before class, the world still felt slightly off kilter. He wasn’t sure how to think about what had happened the day before, what had almost happened, what could have happened. He did his best to just go along with the rest of his class like he normally would, listen to Kaminari and Kirishima as they cracked jokes and just generally goofed around, listened to Jiro, Momo, and Ashido discuss some Korean group’s latest dance video, sampled the yummy deserts that Satou made that morning, or discussed the newest hero debuts with Todoroki.

            He mostly succeeded, but…his heart was beating a little too fast. It was a little too hard to breathe – not impossible, no. He could breathe fine, but it was just a little more difficult to draw in a full lung’s worth. He was acutely aware of where his Kacchan was, and he found himself needing to just…just grip Kacchan’s wrist, or shoulder, or elbow. Listen carefully to Kacchan’s voice. Watch how he carried himself, if he needed anything.

            Like a phantom limp aching, or a mysterious need to sneeze, something was just slightly off in a position in the back of his mind where he could quite grab on to.

Aizawa led the class as normal, dozing during the time that other teachers came to give their lessons. In English class, Present Mic seemed slightly more subdued, his eyes flicking to Bakugo every few minutes, as though checking up on him.

            And Kacchan was his same, abrasive self, cursing and insulting his classmates with barely veiled fondness, Izuku was relieved. But, during lunch hour, most conversation was foregone in favor of watching Bakugo for any odd or off behavior. Izuku didn’t feel too weird about it though, he saw his fellow classmates also keeping a little bit of a closer eye on Kacchan during lunch, probably reminded of what had happened just exactly a day before.

            “Heya, Deku?” Ochako nervously rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, carefully choosing her words, speaking quietly. She scooted closer to him on the bench to his left, laying her smooth hands on his forearm. Izuku leaned his ear a little closer to her, realizing she probably didn’t want to share what she had to say with the class.

            “Hey, Ura-ah, Ochako,” Izuku sheepishly corrected himself midsentence at a raised eyebrow from his classmate. “Did you need something?”

            She shook her head. “It’s just…is Kacchan really okay? Was he fine at home?”

            While Uraraka hadn’t been at the remedial lesson where apparently Kacchan had claimed Izuku as his little brother (Izuku felt warm all over inside. He couldn’t help but smile just thinking about it. He’s always aware that Kacchan loves him, but it’s still wonderful to get a reminder from a third party) she’d been made aware via a group chat with some of the other girls. She’d almost instantly text spammed Izuku’s phone (yes! A girl does have his number!) and expressed her confusion and remorse about how she had thought that the two of them were either dating or else quietly pining after each other (Izuku had had a good laugh about that. Someone as amazing as Kacchan wouldn’t pine).

            So she’d needled Izuku (politely) for information about the two of them, which Izuku happily provided, being careful to not tell her too much, just in case. He’d decided to tell her that out right – that he couldn’t tell her everything – but did tell her that they had different mothers, but were raised together, and that recently Kacchan had begun to go through a guardianship change. Uraraka had been sympathetic, but supportive, as well as under the impression that they were halfbrothers. This suited Izuku fine.

            “He went home with his Dads last night,” Izuku responded, lowly. “Mom wanted to let Kacchan have some time to himself with his own family.”

            “Do you think he’s okay?”

            Izuku smiled at her concern. “I think he’s as okay as he can be, right now. I know his parents are doing everything they can for him. They’re really great guys, and – “

            “and they’re Aizawa sensei and Present Mic?”

            Izuku froze.

            Uraraka smiled triumphantly. “That’s why you can’t tell me everything. Because you all are part of a hero’s family. It’s okay, Deku. You don’t have to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable, and I won’t tell anyone else, either. You’re one of my favorite classmates, Deku! I wouldn’t put you or your brother in danger. Swear.” She extended her pinky.

            Flushing terribly, Deku hooked his own pinky around hers.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

On the other side of the table, Shouto quietly slurped his soba.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            When Bakugo announced that he’d be staying for the remedial class, the majority of his classmates also voiced their desire to stick around. Only Uraraka and Tsuyu ended up being left out, the former having to go to her job, and the latter needing to babysit her younger siblings.

            “Feel better, Kacchan!” Uraraka called to him with a jovial wave as she walked away. Bakugo sneered at her, but Shouto was relatively sure that he meant it in a thankful way. Mentally, Shouto patted himself on his back. He was getting better at reading people’s body language.

            And, because he was getting better at reading situations, he realized that, despite Bakugo’s brave face he’d been wearing since the start of the day, Todoroki recognized the strain behind his eyes, the faint shadows on his face, the stress in his back. Bakugo might be strong, but he wasn’t okay. Not really. Shouto wasn’t sure how to help his friend, so, instead, he made sure to stay a respectful distance away since an upset person probably didn’t want him in their “bubble” as he’d heard Kaminari put it.

            Because of this, Shouto found himself standing next to Kirishima.

            “Dude, is it just me or has today been weird,” Kirishima laughed nervously. “Maybe it’s just me. I’m kinda excited for this thing that I’m doing afterschool? But I’m also just, like, suuuuper scared about it, like, my hands are all sweaty and I can feel the back of my knees. Is it weird to be like, hyper aware of the back of your knees? Also I can’t think straight, ha!” Kirishima doubled over and wheezed out desperate sounding laughter. “Cant…can’t think straight! Ha!”

            Todoroki examined his classmate in concern.

            “Do you need Recovery Girl?” He offered.

            Kirishima giggled a little bit more, but was shaking his head. “Nah, man. I’m fine! I’m great! I’m awesome! I’m, actually, I think I might need to sit down for a little bit.” Todoroki tilted his head to examine Kirishima’s eyes. They were slightly unfocused. He looked dazed.

            “Do you have a concussion?” Shouto asked, curiously.

            For some reason, that set Kirishima off into another set of giggles.

            “What’s so funny, bro?” Kaminari sauntered up to them. All around them, their classmates were beginning to separate into groups as they waited for their teacher to arrive to begin the remedial class.

            “Nothing,” Kirishima stuffed his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Just thinking.” Kaminari wrinkled his nose.

            “Sure, dude,” he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I’m kinda surprised that Bakubro is staying late, today. Or Midoriya, actually. Little guy didn’t stay before, did he?”

            “He may want to keep an eye on Bakugo,” Todoroki offered. “I, for one, hope to ensure that Bakugo not push himself further than is healthy.”

            “AN ADMIRATBLE GOAL, TODOROKI!” Iida appeared out of nowhere, making the other boys jump. “Though, once sensei arrives” Iida karate chopped every word he said out of the air “I am certain he will do an adequate job at monitoring Bakugo!”

            Shouto nodded.

            Almost as though their conversation had summoned him, Aizawa strolled onto the lawn, Shinsou by his side. They were talking quietly. Todoroki cocked his head, wondering what they had been doing that had caused them to arrive together.

            “Count off by four,” Aizawa instructed abruptly. He points at Yaoyorozu. “Start.”

            “One!”

            “Two”

            “Three!

            “FOUR!!!!”

            Once the teams were separated and divided among rotating drill sets, Todoroki put his focus on doing well. Improving. Already, with such a short amount of relative time at UA, he could feel himself growing in power, ability. Maybe it was in his head? Todoroki hoped not.

            “Dude, chill out!” Kirishima laughed, panting hard. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.” Shouto glanced his classmate over, and decided that it was probably a compliment, based on the way Kirishima didn’t seem to be genuinely upset, and the way his other classmates seemed to not actually be falling behind.

            “Thank you,” Shouto replied. An explosion rocked the yard. Across the grass, Katsuki was using his quirk to finish the obstacle course ahead of Iida.

            “Bakugo! Please cease your behavior! This is not a race! Stay in position!”

            “Tough luck, Robocop! Life’s a fucking race!”

            “He’s so cool,” Kirishima said admiringly. Then, his expression suddenly changed, as though he was suddenly reminded of some great tragedy. “Midoriya is so lucky, man.” Then, his face twisted, as though he were eating a pickle, or a lemon. Or a pickled lemon. Shouto’s expression also twisted as he imagined eating a pickled lemon.

            “Yes,” Shouto replied after a moment as he finished out a set and fell into the next repetition. “I often find myself envious.”

            Kirishima stumbled. Shouto frowned at him. It was not that hard to perform a jumping jack. Perhaps it was a good thing that Kirishima was selectively attending remedial. “What!”

            “I wish I and my brother were as close as they are,” Shouto extended a hand to Kirishima, helping him to his feet.

            “Your…brother?”

            Shouto furrowed his brow. Kirishima’s confusion was confusing. “Yes? It must be nice to grow up having such a stalwart older brother. Midoriya probably didn’t have an easy time of it, developing his quirk so late in life. For him to have a protective older brother like Bakguo must have made somethings easier for him. It’s clear how precious they are to each other. I’m envious.”

            “…”

            “What is it?”

“They….So…they aren’t a couple?” Eijiro hates how hopeful he sounds.

“No,” Todoroki says, decisively. “I’m unsure why this was such a common misconception, but Bakguo seemed fairly disgusted by the idea.”

“They’re brothers?”

“In a way. I believe there was adoption involved.”

“Huh…” Kirishima trips over a tangle of his own feet. Shouto frowns at him.”

“Are you certain you aren’t concussed?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 29

Summary:

Last filler chapter for a while. Next up is USJ!

Finally...lol. I'll try to get the next chapter out before next month, but for some reason...even with all this sudden extra time, I'm finding it hard to write. God, this whole year??? What is it with 2020 that makes it feel like the world is ending? I'm low key scared, all the time. How are you guys doing? I hope you guys are holding out, okay <3

Chapter Text

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “Text me if something happens.”

            “Fucking fine, mom.”

            Most of the students had wandered off in groups of three or four after remedial PE. Only Iida remained on the track, running loops, attempting to improve his time. The sun was still high enough, it was technically relatively early in the evening. Most villain attacks happened earlier or later, because everyone knew that now was when the teachers at UA were out and about in the city, doing errands after work or just walking home or to their agencies. All in all, now was probably the safest time for Katsuki to be on his own. But for him to be on his own so soon after the school itself was infiltrated…after Katsuki had faced something of a break down a little more than 24 hours before…

            Aizawa stares intently down at Katsuki, who slouches, hands in pockets, backpack ready to go by his feet. “I mean it, Kacchan. Even if it’s just to let me know you’ll be late.”

            “I said fine, geez old man. It’s just shitty Kirishima!”

            Said student was awkwardly waiting by the side of the school, looking at the ground and scuffing the toes of his sneakers against the pavement. Kirishima glanced over to the two of them the moment that Katsuki and snuck a peek over in the redhead’s direction.

            Aizawa is unsure whether to feel troubled by the red creeping across Katsuki’s face, or relieved to finally be worried about something relatively normal. He watched his kid snatch up his backpack, fling it over his shoulder, and toss a salute his way as he stomped off. “Stay safe.” The words slipped out without Aizawa really meaning to say them.

            Katsuki paused. “You too, Dadzawa.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

It’s amazing (terrifying) how much you can forget in a decade.

            Because Katsuki had been here before. He knew he’d been here before. But…

            What is the opposite of Déjà vu? Where you come to a familiar place and feel alienation? These muted yellow walls, the soft greenish carpet, the cooing of the owls gently bound around their ankles by soft threads to leash them to perches near the wooden tables and booths. Katsuki has been here before. But as he steps through the door and the subtle warmth replaced the slight chill of the early evening, he can’t help but feel…

            “Jamais Vu,” the thirty-year-old version of Twinkle Toes whispers into his ear.

            “Shut up,” Katsuki hisses back at him.

            “You good, bro?” Eijiro asks, wide eyed and nervous. Fuck. The kid’s hands are shaking. Is Katsuki really that scary? Katsuki looks away from him, knowing that his eyes look freaky. He stares at his feet.

            “Fine. Let’s go sit near the back, ‘way from any dumb extras.”

            “Sounds good to me,” the idiot crows, startling a sleepy looking barn owl.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Eijiro can scarcely believe his luck.

            He’s here, in a fantastically homey space with teeny, floofy owls of all shape and colors, a delicious smell in the air, a menu with everything from lattes to boba tea to fountain sodas, a pastry case with displays of cakes and muffins and scones and sandwiches and wraps. And he’s here with undoubtably the coolest kid in his class…who…is most likely single…hopefully…? Maybe he was dating someone who didn’t go to UA? After all, just cause he wasn’t dating Midoriya, well, Bakugo was so freaking manly, now that Eijiro is thinking about it, it’s somewhat odd if Bakugo wasn’t seeing anyone. Afterall, well, just look at him.

            Almost as if in response to Eijiro’s internal crisis, Bakugo’s face turns red, and he looks away, his white hair whooshing forward to cover his face. Eijiro wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. Because, well, it looked like a mix of cat fur and dandelion fluff.

            Geez, why were his hands shaking. He must be dehydrated.

            “You good, bro?” Eijiro asked, wincing as his traitorous voice cracked. Argh. Could he be any more unmanly?! This was just a hang out! With a bro! Right? It’s not a date, is it? Is it a date?

            “Fine. Let’s go sit near the back, ‘way from any dumb extras.”

            “Sounds good to me,” he yelps, willing to agree to anything. He flinches away from an angry owl that he accidently woke up. “Sorry, buddy,” Eijiro chuckles, embarrassed, slowly reaching out a shaking hand to hesitantly brush at its soft belly feathers. God, why is he shaking?

            “It won’t bite you,” Katsuki suddenly speaks up.

            “Wha?” Eijiro’s question is choked off when Katsuki’s warm, wide hand suddenly covers his own.

            “Don’t be scared of the noisy fucker,” Katsuki tells him, nonchalantly, like he didn’t just completely cause Eijiro.exe to shut down. He guides Eijrio’s hand to the side of the owl’s neck, navigating him through a gentle stroke across the soft feathers. The owl’s wide eyes bore right into Eijiro’s even as it’s neck swivels.

            “I-I-I’m,” Eijiro stuttered. “Heh, heh, scared? Don’t, not, be, I’m”

            Katsuki snorts.  “I can feel you shaking. If you’re not scared, then-“

            “Nah, bro, I always shake,” Eijiro lied for no reason, and then he wanted to kick himself. But then he didn’t, because there Bakugo was, smiling at him, warmly, beautiful red eyes shining with amusement.

            “Go sit down” Bakguo tells him. “I’ll grab some shit.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Was it Déjà vu or Jamais vu? He’d done all this before, but he hadn’t. He’d been here before, but he hasn’t. He knows this boy, but…he doesn’t. Does he? Afterall, he thought he knew sensei in his last life, but this life has shown him so many new sides of his teacher. He would have sworn that he knew all there was to know about Deku, but the fucking nerd is always finding newer ways to surprise him, to grow beyond Katsuki’s expectations. All Might, Hitoshi, Hizashi, even his fucking cat.

            All these little, enormous changes.

            Does he know Kirishima?

            Does he know Eijiro?

            “What can I get for you?”

            Katsuki doesn’t look at the menu. “A butterfly tea with crystal boba, a turkey wrap in a red pepper tortilla, a chai tea latte with chili pepper, and two servings of jalapeno scones.”

            “Coming right up! Your total is…”

            Katsuki stood off to the side to let the next extra in line take his place. He looked down at a sleepy little juvenile owl, her feathers the scrappy sort of uneven that comes from being not-quite adult. Katsuki ran his finger tips across her back, letting the softness calm something deep inside him.

            His phone buzzes.

Deku

            Hey, Kacchan

            I know you’re busy so you don’t have to answer

            Papa Mic is here

            I’m at home btw

            I think we’re gonna have dinner together

            I invited Todoroki and Shinsou!

Kacchan

Tell the old people I’ll invite Shitty Hair

What’s for dinner

Deku

            Oh! You are answering!

            ⌒°(ᴖ◡ᴖ)°⌒

Kacchan

In line waiting.

Deku

            That’s why I’m texting.

            Wanted to know if you’d be home for dinner or

 if that’s what you were doing with Kirishima!

Kacchan

No just snacks

Deku

In that case we’re having corn beef and potatoes

And bread

And asparagus (っ> ‸ < ς)

Kacchan

Don’t be picky, nerd

Deku

            Okie Kacchan.

            Enjoy your date!!!! ヾ(๑’౪`๑)ノ゙

Kacchan

See you at home, Deku

            “Bakugou!”

            Katsuki slides his phone into his pocket and accepts his tray from the staff, dropping several coins into the jar that rests on the counter, ignoring the overly cheerful thanks from the employee. He drops the tray onto the table that Kirishima is sitting at with more force than was probably necessary. The red head jumps in surprise, but, luckily because Katsuki is awesome, nothing spills out of either drink.

            He gently places the sugary, purple concoction in front of Kirishima, along with the turkey wrap, and falls into a seat across from Kirishima with his own snack. “What’s this?” Eijiro asks, wide eyed at the ribbon-esque purple design spiraling in the tea.

            “Just drink it, you’ll like it.” Katsuki tells him. Hesitantly, Eijiro wrapped his lips around the straw. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as Eijiro’s eyes lit up. It had been his fiance’s favorite drink…Before.

            “Holy shit,” Eijiro whispered. He dug out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

            “Why the fuck would you owe me anything?” Katsuki asked as his phone buzzed again. He pulled it out. “You can just pay next time.”

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Eijiro can’t help it.

            His heart is fluttering in his chest like it’s trying to escape, and his blood is rushing up to his cheeks, and his face is burning and his ears are burning and oh no. Is he having a stroke????

            Eijiro silently thanks whoever is texting Katsuki, because his crush isn’t looking at him as he dies. Not only does Katsuki apparently already know him well enough to just guess what kind of drink he’d like (and he does really like this (but then again, he’d probably have liked anything Katsuki picked for him)) but this guy is just casually assuming that this will be a repeat occurrence.

            And…

            Yeah, Eijiro is suuuuuuper okay with that.

            But, he also can’t help craning his next to see who is texting Bakugo.

Deku

            See you at home!!!!!

            Love you!!!!

            ✧*。ヾ(。>﹏<。)ノ゙✧*。

 

Eijiro once again feels that horrible jealousy rise up, and feels inordinately pleased when Katsuki only snorts and shoves the phone away without replying.

            “Shitty Deku,” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You’re invited to our house for dinner, by the way. Hope you like beef.”

            “O-oh!” Kirishima’s brain isn’t moving fast enough. God, please, why, help. “Yeah, I love beans!”

            Katsuki frowns at him. “No you don’t. And I said beef.”

            “Ah-ha haha.” Gah. Some kind villain, please have mercy and kill him now. “So, you and Deku… brothers?” Smooth. Real smooth, Eijiro.

            Katsuki snorts. “I mean, basically. We share two dads and a cat, his mom’s my Auntie, his old man’s my least favorite teacher, and we’ve known each other for, like, two life-times. So.”

            “That makes sense,” Kirishima lied. “That’s cool. I’ve got a sister, but I’ve always wanted a brother. Especially a brother like you guys!”

            Katsuki frowns. “Like us?”

            “Well, yeah! You guys are probably going to be heroes together!” Kirishima said, starting to get excited about it, now that he knows they wouldn’t be partners like that. “Both of your quirks are soooo cool, and flashy, and working together would be just the manliest thing ever!”

            Bakugo snorts. “We’ll probably work together out of necessity, but we’ll never be a team. We’re rivals.”

            “How come, though?” Kirishima asks, genuinely curious as he takes another sip of his amazing drink (seriously, what the heck is this ambrosia???”) “Working together, you guys would have an absolute advantage. You can do middle to close combat, while Midoriya is definitely close combat, but with the agility to have some of the advantage of distance, too!”

            Katsuki nods, dipping one of his scones into his tea, offering it to Kirishima once it’s moist. Kirishima takes it without thinking, biting into the warm, squishy treat. Mmmm. “It’s less about advantage, more about our personalities.” Kirishima is absolutely captivated by how intensely Katsuki’s conviction shines in everything he does, says, thinks. “If I didn’t have Deku, I’d coast. Because nothing really challenges me anymore. And Deku, if I wasn’t there to kick his ass, he’d be happy to spend his life just watching. The fucking nerd. When we work together, we work fine, I guess. But we work best when its us verses us verses someone else.”

            “Iron sharpening iron!” Kirishima hoots. One of the owls hoots back, and Eijiro offers it a piece of his tortilla.

            “Something like that.”

            “I still think you two are super manly. I wish I had a quirk like yours.”

            “What’s wrong with yours?”

            Eijiro paused, and thought about it. “There’s nothing wrong with it…but, well. There’s nothing, like, really flashy about it either. Is there? And, I mean, being a hero is more than strength. More than skill, it’s, it’s, being seen! Being inspiring! And, we’ll. I can take a hit, but…so can any hero.”

            A scone smacks Kirishima right in the forehead. “Hey!”

            Bakugo is looking at him. Intensely.  Then, Katsuki leans back in his chair, smiling a lazy smirk that makes Eijiro’s heard thud. “What’d’re you talking about? Your quirk makes you basically indestructible.”

“Yeah, but…that’s it.”

“So? Just gotta make sure your performance makes up for it. With your personality, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Wh-“ Kirishima cleared his throat, trying to stay on topic. “Performance?”

“Yeah, you know. How you take assholes down. Might be good to get a partner with a compatible quirk. Play off of each other. Someone loud enough to balance you out.”

Kirishima’s eyes flicker down to Katsuki’s hands. “O-oh! That’s, that’s actually, a really cool idea, actually.”

“Course it is. ‘m full of good ideas.”

Eijiro smiles at the floor, biting on his lip to keep it from getting too dopey. But, slowly, the smiles drips away. “Who’d want to partner with me, though,” Eijiro said. “Just going back to the issue of me being boring.”

“I could do worse.”

“What?”

“I said, you wanna spar?”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yeah, I did. Just now. So? How about it?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa remembers a time when his house was simply a rest stop. A cold, empty place where he’d hang his scarf, store his boots, and collapse on his sofa for a few blessed hours. A place with a serviceable kitchen where he’d store several bulk boxes of protein jelly and energy drinks. A place that Aizawa didn’t really call home.

            As he watched three teen boys scream at Hizashi over a Monopoly game at his kitchen table, surrounded by nacho crumbs and yellow-fake-cheese smears and empty soda cans….Aizawa can’t help but wondered how he could ever have lived that way.

            He tapped some spices into the crockpot sitting on his counter, letting the savory steam leak out and rumble the waiting bellies before replacing the lid. “Almost done?” Hizashi asks as he rolls a 3. “Nooooo”

            “Ha,” drawled Hitoshi. “Pay up, old man.”

            “Hey, Izuku! Loan me some cash!”

            “Sorry, Papa Mic. Every man for himself.”

            “WHYYYYYYY

            Shouta snorts. “Ten more minutes. Start wrapping up.”

            “This is Monopoly,” Hitoshi whines. “It doesn’t work like that.” Shouta rolls his eyes, noticing that Hitoshi has to actively stop Todoroki from immediately putting away his part of the game.

            “Kitty almost home?”

            Shouta pulls out his phone. No new messages. “I’ll call him.”

            He steps out of the room, letting a curse from Shinsou wash across his back. Izuku was winning, sounds like. He taps the first number on his favorites list. It only rings twice before his stray answers.

            “What.”

            “How close are you?”

            “We’re few blocks down. Gimme five minutes.”

            “Kirishima decided to join us?”

            “Told Deku I was inviting him. He not pass it on? Fucker.”

            “He said it was a maybe.”

            “Yeah, well, I’ve got him here.”

            In the background, Aizawa could hear Kirishima asking “Is that your Dad? Tell him I don’t have to come over! I can totally try again another time! Or, you know, whatever?”

            “You’re fine, Shitty Hair.”

            Aizawa felt something settle over his bones. Like a ghost passing over his grave, or someone speaking his name three times out loud. Where did he hear that before?

            “You there, Geezer?”

            “I’m here, Kacchan,” Aizawa said, and his own voice felt distant. “I’ll see you soon.”      

            “Fine.”

            The call ended.

            Aizawa scrolled through his contacts list.

            Click ‘call.’

            Rinnnnnnng. Rinnnnnnnnnnng. Rinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng.

            “Hello? Bakugou Masaru speaking?”

            “It’s Aizawa. We need to talk.”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Shouto woke up happy.

            One moment, he was asleep and aware all at once with the sun shining through his window and the warmth and cold of his quirk comforting him in the familiarity, the soft covers swathed around him, and slightly frosted texture of his pillow. Then he opened his eyes, and realized he was smiling.

            He laid there for a moment and felt his heart beat. Dadun..dadun…dadun…deep breath in. Dadun…dadun….dadun….deep breath out. Relaxed shoulders. Unclenched jaw. His heart jittered in his chest and up towards his throat, sending a burst of warmth more sweet than anything his quirk could muster all through his limbs, straight to his fingertips, his toes.

            He was happy.

            Shouto sat up, letting his blankets fall to the side. He crawled to the end of his sleeping mat, picked up the corner near where his left foot had been, and retrieved his phone from where he stashed it the night before. He’d come to love the feeling of near constant buzzing, the endless stream of communication, memes, insults, jokes, and pleas for help on homework that flooded the discord server. However, Shouto had found that having the notifications on, within arm’s reach, was too much of a temptation for him to succeed in getting a good night’s rest.

            Still, he was loath to actually turn off the notifications, or mute the server, or put his phone on silent. Instead, he just put the phone away, to where he could neither hear nor feel the buzzing. Even so, as soon as he had his phone back in his hand, and saw the many, many messages waiting for him to read, the content warmth he felt only got more intense.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

Shitstain: hear me out, though.

Shitstain: themed Fridays.

Shitstain: sensei wont know what hit him

ThatFuckingChicken: If you can have faith in nothing, miserable world as it is. Have faith in this

ThatFuckingChicken: Sensei would absolutely murder all of us.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Well now we have to

ROBOCOP: I must protest!

EarJaxx: What kind of theme we talking

Kacchan: I’ve got temp dye. Lots of it.

SweetCheeks: Color theme!!!!

KojiKoda: ?????

SoySauceFace: Y even, Bakubro?

Kacchan: my papa bulk ordered for last Halloween.

Kacchan: on accident.

ROBOCOP: Allow me to amend my protest!

ROBOCOP: I am reviewing a copy of the student handbook!

ROBOCOP: There is no rule against hair dye! Temporary or otherwise!

ROBOCOP: In the spirit of class comradery

Pinky: We have a student handbook?

ROBOCOP: I will support these themed days!

PonyTail: So long as this doesn’t get out of hand.

EarJaxx: What color is it, anyway?

Kacchan: Green

Shitstain: wtf did you dress up as

Kacchan: I was Deku. Duh.

Dekuzu: my whole family was

Dekuzu: ngl…it was legitimately terrifying

ThatFuckingChicken: the mirrors of our lives often contain that which we do not want to see.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Aww….come on now, Tokoyami, your not THAT ugly

Shitstain: how fucking dare you

Shitstain: Theres nothing wrong with how he looks

Kacchan: least he doesn’t look like a dunce face

Kacchan: like a certain dunce face

EarJaxx: Wheeeeeee

PikaPikaChuuuu: this is bullying!!

PikaPikaChuuuu: I’m telling Dadzawa!

#Only4Emergencies

PikaPikaChuuuu: @TheDadzawa Kacchan is being mean to me!

TheDadzawa has left the server :(

Tails: Lol no one loves you Kaminari

ShittyHair: That’s not true Bro!

PikaPikaChuuuu: Aw, bro

ShittyHair: \ \ \ ٩( ˃̵ᴗ˂̵) و/ / /

PikaPikaChuuuu: ✧*٩(ˊˋ*)و✧*

PrinceyPrincey: .+ ゚* 。: ゚+ ヾ(≧∇≦*)ゝ

PRESENTPAPAMIC: 。゚ ฺ. ヽ(*´ ∀`*) ノ. ゚。

Halfy: :)/*+*^#

Kacchan has left the server :(

ShittyHair: :(

Chapter 30

Summary:

Gonna get to the USJ in the next chapter, for sure! I welcome any and all ideas/comments - they give me much needed life and motivation, especially right now...

Chapter Text

Kirishima was doing just fine, he thought. In the same way that someone barely managing to keep their head above water in the middle of the ocean during a thunderstorm was doing just fine. He had managed to stumble through a solid two hours alone with his crush without actually wanting to end his own existence too many times, and as a bonus his hands had stopped shaking about half way through. Even better, it seems like Bakugo was all for the idea of being sparring partners for the foreseeable future on weekends (because apparently he has a dojo he’s a regular at, somewhere?).

            Now, though, he was headed for Bakugo’s house to have dinner with his brother and Dads, and Eijiro was NOT prepared. Nevertheless, his mouth kept running without him on autopilot, gosh, what was he even talking about at this point…

            “…and my sister, you know how siblings are, she’s always just, in my space, and I love her to pieces but like, she has spikes, you know? And like, this was my favorite poster of the Crimson Riot, and because he’s so, just, retro? Like, it’s hard to get many copies, and….”

            But Bakugo seemed to actually be paying attention to the nonsense fest that was spewing out of his mouth full speed as they casually meandered down the well-maintained street of the suburbs, past cute little houses with flower beds and themed mailboxes outside finely oiled garden gates.

            “This is mine,” Bakugo finally interrupted him.

            They were stopped in front of a perfectly ordinary house, with an absolutely not ordinary cat slouched on the gate’s post. The thing looked like a lion. A very lop-sided, angry lion. “Nice…cat?”

            “That’s Splodes. He’s mine.” Bakugo looked blandly proud of this fact as he stepped forward to heft the beast over one of his shoulders where it hissed, hanging there happily, eyes half closed. Eijiro took one step forward. It cracked an eye and glared at Eijiro. “Halfy and Shitstain are already in there, I think.” Bakugo continued, heedless. “When they’re here, they usually stick around until eight-ish, so if you get fed up with the morons, feel free to just head out whenever.”

            “Nah, man,” Eijiro assured him, eyes not leaving the menacing figure of the so-called ‘cat’. “Todoroki and Shinsou are pretty cool. I don’t mind hanging out!” Bakguo didn’t really respond to him beyond kicking open his garden gate, and letting his cat jump free from his arms to dash on ahead, slipping through the cat flap on his front door.

            As they got closer, Kirishima could hear more and more clearly the distinct sound of raised voices, smell the food, see the tension that he hadn’t even noticed was there leave Katsuki’s shoulders.

            “I’m home!” Katsuki shouted as he threw open his front door.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“No, I don’t have anything on Thursday. That would work.”

“Thank you for calling me. I have been thinking about this for a while, as much as my wife wants to trust that little Katsuki can handle this on his own…I’m…I’m glad he’s got you and your husband looking out for him.”

            “I’m not…” Aizawa took the phone away from his ear and breathed out slowly. He replaced the phone and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you at the office then.”

            “Have a good evening, Mister Aizawa.”

“I’m home!” Slam!

            Aizawa deftly locked his phone and tossed it underhand onto the couch where it bounced lightly, disappearing behind a frilly throw pillow. Shouta scrubbed his face with his hands, willing the lowly bubbling anger and unrest that he felt whenever he spoke to one of the Not-Katsuki Bakugos to dissipate. “Good,” he called back to Katsuki, forcing his voice to be level. “You can set the table.”

            Then he turned around and made eye contact with Kirishima, who was standing in his entryway, staring, open mouthed at him. “S-s-sensei???”

            “Child.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

(“Why didn’t you tell me your Dad was the teacher?!”

“The fuck? I thought everyone already knew?”

“How would I know that!”

“It’s literally in his discord user name, Shitty Hair.”

“I…have no response to that….. uh, Bakubro?”

“What now?”

“Why is Present Mic in your kitchen?”

“Oh. Hey, Papa.”)

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kirishima hunched stiffly in his chair, unsure of how to hold himself, feeling envious of the easy way that Todoroki and Shinsou passed around the asparagus and beef, chatting away with freaking Present Mic like their slightly-very intimidating home room teacher wasn’t sitting a mere three feet away scooping mashed potatoes onto Bakugo’s plate.

            “So, Kirishima!” Present Mic then turned to him. His hair was falling lose around his shoulders, the only recognizable thing about him being the glasses that all but hung off the tip of his nose. “I hear you guys went to that new owl café?” The Voice hero speared an asparagus and smeared it with mashed potatoes before shoving the whole thing into his mouth, prompting a glare from Aizawa Sensei. “What are your thoughts? I was planning on checking it out, seeing if I liked the atmosphere enough to spend an afternoon grading papers there – just for a change of scenery. But I haven’t been able to find the time.”

            “Oh uh, it, yeah, nice um. I liked a lot about, uh, the things, and, uh, stuffs.” Kirishima felt his ears burning as red as his hair. “And the birds. Lotsa, uh, lotsa birds. Nice.”

            Bakugo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It was fine. Food was good. Drinks were a little too sugary. I’ll have to remember to tell them to fix that the next time we go. The owls were calmer than I expected.”

            “Yeah, they just kinda hung in the background. Felt like a pretty normal café.” Kirishima agreed, then, remembering he had an audience, proceeded to choke on a lump of his corned beef. Todoroki, from his left, frowned, then helpfully pounded his back, causing Kirishima to very attractively hack out what had been caught in his throat back onto his plate.

            “Was that supposed to be an owl impression?” Shinsou looked amused. Kirishima glared at him, thinking of several not-nice things he could say about birds to get a rise out of the other student, but in the end deciding to hold his tongue – not wanting to leave an even worse impression of himself on Bakugo’s parents…not to mention…he’d feel bad about saying anything behind Tokoyami’s back…

            “No…” Kirishima muttered, pushing the slimy yick into a paper napkin that he shoved onto a clear corner of his plate. “Just went down the wrong tube.”

            “Will we play Mario’s Cars tonight?” Todoroki suddenly asked, looking up from his meal.

            “We should!” Izuku said, eagerly, almost bouncing in his seat. Aizawa pressed a hand to his curly green head, gently shoving him back down into his chair. “With Kirishima that’s an even four!”

            “Aw, what about me!” Present Mic whined.

            “You have homework to grade.” Aizawa reminded him, not looking up.

            “I-I don’t have to play, man, it’s all good.” Kirishima said awkwardly. Bakugo elbowed him roughly in the side. “ow, dude..”

            “You’re playing so I can kick your ass. ‘Sides, Mic’s shit at Mario Kart.”

            Which is how Kirishima ended up spending several hours huddled with three of his classmates, squished on his home room teacher’s couch. When Kirishima wasn’t busy being jealous of Izuku, he’d found that the smaller boy was actually very entertaining company. And Shinsou’s cutting wit reminded him of a quieter (not-quite as manly, but he’d never say it outloud) Bakugo. And Todoroki was…Todoroki. But not in a bad way!

            Eight o’clock came before any of them were prepared for it, and soon Aizawa was standing at the door of the living room jangling his keys. “All children who aren’t mine, get your butts to my car.”

            “O-oh, sensei, I can walk! It’s no-“

            “Butts. Car. Now.”

            “Am I one of yours, Dadzawa?” Shinsou asked, batting his eyelashes.

            Aizawa looked at the purple haired menace, said nothing, and walked out the door.

            Todoroki handed his controller to Izuku. “Thank you for inviting me, again.”

            “Anytime, Todoroki!” Izuku said, earnest as ever. “You’re always welcome!” A tiny, barely recognizable smile inched across Todoroki’s face as he rose to go get his shoes. Shinsou stretched luxuriously.

            “Eh, Dadzawa loves me. I’ll get him to crack one of these days.” Bakugo snorted.

            “Sure, Shitstain. Now, gitoutta my house.”

            The ride to their houses was quiet. Not quite awkward, but definitely more tense than the evening had been thus far. Kirishima was the first to get dropped off. As they rolled up to his house, Kirishima could see the outline of his sister in their front window, peering out, waiting for him. Kirishima reached for the door handle.

            It locked with an ominous click. “Kirishima.” He looked up at Aizawa sensei, who was staring back at him, eyes unreadable. “You are aware of the secrecy that surrounds most heroing families. Yes?” He wasn’t, but Kirishima nodded anyway. “You will not speak about the details of me or Present Mic being there tonight to anyone. Including your family, especially your classmates. Do I make myself clear?”

            Kirishima swallowed audibly, throat very dry. “Yes, sir.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

“Dad?”

            Aizawa looked up from the papers he was grading, the many sheets sprawled across his bed, a pen tucked behind his ear. Hizashi peered his head around the bathroom door frame, to look at Katsuki who stood at the foot of their bed.

            “What is it, Kacchan?” Aizawa quickly cleared a space next to him from papers and writing utensils, but the boy made no move to claim the spot. Aizawa shared a look with Hizashi. Katsuki was very visibly chewing something over in his head.

            “You…the plans that were on Nedzu’s desk? For the field trip.”

            Shouta heard Hizashi tap his toothbrush against the sink rim, then store it on the stand. The bathroom lights flicked off and the left side of the bed dipped as Hizashi curled beside him. “What about them, Kittycat?” Shouta elbowed his partner, certain that now wasn’t the time to make light of things.

            “The villains saw them.”

            Shouta nodded, now starting to get an inkling of where the boy was going with this. “Nedzu is aware.” The stupid rat’s train of thought was somewhere along the lines of This is a good thing, because now we know what they know.

            “So, we gonna cancel the damn thing, or what?”

            Shouta sighed, leaned back. “Kacchan, it’s not entirely up to me. It’s in the syllabus, and rescue training is an essential part of the-“

            “Can it be delayed? Please?”

            Shouta thought about it. “What are you thinking?”

            “Thirteen was going to be there.” It wasn’t a question, and there was no way that Kacchan could have known that detail. Aizawa hadn’t told him, and he hadn’t told All Might or Hizashi, either. So, unless Katsuki had an unknown information source…

            … “You remember something.”

            “Not a fuck ton. Just…just…pictures.”

            “Pictures.”

            “The villains are gonna bring a fucking monster. Like, a literal monster that can hurt All Might. They’re ready, they’re…they’re expecting us. Can’t we secretly change the day? But, have All Might and other heroes be there on the day that the morons are expecting the class to be there?”

            “I’ll talk this out with the principal.” Shouta promised him, and he saw the boy’s shoulders droop in relief. “Most likely…I’ll see about switching the location rather than the date. That, I think, would be more effective in throwing them off.” Katsuki nodded, still looking relieved. “Thank you for coming to me, Katsuki.”

            “I…I’m going to bed, now.”

            But he didn’t move from where he stood. Not until Aizawa chuckled a grunt, and rose to his feet, leading the way to the second bedroom.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki watched as his old people flicked off his bedroom lights and closed his door behind them. The jingle of Splodo’s collar in the dark was a familiar sound, as was the thud of his cat pouncing to the floor from his window sill to paw across his body, and settle in on top of him. The warmth and rumble kept his mind from spiraling downwards too quickly, as did the tight confines of the blanket tucked in around him. Dadzawa always tucked Katsuki in like he was afraid Bakugo would wander off if he wasn’t secured securely enough.

            Usually, Katsuki would wriggle his way free as soon as the old people were out of the room. But. On nights like these.

            Fuck.

            Things were set in motion asymmetrical to the way things had been. To the way they should be? But Katsuki couldn’t just sit by and let things happen that was in his power to prevent. He didn’t want to risk his classmates. He knew how close Frogger got last time to being dusted. He knew how close he got last time to losing Aizawa. How close All Might got to having his bluff called and cover blown.

            This was a pivotal moment. And…hopefully…

            Hopefully it wouldn’t even happen this time.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Toshinori honestly loved his job.

            He worked at his Alma Mater teaching the glorious next generation of heroes. Some of whom, he felt a personal investment in. Don’t misunderstand, Toshinori was dedicated to seeing all of his students graduate and become successful…but…there were a small handful whose victories felt like a personal win. When he saw good grades on Midoriya’s assignments and papers, when he saw Bakugo leading a group of his peers…it felt like the day he first used One for All. Energy and warmth and possibilities coursing through his body.

            It filled him with a kind of purpose he’d forgotten about.

            It made him want to just, just get out and…

            …and be a hero!

            And so he did! Petty criminals, bank robbers, muggers! The people in the city surrounding UA were no stranger to seeing heroes step in for even minor crimes, but the day seemed to be extra remarkable when it was All Might taking care of these smalltime crooks! After all! Justice had no limit, big or small!

            Before he knew it, and hour had gone by. All Might winced, looking at the clock on the side of a building, wondering if that time was accurate. He pulled out his phone just to double check. Ah. Aizawa wasn’t going to be happy with him. How long did he need for the class time? Two hours? He should…probably head to work now. Shouldn’t he? But, of course, he’d inevitably see someone else who needed his help and…how could he not?

            The smell of smoke caught his attention. A fire!

            All Might prepared OFA in his legs, ready to jump in the direction of the danger, even as fire sirens blared in the distance. Then, his text alert went off. He would have ignored it, but out of the corner of his eye…he saw the contact name.

Bakugo Shonen

Toshinori glanced towards where smoke was billowing upwards, and mentally chided himself. But, this could be important! But the fire was almost definitely important. But other heroes would be on site. Toshinori unlocked his phone.

Bakugo Shonen

I need your help

All Might

            Followed by a location pin. All Might’s breath caught in his throat. Why was Bakugo contacting him and not one of his fathers? His feet were moving before his brain had caught up, eyes on the little digital blue pin, a few quick taps and Toshinori’s phone’s map app was open and tracking his movements, though it struggled to keep up with him as he darted over residential buildings and power jumped across intersections, wind whipping through his hair at the sheer force of his movements..

Panicking by the time he found Young Bakugo, Toshinori’s head was on a swivel. He found himself in a park that Katsuki requented… there were children on the swing sets, young mothers watching their broods, a few joggers and their dogs taking advantage of the early morning sunshine. But no Katsuki.

“Young Bakugo?” All Might raised his voice as loud as he dared, and was punished by several of the afore mentioned young mothers looking his way with unsuppressed surprise, some gleefully so, on their faces. The children pointed and called out his hero name, but All Might paid them little mind, trying to zoom in on the pinned location Katsuki had sent to him, to see if he had somehow come to the wrong place.

      “Oi.”

      Toshinori looked up.

 Katsuki, dressed in his very recognizable UA uniform, was in a tree, at the very top within the smallest branches where the wind was swaying a bit more harshly, making this shadow wave across the cobbled sidewalk against the light that highlighted the branches and leaves of the old tree he was perched on top of.

      Toshinori looked down, at where Katsuki’s school backpack was leaning against the base of the trunk. “MEEEEEEEEERP”

      Toshinori looked back up. Young Bakugo was holding his cat, both of them looking rather unimpressed with him.

“ What’re you jus’ standin’ there for? Get me down!”

“MYEEEEEERP”

 “Where are your fathers?!” Toshinori shouted back, self-conscious of the crowd that they were beginning to draw. He shouldn’t have come in his hero form. Luckily, it wasn’t a large number of people, and most of them had the good grace to not actually stand around them and gawk, but the people who had already been enjoying their morning in the park were all mostly staring unabashedly at their display. All Might craned his neck, trying to hazard a guess at the best way to get the boy down.

“I didn’t want Dad to freak out first thing in the morning. We’ve got a field trip today.”

“How did you get up there?”

“I fucking climbed, dumbass.”

But why??”

“For shits and giggles, Whatsit! My cat fucking chased a damn squirrel up here! What was I supposed to do?”

“Why were the two of you out here in the first place?”

“Because I took him for a walk! Any other dumb questions, asshole? You just gonna leave me up here?”

Toshinori sighed, and bit the bullet, jumping straight up and latching onto a nearby branch, non-existent stomach lurching as the tree bent dangerously under the additional weight he added. Bakugo stretched out his free arm, the one that wasn’t holding his pet demon lion, expectantly. Toshinori wrapped his arm, protectively, underneath Bakugo, and allowed gravity to do the rest, landing neatly on the ground, scooping up the waiting backpack, then taking off to the skies, making sure to keep an eye on Katsuki and his cat, just in case.

      “Took ya long enough,” Katuski thanked him, and Toshinori felt a surge of annoyed fondness, as was becoming very typical when dealing with the Young Bakugo. “You coming with us today, old man?”

      All Might landed with a grunt of deflation as he collapsed into his True Form outside the Aizawa-Yamada-Bakugo-Explodocat residence. He rested a hand on Katsuki’s head, ignoring the boy’s habitual scowl. “I’m afraid not, Young Bakugo,” Toshinori said, apologetically. “Principal Nedzu has me on security detail at the USJ building.” The gruff blonde seemed to nod his approval as he carried his cat inside the house.

      “Wait a second, I’ll walk with ya’.”

      “Of course, Young Bakugo.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

(“Mission Stop-The-Dumbass-From-Being-A-Dumbass: Successful” he whispered against a fluffy, purring face.

      “MYEEEEEEEEERT”)

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 31

Summary:

Finally getting to USJ

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Shouto hummed as he slid his shoes on. Endeavor had been called away, early that morning, so Shouto hadn’t had to suffer through his daily “training” regimen. Shouto had no idea, nor did he care, what his father had been called away for. He only felt endlessly grateful for the rare chance to eat breakfast with his Natsuo and Fuyomi, to relax for a little while in front of their TV while browsing hero fandom forums on their couch, and quietly chat with his sister as she packed a small bundle of snacks to take with him to school.

            Shifting through his bookbag, Shouto double-checked that he’d had all of his homework organized in the right folders, ready to turn in. Then he stood and accepted the bundle of snacks from his sister, who was standing, waiting, to see him off.

            “Have a good day, Shouto,” she said, her voice still soft, as though she were afraid to be overheard be the overbearing presence that wasn’t even currently home. Shouto managed a smile at her.

            These days, it was getting easier and easier to smile.

            “You too,” he told her, just as softly, hefting his backpack onto his shoulders, stepping out into the cool morning sunlight. He let muscle memory guide his feet as his mind wandered far beyond him, into a distant reality where mornings like today were everyday – where he didn’t have to wake up in pain, or in fear. Where he didn’t have to chose between having breakfast or getting verbally – or physically – beaten down by his father. Where he was able to wake up and just…just be happy. Maybe, in that distant reality, he’d have been able to bring friends home. They could play Mario Cars on his couch. He could have a cat of his own. Maybe even some fishes, little pretty blue ones like what he saw in the windows of a pet store, once.

            Or a dog! A big fluffy dog. He’d name it…

            “Oi, Icyhot.”

            “Do you like dogs?” Shouto asked Bakugo, who was being accompanied by Mr. Yagi. The tall man was hunched inside a loose yellow suit that almost seemed to billow around him in the morning breeze. Shouto gave Midoriya’s trainer a polite nod, but was more interested in what his friend had to say.

Did liking cats mean that you couldn’t like dogs? Most of his classmates had gotten into a debate over which domestic animal was better than the other not too long ago. Bakugo hadn’t participated, though Izuku seemed to be of the opinion that cats were better by far. Bakugo seemed to consider the question, and they walked towards the UA buildings in the distance in companionable silence.

            “Yeah, I do. Little yappy fuckers. They’re always funny.” Bakugo seemed strangely upset by this omission, and Todoroki wondered why, taking in his furrowed brow and pursed lips. Then he wondered if it would be okay to ask why the thought of “little yappy” dogs made him upset. But Shouto wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, so, instead, he only patted Bakugo on the shoulder, like he’d seen Izuku do in the past.

Bakugo looked at him strangely, but he did seem less upset, so Todoroki reasoned that it was probably okay. Then, feeling bad for ignoring Mr. Yagi, he turned to address him more fully.

            “Good morning, Mr. Yagi. Why are you following us?”

            Yagi, surprised at being included in the conversation, started choking. He frantically pulled out a handkerchief and covered his mouth, coughing violently. Todoroki thought he saw faint pink stains leaking through. He looked at Bakugo, a question he wasn’t sure how to ask in his eyes.

“Whatsit’s kinda got a chronic thing, don’t worry about it” was Bakugo’s explanation. “He’s one of the Gen Ed and management teachers,” Katsuki informs him, blandly, over the sound of Mr. Yagi hacking up his lung. “Mostly third-year shit.”

Todoroki nodded, not taking his eyes away from Yagi, who seemed to be slowly getting his breath back. A third-year teacher? He hadn’t seen Yagi around school very often, and that might provide an explanation for as to why. But, then again, Snipe also taught the third-years, and Todoroki often saw him in the hallways – particularly during lunch hour when all the teachers seemed to retreat to their lounge.

      “Yes,” cough “don’t worry about me, Young Todoroki.” Mr. Yagi dabbed once more at the corner of his mouth and tucked the now soiled handkerchief away. “My classes are not physically intensive.”

      “What do you teach Midoriya, then?” Todoroki wondered out loud.

      “How to focus his energy output,” Bakugo answered for him, once again. “Little nerd’s got a habit of using too much power, and his body isn’t built to stand it like that. Be like if you shot a glacier out of your pink, just your pinky, all the time.”

Todoroki looked down at his pinky, wiggled it. He wondered if it were possible, and how irresponsible it would be to try.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

      About halfway to school, Toshinori caught sight of Young Izuku, who was talking animatedly with Young Shinsou, arms waving around as he discussed something seemingly very exciting judging from the way his emerald eyes glowed with passion. Then, Izuku caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eyes, and the little greenette turned full body to wave with both arms and a wide grin, as though he hadn’t seen any of them for years and years.

Todoroki waved back, though Bakugo only scoffed fondly. “Mr. Yagi!” was pleased to be the first one that Izuku greeted, and he smiled warmly at his successor. “What are you doing here?” Yagi chuckled a bit, ruffling Izuku’s hair.

      “I’m on my way to work, Young Midoriya,” he replied, making his pupil flush. It had been a few days since they really spent quality time together, outside of their training sessions. Toshinori wondered if it would be alright to invite Izuku and his mother to a restaurant. Somewhere nice…as the number one hero, he could definitely afford it.

      “I knew that,” Izuku said, somewhat sullenly. “I just meant what you’re doing here with Kacchan.” Toshinori hid a smile, wondering who it was that Izuku was jealous of. Kacchan for getting to have one-on-one time with his mentor, or All Might for spending time with his Kacchan.

      If All Might was honest with himself, it was probably the latter.

      “We just happened to run into each other,” Mr. Yagi said smoothly. “Are you excited for school today?”

      “Why?” Shinsou asked, narrowing his eyes. “Is there something going on?”

      The look frozen on Yagi’s face probably told the boys that, yes, there was very much something going on, no matter how vehemently he tried to deny knowing about anything that was going on at all. He only managed to pique their interest all the more.

      Darn it. With any luck, Aizawa wouldn’t scold him for being careless.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

      The students kept needling the teacher until they got to the gates of UA, where Yagi managed to excuse himself and slip away, much to Shinsou and Izuku’s displeasure. “We were wearing him down,” Izuku pouted. “I wonder if Aizawa sensei would tell us.”

      Both Shinsou and Bakugo snorted. “If you couldn’t get Whatsit to break, what makes you think sensei would?”

      “We’ll find out soon enough,” Todoroki said, not as concerned as his classmates about what would be happening that day. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was another training exercise. It’s been about a week since our last one, hasn’t it?”

      They reached the classroom with Bakugo barging in, kicking the door open lazily as had become the norm.

“BAKUGO!” Scolded Iida, right on cue. “Please, show some respect to our school.”

      “I am,” Bakugo said, snidely, grinning. “I’m showing respect by not treating the doors of this fucking hero’s school like wimpy ass glass.”

      It was almost as though you could see the gears in Iida’s head slowly churn to a stop as he struggled to find a comeback to that argument, hand still frozen mid karate chop in the air. Shinsou chuckles as he makes his way to Tokoyami’s desk. “Do you know what’s going on today?”

      “There’s something going on today?” the other boy replied, not looking all that concerned.

      “One of the third-year teachers heavily implied that there was,” Todoroki explained, face stoic as he suddenly found himself being paid attention to by several surrounding students. “But we weren’t able to get him to tell us exactly what it was.” He took his seat, nodding a good morning to Yaoyorozu.

      “Why would a third-year teacher know what our class is doing today, kero,” Tsuyu asked the air, a finger touching her chin in consideration.

      “Perhaps Mr. Aizawa discusses his plans with his fellow teachers?” Momo offered. “Or he could have mentioned it in the break room.”

“Or perhaps it’s none of your business.” All twenty heads snapped to the front of the room, where their teacher, clad in his bright yellow sleeping bag, stood. “All students who don’t want detention, get changed into your either your gym uniforms or your hero costumes. When you’re done, meet me outside at drop-off zone number four. There will be a bus waiting for you…but it won’t be waiting for long. You have fifteen minutes.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

A long grey bus was idling out by gate four with Iida standing at attention by its open door. He’d been one of the first to finish pulling on his gym uniform, and the very first to make it to the bus in order to ensure that their classmates boarded the bus in an orderly fashion.

      “Everyone!” He called out, gesturing for everyone to move faster as soon as the rest of the class began to filter out. “Please form two orderly lines according the student number! No shoving, Kaminari! Bakugo! Please, get a move on.”

      Katsuki had frozen at the doors of the drop off point, eyes stuck on the sight of the bus, one hand remained clutching the door of the school. “Kacchan? Are you okay?” Izuku tried to tug Bakugo along by the hem of his shirt. “Huh? You’re wearing your gym uniform?”

      “What-” He cleared his throat, swallowing dryly. “Where did sensei say we were going today?” Bakugo asked, voice steady despite the tense look on his face and the grim set of his shoulders.

      Jiro, who was standing beside them, having stopped behind Bakugo, answered. “He didn’t really say. Not yet, anyway? You want me to go ask him?”

      “I’m sure sensei will tell us soon enough?” Yaoyorozu tried to soothe from behind them. “Is everything alright?”

      Bakugo looked at them for a long moment, then nodded his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Just wondering.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            It didn’t take long for everyone to finish settling into the bus. As soon as the last student was seated, Aizawa stepped in to glare at all of them from beside the driver’s seat.

            “As you might have guessed,” he drawled. “Today’s basic hero exercise will not be done on campus. It will be a class taught by myself, as per usual, Cementoss, and one other person.”

            “What will we be doing?” Sero asked, just a bit too loudly from where he sat next to Kaminari near the end of the bus. Aizawa, however, didn’t seem to be too put off by the interruption.

            “Disasters. Fires. Shipwrecks. Anything in between. Today, we will delve into the world of rescue training.” The class erupted into quiet chatter, excitedly whispering to their neighbors, theorizing about what the day would hold for them. No one except Izuku noticed how Bakugo stayed quiet, tensing even further, sinking low into his seat.

            “Finally!” Kirishima beamed. “We’ll get to act like real heroes! I’m ready to rumble.”

            “No one can beat me in water, kero…” Tsuyu said happily to Mina.

            “I’m not done.” The class fell silent with a collective held breath. Aizawa drug his eyes across the class, as if doing a mental head count before his eyes landed on Bakugo, where they lingered. “Normally, we would be performing this exercise at the Unexpected Simulation Joint. But, due to some… unforeseen renovations, you will have to wait until later in the year for that experience. For now, our class is making do at the Takoba National Stadium, where Cementoss and several other heroes have been working since early this morning to prepare the area for our purposes. Be sure to express an appropriate level of gratitude when you see him.”

            The class made a sound that was half cheer half ascent as Aizawa took his seat, then nodded for the driver to go. The door closed, and the engines rumbled a bit louder. “No wonder he had us put on our hero uniforms!” Ochako said, cheerfully. “How come you’re not wearing yours, Kacchan?” Izuku looked up at his friend, relieved to see that some of the tension had gone from Katsuki’s shoulders.

            “I have my reasons,” was all Bakugo would grunt, looking unnaturally surly, even for himself.

            “Are you getting it modified?” Kirishima asked. Katsuki considered him for a second.

            “Maybe,” he allowed, but then slumped back down into his seat, conversation obviously over. Slowly, chatter started to pick up around the bus. Aizawa appeared to be dozing at the front, and Iida was doing his best to quietly reprimand the class for their noise, warning them not to disturb their teacher.

            “Hey, Midoriya,” Tsuyu suddenly spoke up.

            “Y-yeah, Tsuyu?” Izuku said, not really paying attention, his eyes still on Bakugo as the normally explosive blonde stared darkly out the window.

            “Call me Tsu,” she told him off-handedly, the request probably more of a habit at this point, eyes drilling into the side of Izuku’s head. Sensing this, Midoriya turned towards her, slightly. “Your quirk is like All Might’s.”

            “Eh!” Izuku reeled back, knocking into Bakugo, causing his arm – which had been propping up his chin – to slip. Bakugo knocked his head on the window’s glass, then turned to glare at both of them as Izuku frantically waved his arms in Tsuyu’s face. “No, All Might is way stronger than me and, um, he uh, well… I…”

            “Wait a sec, dude,” Kirishima laughed. “All Might doesn’t have lightning! They’re both just kinda strong. And fast. Hey, Midoriya, how much stamina does your quirk give you, anyway?”

            “Uh, I haven’t really, eh, hit my upper limit yet?” Midoriya laughed awkwardly, wringing his fingers until Katsuki took a hold of Izuku’s hands, stopping him from abusing his fingers. Kirishima grinned at them.

            “Oh, geez, man!” He sighed. “It must be nice to have an augmenting-type quirk! You can do lots of flashy stuff! Mine is just kinda-”

            “We talked about this Shitty Hair,” Bakugo grunted. “Your quirk is fine.” Kirishima coughed into his hand, looking away to hide the redness in his cheeks.

            “My navel laser is pro-level in looks and strength,” Aoyama said, dreamily.

            “Doesn’t it give you a stomachache, though?” Mina asked, making the sparkly boy pout.

            Sato turned a candy bar around in his fingers. “If we’re talking about a balance between flashy and powerful, it’s gotta be a tie between Todoroki and Bakugo…No offense Midoriya. It’s just, all that literal fire power just looks so cool.”

            “Kacchan’s quirk is really amazing,” Izuku didn’t seem offended at all, only proud.

            “Bakugo does seem like the type that would be popular,” Tsuyu said, sagely. “Todoroki also has a very mysterious air about him. The media has called him The Ice Prince. You can definitely see why.”

            “Baku though,” Hagakure giggles. “He’s not mysterious at all!”

            “You wanna fight, Gloves?” Bakugo asked, lacking so much of his typical heat that it just sounded like a genuine question.

            “She’s right, though.” Shinsou smirked. “You’re too adorable, Kacchan. The public’s gonna die when you debut from the sheer sweetness you exude.”

            That got a rise out of him. “YOU WANNA FUCKING GO, SHITSTAIN! BECAUSE I WILL KILL YOU!” Deku had to hold Bakugo around his waist, securing him to his seat, to prevent him from leaping across the aisle to strangle Shinsou. “THE PUBLIC’S GONNA DIE BECAUSE I’MA MURDER PEOPLE!”

            “We havn’t known each other for that long,” Kaminari said mildly as he watched the struggle. “So it’s amazing how everyone already knows his personality is like a cat whose head got stuck in a box.”

            “WHAT? THE HELL? I’ll KILL YOU, BASTARD!”

            “It’s so nice to have friends,” Deku said cheerfully, dodging one of Katsuki’s flailing fists, much to the amusement of the other students.

            “We’re here. Stop missing around. Bakugo, Kaminari. Separate.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Everyone, I have been waiting for you.”

            The stadium, which aired on TV every now and then for sports and Hero events, had been completely revamped. A waterfall structure poured over a half-submerged ship. A miniature city of buildings along the other side poured out smoke from the windows. A mountain jutted up from the southern edge of the stadium, jagged cliffs and teeth-like edges cast huge shadows across a raised ledged that formed a pseudo bridge and residential area.

            As the students stepped into the arena, a calm voice called out to them. And a small figure dressed all in white stepped out of the shadows to greet them.

            “The Space Hero, Thirteen!” Izuku whispered excitedly under his breath to Bakugo. “The gentlemanly hero who has rescued tons of people from disasters…”

            “Thirteen is one of my favorite heroes…” Uraraka gushed under her breath as Toru nodded furiously.

            “Let’s get everyone inside,” said another, deeper voice. Cementoss rode a wave of earth across the stadium, making the very ground rumble. “We’ve got a full day planned for you.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“I wonder how Shouta and the kids are doing.”

            Present Mic and Midnight were halfway between relaxed and on high-alert as they checked the perimeter of the USJ building, going from entrance to exit point and back again, glancing down each of the zones. Snipe was keeping watch from a high point.

            “Ugh. Was it his idea to have us on this detail?” Midnight peered around a corner and, seeing nobody, sighed deeply. “Do you know how hard it is to come back to a class after I’ve had a sub for a day? The kids are always so rowdy…”

            “I’m fairly sure it was mostly Principal Nedzu,” Mic lied. “Besides…those villains got a copy of the USJ schedule…we can’t have the kiddos be here after that!”

            “Still,” Midnight puffed out a sigh, bored. “I mean, All Might didn’t even bother showing up…”

            “I know.” Hizashi grit his teeth. The number one hero was supposed to have been there nearly half an hour ago and, still, he was nowhere in sight. Even though Hizashi had never had the same amount of agitation towards the Number One hero that his best friend did, Present Mic and All Might still weren’t exactly what you would call buddy-buddy. It rubbed Mic the wrong way, that Toshinori would just blow them off, especially when Mic knew for a fact that Shouta had specifically laid out multiple reasons to their fellow hero for just why he needed to prioritize this mission.

            “I’m not surprised, though,” Midnight continued. “I’m sure All Might has better things to do than poke around an empty simulation arena.” Hizashi didn’t answer, privately thinking that there was nothing more important than what they were doing. Even if the villains had decided not to show up after all.

            Then a thought occurred to Hizashi, making his pause mid step. What if the villains knew. What if the villains weren’t coming here, but were going to where Shouta had taken the kids? What if that was why All Might hadn’t shown up yet? Because he was dealing with villains over there?

            His phone was in his hand before he had really thought about it, thumb flicking the messaging app open.

Hizashi

Hey babe, you okay?

Shouta

No.

You didn’t give Kacchan anything

sugary for breakfast

did you?

 

            Mic couldn’t help the fond smile that spread over his face, as his chest loosened in relief. Nothing terrible could be happening if that was what Shouta was most concerned about.

Hizashi

Do pancakes count?

He only had three or four.

Shouta

He’s acting languid.

Thought maybe he was crashing

from a sugar high

Hizashi

Or he’s worried.

It is today you know.

Shouta

I know.

Hizashi

He’ll be safe.

Shouta

I know.

Hizashi

You’ll all be fine.

Shouta

I know.

Hizashi

Tell the babies I love them!

Shouta

No.

Hizashi

Don’t be jealous baby

(●♡∀♡)

I love you too!!

Shouta

I’m going to block you.

Hizashi

Admit it!

You love me too!

(๑♡3♡๑)

 

            “How’s Shouta,” Midnight said, grinning like a feline as she leaned over his shoulder, trying to glance at his phone, batting her eyes innocently.

            “He’s worried that I gave Kacchan too much sugar from breakfast,” Hizashi rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve seen that kid inhale six poptarts for a mid-morning snack. Some maple syrup isn’t going to hurt him.”

            “So… does this kid just not have a home?” Midnight asked, looking genuinely curious.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You guys keep insisting he isn’t yours, but from the things you say I’m getting the picture that ‘Kacchan’ sleeps at Shouta’s house and eats the crap you feed him for breakfast and dinner, which means he’s at your place most of the time. Doesn’t it?”

            Hizashi often thought about how their little family might look to a third party, and he was well aware of how unorthodox it all was. But, well, if he could change anything, it would only be that he and Shouta actually had custody over their four little strays. “Well… yeah… Nemuri, please don’t take this the wrong way. But, I’m not comfortable discussing his family history without Shouta present. Is that okay?” He gave his best puppy-dog eyes that never really worked on Shouta.

            But Nemuri instantly melted. “Yeah, yeah Hizashi that’s fine.” She spoke into her communication piece stuck in her ear. “Hey, Snipe! How’s the view from up there?”

            “All’s clear, missy,” was his response. “Just about ta – “ the sound crackled off into static. Nemuri frowned and tried again.

            “Snipe? Snipe. Come in, Snipe.” Nemuri glanced over at Mic, then stepped a bit further out towards the middle of the arena, looking upward to where Snipe was meant to have been stationed. “Mic, can you try yours? I think mine just died.”

            Hizashi frowned, touched a finger to the com in his own ear. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?” Just static, making Hizashi wince.

Hizashi

Shouta I think somethings going on

Message not sent

Something bad

Message not sent

I love you guys

Message not sent

Stay safe

Message not sent

            “My phone isn’t working, either,” Mic said grimly, tucking it away. “Let’s try to find Snipe and see what he’s seen.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “You’re smiling.” Cementoss and Aizawa were standing to the side as Thirteen demonstrated the best way to retrieve a victim from a collapsing structure and how to watch for potentially dangerous debris.

            “I am not.”

            “Tell Mic I said ‘hello.’”

            “I will not.”

            Cementoss chuckled. “It’s good to see the two of you so happy nowadays. There was a while that I was worried for you.”

            Aizawa glared at him from the corner of his eyes. “Why.”

            Cementoss threw up an earth wall, shielding Koda from a falling scatter of building parts. “For a few years, Present Mic always looked so depressed when you were off being busy.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to pry. I’m just happy for you. As your friend.”

            Aizawa didn’t answer him, he only glanced back down at his phone.

Aizawa

Lies.

I can’t stand you.

            Then he frowned.

            Because for some reason, his texts weren’t going through.

            “Texting on the job?” Cementoss teased gently. “For shame…”

            Aizawa hushed him and he hurriedly refreshed the app. The result was the same. It seemed to have sent successfully…but it wasn’t being received. Aizawa hit the call button.

            Rinnnnng

            Rinnnnggggg

            Rinnnnnnnngggg

            Rinnnnnnnngggg

            “The phone you are trying to reach has been – “

            Aizawa hung up and closed the app. Instead dialing the phone number in directly.

            Rinnnggggg

            Rinnnggggg

            Riinnnnnggggg

            Rinnggggggggg

            “The phone you are trying to reach – “

            “Ishiyama, something is wrong.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            He’d meant to go straight to USJ, but then somebody screamed in the distance and All Might was, well All Might. He couldn’t just not help.

            Then after the robbery, he caught wind of a bad traffic accident where civilians were caught and pinned beneath vehicles. From there he found a crying child and escorted them back to their mother. He would have sworn that it hadn’t taken more than a few minutes to sort all of those issues out – but when he checked his phone, he was dumbfounded to discover…it had somehow been nearly an hour.

            He turned his face to the west and bounded as hard as he dared. He shouldn’t have wasted so much time, but he still had an hour. Surely that was enough time. He hoped that the radio silence from Yamada simply meant that the villains had decided not to show their faces, after all. However, Aizawa had been adamant that All Might be there, just in case.

            These unknowns that had broken into UA, there was no telling the kind of danger they represented. There were no leads for as to who their ‘sensei’ in the shadows is. All Might tried to shrug off the guilt he felt. He still had time left to spare.

            His phone started ringing.

            He answered it midair, not stopping as he cleared an apartment complex, still hurrying through the city, wondering how he had wandered so deep into it.

            “Speaking!” He said into the phone.

            “Where are you?” oh…Aizawa… The younger hero did not sound happy.

            “On my way, Young Aizawa! I’m about ten minutes out!” He grunted as he vaulted across a busy street, ignoring the impressed gasps of citizens who caught a glimpse him as he all but flew passed.

            “What do you mean on your way? You were supposed to have been there an hour ago.”

            He really didn’t sound happy. “I may have gotten distracted.”

            “Hurry. I have reason to believe USJ is currently under attack.”

            All Might’s foot almost slipped off the roof of a library. He was nearly back to UA, from where it was an easy jog to the USJ building. He could make it in five. He could. Hopefully. “What reason.”

            “Calls and texts aren’t going through to Hizashi, Midnight, or Snipe.”

            “Blockers.” All Might realized, grimly, redoubling his efforts. “I’ll be there in five.”

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            The first sign they got that something was amiss was their electronics fritzing out.

            The second sign came in the form of some low-life attempting to sneak attack two pro heroes from behind a boulder in the landslide zone. The crook – because can you really call such a lack-luster criminal a villain? – took a mere half - second to subdue, thanks to Midnight’s quirk. But then more men and women with ‘menacing’ grimaces on their faces warily approached them.

            “Wow, more listeners! Hey, Midnight, did you realize this was going to be a PARTY?” Hizashi blasted the three nearest to him backwards on to their comrades, sending a handful of them sprawling.

            “Get to the entrance!” Midnight told him, lashing her whip painfully across one of the crook’s faces. They ignored the man as he screamed in agony, clutching his eye and cheek that got hit. “See if you can out, far enough away from the blockers. Report back to Nedzu!”

            “Yes, ma’am!” he saluted. These kind of criminals weren’t worth most pro hero’s time of day. Low-level, hardly trained, fueled by delusions of grandeur. Nemuri shouldn’t have any trouble holding her own.

            He leaped on top of the nearest boulder, then used his momentum to leap over the swarm of criminal’s heads, landing smoothly in a crouch and bolting for the exit. The two of them had already been attempting to make a dash for the doors, taking a short cut through the zones rather than trekking their way all around the perimeter again. Just a few hundred more yards…He reaches the fire zone.

            Several more crooks are there, they seem to be poking around. Looking for something. “Come out, come out little heroes…” one of them croons with a nasty grin.

            “LITTLE?!” Mic’s offended scream knocks him through a wall, and the other criminals spin, finally noticing him. “Get Back and Stay Down” He hollers, not slowing his pace, not caring if they were following. There were no civilians, there were no – thank god – students. No one to be collateral damage if he didn’t focus on taking down every single ‘villain.’ That allowed him to focus on what was most important:

            Letting Nedzu know that his little Kitty’s ‘hunch’ was correct. The villains had tried to strike the USJ.

Mic could only feel relief and gratitude that they hadn’t been caught with their pants down, that they’d been ready, that the kids were far, far away from here. What would have happened if Kitty hadn’t said anything? How many kids would have been hurt, or worse? Him or Nemuri could take these guys on, sure. But kids? Little freshies in high school getting snuck up on while they were goofing off or doing dangerous training exercises?

            Afterall, based on what the crooks at the fire zone had been taunting…they thought that the kids were there. They must have specifically come to hurt the class of little kids.

            It pissed him off.

            He’d almost reached the exit, his anger and repulsion propelling him faster than he’d ran in years. In fact, he’s running so fast, that he barely as time to react what something large, purple, and rippling appears in front of him. He skids to a stop, but not fast enough – he’s swallowed by darkness.

            Then he’s falling, hard, into solid concrete that digs scrapes deep across his face, destroying his reinforced glasses, probably scuffing his speakers damn it.

            “…a surprise quest?” The voice sounds neither young nor particularly old. Hizashi shoves himself up, then reels back in disgust. There a man, probably mid-twenties, with decapitated hands clinging to his arms, clothing, face. “I hate surprise quests.”

            “Well, hey there listener!” Mic said, cheerfully, getting to his feet. “Don’t you worry about a thing! I, your helpful NPC is here to guide you to your next challenge, yeeeaaaah!” The sounds waves from his quirk was swallowed by yet another portal, sending the force out through a second one directly to his right. Hizashi was blasted off of his feet by his own quirk.

He picked himself back up, not letting his eyes leave the villain.

            Because surely this terrible figure was an actual villain, paused. Tilted his head. “Next challenge?”

            “But of course! To get to the next level, you’ve got to beat this area’s boss!”

            The villain almost seemed to relax. It was then that Hizashi realized the purple thing that had enveloped and transported him was a being, a person, presumably male, who now stood at the villain’s side. “And where is this area’s boss? I was promised All Might…he should be here…”

            “To get to the next level, you’ve got to beat this area’s boss!” Hizashi repeated, hoping to stall for time, even while he didn’t actually feel that concerned. Not if this dude was so easily distracted by this honestly rather childish conversation. Turns out all those hours playing games with his babies paid off!

            The villain chuckled. “And who is this area’s boss?”

            Mic readies himself, preparing to have to take on this villain – whom he assumes is Shigaraki, the villain who infiltrated the school – as well as the purple mist man. He could do this. No big deal, if those goons over by Nemuri were anything to judge by. He just had to take out the purple dude so he could leave and contact All Might. Easy peasy.

            Hizashi smiled. “Me.”

           

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

At the Takoba National Stadium, things were going really well.

            A little too well. Aizawa can’t help the sick feeling in his gut. He watches Katsuki shove his peers off of the rock wall / make-shift mountain slide in his attempt to get to the “civilian” (Koda) in need of ‘rescuing.’

            “Baku!” Kaminari pouted from where he clung to a protruding rock, legs flailing around for a stable grip. “We’re on the same team!” Jiro swung right by him, nearly catching up with Katsuki, who kicked off some sand and earth into her face, making her close her eyes and cough, fingers slipping.

            She fell. A soft earth slide rose up to catch her. “Bakugo, this is a rescue exercise and these are your teammates. This is not a competition.” Cementoss said, patiently, glancing over at Aizawa who stood off to the side, trying very hard not to stare at his phone.

Aizawa shook his head at Cementoss, indicating that there had been no change. They just had to keep calm. For the kids. And hope that the other pros would handle the situation.

            “And yet I still won, motherfuckers!” Katsuki said triumphantly as he grabbed onto Koda, hauling the quiet boy onto his back before leaping off the side of the mountain. Alternating blasts from his palms slowed their descent, which was smooth despite Koda’s terrified expression the entire way down.

            In the water zone, Midoriya was doing a much better job communicating with his classmates in order to retrieve Todoroki from the ‘sinking’ ship. Thirteen watched them, minding a time limit which restricted how long they had to retrieve their victim. Midoriya was the first to reach Todoroki, pulling the taller boy into his arms and breaking through the wall of the boat, back first, his green lightning crackling around him. Tsuyu caught the both of them.

            “Great teamwork!” Thirteen applauded twice. “Just remember, ideally, you shouldn’t cause any more damage to an already sinking vessel. What if there had been other people aboard? What if there was dangerous cargo? Keep all these things in mind whenever you might feel the need to collapse a structure, Midoriya.”

            “S-s-s-orry, sensei…”

            Aizawa smiled faintly, but glanced back to his phone.

            His messages still weren’t received. His fingers itched to call All Might, but he knew nagging him wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he called Nedzu.

            Better to be embarrassed later about calling unnecessary reinforcements than to regret it, later…

            “You better be okay, Hizashi,” Aizawa muttered to himself as he waited for the principal to pick up.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

            A single bellow was more than enough to send purple guy reeling, literally struggling to keep himself together. But, an instant later, and he was back on his feet, portals appearing left and right. Every now and then, Mic would have a close call, having to all but pirouette to the side in order to prevent himself from being teleported away.

            Shigaraki was no slouch either, much to Mic’s surprise. He’d been trained. By whom, he didn’t know. But it was obvious from the easy stance he took to the precision of his blows. Shigaraki slammed a monkey palm at his chest.

            And then extended his fingers.

            A burning like nothing he’d experienced before extended from where Shigaraki’s hand touched him. His shirt fell away in black flakes…as was his skin. The scream torn from his throat wasn’t intentional, but it was helpful, blowing Shigaraki away. He flew through the air, and a portal caught him. Shigaraki was suddenly directly to his side.

            “YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH

            The villains were blown backwards, only to warp right back. Mic was edging closer and closer to the doors. Except…damn it. Some of the lesser cronies were sealing the exit. Hizashi cursed, then screamed again.

            They were caught in a strange dance of screaming and warping. It didn’t take long for the villain to have enough. He stood back and scratched irritably at his neck. Hizashi had to force himself not to react to the terrible scraping noises. There were red, bloody lines all across the villain’s throat.

            “Kurogiri.” The portal guy, Kurogiri Mic supposed, turned to face Shigaraki. “Bring Nomu. I’m getting bored with this game.”

            “Bored?” Mic laughed loudly, making the villains cover their ears. “But we’re just getting STARTED.”

            “Ugh,” Shigarki tore at his skin. “You’re so…annoying.”

            And then a monster rose out of purple shadows.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Toshinori was almost there, almost there. He didn’t blame Aizawa for being pissed off at him. Hell, All Might was angry with himself. How many times had Recovery Girl, had Aizawa, had Izuku told him not to waste his energy doing menial work that other heroes could doing easily in his stead? How many times had he been told that he had to conserve energy for his job that he’d committed to?

            He felt guilty for being so relieved that Izuku - and Bakugo but of course Izuku was first to come to his mind - was not there. He felt guilty because he knew that Present Mic was.

            The USJ building was now in sight. Half a second and one final leap later, All Might was, blasting through the concrete wall. “I AM HERE!” He bellowed. Not hesitating to send a Smash’s shock wave towards a gaggle of criminals guarding the entrance. They flew away like bits of hay, and All Might surveyed the simulation joint.

His smile dropped.

            Because there, in the center of the walk by the middle fountain, was a monster of a beast – easily twelve feet tall with bulging muscles, oil black skin, razor sharp fangs, and an exposed brain.

And in its hand…

            …was Yamada.

Notes:

Edited, so hopefully this is a little bit better. Revised this first to help me get used to my new computer - which did finally arrive so I'll be updating soon! Thank you all everyone who sent me a comment. So many of you had such nice things to say, and it really made me itch to get writing again, even though I ended up not being able to use my computer, I did end up typing out some drabbles for the one-shot bnha fic on my phone haha. Anyway, thank you to everyone who's stuck with me for this long. Can you believe it's been over a year since I started writing this????

Chapter 32

Summary:

Here's the angst you all were asking for. more to come :)
Also, there is graphic descriptions of gore and violence in this chapter so please be aware. Love you guys.

Chapter Text

Yamada was very rarely scared, particularly when he was as his Present Mic persona. As Present Mic he was allowed to be as loud and bold and brave and brash as he please. His persona didn’t allow much room for being afraid. Truth be told, it had been a long time since he’d truly felt anything passed vague worry on the field. It wasn’t that he was unaware of the risks or of the dangers. It wasn’t that he was overconfident in his abilities. He was, of course, aware of his own mortality, and of the death rates of heroes year to year. It was a part of his reality and career that he had accepted long ago.

            And yet, when that large, chillingly cool, inhumanly solid hand closed around his head… he felt fear.

            His life did not flash before his eyes, as he had sometimes heard veteran heroes say they had experienced during close calls. Rather, he saw faces and heard voices in an instant held within the space of a breath that somehow lasted just long enough for him to feel dread settling in his gut, churning from terror to guilt to regret.

            If he died, he’d be leaving his family. His students. His friends.

            And then he felt grateful, because Shouta wasn’t there to watch what happened next.

            He heard more than felt something crack – the pain would come later, oh would the pain come – as the monster squeezed his skull, then threw him hard and fast towards the outer wall of the simulation joint. He crashed into the concrete, shoulders first, tasting starbursts in his skull. Before Hizashi could even think about muscling up the strength to rise up off the ground, fingers curling blood smears across the rough ground, the beast was there. He hadn’t even seen it move; it had gone so fast it was almost as though it had teleported.

            What did he know? Maybe it had.

            Its fist slammed his gut, and Hizashi’s feet left the ground again. Burning bile in his throat. Two handed crushing blow to his back, whiplash in his neck as he was forced back down. Paw gripping the back of his uniform. He was moving too quickly for him to even catch his breath.

            It was toying with him.

            Dust and earth met his smashed nose, his destroyed face, mixing muddy with the blood that ran off him in rivets. Hiazashi vomited, and his spit tasted like rust.

            Something closed around his ankles and shins like manacles. He was dragged backwards, neck jerked sideways from the force of the motion. The beast raised him, the back of his head knocking against the ground, and Hizashi found it hard to breathe through all the blood running down his throat and out of his mouth.

            “Nomu. Kill him” said Shigaraki, uncaring, unmoved.

            Hizashi knew it was now or never. He twisted in the creature’s hold and SCREAMED. Something shattered in his chest, blood and vomit and spittle flew from his lips. His vision was tainted red from blood and black from everything else. He screamed with all of his desperation to go home, to see Shouta again, to see his kids again, to hold his family again.

            This creature, this Nomu, didn’t even blink.

            It raised him higher.

            And slammed him down.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Kacchan?”

            Thirteen had called the students to a break, letting them chat amongst themselves as they hydrated with sports drinks passed out by the rescue hero. Katsuki sat in the shade that the fake boat cast on the make-shift shore, glaring pensively at his unopened bottle. Deku had approached him from behind, settling down beside him, shoulder bumping into his.

            “What.”

            “Are you okay?” Katsuki leaned a bit more heavily against Deku, trying to focus on his presence, grounding himself in the moment. Everything felt off. Slanted sideways. If Katsuki closed his eyes, he could see the shadows of his past. The villains pouring from portals. The burning building he and Eijro had been dropped in. The battered and beaten form of his sensei. All Might spitting blood, launching the Nomu through the ceiling.

            At the end of that, traumatic as it had been, everything had turned out relatively okay. Sensei’s quirk was forever weakened, but only slightly. And All Might lost time that day, but it was already going to happen eventually. No one had died.

            Should he have stepped in? Changed things?

            What if Katsuki had messed up? He could see the ghosts of everything that was supposed to have happened in the shadow Asui cast as she bounded across the field to go sit with Momo and Jiro. He saw it in Shinsou where Mineta would have been, smiling and whispering with Tokoyami. He saw it in the unblemished back of Thirteen. He saw it in the furrows on sensei’s face where a scar should have been.

            “Da –“ Katsuki clenched his knuckles. “Sensei’s been staring at his phone.”

            “Yeah, I had noticed that…” Deku’s eyes drifted over to where their mentor was quickly speaking with Cementoss, heads bowed and held close together to keep the more sound sensitive students from overhearing…not that it would do any good if Jiro or Shoji made an effort to eavesdrop. But the both of them were quietly hanging out with their respective friend groups, not paying their teachers any mind. “Do you think something happened?”

            “I know something fucking happened. I just don’t know what.” Except even as Katsuki was saying that, he knew that he had a pretty good idea just what was stressing his mentor out. But, surely, if it was bad, the students would have been notified, wouldn’t they? Or maybe they wouldn’t have been, but at least Katsuki would have been told by sensei. Sensei didn’t make a habit of keeping him in the dark about anything.

            Deku gathered his legs up, knees under his chin, staring out into the gently rippling water of the shipwreck simulation. “Whatever it is….I’m sure the heroes are handling it?” Deku tried to comfort him, but even he didn’t sound certain.

            “Handling what?” Todoroki had approached them, quiet as ever, looking awkward like he wanted to join them sitting down but wasn’t sure that he was allowed.

            “Whatever the fuck has Sensei looking like shit.” Katsuki nodded towards their teacher, who, indeed, looked far tenser than he normally did.

            “Did something go wrong during the last set of exercises?” Todoroki asked, still not making a move to sit down. Katsuki growled and grabbed his pants leg, yanking him into the sand. Todoroki didn’t protest, but his eyes did fly wide as he fell, and only his training kept him from falling sprawled onto the sand.

            “No.” Katsuki grunted.

            “Yeah, I didn’t see anything go wrong?” Deku said, still not sounding entirely certain. “Afterall, if someone had messed up, sensei would be lecturing us right now. Not standing away, looking upset. Unless it’s something case sensitive like an injury or else a family issue, in which case he wouldn’t be allowed to talk about it openly with the class, but he hasn’t singled anyone out or called anyone away. He has been on his phone, though, so maybe he’s talking with a parent? Or perhaps principal Nedzu, but, no. If it were that serious he definitely would had pulled whoever was at fault or involved aside. Yet he’s only been talking to the other teachers and – “

            “Fucking breathe you ass nugget,” Katsuki told him, cutting him off. “It’s probably either something personal or something to do with the school.” Or both, he thought, but didn’t say out loud.

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto’s friends fell into pensive silence, sipping on their drinks, letting their sore muscles take a break from the strenuous exercises. Shouto carefully stretched out his legs on the sand, relishing in the fact that he was allowed to do so. His father would never have let him take a break so early in. They’d only been working for a little over an hour when the teachers told them to take a breather. It was nice, but Shouto noticed how many of his classmates looked absolutely exhausted.

            Further evidence of how different his own childhood had been from theirs. Something he didn’t know how to feel about. On one hand, it gave him and edge over all of his classmates. On the other hand, this weakness could effect his classmate’s ability to defend themselves. Then again, they were all children. So, hopefully, it would be a long time before they had to.

            Time that they could spend behaving as children, he thought to himself as he watched Kaminari throw dirt clods at Kirishima, but missing and striking Sero across the side of the head, causing the plain-faced boy to retaliate with his quirk, knocking Kaminari into Mina, who shrieked and kicked him, launching him towards Shinsou, where Tokoyami halted him mid hurtle with Dark Shadow.

            Todoroki smiled, and pulled out his phone.

            Honestly, it had been a while since he’d scrolled through the fansites and forums. The class discord had all but replaced it for him. It gave him that easy comradery he’d always craved, that before he only found every now and then when some unknown online entity replied to his posts or comments. Todoroki casually glanced around him before he uploaded the most recent photo he’d taken of Present Mic and Aizawa Sensei. He’d snapped the pic in the parking lot of UA, where any passerby could have ostensibly taken it. He was trying to be careful about what he posted. For the most part.

            In the picture, Mic was leaning towards Aizawa with a grin that Katsuki would have called “shit-eating,” one arm around Aizawa’s waist. Aizawa had both hands pressed against Mic’s shoulders, though whether he was leaning against his friend or pushing him away was anyone’s guess.

            Todoroki bit back his smile as comments and “uwu’s” poured in.

The parents that the world deserves

  1. the world doesn’t deserve this perfection

OP how do you do this????

u been quiet fr a while op. u gud?

AHHHHHHH thnks for thissssss

no pic of the kids today? aw….

            this is more than enough! Ive been fed hallelujah

            “What are you looking at Todoroki?” Shouto flinched and fumbled with his phone. Uraraka had been looking over his shoulder. When had she gotten there? She was grinning. How much had she seen?

            “Are you texting someone?” Midoriya asked from the other side of Bakugo. Todoroki swiped his thumb across the screen as subtly as he could, desperately searching for a new link, switching sites, heart inexplicably pounding as blood burned in his ears.

            He ignored how amused Bakugo looked.

            “Uh…All…Might…sightings?” Todoroki said, cautiously, looking at the new site he’d (thankfully) stumbled upon.

            “Right.” Uraraka said almost smugly. “And what is All Might doing that has you smiling like that. Huh?”

            Todoroki looked down at his phone. There was a four second clip of All Might vaulting off of buildings at lightning speed, with grace that belied his size. “I was only wondering if Midoriya’s quirk would be able to replicate this kind of agility.” He lied, showing the video to his friends.

            Bakugo snorted, clearly not believing him. But then he frowned and leaned in closer, taking the phone from Shouto. Todoroki would have protested, but something in Bakugo’s face stopped him. “When was this taken?”

            “I’m not sure.” Shouto said. “It was posted just a moment ago.”

            He watched as Bakugo opened up the comments.

OmG yes daddy those thighs

            okay but I would thank him for crushing my skull like

            ewww hes like….so old????

            how old?

            he was a hero when my dad was a kid…. Idk age tho

oh, hey, I go to that library

            ill bet that library thanked him for getting stepped on

is all might active right now? Isn’t he teaching????

            eh, he does this sometimes. shool cant stap the symol of peece!

Without a word, Katsuki scrambled to his feet.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Sensei.”

            Aizawa smoothly slid his phone back into his pocket. His stray shoved a phone that wasn’t his into Aizawa’s face. Shouta leaned backwards, taking the phone so that he could look at it properly. He watched the video, scowling at All Might prancing around on rooftops like the irresponsible child that he was.

            “I thought Whatsit was helping Papa?” Katsuki asked, eyes flashing dangerously, shoulders tensed and raised to his ears. Cementoss cleared his throat quietly, and slipped away towards Thirteen, who was speaking with Iida about procedures and protocol.

            “He was supposed to be,” Shouta sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry. I’ve already yelled at him.”

            “The villains haven’t shown up yet?”

            Aizawa wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t know for sure, and so he didn’t want to needlessly worry the kid. But, at the same time, it was clear that there was something very much not okay going on, and he was loathe to hide anything, as well. What that could translate into, which he could then explain to Katsuki, he wasn’t sure.

            “We lost contact,” he decided to say. “But Nedzu has been informed, and the other pros on campus are en route as we speak.” Then, his voice pitched just a bit softer, “he’s going to be okay.”

            “You can’t promise that.” Katsuki’s eyes were dark.

            “The heroes will be there soon,” Aizawa said in lieu of any other useless platitudes.

            “All right, heroes!” Thirteen called. “Gather ‘round, and we’ll start discussing strategies for burning buildings!” Bakugo didn’t budge as the rest of his classmates gathered themselves together. “Can anyone tell me the first thing to consider when faced with this sort of disaster and rescue scenario?”

            “Go on, Kacchan,” Aizawa prompted him, softly.

            “I wanna know what the fuck is going on,” Katsuki argued. “I already know all this shit, and I can see from here.” Aizawa didn’t have the heart to argue any more.

            “I don’t know much more than you do,” he said, pulling out his phone again, and handing the device that Katsuki had shoved in his face back to the teen. There was still no update from All Might, Nedzu, or anyone else.

            “Who’s going as backup?” Katsuki demanded.

            “Everyone.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

.“I AM HERE!”

All Might batted away debris that flew from the broken wall he’d just crashed though. Not hesitating to send a Smash’s shock wave towards a gaggle of criminals guarding the entrance. The crooks were weak, barely a threat at all – and certainly not to him. If this was all that the criminals had to offer, then clearly there was nothing to –

His smile dropped.

            Because there, in the center of the walk by the middle fountain, was a monster of a beast – easily twelve feet tall with bulging muscles, oil black skin, razor sharp fangs, and an exposed brain.

And in its hand…

            …was Yamada.

The voice hero was dangling from meaty fists holding him by his legs like a limp doll. His hands dragged uselessly across the ground as the monster brought Present Mic to whom All Might assumed was his master, leaving twin bloody smears across the ground. The villain commanding the monster was slight, young, with hands clinging to his body. They looked like genuine, human hands, and All Might felt his non-existent stomach lurch.

Present Mic wasn’t stirring.

And the villain with the dismembered hands, as well as another being standing at his shoulder, were looking directly at him.

All might threw himself forward, fist raised in a punch. It knocked the beast back, but it didn’t stumble. All Might launched another hit, this time aiming for the creature’s arm. It landed, and the beast lost its hold on Present Mic who was flung to the side. Lifeless.

“Nomu. New objective.” The villain in charge said, voice flat. “Kill All Might. The main quest finally started.”

All Might ignored him, dashing after Young Yamada, just barely managing to catch him, cradling him to his chest, before the younger hero hit the ground. The Voice Hero was in terrible shape, his face was destroyed, his limbs were all a bloody mess, and his torso seemed to have been shattered out of shape. All Might dodged the monster, who had charged him like a bull, and deposited Present Mic on the ground near the wall. Then he turned, just as the monster, this Nomu, was about to lay hands on him. He caught the beast, and the wrestled. The Nomu giving him more of a fight than he could have expected.

As soon as All Might could, he led the Nomu away from where Present Mic still lay, motionless. None of his blows seemed to be doing anything, other than occasionally moving it. There was no visible lasting damage.

All Might upped his effort, feeling the strain burn against his old injury. But as he thought of how injured Yamada was, he couldn’t bear the thought of giving any less. Toshinori could only be thankful that he still had about an hour of time left. If Young Bakugo hadn’t stopped him that morning, if Aizawa hadn’t called…

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Nemuri took care of the last few villains she’d retrieved from the water area, tossing them into a wet pile. She hated just leaving them like that, where they could potentially wake up and get away. But it wasn’t like she had enough restrains for all of them. There were several dozen that she’d found so far after clearing the landslide, burning building, and mountainous zones.

      Then a crash echoed, booming, through the simulation joined, and Midnight heard All Might’s typical “I AM HERE!” She felt herself relax. Hizashi must have gotten him.

      Did that mean that communications were back up? She tapped her ear piece and tried again. “Snipe?” Still just static. Midnight growled and cut the connection, turning her face towards where she knew the entrance in the walls that lead to the control room to be. She stormed into the building, turning the corner to the stairwell and taking the steps four at a time.

      She opens the door to the control room, expecting to find her coworker still keeping watch. But, instead, she found Snipe being held – completely cocooned in what looked like slimy blue vines – and guarded by two hulking guards. Snipe struggled against the bonds, even as the two leaped at Midnight after getting over their momentary shock at seeing her there.

      Midnight released her quirk, and the two dropped like stones. Midnight grabbed Snipe, who luckily had the common sense to hold his breath as soon as he’d noticed who it was that had come to find him. The vines had loosened as soon as the man whose quirk they were had fallen unconscious, so it was simply a matter of dragging Snipe out of the gas filled room, and into the hallway, where he could breathe safely. But Snipe didn’t pause to catch his breath, instead he grabbed hold of her wrist, dragging her after him.

      “There’s a villain with a portal quirk,” Snipe spat, angrily. “That’s how they got the jump on me, cheating bastards. Now hurry!”

      “What’s going on, what did you see?” she asked, gaining her footing and speeding along beside him. Snipe found a window overlooking the simulation joint, and slid it open, hefting his weapon, and aiming it out the opening.

      “The villains brought a monster of a man with ‘em. Some type of transformation quirk, I reckon. Hizashi got trampled something awful. All Might pulled him into the clear, but…Midnight…he didn’t look good.” Snipe punctuated the statement with a pull from his gun, the blast muffled by a silencer, but Midnight trusted that the bullet struck true. “He’s over by the hole All Might knocked into the side of the wall on his way in.” He told her, talking quickly. “Best get him out.”

      “On it,” she didn’t stick around any longer than that. She leaped out the window, pushing past Snipe. On her way down, she got a look at the monster of a man that Snipe was talking about. It really did look like a monster, but it wasn’t what Nemuri cared about. All Might was already taking care of it. All that mattered was getting to her idiot friend who had gotten himself hurt.

      She could see the opening that All Might made and ran with everything she had. She didn’t know who fast or how long she ran, all she knew was that it had taken too much time to reach Hizashi, who was laying in a puddle of his own blood. Not moving.

      “Oh, ‘Zashi, what’d it do to you,” she whispered mournfully, gathering her friend up into her arms. Hizashi didn’t move. She didn’t know if he was even breathing, but just was terrified what the answer to that would be if she paused to check. He looked….he looked bad.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” she said, rising are carefully as she could while still moving swiftly. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see one of the villains jerk in a very tell tale way, that meant Snipe’s bullets at found a target in the man’s torso, and she felt brief satisfaction, before turning all of her attention on getting Hizashi the hell out of there.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

      Toshinori wasn’t used to needing backup.

      The Nomu didn’t falter, even as Toshinori felt himself growing tired, growing weaker. The two of them were braced against each other. Evenly matched.

      And out of the corner of his eye, he saw the villain with the decapitated hand approaching. Shigaraki, the purple being had called him, had his palm outstretched, five fingers lazily extended towards All Might’s old injury.

      Then, Shigaraki stumbled, blood blossoming from his torso. Then his hand jerked to the side, and the villain howled in pain, clutching his wrist to his chest where it dripped crimson. Snipe.

      “The cheater shot me,” Shigaraki muttered. “Kurogiri…”

      The portal being extended a hand, and an emptiness opened up beneath All Might’s feet. Shigaraki was groaning, holding his stomach where Toshinori assumed his other bullet wound was. All Might struggled to keep his hold on the Nomu, the only thing keeping him from slipping into the portal beneath his feet, that had now swallowed all of him up to his waist. He was unsure where the portal lead to, and he didn’t want to find out.

      Bullets lodged into the Nomu’s head. But they seemed to be ineffective.

Then his back up arrived.

“Shigaraki. We should go.”

“No!” Shigaraki hissed through his pain. “I can’t leave this undone. I can’t fail.”

“We already have.”

All Might ignored them, as a vibration through the earth rumbled against him. He could feel it through the portal. A claw extended from the earth and pulled him to the side. Power Loader had burrowed beneath the Nomu. The monster fell into the unstable earth, collapsing the ground into the tunnel that Power Loader had burrowed. And All Might quickly got to his feet, nodded towards the other pro, who only threw himself back into the ground before the villains could react.

            Ectoplasm’s cloned piled on top of the Nomu, who flailed and threw the copies away faster than they could come. All Might took the opportunity to take a breath, then threw himself back into the fight. His arms, his fists, flew faster than he could remember having to work in years. One for All crackled like Young Midoriya’s lightning, and his vision blurred.

Crimson ropes fluidly wrapped around the Nomu, then hardened. The Nomu shattered it, easily, but it was clearly not meant to fight this many pro heroes at once.

Power Loader flung himself from the earth and gouged gashes down the back of the creatures head, scowling as it quickly regenerated. More blood from Vlad King cascaded over the Nomu, but this time Vlad King hardened them into spikes, which rained down and struck the monster’s skin like spears.

All Might raised both fists into the air. “Detroit…” he growled, bringing them down onto the creature’s head. “SMASH!”

            When the dust cleared, the Nomu had stopped moving, but the two villains were long gone.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa knew that something was wrong. He felt it in his gut. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. But he didn’t know what, and he didn’t want to make any rash decisions or assumptions with his kids right there, depending on him.

            Katsuki had stayed by his side, refusing to join in with the exercises, ignoring the concerned or confused looks that the other students were giving both their classmate and their teacher. Thirteen and Cementoss looked like they wanted to urge Katsuki to participate, but neither actually said anything, leaving the teen to be dealt with by Aizawa.

            Not that Aizawa wanted Kacchan to go anywhere.

            His phone buzzed, and Aizawa felt relief break across his back like a tidal wave that almost knocked him over. It was the vibration that his calls were set to. Aizawa retrieved his phone and had it answered before it really registered that it was Nemuri who was called him, not Hizashi. But it was fine, his brain rationalized. Nemuri was with Hizashi.

            “Midnight,” Aizawa answered, voice calm, seeing Katsuki watching him like a hawk from at his side. “Status update?”

            “Shouta,” Midnight’s voice sounded hoarse. Shaking. Aizawa caught his breath.

            “You…you need to come…to…to the hospital. Bring your kids.” Midnight paused and shuddered out what might have been a sob. “And hurry.”

Chapter 33

Summary:

ahhh, this was hard for me to write. But! AgustD-2 was released and I was inspired to get off my butt and actually get something productive done. So, here this is! Let me know what you think....

Chapter Text

Throughout the years, there were moments that made Aizawa Shouta just stop and think to himself That’s my best friend with varying degrees of fondness and irritation.

            Like when they were still students at UA, and the blonde cockatoo decided that it would be funny to prank their teachers with a giant balloon full of glitter. Of course, Hizashi being who he is, he managed to overinflate the damn thing and have it explode all over himself. The blonde was spitting sparkles for a week, and as Aizawa watched him proudly show off his glittering tongue in the cafeteria, Shouta slid down in his seat at the table, trying to turn invisible, thinking to himself yup, that is my best friend…

            Or like when they were freshly out of UA, and they’d gone patrolling together with the vague idea that Yamada could be his loud and obnoxious self while Aizawa captured the low level crooks from the shadows, allowing Eraserhead his anonymity while letting Present Mic get some show time. Only, that plan quickly devolved into Aizawa watching as his friend and the leader of the crooks started a “yo mamma” battle thirty seconds in. As Shouta knocked out the cackling criminals from behind, Aizawa cringed and thought, in spite of himself ugh…that’s my best friend?

            Or like when Aizawa had first bought his house, and decided he was fine with having nothing in it but a mattress on the floor, and Hizashi had thrown a fit, arriving the next day with all of their friends plus pizza and furniture, throwing an impromptu house-warming party. That afternoon, Hizashi spilled a bag full of tiny screws all across the hardwood floors as he attempted to piece together an end table for Shouta’s bedroom, then proceeded to scramble on hands and knees with his rear end in the air trying to catch them all. He had let Mic embarrass himself as Tensei and Nemuri laughed and he thought to himself this is my best friend…

            Or like on Valentine’s Day, when Katsuki was sick, and Hizashi spent the entire day bending over backwards making sure everyone was comfortable and happy, despite the fact that Shouta knew he had wanted to get out of the house for a change and do something special. He’d watched his best friend stir a pot of chicken soup, humming quietly to himself, as Katsuki quietly watched a movie in the living room. Hizashi had pulled Shouta into his warm side, arm around his waist, and pressed a dry kiss to the side of his head, and Shouta had held him just as tightly, thinking, this is my best friend.

            Now, he stood over a hospital bed.

            He’d screamed at All Might the entire way to the hospital over phone until his throat was raw, probably terrifying the police officer who was forced to drive him and his boys, and the absolute buffoon (to his credit, though Aizawa was loathe to give him any) had called in every favor he owned. Now, a specialist with a bone manipulation quirk was being flown in from South Korea, and a surgeon with energy transferal power was being brought in from Tokyo to help aid Recovery Girl.

            Even still, it was all the doctors could do to keep Hizashi breathing, via tubes and wires and god knows what else, keep his heart beep beep beeping on the monitor. Hizashi was a mess of bandages and blood and scrapes and bruises. He was barely alive. He’d flatlined on the way to the hospital, and it was frankly a miracle that they’d managed to pull him back.

            “He’s a fighter,” a doctor had told him like Shouta hadn’t already known that, just before they’d insisted that Aizawa couldn’t go in to see Mic, seeing as how he wasn’t immediate family. Aizawa hadn’t even bothered protesting. He’d simply done a heel turn and stalked out of the building.

            Then he climbed up the side of the hospital and crept into Hizashi’s room through the window, and devil help anyone who tried to remove him.

The only reason Katsuki wasn’t in there with him was because Katsuki had suffered from a severe panic attack as soon as the doctor had laid out just what was wrong with Yamada.

            Cracked skull. Torn muscles and tendons and ligaments. Shattered limbs and brutalized rib cage. Severe blood loss. Internal bleeding from the lungs and stomach where pieces of his ribs had lodged themselves. Possible brain injury, but impossible to know just how severe until he wakes up. If he wakes up.

            Aizawa was torn between wanting to comfort his child and needing to see Hizashi. Luckily, Nemuri took the choice away from him, sedating Kacchan and forcing Detective Tsukauchi, who was there to see All Might, and the hospital staff to give the boy his own room. Izuku went with Katsuki, casting regretful eyes towards Hizashi’s hospital door, but choosing to be led away by Nemuri.

            Which led to Aizawa being refused by the doctors to see Hizashi, which led to him sneaking in, which left Aizawa where he was, standing over his best friend who may or may not ever wake up. Aizawa might never hear his obnoxious laugh again, never see those brilliant green eyes sparkle at a terrible joke, never dance some ridiculous made up jig in the kitchen with him, never have another movie night curled between his best friend and their kids, never have another quiet moment lying next to each other in the early hours of the morning, smiling at each other because neither one of them wanted to get up first.

            Aizawa looked down at the beaten, broken form and thought…

            This… this is the love of my life.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

At some point, doctors came in to start a procedure, the specialists finally arrived and debriefed. They had startled, seeing him haunting the room, but he had flat out refused to leave. They warned him that the surgery wouldn’t be pretty, but Aizawa hadn’t cared.

            Blood didn’t bother him.

            The idea that Hizashi might die on the table, surrounded by strangers, did.

            So he watched, unblinking, despite the pain, as they slowly pieced Hizashi back together.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The room was dark and quiet. Curtains pulled tightly shut, lights off. The sound of deep breathing to his right, where Izuku laid next to him on the wobbling hospital bed. Katsuki sat up, briefly confused because he didn’t feel injured, and he wasn’t hooked up to any sort of machinery like he’d often found himself in the future Before after a particularly difficult battle.

            Then he remembered, and he threw himself off of the bed. His hand was already on the door handle before he’d realized that Midnight was also in the room with them, dozing in a chair with her head tipped back to rest against the wall. Slowly, so as to not make any unnecessary noise, Katsuki turned the handle, slipping into the hallway.

            Katsuki remembered the tense drive to the hospital. The pale, drawn face of his teacher. The way Aizawa sensei had genuinely screamed into the phone.

            “You imbecilic selfish bastard!” he’d blasted, rage fueled venom. “Are you really so full of yourself that you had to prioritize your own swollen ego over a mission that you were specifically told was of uttermost importance? You don’t deserve your titles and you don’t deserve your positions. You’re nothing but a child with blinders on, unable to see past your own ambitions, and now my – now Hizashi might…”

            He remembered the almost painful grip sensei had on Katsuki’s knee the entire way to the hospital, where he had sat between Aizawa and Izuku, who was pale faced and silent, not even daring to mutter under his breath.

            Aizawa hadn’t taken a backwards glance at the two of them when the car pulled up at the hospital – flinging the door open, the teacher had dashed towards the doors and demanded to know which room Present Mic had been taken to.

            After that was a blur of noise and motion, and Katsuki could still hear the doctor’s voice echoing in the bustling, frantic hallway, telling them all the injuries that Present Mic…

            …that his Papa might die from.

            It’s stupid. It’s really stupid, but it wasn’t until just then that Katsuki realized it had been a while since he’d been calling Hizashi “Papa” with more nonchalance and fondness than sarcasm and derision. It was more than a stupid nickname…this man who was more supportive than his birth father had ever been, more present, more affectionate, more understanding. A softer compliment to Sensei’s no-nonsense nature.

            And that man might die.

            He knew which door was hiding Mic, remembering from earlier. How much earlier the chaos of their arrival had been, he didn’t know. He really had no way of knowing how long Midnight’s quirk had knocked him out for. He just hoped that the time stolen from him wouldn’t make him too late to…

            The door was left unmonitored, save for one Detective Tsukauchi, who was leaning on the adjacent wall, near another closed door, looking as though he were waiting for something. The detective looked up. His eyes met Katsuki’s, and for and instant Bakugo was afraid that the man would try to stop him.

            But the man only sighed, sadly, and tipped his hat at Bakugo before turning to face the other way. Neither of them spoke a word as Katsuki stepped into Hizashi’s hospital room.

            Sensei was sitting at Mic’s bedside, his head resting against the stiff, sterile mattress. Hizashi looked…he looked terrible. He looked dead. The only way that Katsuki knew he wasn’t too late was by the quiet beeping of machinery. Katsuki slowly crept closer, and saw that Aizawa’s hand was gently laying over Mic’s cast-encased wrist, curving lightly around the plaster.

            His face was pointed towards the door Katsuki had just stepped through, and his tired, red-rimmed eyes were half open. Yet, he didn’t respond, didn’t even blink, when Katsuki entered the room. The boy made his way to Yamada’s other side, looking down at the battered face.

            In his mind’s eye, he remembered. He saw Aizawa wrapped like a mummy. He saw Aizawa in a pool of blood. Then, sensei’s body was replaced with Hizashi’s, and it suddenly occurred to Katsuki that Hizashi stood even less of a change against the Nomu than Aizawa had. Aizawa was nimble, used to close combat, trained extensively for just that kind of situation against foes who his quirk would not work against.

            But Hizashi? He was a long-range fighter. Sure, he was a capable pro who could hold his own when it came down to it, but it wasn’t his usual style. It wasn’t his strongest techniques.

            Bakugo wasn’t sure just what injuries Aizawa had sustained in his first timeline, but he knew with certainty that Hizashi had come away from the battle far worse off.

            He might die. He might die, just like Deku had died in a bloody smear on concrete. He might die as a result from a battle he shouldn’t have been in. In a situation he’d only been faced with because of Katsuki.

            But, this time, Katsuki hadn’t even been there. He hadn’t been the one to suffer for his choices, for his meddling, in the slightest. He’d been off playing school with the little kids in his class, drinking Gatorade and playing glorified tag.

            His fists were clenched so hard they were shaking.

            He hated himself.

            He hated himself.

            The door creaked open.

            It was All Might.

No. It was Toshinori, small and weak.

            Pathetic.

            The man also hadn’t been there. And he should have. He should have, and Bakugo had taken great care to ensure that the asshole hadn’t been prancing around the city before school, and yet somehow the so called ‘hero’ had decided that, no, purse snatchers and jaywalkers were more important than a fucking UA mission. More important than protecting a school full of the next generation of heroes.

            More important than Katsuki’s ...

            And Bakugo hated him.

            “How dare you.” His voice sounded like sandpaper over a scattering of marbles, rough and fragile and shaking. “How dare you show your fucking mug in here.”

            “Young Bakugo,” Toshinori raised his hand placatingly. He swallowed, once, twice. “I just wanted to see how-“

            “He’s dying.” Katsuki said, squaring his shoulders. “Is that what you wanted to hear, you fucking dick.”

            Toshinori flinched. “I-“

            “ ‘I’ ?” Katsuki parroted, scoffing. “Yeah, that’s what it’s all about isn’t it? You. Always you. The number one. Always gotta put yourself first. Gotta make sure all those other heroes stay outta your way, huh?”

            “N-no” Toshinori coughed, wetly, but Katsuki didn’t care.

            “You killed him!” He screeched, an explosion of grief. His quirk popped and crackled in his closed palm, and his clenched his hands tighter, worried of what his quirk might to do the medical equipment he was surrounded by. “I made sure you went to school on time, I made sure of it, but you were still late! You were late, and you should have been there! This is your damn fault, you useless piece of shit! So get the fuck out, because you don’t deserve to look at him, you sorry excuse for a hero!”

            “Young Baku-“

            “Get the hell out.” But it wasn’t Katsuki who had spoken. His rage had choked all the words in him, leaving him a hissing, growling, incoherent mess, the sweat on his palms crackling like poprocks. It wasn’t Katsuki who had spoken.

Aizawa was rising from his chair, quirk on, hair flying wildly about his head.

            “Don’t talk to my kid.” He looked like an avenging demon, and Toshinori shrunk away from him. “Stay away from Hizashi. Stay away from Kacchan. And stay away from Izuku. He’s going to be a hero far better than you. I don’t want him learning anything from a disgrace to my profession. So… Get out. And stay away from my family.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The students of class 1-A had been sent home early by Cementoss and Thirteen. The bus ride back to campus had been silent. Eerie, because this group of kids was never silent. There was almost at least someone whispering, someone muttering, someone giggling.

            But no one even looked up from their laps then entire ride back.

            A few quiet good-bye’s were exchanged as they went their separate ways. It was selfish, but Todoroki found himself missing the after-school PE class. He missed listening to the happy chatter of his friends. He missed his friends in general.

            He walked home, feeling odd. Feeling out of place. Not only because it was earlier in the day than he usually made the trip home, but because he was walking at all, rather than being driven home by Aizawa or Yamada sensei in their family car, late at night, after dinner and games. He missed his friends, the loneliness a familiar chill in the air against his skin.

            It was so very selfish - because something had happened. Something terrible had happened that made Sensei call for Midoriya, panicked, grabbing Katsuki by the arm, and flat out running for the parking lot. A few minutes later, police sirens could be heard, though the police were gone by the time the students piled into the bus, so Todoroki could only assume that the little family had been picked up by the cops and taken away.

            Taken where he didn’t know.

            He got home and didn’t bother announcing himself. Only Fuyomi was there to greet him, anyway. His father had sent him a rather abrupt text, coldly informing his son that their evening training would have to be postponed, as he’d been called to UA by Nedzu to help contain a particularly powerful villain in the event that it regained consciousness during travel to the containment facility.

            “I made some soup,” Fuyomi said, gently, trying to relieve him of his school bag. Shouto tightened his grip. Sidesteps away from her.

            “I’m not hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Uneasiness swirled in his gut like sick.

            Fuyomi just looked more worried. He didn’t know how much the school had told her, and he wasn’t inclined to offer any information on his own. Not that he had much he could have told her anyway. “Just a little?”

            “Later.” That time it was a lie, but Shouto ignored the faint guilt as he made his way down the hall to his room, dropping his bag just inside his door and kicking it shut, turning the lock until he heard the satisfying click of the latch.

            He tore off his outer shirt and pinched off his socks, dropping the articles of clothing on the way to his bed mat, where he collapsed heavily onto his blankets, pulling his phone from his pocket. He was so very selfish, to be feeling this poorly when it was his friends who were suffering. He wasn’t even sure exactly what it is that he was feeling, just a gnawing ache in his stomach, his heart lightly clenching every other beat.

            He curled up on his side, fetal position, and didn’t acknowledge the stinging in his eyes as he opened up his most used app.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

ShittyHair: any word guys?

SweetCheeks: I havnt heard from Deku in a while

SweetCheeks: he was texting me on his way to the hospital

Frogger: So that’s where they went in a hurry.

SoySauceFace: What did Mido say @SweetCheeks

SweetCheeks: not much…just that one of their family members got caught in a villain attack. It seemed pretty serious.

Pinky: @Shitstain any word from Kacchan?

Shitstain: no…

Shitstain: no one’s told me anything

Shitstain: no one is at their house either

ThatFuckingChicken: misery loves company

ThatFuckingChicken: and I would hate for you to be alone right now.

Shitstain: dm me ur address then

Halfy: I think im scared

PonyTail: don’t be scared, Todoroki!

Frogger: it’s likely that their family member was gravely injured

ROBOCOP: Please, let us not speculate!

ROBOCOP: We can only be supportive when the time comes!

Shitstain: Kacchan usually keeps me in the loop.

ShittyHair: He hasn’t been responding to you either?

PikaPikachuuuu: ive been spamming him w texts to

PikaPikachuuuu: no luck so far

PikaPikachuuuu: do you think they’ll be in school on Monday?

Gloves: I hope so

Gloves: not gonna lie

Gloves: seeing sensei like that…

Tails: it was terrifying.

Gloves: yeah

Pinky: guess that confirms it tho

Halfy: confirms what?

Frogger: what?

Pinky: that dadzawa is Kacchan’s dad.

Pinky: it must have been his papa that got hurt

ROBOCOP: let us not speculate!

PonyTail: Iida’s right, we can’t jump to conclusions.

EarJaxx: plus that would mean it was Mic sensei who’s dying

EarJaxx: and he’s kinda my hero

EarJaxx: so

ROBOCOP: it isn’t confirmed that anyone is dying

Frogger: it could also be one of Midoriya’s parents.

Shitstain: no, I just texted his mom

Shitstain: she says she’s fine, she wouldn’t tell me anything else…

PikaPikachuuuu: what abt his dad tho

Shitstain: his dad isn’t in the picture

EarJaxx: if Mic dies im dropping out I swear to god

ROBOCOP: Present Mic sensei would not want you to sacrifice your education!

ROBOCOP: And no one is dying!

TheMuffinMan: that we know of

Halfy: what do we do

SweetCheeks: I don’t think there’s anything that we can do, Todo

That really wasn’t the answer that Shouto wanted to hear.

            He closed the app and curled up tighter on himself, listening to his sister moving around the manor. He focused on his breathing, trying to will back the welling in his eyes. He wasn’t used to uncertainty. His entire life was a careful alignment of structure and schedule and expectation. His every day was planned out and handed to him. He used to hate the rigidness. The strictness.

            But just then he would give anything for clear instructions on what do to.

            But there was no one willing to give him any answers. So, he did what he always did when he was feeling lonely, and back before he had discord to keep him company.

            He opens the EraserMic page.

            And then he regretted it, because he finally got some answers.

There were pictures of Present Mic being unloaded from an ambulance in the lot of a hospital. Staff of the hospital did their best to shield the hero from the cameras aimed towards them, but they were no match for the force that is determined and concerned fans.

            Also, there was no mistaking the outfit, the hair. Even with how bloody and battered the hero was.

            There were other pictures, all of them blurry, but identifiable, of Aizawa and the two boys arriving to the hospital in a police car. The general consensus of the forum seems to be a grim “Well if we weren’t sure before, this confirms it,” only slightly overwhelmed by everyone praying or sending wishes out into the universe for Mic’s speedy recovery.

            Todoroki felt as though his classmates would appreciate the update, so he saved several of the most clear pictures, then reposted them into the discord chat, before flicking back to the fanpage to scour for more news, ignoring the sudden influx of messages aimed at him.

ShittyHair: @Halfy bro where is this from

Pinky: you can’t just drop this and not reply!!! @Halfy

SweetCheeks: yeah…I just saw this, too @Halfy

SweetCheeks: @Halfy, are you ok?

The media, the swarming buzzards that they are, has somehow already gotten a vague wind of what went down at USJ, but seeing as how UA is yet to make a formal announcement, it’s mostly speculation, and there is a lot of false information being spread, including a rumor that two students died.

DatEraserMicLife: [uploaded image] 27.1k upvotes

-not that I want UA students to be hurt, but im glad it wasn’t erasermic’s boys

1.4k replies

-god I really hope no one died

-[god I really…] if a hero was that badly wounded I don’t even wanna think abt how bad off the kids are

-what were villains even doing at UA??? Isn’t their security like…the best????

-ugh, plz UA hurry up and say something im so worried

-UA’s media team is usually better than this….

-[UA’s media team…] it only just happened…im sure they’ll say something soon

-fuk I feel sorry for any kids that were there. Can u imagine seeing one of ur teachers, a pro!, getting wiped like that?

Todoroki clicked away from his timeline, selecting make post, before hesitating over what to say. Already, people were dming him, asking him if he knew anything. People online had been speculating for a while that he was a UA student, though it was split between people thinking he was in the same class as “erasermic’s” kids, or an upperclassmen.

984539483: [text only] 32 upvotes

-ignoring the how, why would villains target USJ?

10 replies

-hey icecube, glad ur safe

-fuck if I kno.

-I mean… wipe out the next gen heroes before they stronk enough to fight back?

-[I mean…] that’s fucking dark bro

- so far we havn’t seen any students taken to the hospital yeah? Maybe the heroes were the targets

-[so far we havn’t…] what kinda idiot targets UA heroes tho???

-[what kinda…] villains aren’t really known for their sanity

-op were u there?

 

The villains had attacked USJ. Todoroki didn’t know if there had been students there, or not. So far, nothing was confirmed, aside from what the fans had stumbled upon at the hospital or via the resulting pictures. But…what if the heroes were the targets? But then, why Present Mic? Present Mic didn’t have any ultimate nemesis like some pro heroes did. There was no villain – to his knowledge, but then, he was a fan and the fans seem to know everything – who had some vendetta against the Voice Hero. Afterall, though accidents did happen, Present Mic was a mostly non-combative hero, preferring to attack non fatally from afar to incapacitate, quickly subduing his enemies with as little damage to person and property as possible. He was most well known as a teacher and radio show host. Surely, if the villains were after anyone they’d target someone like Endeavor, who made enemies left and right without trying, or All Might who was the number one and therefore a goalpost for villains with something to prove…

            All Might…who was now a teacher at UA…

984539483: [text only] 2.2k upvotes

-ignoring the how, why would villains target USJ?

            -what if they were after All Might?

306 replies

-you’re crazy man, no one can beat all might

-but then why would mic be so badly hurt

-[but then…] I mean, all might wasn’t at usj, he was in the city

-[I mean…] how do you know????

-[how do you…] there are videos of him stopping a carcrash or smt

-[there are…] I actually saw him in person, jumping around rooftops

-allmight ult fan here… all might’s been active less an less over the years…and he’s getting on in age. As much as I hate to say it, bc all might is my hero, uhhh…not totally impossible that villains would choose to try and take him out.

-[allmight ult fan…] you’re not saying what I think ur saying???? All might can’t be weak!

 

Todoroki was about to go searching on All Might forums, to try and gather data on the number one hero, because, as much as he respected the guy, he’d never been an enormous fan (not like with erasermic). Was it true? Was All Might growing weaker? How old was All Might, anyway? He hadn’t realized just how little he knew about the number one hero, but, then, part of All Might’s appeal was how much of an enigma he is…

But before he could, he got a dm from Uraraka.

Private Chat

@Ochakoko [AKA SweetCheeks]

Ochakoko: hey Todo

Ochakoko: so… I made a gc for people who know

Todoroki: know?

Ochakoko: about Erasermic

Ochakoko shared an invite with you!

Clicking on the link, he wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not that Uraraka had figured it out. She, after all, was good friends with Midoriya.

EraserMicFam Protection Squad

#general

Todoroki brought the pizza! Let’s party!

Kirishima: hey Todoroki

Shinsou: so yeah im staying with Tokoyami for now

Shinsou: sup halfy

IidaTenya: hello, Todoroki. I would say I am pleased to have you in this server, but circumstances prevent me from feeling very pleased about anything to be honest.

Kirishima: where did you get those pictures??

Kirishima: that you dropped in 1A chat

Todoroki: on an erasermic forum

Shinsou: so it’s confirmed?

Todoroki: as much as it can be without an official statement

Ochakoko: guys… I really want to do something for them but I just don’t know what or how

Ochakoko: any ideas?

IidaTenya: as considerate as the urge is, I’m afraid that without any information it’s hard to come to a worthy decision.

IidaTenya: I propose we wait until we have more information, and then visit Mic Sensei in the hospital.

IidaTenya: my brother is good friends with him, and he’ll want to visit anyway.

Kirishima: would your brother mind if I tagged along?

IidaTenya: I do not think so, but I will ask just in case!

Shinsou: I’m going with Mrs. Midoriya tomorrow…

Shinsou: I wanna bring Tokoyami but I’m not sure I’m allowed.

Ochakoko: I know what you mean. I want to visit as well, but I’m not really supposed to know.

Kirishima: how do you know? Ive never seen you at the house

IidaTenya: you’ve been to their house?

Ochakoko: I just figured it out, and Deku was bad at lying.

Shinsou: he really is.

Shinsou: Todoroki, would you like to come with me and Mrs. Midoriya tomorrow?

Todoroki: If I’m allowed. Should I bring something?

Ochakoko: oh that’s a great idea, Todo!!

IidaTenya: I see nothing wrong with arranging small gifts to bring

IidaTenya: I’m sure it would be appreciated.

Kirishima: what, like cards?

Shinsou: Mic likes flowers.

Shinsou: maybe a pair of headphones or earbuds so he can listen to music.

Ochakoko: maybe a small speaker instead? We don’t know how injured he is or if its wise for him to use those…

            Shouto silently closed the app and rose to his feet, wiping his eyes and drying off his cheeks. He still felt lightheaded, but armed with a plan of action he did feel marginally better.

The flowers in the richly maintained Todoroki garden caught his eyes, just outside of his window, in full bloom.

            “Fuyomi” he called stepping out into the hallway. There was a clatter of dishes in the kitchen, then his sister peered her head around the corner.

            “Are you hungry?” she asked, wringing her hands. Shouto shook his head, and her face fell. But he joined her in the kitchen anyway.

            “Do we have…construction paper?”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Private Chat

@Katsukills [AKA Kacchan]

ShittyHair: u didn’t look so good

ShittyHair: and u guys left real quick

ShittyHair: they let us out early

ShittyHair: Are u ok?

ShittyHair: or is everything ok?

ShittyHair: I’m just really worried

ShittyHair: not that u need me to worry about u!

ShittyHair: I know ur strong and stuff

ShittyHair: like super strong, and the manliest of the entire class

ShittyHair: ╭( ・)و ̑̑

ShittyHair: if im buggin u jus tell me to stop

ShittyHair: should I stop?

ShittyHair: so, iida’s bro is coming tomorrow

ShittyHair: I heard abt ur papa

ShittyHair: Im so so so sorry Bakugo

ShittyHair: is he gonna be ok?

ShittyHair: how r u feeling?

ShittyHair: im comin w iida’s bro tomorrow

ShittyHair: if that’s not ok just tell me, ok buddy?

ShittyHair: I know we only just started hanging out and stuff

ShittyHair: but im here for u

ShittyHair: at least I wanna b

ShittyHair: u want me to bring anything with me when I come?

ShittyHair: I really hope this all turns out ok

ShittyHair: you don’t have to say anything you don’t wanna

ShittyHair: but id really like to hear from you

ShittyHair: even if its just some random emoji

ShittyHair: I’ll leave you alone for now

ShittyHair: but I really hope ur ok

ShittyHair: as ok as u can b anyway

ShittyHair: sorry ill shut up now

ShittyHair: good night

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

In the dark hospital room, Katsuki sat on the floor, leaning against Aizawa’s leg as the teacher dozed in the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

            The still form laying in bed hadn’t moved at all.

            The phone in his lap slowly vibrated less and less, fewer and fewer of his classmates online for the night. Deku had come and gone, whispering something in Papa Mic’s ear, then letting Midnight escort him back home to his mother for the night.

            Aizawa shifted in his sleep, his head laying against the mattress near Hizashi’s arm, where Aizawa’s hand still lay resting over Mic’s. Katsuki shifts on the hard floor, staring hard at his dms.

            It starts with a hiccup, ends with a shudder. Splatters hit the blue lit screen of his phone, as the dams finally broke, and Katsuki let himself cry, unseen.

Chapter 34

Summary:

It's pride month, and FESTA week, and the world is ending, so why not update.

So all my queer people, for what it's worth, happy pride month. Even with all the garbage going on, you and your struggles are still vaild - if anything now more than ever. Black lives matter. Trans Black lives matter. LGBTQ+ lives matter. And it sucks that this is even a debate right now. Everyone has inherent worth by virtue of being a human. Everyone has endless potential. And change is possible.

Let's keep hoping for a better tomorrow. Don't lose hope.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Inko was far too used to doing things on her own. She worked, on her own, in an empty apartment while Izuku was at school or out with friends in order to try and provide for her little hero in training. She raised Izuku without a partner. She threw eight birthday parties with cakes she baked herself for Izuku, the only guests in attendance being herself and little Katsuki. She took care of house, did errands by herself, read books quietly, entertained herself with whatever happened to be on the television, and just generally kept herself busy.

            By herself.

            She told herself it was fulfilling, and in many ways it was. She wasn’t like her son. She had no need or desire to chase down adventure, to face improbable odds and prevail. Despite having a youth filled with traveling, she’d become a bit of a homebody; she was content with her little home that she made beautiful with all the tender eye for detail that a mother had. She was happy laying down the foundation for her son that he would need to catapult into his own life.

            But, every now and then, she just got so unbearably lonely.

            When Aizawa Shouta turned up at her doorstep one day, she knew it would be a turning point for her life. She just hadn’t known how much so. Now, her days were peppered with lunches when her table was filled on every side. Movie nights in her living room were much livelier when they were able to get Aizawa to push off patrols. Day trips to zoos and aquariums and parks and festivals became the norm.

            He was a father figure to her son. Something Izuku had never really had a chance to experience. But, of course, she was no fool. She knew that most of Aizawa’s focus was on Katsuki. But if Izuku didn’t begrudge the man for it, she wouldn’t either. Afterall… at least Izuku had an involved mother…

            Then Yamada blew threw her house like a thunderstorm, leaving laughter in his wake. A missing piece she hadn’t realized they needed.

            But, again. Katsuki was the focus of the hero couple (and they were a couple, Inko had watched the way they interacted, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded.) Again, she wasn’t resentful. If anything, she was pleased that they didn’t see the need to step in to Izuku’s life to the same degree that they had for Katsuki.

            Even still, though she was slowly rebuilding a kind of support system that, ideally, she would have had all along, sometimes she would watch Yamada and Aizawa walk hand in hand and feel that familiar loneliness rise up.

            Until Toshinori.

            Unlike the other two heroes, his focus was first and foremost on Izuku – despite Toshinori and Inko’s first meeting being somewhat emotional and violent in nature. Here was Izuku’s idol, All Might himself, asking to have a small role in Izuku’s life.

            And Izuku glowed.

            He came home from training every day near radiant with exuberance. Motor mouth running at a million miles a minute, face shining, possibilities and plans dripping from his eyes.

            And one day, he brought Toshinori along for dinner. The man was awkward, overly polite, and sat like he was afraid he’d break her sofa when she ushered him into the living room for before-dinner tea. He was quiet, out of his element, attempting to hold onto a painfully wide grin that just looked out of place on his smaller form.

            Then he started talking. And everything he had to say was about Izuku. It was easy to have a conversation, then. Stories and laughter seasoned the evening meal, even as Izuku tried to melt out of his seat from embarrassment after Inko decided to crack out the photo albums.

            Dinner turned to dinners, which turned to lunches, which turned to outings with just the three of them. Over the summer, they’d become friends, bonded by their connections to Izuku.

            Which is why Inko didn’t immediately slam the door in his face when Toshinori showed up at her doorstep, far too late in the evening, looking ragged.

            Aizawa had briefed her, his voice tight with emotion on what had happened to Hizashi. Her chest physically ached with how much she wanted to be there for the two young men who had done so much for her little family. But, Miss Midnight soon after dropped off a weary Izuku, dried tear tracks visible on his flushed face. He sniffled something out, about if it was okay for them to visit “Papa Mic” tomorrow with Little Shinsou and one “Todoroki.”

            She couldn’t refuse a request like that, so she’d sent him off to his room with a promise that they’d all go together at first light. Then, she’d sat on her sofa, remembering how not even a week ago, she and Yamada had playfully argued over which of the boy’s would make a cuter Pikachu cosplayer. Or how two weeks ago, Aizawa and Yamada sat with Izuku, Katsuki, and Shinsou playing some tower game with blocks while she made supper. Or how three weeks ago, Yamada had noticed she was feeling a little under the weather, so the Voice Hero had sent her to bed with tea, sticking around to make enough food to last for several meals, clean the house, and entertained Izuku for the evening.

            And, well, all Midorya’s are emotional.

            When she heard the knocking, she’d had to blubber out a request for whomever it was to wait a moment, as she dried her face on the hem of her skirt. Then, she took several stabilizing breaths, and marched towards the door, expecting Shouta. Perhaps Miss Midnight, again.

            But it was Toshinori, and rage swept over her, and her arm twitched as it begged her to let the door slam.

            But she didn’t. That wasn’t who she was. Just a few hours ago, she would have gladly claimed this man as her friend – and deep down, even at that moment, she still would have. She took another breath. Exhaled. “Toshinori. If you’re here to talk to Izuku, I’m afraid he’s asleep.”

            “I-“ the man’s voice broke, and her bleeding heart broke a little for him. She stepped to the side, to allow him entrance, but he didn’t move from where he stood. “Miss Inko… I’m not sure I’d be allowed to see him anyway. I’m… I’m here to see you… if you would have me.”

            The anger was swept away. Not gone, just under the rug, but out of sight for now. “Then come on in, Toshi. I’ll make you tea.”

So he does, and she does, and after she makes him tea, they talk.

Toshinori quietly confesses to his teacup, dwarfed in his hands, what his part in Hizashi’s injuries were. Saying “I should have been there. I don’t know why I wasn’t. No…” he hung his head lower. “I know exactly why… I just don’t know what I could have done differently?”

Ah. There’s the anger. Hello.

But, nevertheless, she stays calm. “I won’t scold you, Toshinori. I expect Shouta must have given you an earful as it is.” Her hands are not steady as she’d like them to be, so she sets her own cup and saucer down onto the coffee table. “Instead, I’m just going to ask you some questions. I must first tell you, however, that I am very close to crying right now. One of my best friends is in the hospital, and both of my children are hurting. So, please, Toshinori, if you have any respect for me at all… answer honestly.”

“Yes… ma’am,” All Might says meekly.

“In the incidents you helped, would anyone have died?”

“Well, perhaps –!”

“Really?”

“… not all of them. But, Inko, isn’t every life important?”

“How many hero agencies are in the city?”

“…one or two… dozen.”

“Were there other heroes at the scene?”

“…yes…”

“Toshinori. Were there any crimes which only you could have taken care of? Whether by virtue of there being no one else at the scene, or no one else being capable enough?”

“No, Miss Inko, there weren’t.”

“Hmm, and what is your current role at UA?”

“A… teacher?”

“And what is a teacher’s primary responsibility?”

Toshinori looked up, somewhat exasperated. “Miss Inko, I see what you’re trying to say… but I’m a hero before I’m a teacher!”

“But should you be?”

Toshinori opened his mouth, then the question seemed to register. “What do you mean?”

Inko leaned back a bit, so that she could look him in the eye. “Let me explain it this way. Before I was a mother, I was a photographer. I traveled, Toshinori. I traveled everywhere. I went to Africa to see the beautiful animals. I went to America to capture the sunset over the Canyon. I went to South Korea for flower festivals. I went to Spain, Italy. Greece.” She sighed. “It was my entire identity.”

She smiled. “But then I had Izuku. And do you know how much I’ve traveled since?”

Toshinori shook his head, but he seemed to suspect the answer anyway. “Not once. Not once have I left the country. Because now I am a mother. There will always be a part of me that is a photographer. Just like there will always be a part of me that is a schoolgirl, a college kid, a wife. You don’t stop being one thing just because you become another. Identities have a way of sticking with you. However,… some are more important than others. If I were to prioritize being a photographer, right now, what kind of mother would I be?”

“Miss Inko… I’m not sure I know where you’re going with this.”

“Toshinori. You are a teacher now. You not only have Izuku, who you are directly responsible for as the person who passed on his quirk. But you also have a class full of children that you failed today. You have a little boy you failed today, because your actions and inactions caused a father and a fellow teacher to become gravely injured. Right now, you aren’t acting like a very good teacher.”

“I can’t just stop being a hero!” Toshinori’s eyes were pleading with her. “Miss Inko… I wasn’t anybody before I was given One for All. My mentor entrusted this legacy to me! I am the symbol of peace, and the hope of the people lies with – “

Inko threw her – luckily for Toshinori, now lukewarm – tea into his face. Stopping him in his tracks.

“Oh my. What a mess you’ve made, Toshinori. Let me get you a towel.” She rose slowly. Taking deep breaths. She retrieved a tea towel from the bottom drawer, taking a moment to settle her anger. Then she jumps nearly half a foot into the air, quirk activating to fly a wooden spoon into her hand that she brandished like a weapon, because Toshinori had followed her into the kitchen without her noticing.

She frowned at him but passed over the towel. She didn’t put down the spoon. Toshinori took the towel gratefully, patting down his face and shirt. Inko quietly hoped that it would stain.

“Toshinori,” she said, purposefully keeping her voice low. “You are a teacher. You are taking a role in these children’s lives not unlike that of a parent. When you took that job, you made a promise to guide them. To protect them. To be present. Instead, you’re out chasing villains that other heroes could just as easily take care of. But you have a job that only you can do. You talk about legacy? You talk about hope? You talk about a symbol of peace? What are the children you teach if not all of that and more?”

She points the spoon at him, and he flinches. “Think about where your priorities are. And what kind of hero it makes you.”

“I’m not allowed to see Izuku anymore.”

The admission was quiet and sudden, like Toshinori was confessing to some great crime. And, well, perhaps he was. “I don’t believe I ever told you that,” Inko said, just as quietly.

“Young Aizawa… he… he told me to stay away from his family. Yamada, and Bakugo… and Izuku.”

Despite herself, she laughs. Just once, but it’s enough to break the tension in the air. Toshinori looks up, some glimmer of something returning to his blue eyes. “I’ve known for years that Shouta’s subconsciously claimed Izuku as his own, but it’s somehow always a surprise when I’m reminded of it.” She’s smiling now, fondly, despite the hurt in her chest that hasn’t gone away. “But,” she reminds Toshinori. “Shouta isn’t Izuku’s father. Izuku’s father walked out before he had the right to that title.”

She looks towards the hallway that leads to Izuku’s room. “I am, however, Izuku’s mother. And in this instance… I have to agree with Shouta.” Toshinori’s shoulders slump, his spine curving like a willow bearing too much snow-weight. “Look at me.” He does. “This isn’t forever. Just until you can learn how to manage yourself. Learn how to be a teacher before you take responsibility for a student.”

She hates using Izuku in an ultimatum, but it’s for both of their good. Toshinori can’t keep on as he is – and Izuku can’t learn these flaws from him. “And,” she continues. “You’ll need to apologize to the people you hurt today.”

“I don’t even know how to apologize. They don’t want to see me.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Toshinori. Don’t expect them to listen to you when you haven’t deserved it. Instead, show them that you listened.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

There were a lot of people that Izuku loved.

            But. In that moment.

            He wasn’t sure how he felt about All Might.

            Slowly, he turned away, softly closing the door to his bedroom, blocking out the voices of his mother and mentor.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kirishima barely slept that night, tossing and turning, dozing in fits of handfuls of minutes. As soon as his alarm went off for the morning, he was drunkenly stumbling out of bed, lurching for his phone to ask Iida if it was okay for him to head over, yet.

He received an affirmative answer almost immediately, followed by an address.

            His Mama watched him with worry creased across her face as he laced up his shoes by the door. “You sure you don’t need anything to eat, baby?”

            “My friend said that we’d be picking something up on the way.”

            “You need money?”

            “I have some, Mama, it’s okay.”

            “I… You know there was only a short notification to the parents about that… villain attack…” That made Kirishima pause.

            “Maybe it’s because there weren’t any students involved? And, well, it wasn’t really on the campus.” That didn’t relieve his mother’s frown at all.

            “But now you’re going to go visit your teacher, who was caught in it.” She didn’t seem disapproving. Just confused. Despite that, she handed Eijiro the small speaker that he’d asked her to loan him – the kind that could be plugged in to a phone.

            Kirishima shook his head as he accepted the speaker, tucking it into his jacket pocket. “I’m not going because he’s my teacher. I’m going for my friend. The teacher is his dad.” Understanding washed over her, and she gave him a gentle hug, which he returned.

“Straight there and back, you hear me? Stay with your friend while you’re there, and don’t go off on your own.”

            “Yes, Mama,” he said, obediently. “But you don’t have to worry. The other friend I’m going with, he’s being taken there by his big brother, who’s a pro.”

            She did seem to relax a bit at that. “I want you to be careful all the same.”

            “Yup!” he tried to give her as bright a smile as possible before he stepped out the front door. He took the trains up to the Iidas’ neighborhood, a much fancier, more private area than where he lived. All of the houses were tall, somewhat intimidating. And, so, he appreciated the fact that his class president was waiting on his front porch, waving at Kirishima the moment they were in each other’s view.

            “Hey, Iida,” Kirishima greeted him. “I’d say good morning… but.”

            “Yes,” Iida’s face was grave, his stance even more stiff than usual. “I quite agree. Come. My brother is just this way.”

            Eijiro was led across plush carpet into a wide room, furnished like something out of a magazine. A young man who looks startlingly like Iida sat in a soft, un-reclined chair beside an unlit fireplace.

            “Kirishima, this is my esteemed older brother! The Turbo Hero: Ingenium!” Iida leveled a proud hand in the direction of his brother, who, despite his clear frustrated destress, managed a fond grin.

            “Thanks, Tenya,” Ingenium chuckled, standing to his feet. “For sake of clarity, you can just call me Tensei.”

            “Big brother! This is my classmate, Kirishima Eijiro!”

            “Yeah, buddy, I heard you the first time.” Tensei extended his hand to Kirishima, who readily shook it. “It’s always good to meet a friend of my little brother’s… I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

            “You’re… friends with Present Mic?” Kirishima found himself asking. “I mean, it’s cool but I had no idea! I’ve heard about you and your work for a while, and I’ve always thought you were a super manly hero!” Behind Tensei, Tenya looked pleased at Kirishima praising his brother.

            “Is it really that surprising?” Tensei asked, his face kind, but considering. “I suppose I really haven’t had much time for friends, now that I’ve got to focus on my agency. But I was classmates with Hizashi, once upon a time. We’ve been friends ever since, even though adulting tends to get in the way of relationships. That said,” Tensei quirks an eye brow, “I know he’s your teacher, but it’s awfully strange for a kid to visit a teacher in the hospital that he’s only known for a few weeks.”

            “Eheh,” Kirishima wasn’t sure that he wanted to admit to the hero that he wasn’t going for Present Mic’s sake, as much as he respected the hero and was worried for his recovery. “Well, you see. I’m friends with one of his kids…”

            Tensei’s eyes went wide.

            “You mean Nemuri wasn’t fucking with me????

            Kirishima took a step back. “A-about what, Mr. Ingenium… sir?”

            “And what do you mean one of his kids? How many does he have?”

            “Two!” Then he remembers Shinsou, and pauses. “I think.”

            “Is something wrong, Tensei?” Tenya asks, confused at his brother’s reaction.

            “When did he even get married?” Tensei didn’t appear to have heard his brother.

            “Aizawa Sensei will be there, maybe you can ask him?” Kirishima weakly attempted to steer the conversation in a more productive and positive topic. But Tensei only frowned more deeply.

            “Eraser? What does…They got married without me??

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Todoroki finds Shinsou outside the Midoriya household, early the next morning, when the sky is still lit up orange. Shinsou is sitting, back against the outside wall, when Todoroki walks up flowers and card in hand.

            “I don’t just want to assume they’re up, only to have them be angry at me when I annoy them awake by pounding on their front door,” Shinsou says, his voice pitched low, once Shouto gets close enough.

Hitoshi looks down at Todoroki’s offerings. “What you got there, Halfy?”

            “You said Hizashi Sensei likes flowers.”

            “I mean the glitter monstrosity in your other hand.” Shouto thinks the words sound negative in nature, but his friend (?) is smiling, so he doesn’t let it bother him.

            “Kirishima also suggested cards.”

            That makes a small amused smirk break across Hitoshi’s face. “That’s actually a pretty good idea, Halfy. Something tells me that Papa Mic would rather have a hand-made thing then a store-bought card.”

Todoroki didn’t know you could buy cards.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Tensei was still ranting, ten minutes later, as he gruffly packed packaged snacks into a bag to take with them.

            “I mean, I know I’ve been busy these past few years but, c’mon guys, not even a phone call? Not even a drop-by visit to my agency to say hey, wanna be my best man?

            “Um… I mean, if it means anything, you’ll get to meet them today? Probably?”

            Tensei stopped and thought about this. When he spoke again, his voice was leagues softer. “And how are they doing? The kiddos?”

            Both Tenya and Eijiro looked down. “I haven’t gotten any answers. But I’ve been trying to contact them, really!” Or, Katsuki, anyway. “What about you, Prez?”

            “Unfortunately, I regretfully have yet to hear from Bakugo, though Midoriya did respond to my messages this morning, informing me that they would be there.”

            “Bakugo and Midoriya, huh? Definitely adopted, then.”

            “Yeah, pretty sure Bakugo said something like that.”

            “Why don’t you try texting him again, ask if they need anything, and then we’ll be on our way.” Tensei rolls his shoulders, then gives a blinding smile. “Afterall, I have a best friend to grill about his secret family.” His smile dims. “I can’t wait for Mic to wake up so I can give him shit about keeping this from me.”

Kirishima nodded, pulling out his phone, even as he stared at Tensei in wonderment, thinking about how differently the two brothers acted, for all that they looked almost identical.

Looking at the app, it was soon apparent that Bakugo was yet to reply either in the server for 1A or in the dms.

Private Chat

@Katsukills [AKA Kacchan]

ShittyHair: Hey buddy

ShittyHair: Im w Iida and his bro

ShittyHair: big iida wants to know if u guys need anything

ShittyHair: want us to take anything to u?

            Nothing.

            “Ah, Tensei, don’t forget the headphones you bought! I believe Present Mic Sensei will be most appreciative of your gift once he wakes up!” Iida dashed over to grab said present from a sofa on the other side of the room. The headphones looked to be carefully wrapped in yellow paper, and Eijiro wondered if it had been Tenya to do the wrapping.

“If he has a head injury, he might not be able to use them,” Tensei says quietly, even as he packs it. “Alright, kiddos, anything else?” This is aimed at Kirishima.

Eijiro can tell that Tensei is just trying to stay upbeat for their sakes. He already feels bad for having to tag along with the brothers, unsure whether or not he’s intruding on something personal. But he also really wants to see how Katsuki is doing.

Eijiro is about to shake his head when his phone vibrates.

Katsukills: dad looks like he could use some coffee.

Katsukills: see you soon

Katsukills: thanks E

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Izuku was on the edge of his seat the entire way to the hospital.

            He’d barely had the presence of mind to properly greet Shinsou and Todoroki, who his mom let into their house early that morning. She’d insisted that all of them eat a proper breakfast before they set out, and she made quick work of scrambling some eggs and toasting some bread for them. But it took far too much time for Izuku’s liking.

            Kacchan hadn’t been responding to his messages.

            And, well, Izuku could really use the calming presence of his best friend. He felt hurt, he felt worried beyond believe, he felt wounded over All Might’s apparent fault in Mic’s injuries, he was a little angry at his mother for keeping him away from his mentor, but he also felt betrayed upon the revelation that All Might didn’t think his role as a teacher – as a mentor – was important.

            In other words, his insides were a churning mess and he wanted Kacchan.

            Almost trembling with his impatience, he followed his mother into the hospital, clenching his fists through the necessary niceties at the front desk. Once he got the room number, and permission to head up, he didn’t bother waiting for his mother, and he honestly couldn’t say if she’d called out for him to wait or not.

            He all but threw open the door, taking in Aizawa still seated beside the unmoving figure in the bed, and the slumped form of Katsuki sitting against the wall on the far side of the room from Hizashi.

The first thing he does is hug Kacchan, who barely responds, only turning his head into the crook of Izuku’s neck and making a soft sound that could have been a hum or a growl. Izuku was given a moment to pull himself together, reassured by the familiar weight of his best friend leaning against him, before he was gently pushed away by Kacchan. Izuku held on for a moment longer, then let go.

The second thing he does is hug Aizawa, who actually turns into the hug to hold him back. “He’s going to be okay,” his teacher muttered into Izuku’s hair. Izuku wasn’t sure which one of them his teacher was reassuring, but it was still comforting to hear all the same. He knew his teacher wouldn’t lie.

The door opened, much more calmly, and his mother walked in with their two friends. Seeing them, Aizawa released Izuku, and stood to accept a hug from Inko. After she lets go of Aizawa, she turns to Hizashi, and gently presses a kiss to his bandage-wrapped brow.

Shinsou sits quietly next to Katsuki, speaking under his breath to the other boy so quietly that Izuku can’t hear. Then, looking as though he wasn’t quite sure he’d be allowed, he slowly laid one lanky arm across Katsuki’s shoulders. Todoroki clutched his offerings, unsure of what to do, and no one had the presence of mind to direct him.

“How are you holding up, Shouta dear?” Inko asks, reaching out a soft hand to squeeze Aizawa’s arm.

“Better than Hizashi,” Aizawa said, bluntly. Bitterly. Inko bit her bottom lip.

“And how is he?” she prompted.

He sighs and sits back down, motioning to the other chair, inviting her to take it.

All Might,” Aizawa ground out the name. “Used his name to pull in some top-line surgeons. Turns out he’s good for something after all.” Though his voice implied that it was all All Might was good for. “A woman with a bone manipulation quirk spent several hours reconstructing his entire rib cage, parts of his skull. His limbs. But his torso had the worst of it. Luckily, miraculously, there wasn’t much spinal damage. The doctor said he should regain most, if not all, of his motor abilities so long as he actually – “ Aizawa cuts himself off.

“So he’ll be okay,” Inko offered a small smile, doing her best to comfort.

Shouta breathed out through his nose. “He’s being held together, almost literally, but he still needs to do some of the healing on his own before they can continue artificially pulling him along. He’s… he’s not expected to wake up any time soon.”

“And what has UA said about it.” That came from Izuku. The adults look up at him, seeming to realize that he was still standing there, tense and angry.

Aizawa shrugs. “Nedzu and the media team will handle this sort of thing, kid. There probably won’t be much backlash, considering no students were in the vicinity when the attack happened.”

“I’m glad, but… one of the main teachers was severally injured. Won’t that complicate things?” Inko asks.

Aizawa looks angry for a moment, but not at Inko. He scoffs. “If anything, this should be in UA’s favor. We anticipated an attack, had a plan ready, had the students far from harm…” he gritted his teeth. “Everything would have been fine if people had stuck to the plan.”

Izuku chewed his lip. He was angry with All Might, unable to understand why the man wasn’t there. He was All Might. All Might. The symbol of piece. The very best hero there ever was. Why didn’t he stop Hizashi from getting so hurt? After one last glance at Mic, Izuku joined the three other boys by the wall, sitting down next to Kacchan. He reached for Katsuki’s hand.

That’s when Tensei arrives with the two other boys. Tenya immediately drops in a bow to Aizawa, who only gives him a grunt and a nod, before standing to shake hands with Tensei. Shouta tries to release his hold, but Tensei tightens his grip, pulling Aizawa in closer. “By the way,” Tensei said, a tight smile on his face. “When Mic wakes up, we all are getting together with Nemuri to talk about… things.” Tensei looked purposefully down at Mic, then at Katsuki and Izuku.

Aizawa glares at him. “There’s nothing to talk about, Iida.”

Tensei only smirks, releasing his friend, before walking around to the other side of them bed to bend low to Hizashi’s ear. He speaks privately to Hizashi for a moment, then straightens and turns to Izuku and Katsuki. “So, you’re the two kiddles that my best friends decided not to tell me they adopted.”

Inko giggles quietly. Aizawa grumbles, but Izuku can see some tension leaving his shoulders. He feels a rush of gratitude towards this newcomer.

“Hello there,” Tensei continues, his smile becoming a little less forced. “I’m your uncle Tensei. This is your cousin Tenya, and wow, we’re going to have to start arranging playdates, aren’t we?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Inko smiles. She holds out her hand to Tensei. “Midoriya Inko, I’m Izuku’s mother. What do you think about park playdates? Does little Tenya enjoy playing outside?”

“He sure does!” Tensei grins. “Does afterschool work for you?”

“Sounds a treat! I’ll bring the juiceboxes.”

Inko plays along, planning the perfect “playdate” with Tensei while the teens being discussed do their best to hold on to their dignity. Katsuki is the only one who doesn’t really join in, not seeming to even register the conversation. Instead, he leans against Hitoshi’s side, looking lost.

Meanwhile, Todoroki has found the nerve to slowly walk up to Mic’s unconscious form, before softly setting the vase of flowers next to his head on the table. He’s laid homemade card carefully next to the vase before he notices that Aizawa is watching him.

            “For when Hizashi Sensei wakes up. Shinsou said he likes flowers.” Todoroki says, almost defensively.

            “You buy him a card, too?” For the first time that morning, Aizawa looks faintly amused. The amusement, however, slides away as Todoroki looks faintly ashamed of himself.

            “No, I’m sorry. I… made one for him.” The corner of Aizawa’s mouth twitches back up.

            “You did, did you?”

            “My sister helped. I had some difficulty controlling the glitter.”

            “I’m sure Hizashi will appreciate it. Did you pick the flowers yourself then, too?” Aizawa’s tone was bland, but lightly teasing. He apparently didn’t expect it when Todoroki nodded the affirmative.

            “I looked online. And it said that peonies and daisies were good “get well soon” flowers. I don’t think my father will miss them. He never goes into the garden. My sister helped me pick the healthy ones.”

            Aizawa looks over at the vase, then back to the uncertain gaze of his student. “Thank you, Todoroki. I know he’ll love it.”

            “Ah! I forgot! My apologies!”

            Tenya reveals the bag containing Kirishima’s speaker and the snacks and headphones Tensei brought, setting them beside the card, as well.

            “And what’s that for?”

Tensei looks at Aizawa meaningfully. “For when the cockatoo wakes up.”

            “When?” Katsuki’s voice sounds as though it’s caked in layers of rust. His shoulders are hiked up around his ears.

Inko kneels behind him. Shinsou scootching out of the way to allow her room. Inko wraps her arms around Katsuki - and Izuku by default.

            “When he’s good and ready, sweetheart,” she says, rocking them, swaying. “And we’ll all be here, waiting for him.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

It was getting late in the afternoon. Hitoshi had long brought out a colorful deck of UNO cards for the boys to while away the time. Upon the revelation that Todoroki had no idea how to play, they had set about teaching the bicolored ex-hermit all the card games they could think of – from Go Fish to Texas Hold’ em to Old Maid. At first, Tenya had be scandalized at the idea of gambling – even just for play – but then Tensei offered to buy the wrapped candy from the gift shop to use as chips, and soon even the up tight class president was sitting on the floor with his friends, playing with as much earnest as he did anything else.

The three adults had migrated to the corner of the room closest to Hizashi, where they spoke quietly amongst themselves, though if the glances towards the card players were any indication, they must have been primarily talking about the kids.

            In between turns, all of them, sans Izuku and Katsuki, took it upon themselves to keep the group chat updated.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

 

Halfy: Bakugo is very quiet, but he does not look overly stressed

SweetCheeks: how’s deku?

Shitstain: tense. He seems angry.

SoySauceFace: angry?

ThatFuckingChicken: anger and apathy are frequent companions to grief

Shitstain: fuck im angry

Shitstain: and I still don’t even know what happened

EarJaxx: but u said Mic will be ok?

ShittyHair: yeah, dont worry. They had like, the best doctors come

ROBOCOP: I’m still uncertain for as to whether or not it was okay to have this information spread.

Pinky: not gonna tell anyone

Tails: same

Tails: I respect our sensei’s too much

PonyTail: thank you, both, that’s very nice of you to say. And I do believe that all of us can echo that sentiment.

ShittyHair: Midoriya’s mom is like, super nice.

ShittyHair: sorry that’s random

ShittyHair: it’s just like

ShittyHair: she’s really doing a lot to cheer up sensei

ROBOCOP: I agree! It is very easy to see where Midoriya gets his amiability!

TheMuffinMan: do you think itd be too much to make them something?

TheMuffinMan: I stress bake

TheMuffinMan: and this is stressing me out

PikaPikaChuuuu: Guys. Can I just say… I kinda hate myself

ShittyHair: why bro

ShittyHair: love yourself ° ).:

PrincyPrincey: ( ) oui, let us not have such negativity

PrincyPrincy: particularly not right now…

PikaPikaChuuuu: ok but like

PikaPikaChuuuu: remember at the start of term

Pinky: huh… yeah lol

Pinky: we all thought that Baku was a fanboy

PikaPikaChuuuu: or a suck up

EarJaxx: I mean from a certain perspective he probably is

SweetCheeks: or he just really loves his family

Gloves: Yeah! Just look at how sweet he is with Mido!

Frogger: Mido and Bakugo must be half brothers

Gloves: what?? Why do you say that?

Frogger: well. For one. Midoriya has a mother.

LotsaJazHands: I guess that’s true? After all, Bakugo himself said he has two fathers.

Shitstain: I actually met his mother once.

Shitstain: it was horrible

Shitstain: I wish I were being sarcastic

ThatFuckingChicken: was she cruel to you Hitoshi?

Shitstain: not to me no

PonyTail: well there’s an obvious explanation

Halfy: surrogates.

SweetCheeks: or adoption.

Halfy: or both

KojiKoda: ????

Halfy: there are many theories about it online

EarJaxx: or we could. You know. Ask. He’s right there.

ROBOCOP: I must insist that we cease this train of conversation as it is a gross invasion of privacy!

Shitstain: no no wait

Shitstain: what theories??

Halfy Shared a Link!

https://EraserMic4life.com

Hafly: these ones

SweetCheeks: oh! That’s a different one then what I use

SweetCheeks shared a link

https://ProShippersUnite.com

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa is suddenly aware of the room being too quiet, and he looks up to where the kids are all staring at him, phones out. Though, as soon as they realize that he’s looking straight back at them, they in unison dive nose first back into their phones.

            Suspiciously, Aizawa pulls out his own phone, and opens discord. Of course, none of the kids are using the channel that he can access.

            But he can definitely see that they are all online.

            All of them.

            “What is it, Shouta?” Inko looks slightly concerned.

            He looked wryly at the brats whispering in the corner. So much for secrecy.

“My entire class knows. Don’t they.”

“Am I seriously the last person to be told?!” Tensei whines.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

It was almost evening when the news station the TV was on suddenly showed Midnight and All Might in sharply pressed suits. Upon seeing the Number One hero, Izuku, Katsuki, and Aizawa all tense in anger. Heedless, or perhaps unaware, of the tension, Tensei reached for the small, plastic remote and turned up the volume.

The two pros on the television talk briefly about the villain attack, putting rumors to rest. No students were harmed, due to UA’s diligence in dealing with an attack that they preemptively knew would happen. Only one Pro was substantially injured, and that Pro hero is currently in stable condition.

“Even now,” Midnight said, voice soothing “the Principal himself is working with the police force and several hero security agencies to help beef up the security around the school, to ensure that what the villains had tried and fail to do will never happen.”

“And as for our students,” All Might vowed “I am going to stay on school grounds as much as possible, so as to be on the front lines when it comes time to protect the children.” He looked directly at the camera. “Which is why I must announce that I am no longer able to keep an active patrol route. It’s unfair of my students to have me try and split my time between them and common criminals. Afterall,” All Might’s grin turns almost rueful. “We all know who is more important. Instead, I will be dedicating that time to teaching and protecting my students.

“Because those students are our future generation. However, I have every faith in the many heroes, throughout all of Japan. I have no doubts that the citizens of our country are in safe hands. But, for now, I must put my focus where it is most needed.

“It’s the least they deserve.”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

remember to love yourself. your mental health is so important right now.

Chapter 35: SOMEBODY MADE ME FANART!

Summary:

I've literally never gotten fanart before in my life.... I'm so, so happy right now! TeaCubed (Whippytwirl) is the user who gifted me this fantastic art! Please take a look and show it love: https://teacubed.tumblr.com/post/621309785824985088/sometimes-you-read-a-fic-and-care-about-it-just-so

I cannot over state how much this means to me! This is only the second ever time anyone has made something for my story! The first time was when the lovely w3dn3sday made me this song: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wliuYfWip_oO-F669koEbLidZ0o7zVyM/view?usp=sharing

Both this picture and this song were and will be great inspiration to me! Sometimes I find myself singing w3dn3sday's song to myself, and while I was writing this chapter I kept flicking over to look at TeaCubed's picture! (it's now my screensaver)

♡〜٩( ╹▿╹ )۶〜♡
So much love to everyone who comments and reads and enjoys my story, but extra love to the two darlings who made me such beautiful pieces of art!
Love you guysss!!!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind him. A sound all too familiar at this point. For the past week, he’d come and stayed, waiting silently for hours. The hospital room was unchanged, the sun sliding across the floor from the slit shades on the windows. It was early morning. His dad was still slumped in the chair by the bed. The air still smelled of chemicals, old flowers, and the ghost of possible death. The trash was half-filled with empty Styrofoam coffee cups. The janitor must not have been by yet.

            “Auntie Nemuri” had stopped through a couple times to force Aizawa out, back to the house to shower and change. Katsuki had only left to make sure Explodo didn’t starve or die from abandonment. As it was, the big baby was angry with how much he was being left alone, which just added more guilt on Katsuki’s already too filled plate.

            From the pack he’d brought with him, Katsuki pulled out a packaged, heavily processed cinnamon roll and put it on Aizawa’s lap for him to discover when he woke up. For Yamada’s little table, still filled with home-made cards from the class (more had mysteriously arrived after Todoroki’s first one), gifts from friends, and the vase with wilting flowers, Katsuki pulled out a fresh – only slightly squashed – bouquet. After trashing the old one, Katsuki fiddled with the sunflowers he’d bought from some old lady’s stand. For when Yamada woke up.

            If he woke up.

            The Voice Hero’s face was still mottled with fading green bruises. A couple times, Katsuki had been allowed to remain in the room as Recovery Girl and the Japanese surgeon with the energy transferal quirk worked on Yamada. Seeing as how Recovery Girl’s quirk used energy and stamina from the patient’s own body, having the surgeon’s power readily available was a godsend. The surgeon would spend about an hour beforehand absorbing the energy from a generator the hospital kept on hand in case an electric or energy quirk required it. Then, he would lay a hand on Yamada’s mostly healed chest, gently filtering the borrowed energy into the Voice Hero as Recovery Girl’s quirk worked its magic. This was done once a day for the past week.

Yamada was improving, he was. Visibly. Even now, his chest rose and fell without aid from hospital machinery.

            And yet, he hadn’t still woken up. The doctors assured him and Aizawa again and again that this was normal. He was healing. His mind just hadn’t caught up with his body’s progress yet.

            But what if he wasn’t waking up because his brain was damaged? What if, when he did wake up, he was permanently changed because of Katsuki’s fuck up. Yeah, the first timeline had been bad… but everyone had lived. Everyone had been okay.

            In fact, Class 1A had come out stronger for it. But, with one moment of weakness, Katsuki had thrown everything ass over fucking head. Class 1A had yet to face villains, yet to see true danger… what if that just made them more vulnerable when the time came that Katsuki was unable to protect them, unable prevent them from facing true villainy… like at the training camp. Fuck.

            Not to mention the Festival, as trivial as it might seem. But, the Festival was where many of his classmates first got noticed, first started making their first steps, first connections in the Professional Heroing circles. How many paths had Katuski just fucking derailed? And for what?

            Because he was scared?

            He’d spent too long pretending to be a fucking child.

            He wasn’t a child.

            He was Fucking Overkill. He was a hero. He’d been the number one hero on and off for nearly twenty years. He’d faced down serial killers and super villains and world-dominating threats. His hands had dripped with his own blood mingled with the blood of his enemies. He’d killed people – when there was no other option, but that didn’t change what he’d done.

            Who he was.

            He shouldn’t have tried to shove off his mess on other people. Who knows where the timeline might go now? Who knows what might happen?

            Except Katsuki. Katsuki knew what was supposed to happen. And for some godawful reason he’d changed it on a whim.

            Now Izuku was estranged from All Might. Now Present Mic’s career might be over. Now Class 1A might die, because they never got the chance to be tempered by trial by fire. And devil knows what else changed.

            Katsuki stood over Present Mic and allowed himself one last moment of weakness. He sunk down into the remaining empty chair, opposite of Aizawa. He took hold of Present Mic’s limp hand, pale and motionless, but released from its cast. It was clammy. Unnervingly cold.

            “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered into the still hospital air. Aizawa didn’t stir. Yamada didn’t stir.

            Except he did know what to do.

Everything that went wrong is his fault for deviating from the original time line.

So, he has to return to it.

But how can he fix a timeline that’s already broken? Locate the break and snap it back into place? Seems like a logical conclusion. Perhaps the timeline will attempt to realign itself once it’s able. Or perhaps the butterfly effect has already exploded beyond what he can fix. Either way… he has to try.

Isolating what the break is, well, it’s the easiest part.

Him.

He needs to return to himself.

The world needs him to be the asshole he always was. There’s no point in trying to change himself. It’s time to face the facts.

He is the villain of this story.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kirishima couldn’t help but think that Katsuki and Izuku shouldn’t have come to school that day. Both of them had storms in their eyes, glaring at the tops of their desks. The rest of the class spoke quietly, as though afraid something would shatter – whether the fragile peace or their two fellow students, he wasn’t sure.

            “Did you see the news last night,” Hagakure whispered quietly to Shoji and Ojiro. “I can’t believe they would show our school pictures. We weren’t even involved… But I think everyone was on screen for at least a second while the news people talked about… well -”

            The two boys nodded in agreement. “It honestly seems like they only used our faces for shock value or something. Associating a bunch of kids with a villain attack at UA bad enough to take down such a well-known hero like that.” Ojiro said, tail twitching, just once, at the thought of it.

            “That does seem likely, doesn’t it,” Shoji muttered, voice muffled by his mask.

            Kaminari scoffed. “All the big channels made way too big a deal out of it – I mean, our teachers took care of us! None of us even knew that there was an attack until it was made public.”

            “Except his kids, anyway,” Sero said, glumly. “We all saw the way his family rushed out when-“

            “Shut up,” Hitoshi growled under his breath. “One, we’re in public, and two Present Mic doesn’t officially have a family for a reason.”

            “The public doesn’t seem to care about his privacy.” Jiro was pulling on her earjacks so hard it looked like it must hurt. “Did you see that horrible footage they showed? Of him getting wheeled from the ambulance? God. I hate those vultures. Just the thought of dealing with media is enough to make me reconsider being a hero.”

            “Truly, those who fight evil unseen in the dark are those who shine most brightly.” Tokoyami said, turning slightly to look at Hitoshi. Hitoshi relaxed a little, slumping in his seat.

            Kirishima couldn’t help but feel terrible for the guy. He’d learned, over the course of the past few days, that Hitoshi usually spent almost as much time with the Pro Hero couple as Izuku did. Except now that obviously wasn’t an option, which left him on his own. Of course, Shinsou had his friends and Ms. Midoriya to support him. But… well, Kirishima couldn’t really understand what his friend was going through. But he still felt sorry for him anyways.

            “Who knows what would have happened if All Might hadn’t shown up when he did,” Sero shuddered.

            “Hold your fucking tongue, before I rip it out of your rancid skull. Damn extra scum.”

            The class looked over at Katsuki, almost as one. He was so tense; it was like his skin was stretched over iron and bricks. His eyes almost gleamed as they bore holes into his desk. A fiery red.

            Mina hesitantly looked across the room, looking like she wanted to rise and comfort him, but didn’t. “Are you okay. Kach-“

            “I said shut the fuck up.”

            Except Iida chose that moment to crash in. “EVERYONE! Morning homeroom is about to start! Let us be considerate to our teacher, today, as we-“

            BOOOOOM

            Iida was blown backwards into the wall. His uniform was lightly scorched, his hair blasted out of place. His glasses were completely knocked off of his head.

            “I don’t care who you think you are, you worthless dreg. Sit down. Shut up. Die for all I care. Just be quiet about it, bampot. Extra’s shouldn’t be as fucking obnoxious as you.”

            Iida didn’t seem to know how to react. Nor did the rest of the class. Even Kirishima was flabbergasted. Bakugo had always been… rough. But he’d never been violent. Never been cruel. Never been genuine in his malice.

            But this… this felt real.

            And it scared them. Not much, just enough to keep Iida’s mouth closed as he slowly picked up his glasses and made his way to his desk. Enough to keep the class from staring at the back of Katsuki’s head for fear of retribution. Enough to hold the class in wary silence until the door opened up, and Aizawa slowly shambled in.

            He looked terrible.

            His hair was more unkempt than normal. His clothing hung off of his slumped shoulders. His eyes almost seemed to pulse with redness, the bags under them seemed to engulf his actual eyes entirely.

            Almost as one, the class felt their heart be broken in sympathy. Of course, Sensei looked like that. Of course, Midoriya wasn’t muttering like he always was. Of course, Katsuki was on a hair trigger.

            One of their family members was still in the hospital, and they had been callously gossiping about it in front of the two boys. Ashamed, everyone who had been talking about the incident slid a little lower in their seats.

            “You’ve all heard the news.” Aizawa started, his voice a low, tired drawl. There was no question in his tone. “Villains attacked. I’m going to tell you something now. Our class going to the stadium was a last-minute decision. Until that morning, the plan had been to go to the USJ where the villains attacked. It can be assumed that you were the targets.”

            You could have heard a ghost sneeze, it was so quiet. Some kids were even holding their breaths. Stomachs turned cold at this sudden reality.

            “More importantly. The fight isn’t over yet. The villains who orchestrated the attack all escaped.”

            Iida’s hand shot into the air. “Sensei! Is there a reason you are sharing this information?! Did All Might not say he would be personally overseeing-“

            “You can’t trust All Might.”

            The statement cut like a whip through the tense atmosphere. “You mustn’t simply rely in the people around you, regardless of who you are or who they are. The reason why the plan at USJ nearly resulted in a death was because a single person in a group of top professionals failed to fully carry his weight.

            “Let this be a lesson. Your actions – you, as individuals – your actions can mean life or death for civilians, other heroes, and yourself. Each of you should be thinking about what kind of hero you want to be. Each of you should be ready and willing do to what needs to be done. As heroes, your responsibility is not to ‘save everyone,’ despite what the media will tell you. Your responsibility is to be a pillar and support those around you. Heroes have become the foundation for our society. If that foundation is somehow cracked it will all come tumbling down.

            “Learn this lesson. Understand this lesson. Don’t let this be something you learn by trial and error, because you may not get a second chance. Each one of you is important – but never over or underplay this importance. Learn your roles, and carry them to the best of your ability.”

            The class was still quiet, but something had started burning beneath them. Fists and teeth were clenched in resolution. This Kirishima thought to himself, is where Katsuki gets his manliness.

            “That said… the sports festival is drawing near.”

            Kirishima’s first reaction was that of happy surprise, and he very nearly made his approval vocal. But then he saw Bakugo tremble out of the corner of his eye. “Sensei, is that really still happening?”

            “Yeah, to have such a normal school event so soon after a villain snuck onto school grounds…” Jiro said, quietly.

            “If we were really the intended victims…” Ojiro let his question hang unspoken.

            “According to the media team, it shows that our crisis management system is solid as a rock by holding the event.” It was unclear from Aizawa’s face for as to whether or not he agreed with this sentiment. “As for you all being targets – this is why you have to train. This is why you have to be ready. Don’t think of this as a “normal school event.” It isn’t. This is UA. Nothing is simple. Nothing is normal. Everything is to prepare you for a time when your life is on the line, and this is no exception.”

            Shinsou raised his hand. “Will you still be offering the remedial classes? Can preparing for the festival be a focus?”

            Aizawa was silent for a moment. Then he nodded, his face seemed to have almost lost a bit of the tension it had been carrying. Then he glanced over to Katsuki, and the stress was back, haunting his eyes.

            “That said, as you no doubt saw Midnight clarify on the news a few days ago, security will be strengthened to five times that of previous years. This is a necessary part of your school experience. It is a chance you will only get three times. Not only will the public’s eyes be on you… but so will all of the professional heroes around our country.”

            “Scouting purposes,” Yaomomo said, gravely. “I’ve heard of this.”

            “Be careful about who you choose. If you feel the need, I am available at any time during school hours to discuss your futures with you. But, if you expect to go pro, then the path to your future with open up at this event. No aspiring hero can afford to miss this.”

            “Who will be MCing?” Jiro’s voice was small.

            “That’s right…” Kaminari said, looking more thoughtful than usual. “Present Mic has for the past few years.”

            “The school will make that decision.” Aizawa said, shortly. “Now, homeroom dismissed.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “Get the HELL away from me.”

            With a wild blast, Izuku was knocked off his feet. Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, and Hitoshi all watched in horror – though Uraraka was quick to help Izuku back up, worriedly brushing dirt out of Izuku’s scrapes from where his skin met the pavement.

            “Kacchan?” Izuku asked, his voice wobbling dangerously.

            “Keep your grubby deku hands off of me,” Katsuki sneered, shoving his fists into his pockets, his slouch more pronounced than it had been in years. “And you,” he sneered at the rest of their friends who were present, who had been attempting to walk the two boys home. “Stop fucking following me, you extras. If I wanted a putrid crap cloud following me, I’d have shoved my pockets full of trash.”

            “Bakugo! While I quite understand your mental state-“

            “I said Fuck Off Iida.”

            The other students froze at the use of Iida’s proper name.

            Katsuki had been acting… off… all day. Even refusing to eat with anyone. Instead, taking his tray somewhere outside the cafeteria, and disappearing until the next class. Katsuki sneered at them one last time, then he whirled around and stomped off.

            In the opposite direction from Aizawa Sensei’s house.

            “K-Kacchan! Wait!”

            “Just let him go, Deku,” Ochako said, softly. “Let’s just let him be alone. Some space to grieve. Yeah?”

            “But Papa isn’t dead!” Izuku’s eyes were streaming. “He isn’t. He’s going to get better I know he is!”

            “Of course he is.” Todoroki says quietly. “But somebody doesn’t have to die for people to grieve them. Give him time. Bakugo is strong.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

For the first time in months. Katsuki walks to his parent’s house. Alone.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Something was wrong.

            Ha.

            Something else was wrong, he should say.

            Aizawa sat in the teacher’s lounge. Alone, despite several of his coworkers lingering around the room eating their lunches or fitting in some last-minute grading. Aizawa massaged an unopened jellypack in his hands, staring listlessly at it. Nemuri had spoken to him a few minutes ago. He can’t remember what he said.

            Something about his kids.

            His kids.

            Something was wrong with his kids.

            Aizawa wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they had very good cause for acting out of the norm, but that didn’t mean that Aizawa had to like it. With Hizashi like he was, Aizawa selfishly wished for Katsuki and Izuku to have stayed their happy selves. Aizawa could do with some stability at the moment. Some happiness.

            But the universe didn’t care what Aizawa wanted, and Aizawa couldn’t ask his kids to put on a brave face for him when Aizawa was barely able to rise out of bed in the morning. He couldn’t help but mentally linger on all of the worst possible scenarios. What if Hizashi didn’t remember anything? What if his personality was something unrecognizable? What if he was no longer to mentally or physically continue doing the things that he loved?

            Shouta just wanted his little family to be whole and healthy and happy. Together. He wanted dinners in his living room. He wanted to fall asleep to quiet violence and the flashing of video games on his walls. He wanted Katsuki to smile.

            God, he wanted Katsuki to smile.

            The boy had been aggressive the past few days, bordering on vicious. His vocabulary, never the cleanest, had taken a dive for the vulgar. He lashed out physically, with intent to harm. He drifted a ways apart from his usual friend group.

            Even Izuku and Hitoshi.

            Especially Izuku and Hitoshi.

            But none of the teachers – Aizawa included – had had the heart to punish him beyond a half-hearted reprimand. Cementoss had quietly asked Aizawa to speak to Katsuki about burning other student’s belongings when he had a moment. And Recovery Girl had mentioned something about Hitoshi having to be treated for a hand-shaped burn.

            Hitoshi.

            Not that Hitoshi told her who had laid hands on him. Because of course he didn’t.

            No one in the class was doing anything about Katsuki’s attitude problem. They only cast regretful, mournful looks his way that seemed to fuel Katsuki’s ire. While 1A huddled around Izuku, forming a protective bubble in case they’re needed, they all steered clear of the explosive teen. Because they assumed that was what he wanted. Because that’s what Katsuki said he wanted.

            All except for Kirishima and Hitoshi. Which, Aizawa assumed, is how Hitoshi got that burn.

            And that doesn’t even touch how the class was treating Shouta. The class was walking on eggshells around him. Their voices all pitched low, like he was some frightened wild animal ready to bolt. They were more likely to bow politely or lower their heads as they passed by him or raise their hands in homeroom. Most didn’t dare even meet his eyes.

            None of them had mentioned Hizashi after the homeroom three days ago when he announced the sport’s festival.

            During the remedial classes – to which nearly every child in his class showed up to without fail, despite him now having them every day – they trained silently. Eerily so. And with a passion that, any other time, would have made his chest fill with proud satisfaction.

            His physically-bottom-tier students improved by leaps and bounds, managing to keep up with the rest of the pack by this point. They ran like hell was chasing them. They maneuvered through the obstacle course with a grace he didn’t frequently see from even his occasional second years (those that lasted that long, anyway.) They pushed themselves through routines with a vigor that rivaled that of Katsuki’s.

            Or, would have, if Katsuki ever stayed for the remedial classes anymore.

            He’d probably think back on this fondly. But, for now, he just felt numb.

            Except when he was pissed off.

            Which was whenever he saw Toshinori.

            Which was much too frequently.

            Having lived in America for some time, Toshinori had volunteered his services as the English Substitute Teacher. It made sense. It did. Nevertheless, it grated on Aizawa’s nerves.

            And on Katsuki’s, too, if the sight of Toshinri’s burned suit yesterday was anything to go off of. The giant imbecile had scarcely left the school during day light hours at all. All Might’s larger form was yet to be sighted off campus since the USJ attack.

            Case in point, the man – disguised as Yagi – was quietly picking at a bento at a desk on the far end of the lounge, pretending like he wasn’t stealing glances in Aizawa’s direction.

            The only thing he could be grateful for at the moment was that Toshinori was yet to attempt to approach him. Which was really for All Might’s own good. Shouta wasn’t sure how non-violently he’d be able to handle that confrontation.

            That isn’t true. Tensei’s presence was at least something to be grateful for. Back in high school, Tensei, Aizawa, and Hizashi would often hang out. The three of them. Having Tensei back as a presence in his life fit just as well now as it did back then.

If only Hizashi were awake to enjoy it with him.

            As it was, Tensei would – at the very least – text him once or more a day, more often stopping by Hizashi’s room to leave little gifts or to feed Aizawa.

            Shouta needed to remember to invite Tensei to grab drinks with him and Hizashi once…

            A voice cleared its throat. “Ahem

            Aizawa looked up.

            Then he looked down.

            Because his boss was standing in front of him. “Welcome back to earth, Shouta,” the rat grinned at him, looking unconcerned that one of his teachers had spaced out so hard that he hadn’t noticed his employer trying to get his attention for who knows how long.

            “Principal.”

            “If you would join me in my office?” Aizawa nodded, not that it was really a request. One did not simply decline an invitation from the Principal. He rose from his seat, stuffing the jellypack he’d still been abusing back into one of his pockets.

            “Excellent!” Nedzu clapped his hands, leading the way out of the teacher’s lounge. Their walk through the halls was conversationless. Nedzu was more than happy to simply hum to himself as Aizawa struggled to think about what he could possibly be in trouble for. Was it for not reprimanding Katsuki? If so, the other teachers who taught the first years were just as much at fault as he was. No. It had to be something else. Was it because he’d been neglecting his patrol? No, that couldn’t be it either. Nedzu rarely showed an interest in what Aizawa did outside of school business.

            The door of the principal’s office swung shut behind him. “Please! Have a seat! I’ll pour us both some tea.” Aizawa didn’t bother attempting to refuse the tea cup that the rat slid his way. Besides. He could use the caffeine.

            Nedzu took a long, appreciative sip, watching with gleaming eyes as Aizawa knocked back his cup like a shot, heedless of the burn that slid it’s way down his throat. Unasked, Nedzu refilled Shouta’s cup.

            “So,” Aizawa prompted.

            “So,” Nedzu replied.

            “What did I do this time?”

            Nedzu smiled. “It’s less that, and rather what young Hizashi did.”

            Shouta’s heart clenched. “He didn’t do anything.”

            “Allow me to kindly disagree! Though it’s nothing nefarious. A few months ago, Hizashi volunteered both of you to help UA host the sport’s festival.”

            “Obviously that’s no longer on the table.” Shouta said, relaxing a bit now that he had an idea of where the conversation was going. “Would you like me to ask around at Hizashi’s work for a replacement?”

            “Unnecessary!” Nedzu chirped. “I only wanted to inform you that no you’ll be the sole MC for the event!”

            “No.”

            But, of course, one does not simply refuse the Principal.      

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Aizawa is steaming with anger by the time he gets to his home. What does he know about being an MC? The only experience he has is that one time he sat in the booth with Mic a few years back, and really all he did was make comments bounced off of Hizashi’s jokes.

            Aizawa jammed his key into the lock, not really registering how odd it was that it was locked at all. Shouta was very rarely the first one home.

            Nemuri had all but ordered him to go home before visiting Hizashi after work. “He’s gonna be there for a while, but that funk rising from your clothes shouldn’t be. I’m surprised they even allowed you into the hospital this morning. You’re a walking biohazard.”

            And, well, she had a point.

            Aizawa kicked his shoes off and tossed his keys onto the bowl sitting on the entrance table. “Kacchan! Have you eaten yet?”

            His voice almost seemed to echo through the house. Why was the brat not responding? Aizawa stepped further in, getting irritated. “Katsuki-“

            A jingling. “MEEYYYYEEEEEERRRRRT” An angry Explodocat charges at his ankles. Aizawa curses and dances out of the demon cat’s reach.

            “Goddamnit, Splodes! Off! Get off!” Aizawa nudges the cat aside, but the feline was not to be dissuaded.

            “MYEEEEEEEERRRRRT!”

            Aizawa sees the empty food bowl sitting overturned in the kitchen. He sighs. “Give me a second and I’ll get you some dinner.”

            “MEYYYYYEEEEEEEEERT”

            Why hadn’t Katsuki fed him yet? “Katsuki!”

            Silence. Aizawa opened up the door to Katsuki’s room.

            Empty.

            So was the bathroom and Aizawa’s room.

            Somewhat disquieted, Aizawa made his way back to the kitchen, where Explodocat was impatiently pacing in front of the cupboard where the cans of cat food and bags of kibble were kept. “All right, all right,” Aizawa muttered, opening it up and grabbing a can to pop open. He turned the food bowl upright and dumbed the slop into it. Then, he grabbed a handful of kibble and threw that in as well.

            He pulls out his phone after washing the catfood off of his hands, and hits the first name on his contacts list.

            “Riiiiiiing”

            “This is Lord Explosion Murder. If you’ve got something to say then spit it out, and if you don’t then fuck right off.”

            Aizawa frowned. The call had gone straight to voicemail.

            Something unpleasant stirred in his gut. The last time his call hadn’t gone through…

            “Riiinnng”

            “This is Lord Explo-“

            “Riiiiiiing”

            “This is L-“

            His heart was pounding by that point. Who could have taken him? How long had it been since somebody had seen him? How many hours since school had let out?

            He has Hizashi’s number dialed before he realizes what he’s doing.

            “Riiiiiing

            “Yo it’s Yamada! Leave a message at the beep, ma listener!”

            Shouta opened his mouth to speak, then curses at himself and cuts the call.

            “Riiiiiing

            “Midoriya residence! Inko speak-“

            “When was the last time you saw Kacchan?”

            “Little Katsuki? Oh, I don’t know. An hour ago? Why, is something wrong, dear?”

            “He’s with you?” Relief, but not for long.

            “Unfortunately not. I can invite him over if you like! I made a bit too much dinner. You can come over as well! It’s been too long since I’ve had you both.”

            “Where is he?”

            “I saw him go to his parent’s house. Honey, is something the matter?”

            Aizawa swallowed. His throat felt very dry. “No, I suppose not. Just… Just checking in.”

            “Of course, dear. My invitation stands though!”

            “Thank you… but I have plans.”

            “Give Hizashi my love!”

            “I… I will. Goodbye.”

            His phone clatters onto the table.

 

            “Myert.”

            Aizawa looks down. Explodocat is glaring at him as he rubs against Aizawa’s calves. The food bowl is already empty but, for some reason, Aizawa gets the feeling that that isn’t what Explodo is asking for.

           

Aizawa picks him up and does not cry.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

Just wanna share the links again~
Here is the fanart!
https://teacubed.tumblr.com/post/621309785824985088/sometimes-you-read-a-fic-and-care-about-it-just-so

and here is the song!
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wliuYfWip_oO-F669koEbLidZ0o7zVyM/view?usp=sharing

So much love!!! ♡o。(๑◕ฺ‿ฺ◕ฺ๑)。o♡ ♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡
⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ)

Chapter 36: Starting to Get Less Sad I Think

Summary:

The glorious TeaCubed has once again blessed me with fanart!!!

https://64.media.tumblr.com/6d4d9b5ec64978c13face7a9da7b54d3/81c25fd1db5b82ee-23/s1280x1920/ada5d14ab917775d9fffe2d43a1a1c12515f1ed8.png

I've also put imbedded the art into the respective scenes that they depict in chapters 2 and 9! Be sure to check it out, and also her Tumblr!
AHHHHH I'm so happy!

Also, sorry that this chapter took so long. Writing this was like pulling eye-teeth. Idk why it was such a struggle this time, but hopefully it turned out okay!

Chapter Text

Her kid is being weird.

Mitsuki Bakugo is far from stupid. She isn’t oblivious. Far from it. Lord knows where her dumb brat got his smarts from. Probably her husband… But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know when she doesn’t know.

And at that moment, well. She just doesn’t know.

It’s a feeling that she’s used to associating with her son. She doesn’t know where she went wrong. She doesn’t know how to handle this child of fire and emotion and chaos and potential. She doesn’t know how to take his bleeding, too big heart, and wrap it up to where it couldn’t be hurt anymore. She doesn’t know how to smack his head hard enough to set it on straight. She doesn’t know how to shake some common sense into his damn empty skull.

And it scares her.

Years ago, she would have sworn she knew what she was doing. He was loud, obnoxious, sure. A lot of leadership qualities, what with that gaggle of tots he led around everywhere. She could still remember those years, back when he was small enough to fit on her lap, when he’d ram into her legs and cling to her clothes and smile like a feral cat.

She regrets all those times she’d yelled at him for that.

Maybe it was because she wasn’t like Inko – she wasn’t soft enough or motherly enough or nurturing enough or whatever enough – that her son had slowly started drifting away. First little by little, then all at once. Like an outdoor cat that you keep trapped indoors for their own good. First, they explore their new cage. Then they sniff at the exit. Then, first chance they get, they bolt.

And she’d just let him, expecting him to come back to her when he was ready.

But then he didn’t.

When he was five and she’d started getting neighbors quietly asking her if is it really okay for little Katsuki to be acting like that? she’d just ignored them all. Or screamed at them. There was nothing wrong with her kid being a little rough. Not like he could hurt anybody. He was little.

When he was six and she’d started getting notes and calls from the brat’s school, she’d just shown Inko and laughed. “Eh, kindergarten isn’t important anyway” she’d defended when Inko quietly, meekly, raised concern. “Let him be a baby and play while he can. He’ll buckle down when he’s older.”

When he was seven, he started sneaking out at night, and she’d watched him go over a cup of coffee as she sat in the darkness of her living room, peering out her window. He could take care of himself, she thought, firmly stamping down the sickly squirming in her gut, her eye on the clock and her hand lightly resting on her phone. Of course, the brat always returned – like she knew he would – sometime in the early morning. Mitsuki knew what it was like to be stifled by a parent, her own mother’s iron fist was like a choking leash around her neck that she still occasionally felt holding her back. So, rather than punishing him outright, she’d been relentless in forcing him to get up at the ass-crack of dawn every day. Hoping that the early mornings would force him to drop the stupid late nights.

She should have figured he’d just start sleeping during school.

Then, when he was eight, he changed. Subtly, but she’s his mother. She knew. Looking back on it now, she wishes she would have intervened then. But, well, Inko told her about a young hero who’d taken an interest in Katsuki. She’d been so fucking proud of her brat. Her tiny ball of potential-fueled spite. She watched as he stood a little taller. Smiled a little wider. Shined a little brighter. And she’d watched as he sashayed off every morning, pleased as pie, waiting for him to come back.

Until one day he didn’t.

He was… eleven, was it? She didn’t even notice didn’t even fucking notice until the next morning when she went to wake him up. She’d thrown open his curtains and screamed something at the top of her lungs. Then she’d turned to the perfectly made-up, empty bed and felt a stone plunge in her gut.

Of course, she called Inko.

Inko, her best friend, who always pushed for the best for Katsuki – even when their idea of what was best for their kids didn’t always align. Inko, who had only chuckled and said that Katsuki had fallen asleep at his “sensei’s” house, and not to worry because “the little dear” had called her that morning.

Mitsuki had scoffed and thanked her and gone about her day.

At the time, it didn’t even occur to her to wonder at the fact that her kid had called the fucking neighbor rather than her, his mother.

At twelve, he was spending almost every weekend with the hero, only coming home most school nights.

By thirteen, he was coming home maybe once or twice a week.

At fourteen it was once every other week. If she was lucky.

Then fifteen, he threw himself headfirst into preparing for high school (at least, that’s what he told her) and she went months without hearing anything. Not even a call. Not even a text. Of course, everyday she’d badgered Inko for updates over tea – which her friend had gladly given.

“Oh! They went rock climbing today! Let me show you the picture Shouta sent me! Oh, the boys just look so happy, don’t they, Mitsuki?”

“Ah, they found a little hold-in-the-wall restaurant. Izuku said something about bringing back some dumplings to try, you should stick around!”

“The boys decided to go camping and they’ve dragged poor Shouta along. I’m just glad they’ve got a hero going with them…”

That damn hero. Filling her boy’s head with nonsense and stories and dreams he wouldn’t be able to fulfill because if a kid can’t even pass third-grade math, how can they expect to be smart enough to survive as a hero? She hadn’t wanted him to go to UA. She hadn’t expected him to make it in. She didn’t want him to fucking die chasing a pipe dream.

But he made it in. Thanks to that hero, who she’d recently learned was a fucking teacher at UA. He probably pulled some strings and fuck if that doesn’t get Katsuki killed later on. Shortcuts aren’t worth shit in the real world, where monsters with guns and quirks and evil in their hearts wouldn’t hesitate if they got the chance to kill her kid.

Her kid… who was the happiest she’d ever seen him in the pictures that Inko would show her. Him and “Eraserhead” and Present Mic (fucking Present Mic! How did that trash monkey hobo manage to score a husband like that?) at a park, at a beach, on a rollercoaster, at a café, in their cozy little home.

Dadzawa and Papa Mic he called them. Inko had laughed about it a while ago as she made lunch for the two of them. It pricked at something in Mitsuki’s core. When was the last time he’d called her Mom? Not “my mom” not “old hag” not “witch” not “old lady.”

That day on the beach? And that was the first time he’d called her that, even then, in who knows how long.

Mom.

Mitsuki cried herself to sleep that night, held in the arms of her baffled husband. Her husband, who their kid rarely addressed as it was. When was the last time those two had even talked? Her husband, who never really took action for himself. That had always suited Mitsuki fine, happy to be the one with all the power and ambition in a relationship. But… she wished that, even though Katsuki never talked to her, that he would at least talk to his dad.

His real dad.

She really fucking hated the two bastards that thought they could just dance on in and claim her kid as their own. If the two assholes wanted a family, they should have started their own and adopted some brat who didn’t already have two parents. She refused to go out for late-night errands anymore, paranoid – not so much that she’d be attacked, but that she’d be rescued by Eraserhead. She always punched the radio into silence whenever Present Mic’s voice spilled over the speakers. Not able to stand hearing his voice. She cut Inko off whenever her stories included any information at all about either hero.

At one point, she even wished them dead.

She’d had a passing thought, just a fleeting insant, about how she’d be able to pick up the pieces of her little family. How she’d comfort her grieving baby. How they’d finally be a normal family. How she’d be able to talk Katsuki out of being a hero. Then he’d be safe and happy and home.

But she’d never truly meant it. Sure, she was a bitch and yes, she was angry. But she wasn’t evil. She didn’t want them dead. Not really.

Which is why she currently felt like a piece of shit in a pile of what the fuck do I do now?

            The day that it all went down, she’d been reheating some leftovers for dinner. By herself because what even were family meals at this point? Then, the news channel theme had blared, before the announcer declared “Villain attack at UA high school!” She dropped her food, uncaring of the way it splattered all over the floor.

            She’d lunged for the remote, turned up the volume.

            When the faces of her kid’s class flashed across the screen, she’d thought she was going to have a heart attack. Her hot-headed son without an ounce of intelligence in his thick head, in the same vicinity as a villain? As multiple villains?

            But then it turned out to just be the hero teachers involved and the thrumming tension inside of her released like a popped balloon as she slumped onto the couch. Her kid wasn’t involved. He was safe.

            She reached for her phone and debated whether or not to call her brat. Then she shook her head and dialed up Inko instead. Her friend answered right away.

            “Is everything okay, Mituski?”

            “No I’m not fucking okay, Inko! Are you watching the news right now? That hero my brat is always hanging off of… there was a villain attack at UA yesterday.”

            “Yes… poor Hizashi… Dear Shouta called me as soon as it happened. I’m surprised little Katsuki didn’t tell you. How is he?”

            “How the fuck am I supposed to know. I haven’t seen him.”

            There’s judgmental silence on the other end. Before Inko slowly states that the school emailed all of the parents about the attack the day that it  happened. Mituski didn’t want to admit that she stopped reading notices from Katsuki’s schools years ago, so she only hums and mumbles something about dinner before hanging up. She stares at her phone, then at her front door, and slumps against her wall. Head in her hands.

It’s several more days before she sees Katsuki.

His eyes look dead.  Over the years, Mitsuki has seen every shade of emotion in her son’s expressive red eyes.

They’ve never looked dead.

Katsuki doesn’t acknowledge his mother as he storms to his room, throwing his backpack on the floor near the entryway, not acknowledging the way papers and books spill out of the open zipper, sprawling across the floor. He didn’t even bother taking off his shoes, stomping his way towards his room, tension radiating from every inch of him.

Mitsuki breathes in deeply, takes one hesitant step after him with some unknown words on her lips.

His door slams shut so hard, pictures on the walls rattle.

She just stands there for a moment, frozen in place. This she realizes somewhere deep inside of herself, is something that a mother needs to fix. My kid needs his mother. And suddenly she’s deeply afraid.

Because she has no idea what to do. Her fingers twitch towards her phone, first instinct to call Inko. But she stops herself. She is Katsuki’s mother. Not Inko. Her. So she needs to be the one that helps Katsuki. Because her brat is hurting. Closing her eyes for a moment, Mitsuki tries to rack her brain for what to do. She glares long and hard at her sons door. Then she turns back towards the kitchen. It’s early yet, but she probably needs the extra time.

After all, this will be the first time that she’s made dinner for three in years.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Masaru gets home just as she sets the pot to simmer.

            She holds up a hand, just as he’s about to announce himself. Her husband sets down is briefcase, loosening his tie, looking at her expectantly.

            “Katsuki is home.”

            Mitsuki hates the way her husband lights up in surprise.

            “Is everything okay?”

            She hates that that’s Masaru’s first question, almost as much as she hates how warranted it is. “No.” So she sits him down and explains the attack, and how Present Mic was involved. Masaru never really was very observant of the news – or anything, really. Nevertheless, her husband, always so much softer than her, curls in on himself in empathy.

            “His poor husband,” Masaru says. “But… I guess that explains why Aizawa and Katsuki never showed up on Thursday…”

            “Thursday? Why the fuck were you planning to meet up with him?”

            “I-“ Her husband sighs, massaging his brow. “I was going to talk to you about all of this, but it kept never being the right moment. Katsuki had another episode in school a couple weeks ago.”

            “And I wasn’t told?”

            Her mouth snapped shut at the flat look her husband gave her. “Mitsuki,” he said, his voice more firm than she had ever heard it. “I very much feel like we lost the right to be offended. To be offended by the fact that we’re kept in the dark like this.”

            Mitsuki reeled back like she’d been struck. Never, in all their years of marriage, had Masaru ever taken a tone like this to her. “What are you saying? What the fuck are you saying?”

            “I’m saying that the last time I remember looking at Katsuki’s grades was when he was eight. And they were horrible. And we never did anything about it, besides insult him over the dinner table.”

            Mitsuki didn’t voice the fact that they both very much knew it was her who had done the insulting, not Masaru. “So?”

            “So… I recently began looking into some things. And… we’ve… god, are we even kidding ourselves, Suki? Katsuki is fantastic. He’s been doing incredibly well academically for the past several years. I’ve been informed by UA that he is currently leading his class. Leading it, at the best high school in the country.”

            “I- He- “

            “The past several years, Mitsuki, that Aizawa has been involved when we weren’t.”

            “It’s not like we didn’t- “

            “And I’ve been thinking about what Aizawa said that day. We’ve both seen the way that Katsuki is always clinging to Izuku. I know you’ve seen those pictures Inko has of Katsuki hanging off of Aizawa and Yamada… Meanwhile… I don’t remember the last time Katsuki willingly hugged me. And that isn’t his fault. Because I don’t remember the last time I reached out, and by the time it even occurred to me to try… well. Do you think we’d even be welcome to it?”

            “We’re his parents!” Mitsuki hissed out, trying despite herself to keep her voice down. Aware that their son was just down the hall.

            “Yes,” Masaru agreed. “And it’s time we start acting like parents and putting him first.” Masaru took several stabilizing breaths, before reaching for his suitcase.

            “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time… We had Katsuki young. Too young.”

            “I’m the same age as Inko!” Mitsuki snapped.

            “Too young for us,” Masaru insisted. “We weren’t ready, and we never grew into the role. Don’t get me wrong, Mitsuki… I’m not blaming you. It’s not just your fault. We both… we both screwed up. Which is why I agreed to schedule an appointment with a counselor for Katsuki when Aizawa called me a few weeks ago. And… it struck me… I know it was brought up before… but Aizawa and Yamada can’t do a lot of things without our permission.”

            “Yes,” Mitsuki cried out, then reigned back in her tone, casting a glance behind her at the still empty hallway. “Because we’re his parents.”

            “And that’s never going to change.”

            Mitsuki froze, then a great gust of a sigh blew out of her. She all but collapsed next to her husband on the couch. “I… I’m not going to lie Masaru, I thought you were going to try and convince me to just… just… sign over our kid to them.”

            Masaru opens up his briefcase.

            “Because,” Mitsuki continued. “I know, okay? I fucking know that I’m a shit mom. I know it, but goddamnit I adore that kid. Okay? And I’m constantly terrified that one day, I’m going to turn on the news, and see that he’s gone and killed-“

Masaru quietly hands Mitsuki a sheaf of paperwork. She reads it numbly.

“Application to approve third party for in loco parentis rights…”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Dinner is subdued, though Masaru is just grateful that they were able to lure Katsuki out of his room at all. His son has been silent. Eerily so.

Mitsuki, as well, has scarcely said a word. Her gaze keeps falling onto the closed folder sitting on the coffee table. After being married to her for nearly a decade and half, he likes to believe he knows her well. She’s considering it.

And, really, at this point that’s all he can ask for.

It’s a blow to her pride. Hell, it’s a blow to his pride. But he’s done a lot of thinking for the past while. Being a parent… it’s about putting the kid first. And… being an adult… it’s about knowing when you’re out of your depth.

            Masaru clears his throat and ignores the glare his wife shoots at him. “Katsuki, honey.” Now his son glares at him, and Masaru quietly thinks that it’s a good thing he’s developed such thick skin since first marrying Mitsuki. “I know you’re going through a lot right now-“

            “-I’m doing fucking fantastic, thanks for noticing.” Katsuki grounds out, quirk popping around the spoon clenched in hishands.

            “So I’m not going to waste your time. Just listen to me say three things.”

            Reluctantly, Katsuki drags his eyes up to meet his father’s.

            “Sometimes change is necessary, but it doesn’t mean that you’re weak for deviating from a path. If anything, it means you’re strong for making such a difficult decision.” Katsuki’s eyes are wide, and Masaru doesn’t know why. He hasn’t said what he needs to say just yet, but hopefully this means that his son is listening. Even if Mitsuki is now glaring sadly at her food.

            “Secondly,” Masaru says. “It’s okay to ask for help-“

            “I don’t need any fucking-“

            “Not you, son,” Masaru cuts him off. “Me. I need help.”

            “What?” Katsuki says, baffled.

            “But it is,” Masaru says anyway. “Okay for anyone to ask for help. Including you. If you need it.”

            “I don’t-“

            “And thirdly,” Masaru takes a deep breath. “At this point, I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s okay to have two fathers.” He swallows. “But… I hope you know, that, no matter what. You’ll always have three. Because I love you.”

            “What are you saying, old man?” Katsuki wasn’t looking at him anymore.

            And that’s okay because it was Mitsuki who answered. “Just… just keep that in mind. Okay… Katsuki? We love you, even if we’re fucking horrible. And I know you think we’re horrible, because we are. So… It’s okay to want what’s best for yourself. You owe yourself a good life. And… if that good life is with Aizawa and Yamada-“

            “So what, you’re kicking me out!” Katsuki snarled, launching his chair backwards as he stood to his feet, poised like he was ready for a fight…

            …or an attack.

            “No, honey,” Masaru said. “You’ll always have a place here. But we know that this hasn’t been your only home for a while now. And that’s okay. You’re hurting right now. And so if you need to go and be with Aizawa and Yamada-“

            “It’s my fault he’s dying!”

            Masaru and Mitsuki share a look, but don’t say anything.

            “It’s my fault,” Katsuki’s voice cracks. “Because I was the one who sent him to the USJ. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but I found out that villains got a hold of the fieldtrip plans and I convinced the school to move it. Papa got sent to patrol there. If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut-“

            “Then what? Have all your little friends attacked by villains?” Mitsuki scoffed, then growled when Masaru kicked her under the table.

            “But I would have been there, and Sensei would have been there, and-“

            “Katasuki. Do you think for a moment that Yamada would have wanted you there? Would have wanted his husband there? He’s a hero. I don’t know him as well as you do, but something tells me he would have gladly chosen to be hurt of either of you.”

            “But no one had his back,” Katsuki seemed to be pleading with himself. “Dad would have had me.” Then he blanched, seeming to realize what he’d said.

            “I stand by what I said. As a hero, as a father, as a husband… don’t you think Yamada would have chosen to be hurt a thousand times over to prevent his family from being there? I know I would. Wouldn’t you?”

            “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s my fault-“

            “Have you told your classmates?”

            Katsuki froze. “What?”

            “Does anyone know what you did? Because… I think they’d be grateful. Inko has told me about what wonderful friends you and Izuku have made. The decision you made was the responsible one. The heroic one. You saw a problem, and you went to the people with he power to make it better rather than trying to do it all yourself.” Masaru reached out and grabbed Katsuki’s hands, trusting that he wouldn’t be burned. “Tell your friends. Please?”

            Katsuki didn’t say anything. But he did retrieve his chair and sit back down to finish the meal with them.

            Afterwards, when the dishes were washed and the table wiped down, Katsuki retreated to his room. For the hundredth time that day, he opened up the discord app.

            And stared.

           

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa was about to head back out when a large manila envelope sticking out of his mailbox caught his attention. Curiously, he approaches to pry it out, flipping it over in his hands.

            His heart stutters in his chest when he sees who it was sent from.

            Mindlessly, he wanders back into his home, finger sliding underneath the flap, unsealing the letter. He tosses the envelope down on the coffee table and unfolds the official looking papers inside. There is a letter, and a pile of forms.

 

Mister Aizawa Shouta,

Congratulations. Your application to become a certified foster parent has been verified, and a caseworker has been assigned to your case. A home appointment must be scheduled within the next 30 days to meet with the caseworker….

 

He stumbles backwards, landing hard on his ass. Fuck. He was going to surprise Hizashi… they’d been talking about this for months now. They’d been planning on looking at bigger houses… but… for now…

Aizawa looks around his abandoned home.

He picks himself up off the floor with a sense of purpose that he hadn’t felt since he’d gotten Nemuri’s phone call. Shouta is suddenly determined to have some good news for Hizashi for if…

…for when he wakes up.

He starts to clean.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Todoroki had thought he’d gotten used to having friends, but maybe he’d just gotten used to being friends with the EraserMic kids. Because, he certainly didn’t expect to be invited over to Tokoyami’s house after school that day.

            He was pleased, of course he was. Because that meant he had one more friend than he thought he had. He was even more pleased when, upon arrival he found that Shinsou had also been invited.

            “No one should be alone right now,” he was told by Shinsou as he was welcomed in. It was certainly different than hanging out at the EraserMic household. Less rowdy. Quieter. Calmer. But Todoroki didn’t mind. If anything, he welcomed the peace that came with helping the two other boys prepare a snack, then settling down in Tokoyami’s room to watch some American Film about a quirkless girl named Coraline.

            However, the end of the visit felt all too familiar. Tokoyami’s father came home, and then it was time for them to say goodbye. They lingered on the doorstep for as long as they could, but, eventually they knew that they really had outworn their welcome.

            Shinsou and Todoroki walked down the street, side by side, in the vague direction of Todoroki’s home. It was getting chilly, and the sun was beginning to sink lower on the horizon, splashing the world in orange.

            Shinsou stops walking. “Is everything alright?” Todoroki asks, voice pitched low for now particular reason.

            “The lights are on.”

            At first, Todoroki is confused.

            Then, he recognizes where they are. They share a look, then Shinsou strides through an open gate, and raps hard on the front door of a house.

            As Todoroki joins him a few moments later, he can here shuffling inside. The door opens.

            “Hey Dadzawa. Dinner ready?”

            Aizawa sensei looks a little better than he had in class that morning. A little more put together. Hair somewhat damp, probably indicating that he’d finally taken a shower. But the bags still hang a bit heavier than normal beneath his eyes, which almost pulse red with exhaustion.

            The house is empty behind him.

            Sensei is quiet for a moment. Clears his throat several times.

            “Give me thirty minutes. Game stuff’s where you left it.”

            “Can…” Todoroki starts, but falls silent as he notices that Aizawa had already started to turn. Aizawa pauses and looks back at him expectantly. “Can we help? Please?”

            Some emotion flits over Aizawa’s face. He sighs. A full body thing that slumps his shoulders, relaxes something behind his eyes. The hard pressed line of his lips look just a little less firm.

            “Hurry up, then.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 37: Update, not a Chapter.

Summary:

Sorry, but don't worry. I'm still writing this.

Chapter Text

Hey yall. I'm going to keep this short and sweet.
So, I may have mentioned in previous chapter notes that I'm a senior in college? This is my final semester, and with the pandemic still going strong, and my mental health (or lack thereof) kicking my butt, it's been hard to have anything extra on my plate. This does NOT however, mean that I am abandoning this fic. In fact, I just made a tentative outline for the next chapter, and I've always had a relatively clear idea of how this particular arc was going to go. Thank you for your sweet comments on the last chapter, and I'm sorry I don't have an update for you just yet. My classes end the second week of December. I may update before then, if I have time, but I will DEFINITELY update afterwards. Before the new year, there will be SOMETHING up. Again, I'm sorry and appreciative to everyone who has been waiting. Also, any ideas are welcome. Even if I don't use them, seeing your guy's interpretation on where the story is headed always gets my creative juices flowing.

That's all for now. Get back to you soon.
Promise.
Wawa

Chapter 38: Upward Momentum

Summary:

We're getting back to the fluffyness folks. Nearly there. I promise. Sorry if this feels a little rushed.

Notes:

Here is is, a little sooner than expected, because, turns out, thanksgiving break was exactly what i needed.

Chapter Text

It’s quieter than normal, but, perhaps, that’s only to be expected. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. Aizawa sensei is slowly stirring a gently bubbling pot of soup, his shoulders finally loose, rather than tightly holding stress up around his ears. Hitoshi is standing next to him, rhythmically chopping vegetables to be tossed in.

            Shouto, finished with setting the table, can’t help but wander out into the living room, where, on an ordinary night, he would be sitting happily with his friends playing Mario’s Cars. A pang of loss, then guilt for feeling so poorly – it wasn’t his family that was suffering. It wasn’t his loved one in the hospital.

            Shouto stepped further into the room, then sat down on the couch. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the cushions seemed colder than he was used to. It was as though, without Bakugo to scream and set things on fire, the warmth from the house had all but been extinguished.

            But Shouto couldn’t blame his friend – and they were friends, Shouto was sure of it – after all, there was that period of time, after his mother was… taken… that every one of the Todoroki children grew cold and distant, even from each other. Or, in the case of Touya, fiery and, well, gone. Shouto, himself, hardly spoke for months after his mother was… taken. And when Fuyomi did try to make him speak, he was hardly polite. And at least Shouto knew that his mother was all right, just out of reach. At least Shouto knew that, in at least one way, his mother was better off being cared for and out of reach of his father. Bakugo didn’t have that. There was a very real possibility that Present Mic Sensei would never return to them the way that he had been before. He was almost certain to survive, but no one could say for sure what his mental state would be once, if, he woke up.

            But he was getting better every day, at least according to Midoriya. Surely, surely, Bakugo return to how he’d been before once Present Mic Sensei recovered.

            Shouto missed him.

            And he wasn’t the only one.

            Explodocat sat, staring out the living room window, his fluffy tail snaking back and forth like an angry whip. Ears laid back and eyes narrowed, seeming to watch the streets. Waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. Every now and then, Splodes would sniff, then huff, then sneeze. Shouto wondered what he would say, had Koda been there to translate. Though, he thought he had a pretty good idea.

            Gently, he eased off of the couch, and crept over to Explodocat from the side, so that the feline could see him coming. The cat’s ears twitched in his direction, but Splodes didn’t move his eyes from where he kept vigil over the streets. Hesitantly, Shouto stroked a hand down Splodes’ back. The cat didn’t hiss. The cat didn’t purr. He just kept staring.

            Shouto sighed, looking away from the window. Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of papers leaking out of a folder sitting on top of the television’s stand. He glances into the kitchen, where Hitoshi is adding the vegetables to the soup, and Aizawa sensei is pulling a loaf out of the bread box.

            Is it about Present Mic? About the school? Hadn’t there been villains who had gotten their hands on some UA paperwork? Why would Sensei just leave it laying out? Both Sensei and Shinsou looked occupied with their respective tasks. Shouto leaned over and quietly opened the top of the file, telling himself he only wanted to glance at the papers, just to see what it was.

            It’s a letter. And as he reads through it, his heart aches with bittersweetness, thinking to himself that Shinsou was a very lucky person.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Hitoshi breathes in deeply – but subtly so as to not seem weird – as he slices three pieces of bread off of the loaf Aizawa had handed to him. He hadn’t realized until he’d walked through the front door that evening just how lost he’d been feeling. How sad.

            He wasn’t completely un-self-aware. He knew he’d been feeling like crap. One of his favorite teachers had been laid low, and one of his best friends had been acting like, well, a jackass. Understandably so, but still. More than that, he’d lost his safe place. The safest safe place he’d ever known. It was a selfish thought, but it was true. The past few nights he’d wandered around town until his legs were sore and his feet were aching and the sun was well passed set, before he’d unwillingly trudge to his foster home to quietly slink up the stairs unnoticed and unfed to sleep in his empty room, alone. Aside from the lost meals, lost sleep, lost friends, or maybe because of all that, he’d felt adrift in a way he was no longer used to.

            Growing up, he’d been careful to not get attached. Not to foster parents, not to foster siblings. Not that it was hard – they hardly ever did anything to encourage even the most base attachment. But then he’d been gathered so completely into Aizawa’s fold that he’d forgotten himself.

            And then they’d forgotten about him.

            He wasn’t being fair, he knew he wasn’t being fair, and he hated himself for it. But… but he missed them. So much. He wanted them to comfort him, which wasn’t fair because they were the ones who were hurting. At least Midoriya was still talking to him. Without really thinking about it, his hand came up to rub against the healed spot on his arm where Bakugo had slapped him earlier that week, just the day after they all had come back to school after the… incident.

            Hitoshi knew, objectively, that Bakugo shouldn’t have done that. He did. He wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t a masochist, he wasn’t a child. He knew, okay? But he also knew that he’d prodded Bakugo until he’d snapped. Asking him stupid questions about what he wanted to do for Mic when he woke up, or if there was anything he thought they could do to cheer up Aizawa, or if he thought that Miss Inko and Mr. Yagi would help up-keep the house while Aizawa was busy visiting Mic.

            At least, he’d been in the process of asking that last question, when Bakugo’s face contorted in a way that was well and truly frightening. Just for an instant, Hitoshi understood those people who he’d heard call Bakugo a villain. But as soon as the thought registered… he’d felt sick. How could he think that about his friend? The boy who was, for all intents and purposes, his best friend. His best friend who was hurting.

            So, Hitoshi had stood there and taken the blow. Because… because he deserved it for that traitorous thought. He could have dodged. Bakugo was telegraphing like he never did, wasn’t really moving all that fast, and Hitoshi had training now. But he didn’t. He stood there and felt his arm ripple in agony.

            But then he regretted that, too, when he saw the look of pure anguish on Bakugo’s face when he saw the mark that his quirk had left.

            Before Hitoshi could apologize… Bakugo had fled.

            Hitoshi hadn’t spoken to him since.

            Hitoshi lays the bread on the three plates next to three bowls placed around the too-large table. Stares for a moment at the empty chairs. The roughed-up dining table could easily sit six people, despite the home technically only housing one person.

            Aizawa throws a rag onto the middle of the table, then sets the pot on top of it, calling for Todoroki. They all shuffle around the table and sit, and it’s awkward, because suddenly, all of them realize that Aizawa made way too much food for just three people.

            It’s easily enough food for six.

            “The class has been excited for the Sports Festival,” Todoroki suddenly spoke up for the first time since they’d walked in, and Hitoshi can’t help but jolt in surprise as he looks up. Aizawa doesn’t look as surprised, or maybe he’s just too tired to be, but he does give Todoroki his full attention. Like he always does whenever any of them talk. “Ashido wants to try eating nothing but sour food to see if it boosts her acidity.”

            Aizawa considers this for a moment. “Considering that her quirk is a physical manifestation that comes from her own body’s production… that’s not an unreasonable thought.”

            “And Kaminari wants to stick a fork in a socket to see if it gives him a power-up.”

            Aizawa huffs and it might have been a laugh if his eyes didn’t still look so sad. “Next time he brings it up, tell him he isn’t allowed to do anything of the sort.”

            “Am I allowed to use my quirk, Da- Sensei?” Hitoshi asks before he can think better of it. “I know that, during the, uh, entrance exam that we weren’t allowed to use our quirks on other students…”

            “Of course, Shinsou,” Aizawa replies, dipping his bread. “In fact, I expect you to. However….” He chews for a moment. “….focus on 1-B. Vlad and I have a bit of a competition every year over our first years.”

            “Satou wants to bring cookies for us, but he doesn’t want to share with the other classes. Just for us,” Todoroki says, face as blank as ever, but somehow still looking pleased at the blatant favoritism.

            “Each class will have their own space for preparation. As long as he keeps them in there, I can’t see it being an issue.”

            “Sweet,” Hitoshi mutters, spooning some of the soup into his mouth.

            “Hitoshi,” Aizawa turns towards him. Hitoshi glances up, eyes wide, not having expected to be called on. “Do you have any strategies or techniques you would like to focus on during the remedial classes? I’ve noticed that your stamina has improved exponentially since the beginning of classes.”

            It was like being bundled up in a blanket and sitting in front of a roaring hearth after trudging through a snowstorm. He was thawing, inside and out, and he hadn’t even realized that he’d been frozen. Hitoshi smiles, just a small one, but for the first time that week he feels full. His belly full. His heart full. His spirit perking up.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The apartment complex has random lamps lit every night outside the homes, for any asshole who might stumble around drunk, so that the owners of the building can’t be sued if someone takes a nosedive from a balcony or walkway.

            One such lamp is directly outside Katsuki’s window. It’s always been there, of course it has, but for some reason it’s really bothering him tonight. At his sensei’s house, at night, it’s almost completely pitch black in the darkness unless Deku leaves the curtains open, and even then there’s just the soft light of the moon, since their window faces away from the street and towards the back yard.

            Here, his curtains aren’t heavy enough to block out the ghostly greenish blue light leaking in through his window, casting shadows across his bed. Even if he closes his eyes, he can still see it burning just outside his eyelids.

            Katsuki curls up beneath his blankets and rolls over.

            He knows, he knows, even if it had been complete darkness in his room, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. He knows that. But, still, it’s easier to blame the fucking lamp than it is to acknowledge just what it is that’s keeping him awake.

            But he’s never been very good at lying to himself, and he can’t stop thinking. He can’t stop thinking about how his parents want to sign him away. But they don’t? They aren’t getting rid of him… they’re just… giving part of him to Aizawa? This never happened. Another something that never fucking happened in the thrice-damned original timeline, and Katsuki is at a complete loss for how to fix it.

Rolls over.

He isn’t sure how to feel. Isn’t sure what the right way to feel is. Katsuki closes his eyes.

And then he wakes up reaching for Deku. Who isn’t there.

Idly, Katsuki wonders if Deku is staying with Aizawa, or if Aizawa is spending another back-breaking night curled up in the uncomfortable chair next to Hizashi. He wonders how Halfy is doing. He hadn’t talked to him at all that week. Then he thinks about Hitoshi and his chest contracts with guilt. He’s such a fucking asshole. A slip up away from being a villain. How could he? How could he do that?

Kirishima probably hates him, but… maybe that’s for the best.

He glances outside, the sky still dark and the lamp still glaring at him, like even the fucking apartment is telling him to get his shit together. And he’s trying, all right? He’s trying so damn hard.

Tell them.

His fucking father. His dad who’s never given him an order in either of his lives. His dad who he literally forgot to invite to his wedding until Kirishima mentioned it. His dad, his real dad, wants him to confess everything to his class.

But, for all that Katsuki knows he’d deserve it, he isn’t ready for them to hate him yet.

 Then his phone is in his hand, and because he’s a fucking idiot, he opens discord.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

Frogger: but if you think about it, Shinsou has the best shot at winning.

Frogger: mental quirks are objectively stronger than most physical or mutation.

PonyTail: This is true, but, forgive me, Shinsou doesn’t have as much training as say, Iida or Todoroki

Pinky: Or Kacchan

Pinky: I miss him.

SoySauceFace: I hate to say it but… I wonder if he’ll even compete.

SweetCheeks: Of course he will!

SoySauceFace: I’m just saying, if it was my parent who was supposed to be the MC

SoySauceFace: and this happened to them

SoySauceFace: Idk. I don’t think id show up tbh

PikaPikaChuuuu: I believe in him!

PikaPikaChuuuu: remember the first hero class?

PikaPikaChuuuu: he was so badass

PikaPikaChuuuu: he was so in control and awesome

PikaPikaChuuuu: full offense to all of you, but Kacchan could whip all of our butts

Shitstain: at this point I’d be too relieved to care

Shitstain: if he did, I mean

SweetCheeks: I get what you mean, but I can’t see Kacchan giving anything less that 100 percent!!!

EarJaxx: I wonder who is going to MC

EarJaxx: man it’s just not going to be the same

EarJaxx: I used to watch the festival just for Mic, before I wanted to be a hero

EarJaxx: But… since he isn’t going to be there

EarJaxx: we’ve got to give it our all. For our sensei. For both of them.

ROBOCOP: I completely agree!

ROBOCOP: we must show that we have taken Aizawa Sensei’s warning to heart!

ROBOCOP: and prove that Yamada Sensei’s sacrifice for us has inspired us to be better heroes.

ShittyHair: I know I’m going to give it my all.

ShittyHair: for mic sensei

Frogger: for mic sensei

EarJaxx: hell yeah

EarJaxx: for mic sensei

ROBOCOP: For Present Mic Sensei!

PonyTail: For Mic sensei!

SweetCheeks: for Papa Mic!

Pinky: for Mic sensei!

PikaPikaChuuuu: for McSplody’s whole family

Shitstain: fucking amen.

 Katsuki wasn’t crying. Really, he wasn’t.

 

 

Private Chat

@PresentPapaMic

Katsukills: Hey Papa

Katsukills: if my parents asked, would you adopt me?

Katsukills: or whatever the fuck those papers mean

Katsukills: do you still want me?

Katsukills: even after everything

Katsukills: wake the fuck up

Katsukills: okay?

 

 

Katsuki closes his phone and rolls back over.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            “I’m so relieved that All Might is going to be at the festival the entire time,” Mina says, sighing as she leans back in her chair, stretching her hands up towards the ceiling to crack the aches in her spine. “I mean… if we were really the real, like, targets? For the villains? What if… what if they show up?”

            “They wouldn’t show up at the school!” Kaminari argues, but Tsuyu only croaks.

            “They already have, kero.”

            “Man,” Kirishima whispers, fists clenched. “What would have happened? If… if we had been there. If the plans hadn’t been changed. Sensei said that it was super last minute…”

            Satou shakes his head. “I wonder why they were changed, how they knew.”

            “I heard one of the older students speculating that there was an anonymous tip,” Momo says, hushed, as though it were a terrible secret. “But no one knows who…” she trails off, eyes on the open door of the classroom.

            Because Katsuki is standing there, hand on the open door, head bowed towards the ground, face unreadable. Slowly, he steps in, hands plunged into his pockets, not looking at any of them. Momo bites her lip and looks away. All of them, even Iida who had been trying and failing to get them off the topic, look ashamed for bringing up the incident again.

“It was me.”

His voice is low and cracks a bit on the final word.

“Dude…” Kirishima stands, amazed. “You saved us? How did, how did you know!”

“The villains that day… they saw the plans for the fieldtrip on Principal Nedzu’s desk. I… I asked for the trip to be cancelled or postponed or… or something. Because… because I didn’t want you guys… I didn’t want… I didn’t…”

“That is the mark of a true hero!” Iida cries. “Doing the right thing when faced with such a terrifying dilemma!”

“Truly, those who face the darkness and come back from it blazing are those who are most deserving of the light.” Tokoyami’s hand is resting on Hitoshi’s shoulder. Hitoshi shakes his head.

“You probably saved all of our lives, Kacchan…” He says, uncomprehending. “Why…”

Katsuki’s shoulders are shaking, his knuckles are white, he’s clenching his hands so hard. His jaw is grating back and forth. He looks like he’s braced for an attack.

The reality hits them.

It’s Tsuyu who gives him the first hug. “I know your Papa is proud of you, kero.”

“I killed him.”

“He isn’t dead,” Izuku snapped, shaking out of his shocked silence from where he’d been sitting quietly at his desk. “And I’d bet, if he were here right now, he’d…” Izuku stopped himself. “I want to say he’d be upset with you for acting this way… but… we both know he’d just give you a hug.”

Todoroki reaches past Tsuyu, and gently tugs on Katsuki’s arm with a hesitant hand, guiding him into Todoroki’s own desk. “What happened?”

With halting words and many pauses, Katsuki shakily tells them everything, not meeting their eyes as though he’s afraid of what he’ll find there. But, when Izuku cups his chin and forces him to look up, all he sees is gratitude and sorrow. After it’s all over, and class is about to start, Katsuki doesn’t apologize for his behavior, but then, no one ever really thought he had to.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

It’s somewhat of a tradition for the Heroic Studies teacher to give the students a free day to train however they’d please the last session before the Festival. According to his fellow teachers, most students use the time to mingle and enjoy each other’s company, making bets and forging temporary alliances.

However, all of the students, as one, turn away from him and throw themselves into preparation, pushing themselves through the sets and exercises that he knows he’d seen them practice during Young Aizawa’s remedial PE class.

And, throughout the entire session, the class is somewhat more chilly towards him than normal

All Might doesn’t bring it up. He knows it’s deserved.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            The crowds are already filling the stadium. It’s huge, the scale of the event. Of course it is, it’s always been. And this isn’t the first time that Aizawa has been in the MCing box. But, at the same time… it’s more daunting this year. Clearly.

            He nervously shuffles his papers, all the while internally scoffing at himself. He shouldn’t be nervous, he never has to deal with something as pathetic as nerves. He’s always dealt with everything that’s been thrown at him… until… well…

            The papers are notes on every student, though Aizawa knows he’ll barely need them. To his side is a schedule for the tasks that the students will face. He knows this isn’t hard. He knows it’s just a matter of paying attention and narrating what he sees to the audience. He isn’t going to bother with trying to be entertaining. If Nedzu had wanted this job done well, well, he shouldn’t have forced Aizawa to help.

            But, despite him telling himself over and over again that this is nothing to worry about, his stomach and his heart keep switching positions, like they’re square dancing all over his lungs. Part of it, he knows, isn’t nerves. The empty chair next to him almost seems to project an aura that burns against his side.

            Half an hour until start.

            Does he have enough time to check on his class? Should he bother? They’re all ready, he knows they are. He shouldn’t distract them. Shouldn’t distract himself.

            Twenty minutes until start.

            Fifteen.

 

                       There’s a knock at the booth’s door.

Chapter 39: Guess Who's Back Yall

Summary:

The Sports Festival is finally here!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Toshinori, on his way to meet with the principal one last time before the event, happens to cross paths with the two boys by chance in the empty hallway as the two of them are on their way to class 1-A’s waiting room.

            They all three pause once they notice each other, make eye contact. Though, Toshinori is the first to break it, shamefully sliding his gaze to the floor. He knows he should keep walking, but his feet refuse to move. This is the first time he’s been alone with them since… the incident. And he feels as though his hesitation is a fracturing of the deal he made with Inko. He closes his eyes, then offers them a small smile.

 He prepares to walk away.

            “Will you watch me?” Midoriya interrupts the silence in a small voice; it freezes Toshinori in his tracks. “Mr. Yagi?”

            “Young Midoriya …” Toshinori says, his voice breaking off. Both Aizawa and Inko had warned him to stay away. Of course, All Might has to be here, watching over the stadium. The people.

 But… Yagi Toshinori?

            “Well… Whatsit?” Bakugo asks roughly, looking away with a scowl, shoulders tense, arms crossed. “Left Not-Mom in stand 18-G. You should sit with her for our thing.”

            “I-” Toshinori’s voice breaks again. Eyes burning. A thousand apologies on his tongue.

            “You’ll watch me, right?” Izuku asks again, eyes almost pleading, the small boy’s own waterworks already starting up, and it really wasn’t helping All Might’s battle against his own tears.

            “Always, my boy.” Toshinori promises. “So long as I am here, I will proudly – proudly – watch as you announce to the world that you are here. It’s your time, my boys. I know you’ll do your best. I know you’ll do us all proud.”

            For a moment, none of them say anything. And Toshinori turns, to walk away. Hurried footsteps halt him once more, and Izuku’s arms are thrown around his waist. Suddenly, Toshinori is back on the beach, and everything is okay, and he holds his successor. His boy. Just for a second.

            “I forgive you.” Izuku whispers against his shirt. And All Might loses his battle.

Silently, Bakugo watches as the two of them, patiently waiting for them to finish. Carefully not meeting either of their eyes once they’re done, and he steers Izuku down the hallway towards where the rest of their class are waiting.

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

The first thing he notices… is the beeping.

            The second thing he notices is the horrible build up of crust around his eyes. Limply, he raises a hand to wipe at his face, not really taking note of how oddly difficult it was to do so. With a groan, he heaves himself upright, the mattress squeaking beneath him, a twinge of not-really-pain lacing his abdomen.

            “Hizashi!” Mic’s head whips to the right, and this time he does notice the pain. He winces, massaging his neck. His body feels stiff all over, like someone had ripped out half of his body’s meat and replaced it with cotton balls.

            “Tensei?” his friend is wearing civilian clothes, beaming, standing with wide eyes and wide stance like he’d just won the lottery. “What- ” He looks around. A hospital. Why would he… oh. Right.

            USJ. The villains. The monster.

            “What happened?”

            “You…” Tensei’s face suddenly takes on an expression of deep concern. “What do you remember?” Hizashi waves away his concern.

            “I remember getting my brains smushed against the concrete if that’s what you’re worried about. I meant with the villains. We got em?”

            Tensei relaxes. “We got the… the thing that attacked you. We got the small-time crooks that swarmed the area. But… the two guys that headed the whole thing… they got away.”

            Hizashi swears under his breath, easing himself further upright. Tensei hurries to try to stop him, but Hizashi flicks his nose and waves him away. “Don’t strain yourself, idiot.”

            “I’m fiiiine” Hizashi hums, eyes closed, taking note of how heavy his body is. “Physical therapy’s gonna be fun,” he says dryly. Something feels… off. For a second, he just listens to Tensei ramble about how glad he is that Hizashi has finally woken up, how the doctors had said it was touch and go for a while. Meanwhile, Hizashi tries to figure out what it is that was niggling him in the back of his mind. What’s leaving him off kilter.

            “… Shouta…” Hizashi frowns. Tensei stops midsentence.

            “What?”

            Hizashi cranes his head to look around the small room, as though expecting his friend to suddenly materialize. “Where is he?”

            A cold stone drops to the pit of his stomach as a sudden realization for as to why Shouta might not have been there to greet him when he woke up might be. Where are the kids? The villains got a way, they wouldn’t have gone after his family, would they?

            “Where is he?” he repeats, more urgently, throwing one leg off the side of his bed. Tensei is quick to push him back down. “Tensei where-“

            “Calm down! He’s right there!”

            Mic freezes, confused. Tensei is pointing into the corner of the room where the two walls meet the ceiling. Where the TV hangs, showing drone footage of the UA stadium. People milling around, filling up the stands. “You signed him up to be MC, remember? Nedzu wouldn’t let him talk his way out of it.”

            “I signed us up to be MC,” Mic says, distractedly. “And the kids?”

            “Sad. Worried. But they’re fine, too. Probably getting ready as we speak.”

            “What time is it?” Mic asks desperately, firmly grasping Tensei by the arms and standing.

            “Quarter after nine, and please Zashi, lie back down! Your family is fine!” Tensei shoots him a meaningful look as he says that, which Mic neither has the energy nor the presence of mind to try and interpret.

            “Where’s my clothes?”

            “Destroyed in the fight, and even if they weren’t you aren’t going anywhere.”

            “Tensei…”

            “You need to take it easy.” As though he just assumed that the conversation would end there, Tensei turned back to the TV and turned up the volume. There was no one narrating the announcements. Just marching band music overlaying the live footage. “I’m glad you’re awake, Mic. And when it’s all over, I know your family will come right over. In fact,” Tensei tosses him something that he snatched off the side table. “Why don’t you shoot Hubby a message?”

            Hizashi snorts in amusement, craning his neck a little to see what all was on the table. “Are those…”

            “Cards,” Tensei smiles. “From your classes.” His smile falls away, voice pitched lower. “You really worried everyone.”

            Hizashi winces, and looks down at his lap, where Tensei had tossed his phone. He unlocks it and feels a pang at the 7 missed calls and 18 unread messages. “Yeah,” he says softly as he unlocks it. He dismisses the missed call notification, and scans over the texts, all of them basically amounting to “hurry up and text me” from Shouta, assumable before he’d realized what had happened at the USJ.

            There were also several dozen discord notifications.

            #Only4Emergencies

EarJaxx: @PresentPapaMic I hope you get better soon

ROBOCOP: @PresentPapaMic I hope it pleases you to know that we have all been dedicatedly studying together using the syllabus which you handed out early this semester. We will be ready for when your classes resume.

PikaPikaChuuuu: @PresentPapaMic what Prez is trying to say == we miss you, and class isn’t the same without you!

SweetCheeks: We all really miss having you in class! @PresentPapaMic

Pinky: Kacchan says he misses you, too! @PresentPapaMic

Frogger: @PresentPapaMic thank you for protecting us that day

PonyTail: @PresentPapaMic You’ve inspired me. Truly, your actions show what it means to go even further beyond. I shall to my best to emulate you in the upcoming weeks and years in my academic and heroic career.

Shitstain: Splodes says to hurry up and get better.

TheMuffinMan: @PresentPapaMic When you wake up, when you’re ready to come back to class, let me know. I’ll make cookies. You said you like snickerdoodles, right?

Tails: @PresentPapaMic We’re all training hard for the Festival. I hope you can come see us

ThatFuckingChicken: Though the night stretches long, those who have seen the stars never forget the strength they hold, that they are able to hold back the blackness.

PrinceyPrincey: We shall glitter for you in your absence, eagerly awaiting your triumphant return!

Gloves: @PresentPapaMic They’re all tryna say that we appreciate you! We heard what you did for us, and it makes us want to be better heroes!

SoySauceFace: @PresentPapaMic We’ll show you. Come watch us at the festival.

Halfy: Get well soon.

Koda: ♬♫ ◖( ●。●) ♪♫

LotsaJazzHands: @PresentPapaMic I hope you like the cards we made you.

ShittyHair: @PresentPapaMic We’ll see you soon, sensei!

Halfy: ♪♪♪ ヽ( ˇ∀ˇ ・ゞ)

PikaPikaChuuuu: Now ur getting it Tododo!

            Hizashi sniffled, using the edge of his bed sheets to wipe at his eyes.

            “Everything okay, man?” Tensei asked, edging closer.

            “Fine, fine!” Hizashi waved him away, not being able to help the longing glass he tosses at the TV as it pans over the stadium. “It’s just… 1-A left me some really sweet messages.” Tensei smiles in understanding.

            “Ah, yeah” he says. “Some good kids in that class. A lot of them have come to visit. Mostly to support your kids, but Shouta must have said something to them, because last week a whole bunch of them all came at once to say Thank You for what you did at USJ.”

            Hizashi sniffles again, as he settles further back, more comfortably. Then he notices that he still has several messages unread. Private dms.

Private Chat

@Katsukills [a.k.a. Kacchan]

Katsukills: Hey Papa

Katsukills: if my parents asked, would you adopt me?

Katsukills: or whatever the fuck those papers mean

Katsukills: do you still want me?

Katsukills: even after everything

Katsukills: wake the fuck up

Katsukills: okay?

            Hizashi couldn’t breathe. In one swift moment, he unhooks himself from the machines and ignores the way that the steady beeps turned into one long drawn out tone. Tensei shouts in objection, jumping to his feet. “Hey, no! What are you doing!”

            Hizashi throws his legs back over the side of the bed, staggering upright. “I’m going to the festival. Where can I get some clothes?”

“Hizashi, Shouta made me promise to look after you while he was busy!”

Hizashi steps around him, avoiding Tensei’s arms that are outstretched as though waiting for him to fall into them like a swooning damsel. “My kids are gonna be there, giving their all. Pushing their tiny little bodies to the limits. Why should I do any different?” He takes an experimental step. His head is pounding, and he sways once. But only once. Hizashi hobbles his way over to the waiting chair that Tensei had been sitting in, massaging his underused legs, and looking up at his ex-classmate through his messy hair. “I need to be there.”

Iida looks ready to tear his hair out. “You literally just woke up from a coma.”

“Tensei. Please. I’m not pretending I’m 100 percent.” Hizashi sighs, reaches over, and grabs Tensei’s hand. “I’m not asking you to let me go off and fight the guys that landed me here. I’m not leaving to go on patrol. I’m not Shouta, insisting that I go and teach classes or go back to work right away. I just want to go to the heavily guarded and hero filled stadium where my kids are. I just wanna go and sit my heinie down in the chair next to Shouta and watch. And then, when my kid kicks all those other kids butts… I wanna give him a hug. You can come with me, watch me every step of the way. Just… Help me. I… I need to see them. I want to be there. I have to be there. Please?”

“You seemed content to sit here with me a few seconds ago!”

Wordlessly, Hizashi hands him his phone. Still frowning, Tensei reads back. And loses all fight in his posture.

In the end… what could Tensei really say to that?

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 It’s never a good sign when class 1-A is silent.

            Tokoyami sits silently next to Shinsou, who idly does stretches on the ground. Uraraka and Hagakure whisper at the corner table. Aoyama, Shoji, Sato, and Koda huddle heads together, occasionally glancing over at where Todoroki stares intensely at the door.

            “So… they really aren’t coming?” Kaminari breaks the silence, hesitantly. Uraraka clenches her fists.

            “I’m not giving up on them just yet! They’ll come! Iida isn’t here yet either… They’ve got a few more minutes!”

            Tsuyu lopes over to her and rests a hand on her elbow. “I’m sure you’re right. Afterall, I saw sensei in the hall about an hour ago, kero. If anything, Mido-chan wouldn’t make him face today alone.”

            Kirishima glances up at the clock. The second hand flinching further and further along. “It’s gonna be so quiet without Mic,” Jiro whispers. No one knew how to respond to that. Still lost in their thoughts, the entire class startles when the door suddenly opens.

            Midoriya and Bakugo walk in, together. And, to the great relief of the rest of the class, Bakugo has one arm loosely slung over Midoriya’s shoulders. “What’re you fuckers staring at,” Bakugo says without a hint of venom. Todoroki seems to relax.

            “Are you both prepared?” he asks them.

            “Should be asking yourself that, Icyhot,” Bakugo slowly turns his face up, voice lilted in a taunt, a smirk spreading steadily across his face. “Don’t know about you, fuckers, but I’m gonna give those extras in the stands something to think about. Those hero scouts don’t know what’s coming.”

            Kirishima stands, grin firmly in place. “Don’t get too cocky just yet, bro! We’re all ready to bring out our A game!”

            “Our class 1-A game!” Kaminari says with a dumb grin and an eyebrow waggle. Jiro glares deadpan at him.

            “That was horrible, and you should be ashamed of yourself” she informs him.

            The door slams open, once again, and Iida charges through, determination on his face. “Everyone! It is almost time to head down! Is everyone ready?”

            A cheer goes through the class, and the energy begins to pick up.

            “Ready to kick all of your asses!” Bakguo sniffs.

            “You’re gonna be eating your words, Kacchan,” Izuku speaks up, smile looking a bit forced, but smiling nonetheless.

            “You’re gonna be eating my dust, Deku.”

            “None of you are going to be able to get past me,” Shinsou drawled.

            “Say that to my face, Zombie-“ Kaminari freezes mid-sentence.

            “Dance, monkey.” Any tension left hanging over the class falls away as they watch Kaminari pirouette around the room while Iida tries and fails to convince Shinsou to release him.

            “I know you Big Three think you’ve got this in the bag,” Uraraka stands with a cry, her fist raised in the air. “But don’t you count the rest of us out just yet! PLUS ULTRA!

            “PLUS ULTRA!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

There’s a knock at the booth’s door.

            Aizawa really doesn’t want to deal with anything right now. It’s probably Nedzu, he thinks to himself bitterly, with something else for him to do. But, then again… it might be one of his kids. With a sigh, Aizawa takes off his headset and gets up from his chair. There’s another knock, more insistent this time.

            He yanks it open with a scowl. “What.”

            Tensei laughs nervously. “So, you know how you told me to watch him?”

            But Aizawa isn’t looking at him.

            Hizashi. Hizashi is there. Right there. Two feet in front of him, standing without aid, looking healthy and whole – if somewhat gaunt and tired. His hair is pulled into a low bun, his spare glasses sitting low on his nose. One of Aizawa’s spare undershirts hung loosely on his frame, a pair of his worn sweats on his legs. Hands stuck lazily in his pockets, a shit-eating grin on his face.

            “Hi, honey,” he croons, wiggling his fingers with a wink. “Sorry I’m late. You ready to do this thing!?” He looks excited, even through his clear exhaustion. Eyes shining, like they always do when he’s done something he knows will probably irritate Aizawa. He looks worn. Paler than normal. Ruffled and unkempt in his borrowed clothing.

            More beautiful than anything.

            And… Aizawa can’t speak past the pain in his throat. The smile slowly starts to drip off of Hizashi’s face. Tensei clears his throat.

            “I’ll uh… go see if I can find my parents…” and he’s gone, speeding down the hallway like he’s fleeing from a fire. Hizashi chuckles awkwardly as he watches him go, before turning slowly back to Aizawa.

            “Look, Shouta, don’t be mad at Tensei, okay? I made him bring me here. I just,” Hizashi runs a hand through his hair, and some of this fringe falls down into his face. Aizawa watches the strands seem to glint like spun gold in the low light. “I just hated the idea of missing this. I mean, the kids are only gonna do this three times, right? And Hey!” Hizashi smiles again, smaller and sweeter. “Now you don’t have to MC alone!”

            “Hizashi…” Aizawa finally croaks out.

            “…Yeah?” Hizashi looks ready to be scolded or sent away, and warmth bursts inside of Aizawa. He steps forward and reaches up to cradle Hizashi’s face. The face that mere days ago had been swathed in bandages. The face the Aizawa had watched night after night for any sign of waking. The face that Aizawa had been living in fear of never seeing smile again.

            This he thinks to himself, is my best friend.

            “Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s unethical to fight someone who just-mmph”

            Like coming home. Like a lullaby from his childhood. Like a promise he’d forgotten he’d made. Like waking up. Like falling asleep.

            Their lips fall together, warm and soft. He feels Hizashi’s breath fan against his cheek. His eyelids flutter closed. Hizashi’s arms snake around Aizawa’s waist to pull him closer. Chaste. As they always are. Just a warm press, a gentle caress. Then he pulls away. And kisses him again. And again and again as Hizashi’s bright laughter fills the small booth. On his cheek, on his chin, on his forehead, on his lips. Then Shouta just reels him in closer, holding him tightly.

            “Don’t do that again,” he says into Hizashi’s hair, one hand still clutching the back of his neck, the other pressed firmly against the warm curve of his back where he can feel Hizashi’s heart beat steadily. Hizashi’s hands clutch at his clothing.

            “Well,” Hizashi grins against Aizawa’s shoulder. “If this is how you’re gonna greet me if I do-“ Without breaking the embrace, Shouta pinches Hizashi’s ear, making him yelp. “Sorry, sorry!” He laughs. Then sobers, leaning back just a bit to look Aizawa in the eye. Gently, he reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind Shouta’s ear, thumb brushing lightly across the stubble on his chin. “You know I never worry you on purpose. Would never worry the kids.”

            Shouta sighs, tilting Hizashi’s head down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead once more. Then releases him altogether. “I know.”

            He glances at the clock, and tugs Hizashi farther into the room, closing the door behind them. With a content, heaving sigh, he throws himself into his chair. Then glances back at Hizashi, who’s still standing there, looking somewhat at a loss.

            “Well?” Shouta arches an eyebrow at him.

            Hizashi grins.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The screen hanging above the pitch halts in it’s broadcast of random advertisements, and suddenly Aizawa’s face fills the screen. He’s in his hero costume, goggles down. Scowl set firmly in place.

            The camera pans to the left.

            Hello, hello, hello!

            Every UA student stops dead in their tracks. Every pro hero looks up.

            The crowd of fans and media go wild.

            “You’re gonna wanna pay attention to this!”

            “Papa?” Over the crowd, over the gasps of surprise from the rest of the class, Bakugo’s whisper seems to carry. Nineteen pairs of wide eyes flit over to stare at him.

            This year’s high school rodeo of adolescence that you all love, THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL, is about to begiiiiiin! ARE! YOU! READY!

            Unlike Aizawa, Present Mic is not in his hero persona. Instead, he looks as though he’d just randomly decided to roll out of bed and MC the biggest sporting event of the year. Nevertheless… there was no mistaking that voice.

It’s time for the students to enter the first-year stage! The huge battle where fledgling heroes sharpen their swords once a year! Here! They! AAARE!

They almost miss their cue, too caught up in the realization that he’s there. Suddenly, Jiro lets out a cheer, and the rest of the class take it up. They stride out onto the field, shoulders back and heads held high. Faces, shining.

The crowd cheers as each class is announced, an enormous roaring sea of color. A mass of writhing excitement. But the students only have eyes for the glass box in the corner at the opposite end of the arena, where they’re just able to make out the two figures sitting side by side.

 

 

            They come to a stop in front of Midnight, who stands with her hip cocked atop of a tall podium. Her whip sharply cracks, cutting through the noise coming from the stands. “Time for the player pledge!” Her grin is as bright as the once reflected back by the students, and Bakugo catches her eyes flitting towards the MC box before she continues.

            “Representing the student first years to give the player pledge is Bakugo Katsuki from class 1-A!”

            “You got this bro!” Kirishima pounds his back as Bakugo steadily makes his way forward through the crowd. The crowd’s roar falls to a simmer as he climbs up the steps and takes Midnight’s place from behind the microphone.

            The first time around, he’d been somewhat apathetic about giving this speech, not giving a flying fuck about who was watching or what they thought of him. But now… he looked down at the encouraging faces of his classmates – more than one was ‘subtly’ shooting him a thumbs up – and then over his shoulder where his old people sat in the box. He turns his face back to the crowd.

            “Recently…” Bakugo’s voice echoed in the hollow air of the stadium. Strangely, his heart begins to pound. “All Might made a promise to the media, to the school. It’s a promise that reflects what he announces every time he shows up anywhere. Don’t worry. I am here, he says. And that’s what he promised. To be here. For us, the students. Well, now I want to echo that.

            “I am here. We are here. We, the next generation, are here.”

            Katsuki grins at the camera. “We’re here to win.” He turns to face the box, stepping back so he’s still in range of the microphone. “And I pledge to make you proud.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

All eleven classes gather in the starting tunnel. Unlike…Before… the other classes aren’t side-eyeing 1-A in disgust. On everyone’s faces, Bakugo can see his own resolve staring back at him. It seems that Present Mic’s sudden return didn’t just inspire 1-A. It only makes sense, Bakugo smiles fondly to himself. Afterall, every class in UA has to take English.

Three lights glow green above the tunnel, and the crowd reaches a fever pitch once again.

Two.

One.

 

“START!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

This was oddly difficult for me to write. In fact, I've been working on this chapter since before the new year, but I was just never able to get it done in a way that I was satisfied with. Hopefully, this isn't too rough!

thank you everyone who stuck with this story, who left sweet comments for me.

I've finally graduated! School is out forever, and the future is daunting!

hopefully, even though I'm about to start working full time (I'm an English Teacher like Papa Mic now, haha) I'll have more time to write! I'm also wanting to start a new full story based on one of the short drabbles that I post in the second part of the series. If you all have any ideas for a one shot in this universe, or even just an idea for BNHA in general, be sure to let me know! And let me know which idea from Sometimes, Every Now and Then I should expand into a full piece!

But dont worry, this fic will be my priority until I finish it.

thanks again! Hope you enjoy!
Wawa

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Summary:

Stage One of the Sports Festival Arc

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“START”

It’s immediately chaos. Like a million minnows trying to worm their way through a narrow tube, all two-hundred and twenty students (count them, twenty kids each in eleven classes) struggle to make any headway.

Then, Class 1-A has had enough.

WHOA! Would you look at that, listeners! Seems Ki – ahem – BAKUGO from class 1-A has decided to set things off with a BANG and WHOOOOO TODOROKI SHOUTO IS NOT FAR BEHIND! AND Midoriy- OH, Urarak – AH, little Iida—Eraser what the heck are you teaching these kids?”

“Idiots allow lessons and opportunities for growth pass them by. Those who are intelligent learn from their mistakes. But the wise? They look at the world around them and learn from the actions of others. It’s clear which category Class 1-A falls into. You’re more responsible for their behavior than I am.”

you’re gonna make me cry…”

Bakugo, unwilling to let Frosty beat him to the punch this time, pounces. With a spring off of Shoji’s back, into the air, he looses his quirk and blasts out of the tunnel, blowing several management students off their feet in his wake.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the telltale signs of his main competition – Deku’s sparks and Halfy’s ice encasing the ground beneath them. Not that the now-icy terrain deters Bakugo at all; afterall, he isn’t even touching the ground.

Uraraka is levitating Tsuyu, whom she is perched on top of. Tsuyu, in turn, is using her tongue to build momentum by flicking off of the other students below them, propelling them forward. Sparkles is flying backwards, stomach lazar at full blast, before he does a fucking pirouette in midair, landing daintily on his feet and skipping off into a flat run. Kirishima, Tails, Shoji, Sato, Koda, and even Iida are just plowing through the crowd, full speed ahead, allowing the extras at their feet to be pushed to the side or simply vaulting over those who refuse to get out of the way.

Mina is skating across the ice with all the grace of those kpop boys she loves, and Jiro isn’t far behind her, merely sprinting wide stance across the slippery surface without a sign of faltering. Soy Sauce and Pikachu are mostly keeping pace… except they’re using their quirks to hinder those around them rather than to get ahead, ensuring that the Class 1-A lead is unconquerable for the other students, with Pikachu letting his quirk run across the ice, giving a mild shock to anyone not able to jump aside in time, and Sero just letting a huge length drop from his elbows for the runners to get tangled and tripped up in.

No sign of Gloves… but, well, that’s usually a good thing. Also, random extras keep tripping over nothing so, there’s that.

And then, of course, there’s fucking Shitstain riding on the back of that Fucking Chicken as Dark Shadow’s claws dig into the ice to speed them forward, just in front of the pack.

Also, Momo has a jet pack. A fucking jet pack. Fucking cheater.

“Keep up, boys!” she crows, just to the left of Bakugo, pack not quite as powerful as his bursts but slightly more consistent. He growls and aims an explosion halfheartedly at her face. It throws him a little off trajectory, but it’s worth it to see her somewhat betrayed expression. “Bakugo! We’re on the same team!”

“It’s every kid for himself, Ponytail!” Momo just grins, casting a glance behind her.

“Maybe for them it is.”

He huffs, but doesn’t do anything when Deku joins them at the front. “Kacchan!” he grins, blindingly. Then the path opens up.

The first obstacle.

AND HERE IT IS FOLKS! The first real trial of the day. GIANT ROOOOBOOOOTS!

“While the majority of the students here may have seen these, before, a select handful are facing them for the first time.”

Be prepared to be amazed! In this chicken-race ANYTHING GOES so long as you STAY ON THE COURSE! How will these first contenders make it through this forest of doom!??”

“Tad dramatic…”

The zero-pointers loom menacingly, casting long shadows across the kids. They stare up, defiantly, almost eager. “So, this is what the general admittance was up against?” Halfy mutters as he slides to a stop beside Bakugo.

“They’re tanky, but unbalanced when they move,” Bakugo growls out of the corner of his mouth. Halfy nods in understanding as more of their classmates join them.  “And fucking pathetic if you hit ‘em in a weak spot. Also, if you try, they’re easy enough to one-shot. Aim for the ‘neck’ joint.”

“Let’s go before the other classes catch up!” Mina squeals, glancing nervously behind them where the extras are sliding around on or trapped inside Todoroki’s ice, jittering from Kaminari’s quirk, and trying to tear off Sero’s tape.

Shouto nods his understanding and intent to follow instruction. A deep breath, a swipe upward, a shock of ice flying through the air. The first zero-pointer begins to fall like so large of a tree, with a cacophony of creaking and cries from the audience. With all the emotion of a librarian on weed, he freezes it in place.

Meanwhile, the other students are far from idle.

Momo has traded her jet pack for a cannon, and easily takes out a second one. Deku, like the hyper ninja bunny he is, is leaping from bot to bot, shooting through their heads and emerging on the other side with handfuls of parts and wires. Kaminari is pulsing concentrated energy into one of the bots, short circuiting it, with Kirishima and Sato at the ready to send it toppling. Sero loops around the arm of one before diving beneath the legs, together with Shoji and Dark Shadow, they pull and off balance the machine. Jiro smoothly overpowers two at once with her jacks, and Mina melts the motion joints of a third. Iida, showing off his family’s infamous brute force, completely decimates the robot that he speed kicks across the face of. Ochako sends several flying, and Ojiro sends them hurtling back down.

Class 1-A is filled with monsters! Let’s go, classes B through K! Don’t give up, we’ve only just begun!”

With metal cracking and joints groaning and the audience cheering them on, the zero-pointers begin to collapse onto the path, directly above the students.

BOOM

One zero-pointer, one that was about to crush Pinky, Sweet Cheeks, Frogger, and Earplugs, is launched to the side. “Thanks Kacchan!” Round Face chirps. Frogger uses her tongue to grab their classmates and yank them forward. In a matter of seconds, all 20 of them have crossed beneath the mammoth that Todoroki has been maintaining from crashing into the dirt at the mouth of the path.

But, as soon as Hagakure is clear, Bakugo Blasts through the ice.

With a wave of shattering and snow, they all come tumbling down. Kids from class 1-B charge forward, just barely too late, looks of determined anger on their faces before they are obscured from the sights of Class 1-A by the robots crashing between them.

Class 1-A spare a precious second for a cheer. Then, as one, they turn and charge forward.

Aaaand the first one through is Tokoyami from class 1-A! With… the rest of his class directly behind him!

“Don’t count out the rest of the classes. Tetsutetsu from class B is hot on their tails.”

Bakugo looks back and sneers at the sight of the metal bastard popping out of the back of one of the frozen bots like a fucking groundhog.

“Seeing as how these are our first years, it’s obvious that the difference here is not experience. The difference is hesitation. Those who are in the lead, are those who have learned not to hesitate.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Just as expected, the majority of those who pulled ahead are from Aizawa’s class.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t expelled anyone, yet.” Iida grins, overhearing the conversation of two of the second-year pro teachers, and shares a smile with his father, who is sitting directly to his right in the stands. Then, he turns his attention back to his phone call.

“…I’m so grateful that you agreed to cover my patrol. And don’t worry! I’m definitely taking note of promising kids – I’ll send you a list of potential intern prospects your way.” Tensei pulls the phone away from his ear for a second to cheer as Tenya – seen on the large screen in the center of the stadium – drop kicks a robot head. “You have no idea what this means to me, dude.”

“No, no. I remember how close the three of you were in school. It’s only natural.”

“We weren’t even in the same class!” He’s only answered by laugher.

Then his mother whaps the side of his head. “Tensei! Pay attention! Your brother never answered calls like this when you were participating in events!”

Tensei rolled his eyes. “Tenya was like… four when I was in events.” His mother’s disproving frown doesn’t let up. He clears his throat and talks into his cell again. “I, uh, gotta go.”

“Have fun!” He hangs up, finally getting his mother to stop frowning at him, and turns his attention to his little brother, who is being helped across the chasm by a girl with what appears to be levitation powers, and a boy with a naval lazar.

“It is a little odd that they’re acting this way.” His father is mumbling to himself, dressed in full gear. “I hope that doesn’t hurt Tenya’s prospects. He isn’t showcasing what he’s fully capable of.”

“I disagree, dear,” his mother says, calmly. Her armor is shining in the sunlight. “It’s showing how wonderfully capable they are in teamwork and planning on the run. Both are incredibly valuable tools in any hero’s arsenal, and all wise heroes will see that.” His mother winks, and his father chuckles, conceded the point.

“Well said, Ma,” Tensei grins. “And, besides. This is just round one! No doubt the second event will give a little more leeway for all of them to shine. And, besides that, I’m definitely sure that Tenya will make it to round three. That will show everyone just why our family has been successful for so long.”

His father claps him on the shoulder with a loud bark. Tensei smiles at his folks as his mother lets out a shrill cheer while she watches Tenya catch a student with yellow hair who was thrown from the other side of the chasm by the green haired child of Eraser and Mic. Deku, was his name?

The smell of something burning assaults his nose. Eyes prickling just a little bit, Tensei looks around for the source, hoping it’s just some spectator’s quick acting up.

His eyes land on the Number Two hero, who stands alone at the front of the stands, hands digging into the railing, steam and smoke rising from his knuckles. Two staff members of the stadium are standing a little to the side, looking conflicted, probably trying to figure out a diplomatic way to ask Endeavor to stop damaging public property without getting French fried.

Tensei looks back out into the field, looking for what could possibly be causing that reaction. Maybe the other Class A kids are leaving his son out of the co-op? But, no… they wouldn’t be. Little Todoroki was very clearly close friends with at least the three other boys who lurked around Mic’s bedside.

And, there he was. Little Todoroki was still near the front side of the chasm, using his quirk to hold a thin ice bridge that he constructed over the top of a tightrope as some floating gloves and a pink girl race across. He follows quickly after them, but then pauses once more at the next drop off to repeat the action, and allow more of his classmates to cross, first. Despite that, however, the only non-class 1-A kid to even reach the chasm yet, was some support girl with rocket boots and bright pink hair, and a stocky kid who occasionally caught the sun’s rays like metal. Little Todoroki was doing fantastically, and if it had been Tenya to be behaving as Little Todoroki was (Tenya was, in fact, behaving similarly to Todoroki) Tensei would have been over the moon with pride (Tensei was, in fact, over the moon with pride.)

Uneasily, Tensei recalls how quiet and withdrawn the little guy had been at the hospital, and he has to swallow down a sour taste. He makes a note to talk to Shouta about the kid after the event.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Well, if you thought that first obstacle was easy peasey, just wait until you get a load of THIS: The Fall!

“The rules here are simple; you fall, you’re out. Class B is catching up, with Ibaru, Setsuna, and Tetsutetsu leading the pack. Several Support students are also closing the gap. However, unlike Class A, the other classes are working as individuals, showcasing their individual strength.”

“…”

“…however, I will note that it is clear which is the winning strategy.”

Bakugo braces himself for the impact of catching Shinsou, who was thrown by Dark Shadow, meanwhile taking note of Mic’s slowly decreasing energy. He grits his teeth and locks eyes with Hitoshi. Shitstain has clearly noticed, too.

“Let’s wrap this up, fuckwads! I need to go check on the old people!”

The idiots behind him shout their assent. “Hai!”

It took all of twenty seconds for every Class A member to pass The Fall, and from there it’s a straight shot to reach the mine field. Tokoyami and Shinsou had been the first to reach it, but had waited for the rest of the class to catch up.

Bakugo turns to Todoroki, who has taken a moment to turn and glare impassively at the stands. Bakugo knows what he’s searching for, and grasps his friend’s elbow. “If you use your fire across the whole field, it’ll set off the bombs and make it safe to cross.”

“What’s the plan?” Momo asks, looking worried. One of the recommended brats from B has shown her face, only about fifty meters off.

“Bakugo… I… I don’t like using my father’s quirk.”

Bakugo looks at him calmly. “You mean Splodes quirk?” Todoroki blinks at him, not understanding. “I know you Halfy. You’ll never hurt someone who don’t deserve it with your glorified marshmallow toaster. I won’t force you, but it would look pretty fucking epic.”

“My father-“

“What? Did he place bets on you winning? So just don’t win. The point of this farce is for fuckers like me to get exposure. But you’re a damn Todoroki, Frosty. You get any more exposed you’ll be walking around naked.”

Todoroki’s mouth twitches.

“Guys… they’re catching up!” Hagakure warns them. As if on cue, Robo-chick from Support goes zooming over their heads.

“Later, heroes!” She calls back. Not even a split second later, Setsuna – the recommended chick from B – flies past, her scattered shards flinging her forward through the air.

With a frown, Shouto steps forward and extends his left hand. Fire pours across the field.

It was like a horizontal avalanche, starting from his hand and spreading outward, the entire field EXPLODES. Like waves at high tide, the soil goes crashing outwards. With a shriek, Support Freak gets knocked out of the air, the dirt clods messing up something in her boots, making them chug and splutter. She crashes onto her ass.

“M-my baby!” She cries, eyes wide. She turns to Shouto. “YOU MONSTER” she wails. Recommended B-Lister is nowhere to be seen. Probably buried.

Bakugo can’t help but snarl in pride as Todoroki’s lips twitch once more. Class 1-A is cheering and leaping into the softened dirt. Bakugo is with them, but then he notices that Todoroki is yet to move.

“Well?” Bakugo snaps over his shoulder.

Todoroki only waves him forward, sticks his hands in his pockets, and leisurely strolls forward through the mess of broken earth.

Bakugo is seeing double.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Memories flooded with a horrific scene. Building have been leveled. Fires are languidly burning, casually consuming people’s homes and workplaces. Cars are overturned. Bakugo holds his aching, probably fractured ribs, from where he’s taken cover behind a half-collapsed wall beside Chargebolt.

“Kiri’s got west-end covered,” Bakugo coughs out, wiping soot from his face. “Deku’s on his way, but even at full speed it’ll take him a couple minutes.”

“Do we have a couple minutes?” Chargebolt asks wearily, head dropping against the bricks behind them.

It was a disaster, to say the least. A band of chuckleheads – dangerous chuckleheads – had set their sights on a local hero agency. Something about revenge for a comrade who was crippled in a recent attack by an explosion that they themselves had set off. Apparently, explosions were the theme of the day, with bombs having been planted around the area and several fire quirks being used in tandem with a quirk user who emits a flammable gas.

Multiple heroes of the agency were down, perhaps for good, and the nature of the villain’s attack left Bakugo in somewhat of a dangerous position – not to mention the last thing this battle needed was more explosions.

“Did you run?” came a silky voice, the kind that might have been charismatic had it not been for the underlying taste of crazy. “Truly, heroes are the true villains of society. Standing tall to rake in praise and money from the people… but they aren’t around when it truly matters. They aren’t just when it truly matters. They aren’t heroes when it truly matters. See how the world burns, and see where your heroes have failed you.”

Who is he talking to?” Chargebolt whispers into Bakugo’s ear.

The fuck would I know, Pikachu?”

“Ah. I see not all heroes have abandoned ship.”

Bakugo freezes, thinking that they’d been spotted. But then he sees him.

Like a fucking model coming down the runway – if the runway were made of broken streets and ravaged city with a smattering of fire and smog for good measure – IcyHot strolls down the blacktop, hands in his pockets. The only sign of emotion on the Ice Prince’s face, the small cloud of frozen breath curling up from his lips.

Frosty was pissed.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Except, he blinks, and the vision clears, Frosty seems almost… happy.

Bakugo crosses the finish line, still looking back, and watches through the tunnel as Todoroki continues to casually stride across the now empty field. The parade of extras from the other classes has finally crossed the chasm obstacle and are beginning to rush across. A few of them have already overtaken his classmate, who continues to walk. Unperturbed as ever.

“Those in the lead are far ahead, with the rest behind in a mass. It hasn’t been announced how many will be accepted into the second stage. While the original trap set by Class A caused a massive delay in the other ten classes, the lead is not insurmountable. I recommend anyone who hasn’t crossed yet to hurry.”

“C’MON TODODO! DO IT FOR US!” Ochaco screamed into her cupped hands.

Students from B and Support charge past him, unimpeded by the now clear minefield. Even still, Todoroki doesn’t pick up speed. Not all across the field, not even in the tunnel during the last stretch. Class A are all but frantic in their euphoria on the other side.

“YOU GOT THIS HALFY!” Kaminari called, waving his arms.

“LET’S GO TODO LET’S GO!” Mina and Toru are posing like cheerleaders.

“WHOOO YEAH!” Kirishima cried. “You look manly as HELL dude!” Sero gives a wolf whistle.

The students from the other class clearly weren’t focused enough on their own goals, because more than a few of them break concentration to side eye at the nineteen hero students who stood there cheering on their class model as he sashays across the finish line, face as blank as a slate.

“CLASS 1A DOMINATIOOOON!” Jiro cries, and Kaminari gazes at her with stars in his eyes.

Geebus, Eraser. What are you teaching those demons?”

I taught them the basics, and then they got each other fired up on their own.”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

In the announcer box, Mic is massaging his throat. He’d been periodically turning off both of their mics to take breaks to weep over his “babies,” crying into the air and wailing into Aizawa’s shoulder.

Over the course of the first event, however, Aizawa had watched as his partner began to lag, shoulders drooping and breathing a little deeper.

Aizawa gently curles a hand over Yamada’s wrist, reaching over to unplug Hizashi’s microphone. Then, he leaned forward into his own, making one final announcement to turn attention over to Midnight. With a deep sigh, he turns off his own microphone, and pulls Mic to his feet, steading him when he sways.

“Let’s go, Zashi,” he says softly.

“Go?” he asks, confused.

Aizawa is already carefully leading the way out of the box and down the hallway. “I’m assuming you’re going to want to watch the third event – “

“I want to watch everything!” he says, trying not very hard to tug his arm out of Aizawa’s grip.

“You’re not going to be able to,” Aizawa says firmly. “You’ve got approximately three hours until the main event. You’re going to go and lie down in the infirmary, and then you’re going to change into proper clothes. Either you eat something when you wake up if Chiyo says you can handle it, or I’m having her put you on an IV while you sleep. That way, you’ll actually be able to help me MC the third event.”

Mic was quiet for the next few minutes as he was guided towards the medical area, seemingly concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, leaning into the warmth of Aizawa’s side. “I really worried you, didn’t I.”

Aizawa only squeezes his hand. “They won’t have much of a break between the first and second trials, but I’ll send the boys your way once they’re free.”

“Thank, babe.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Midnight takes the stage again, instantly captivating the audience, much to her obvious pleasure. She grins and strikes a pose, cracking her whip through the air. “Listen up, kiddos. Only the top 42 will be advancing to round 2! But! Never fear, even if you didn’t make it! We’ve prepared other chances for you to shine!”

A list flickers onto the screen behind her. With the exception of Todoroki, all of class A are in the top 20, with a student from Support rounding it out. The entire class breathes a sigh of relief when they see that even their beloved emo prince managed to just barely scrape into round two at number 41 out of 220. The bi-colored kid is clearly pleased; he smirks at the spectator stands.

“Clearly, we have proven that organized collaboration is the most efficient way to succeed!” Iida is karate-chopping the air like a maniac, wearing the closest thing to a grin that Bakugo has ever seen on his face. Robocop had made third place.

“Now,” Midnight calls all the chittering students back to order. “Let’s see what the next challenge will be! I, of course, already know… but will you, little heroes be able, to survive what UA has in store for you?! It’s… THE CALVARY BATTLE!”

The reaction was somewhat lackluster, at least from the students. The audience clearly had no qualms about cheering to everything and anything, the way a stadium full of people was wont to. The Shinsou quirked an eyebrow at Bakugo, who merely sneered at him. Todoroki stepped closer. “Clearly, this is an obstacle actually meant for students to work together.”

“Means we’ve got an advantage then, bro!” Kirishima whispered back. Midnight cracked her whip again, in warning, causing the whispering to cease.

“It will be just like a regular calvary battle, with teams consisting of 2 to 4 players. However! Every participant will be receiving a neck band with corresponding points, the amount determined by which place the student came in, in the previous stage.” A number appears by each student who made it into the top 42, starting with 5 and gaining.

She grins evilly. “And just to spice things up… first place…”

All eyes turn to the student who crossed first, and Katsuki can’t help but smirk.

“Gets 10,000,000 points.”

Hitoshi goes pale.

Notes:

Well, this got written way faster than I was expecting. Hope you guys enjoy! Please leave a comment if you did, it really gives me so much encouragement to continue writing, like you don't even know.

Hope everyone is staying safe and happy!

Chapter 41: Giddy Up

Summary:

Second Trial of the Sports Festival!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Todoroki feels… powerful. Brightly burning somewhere deep like the fire that he made. The fire that made all of his friends smile. The fire that didn’t hurt anyone besides a couple of bruised knees and egos.

He’d never felt more powerful, though it maybe wasn’t because of his fire, not really. But, because of how liberating the walk across that field felt. It felt like crossing a battlefield in triumph. It felt like a victory lap. It felt like… like how he felt when he lies to his father about having extra classes so that he can sneak away to his special secret place, sitting on a couch between two friends and underneath a cat with a belly full of warm food. It felt good.

It felt free.

If giddiness could be calm could be wild could be tamed, then that was what he was feeling as he crossed the finish line with a smirk on his face. It felt like the audience was screaming for him and him alone. He knew for a fact that all nineteen (nineteen) of his friends (they were his friends by now, surely? Weren’t they?) were cheering for him, and him alone.

“TODOROKI!” Izuku latches onto his arm like Shouto was, well, like he was Bakugo. Shouto’s eyes widen in surprise at him, but Izuku doesn’t seem to notice, only clinging tighter. “You looked so cool! Oh, though, I hope that didn’t cost you? Of course you were still far ahead of a lot of the students from the other classes, not to mention that at least a third of the classes weren’t really ever trying at all, such as the management and business students, but then again, who’s to say that there weren’t some kids in those classes who had been hoping to be transferred into heroic of course that would have required them to have been trained at least somewhat, at least for them to have been able to cross The Fall without being disqualified by falling in then again-“

“For real, dude! Where did that swag come from?” Kaminari throws an arm over his shoulder as Jiro, from behind him, disgustedly mouths ‘swag’ to herself.

Kirishima pounds him on the back with enough force to cause the average person to stumble. But, because Todoroki was far from the average person, he only turned his wide eyes onto his redheaded classmate in wonderment at the casual gesture. “I can’t believe you, dude, just so totally unbothered by everyone around you? Like, I always knew you were manly but holy cow!”

“What else can you expect from a recommended student?” Ashido grins, nudging Momo with her elbow, who blushes softly.

A smile spreads across Todoroki’s face – unnoticed by him, it causes more than a couple of his classmates to do a double take at the rare expressive expression on their ice prince’s face – leaving him feeling oddly warm being surrounded so closely by his… friends. Shouto glances up into the stands. His father looks livid.

Good.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“You promise you’ll come wake me up before the next stage?” Hizashi asks quietly as Shouta firmly helps him ease down onto one of the beds in the infirmary, bedframe softly groaning and the sheets bunching up beneath him. Shouto smooths them out, deftly. Recovery Girl is muttering to herself about “idiots with no sense of self-care” as she buries her head in a chart of Mic’s information.

“I promise,” Aizawa assures him, and Recovery Girl scoffs, slapping her clipboard down on the side table near them, bustling off to care for the minor scrapes, cuts, and bruises that various disqualified first years had received in the obstacle course.

Yamada watches her go, fondly. “She really hasn’t changed since we were students,” he muses. “Remind me to get her a fruit basket or something.”

Shouta huffs softly, then brushes stray hairs off of Hizashi’s forehead. “Maybe a bottle of wine,” he drawls. Hizashi laughs, grabbing Shouta’s hands, pressing a wet kiss to his knuckles – Shouto grimaces, but Hizashi knows better than to believe it – before pushing him away.

“Go on,” Hizashi urges him, shooing Shouta away with a limp wrist. Aizawa hesitates. “You don’t want to keep everyone waiting.” Hizashi settles in and closes his eyes. “But,” he says, voice already going somewhat quieter. “We’ll have to make an evening of it… watching the replay with the boys.”

Aizawa nods, despite Mic’s eyes already being closed. Easing the door shut behind him with a soft click, he slips out into the hallway. It’s mostly empty, save for a few lone students frantically running (though they all, without fail, slow to a more sedate speed walk once they notice him) to get ready for their turn in the spotlight.

He’s about halfway back to his booth when two unwelcome voices stop him.

He pauses, out of sight around a corner.

“Todoroki!” All Might booms off the hallway’s walls, and Aizawa has to push down his instinctive derision. “You must be proud of your boy! He fully showed what it means to be a true hero in how he handled himself!”

Endeavor scoffs, and even from where Shouta is (not) hiding, he can see the dance of shadows cast by his agitated flames on the floor. “All Shouto showed was how UA is clearly prioritizing the emphasis of useless PR stunts over training.” Now, Aizawa is unable to suppress his annoyance, feeling it growing into something more bitter. “I’m appalled at how this school has fallen in quality. Before coming here, my Shouto would never have considered letting lesser students best him.”

“I must disagree, Todoroki.” All Might was frowning, Aizawa could hear it in his tone, and for once he approves of the giant idiot’s overbearing righteousness. “Your son hasn’t let anyone ‘best’ him. Rather, holding himself to a different standard, he proved his own worth and potential as a future he-“

Endeavor cuts him off, disdainfully. “That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

Aizawa clenches his jaw, forcing himself not to confront the Flame Hero right then and there.

There isn’t time. He has to get back to the MC box.

He does, however, make a note to have Todoroki Shouto in his house a bit more frequently.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Much to their relief, the kids were given a fifteen-minute break after Midnight explained the rules of the challenge to them, giving them ample time to catch their breath, get a drink, and construct a game plan.

“All right team,” Kaminari strikes a pose that he probably thinks makes him look commanding, but really just makes him look dumb. “What have we got for Special Operation: Protect Our Zombie?!”

“Protect our zombie?” Hitoshi asks, dumbly. Numbly.

“We can’t let anyone take your headband,” Jiro throws in dryly. “That would be an automatic win for whoever has it.”

“A blemish upon our legacy,” Tokoyami agrees, solemnly.

“We need to talk about the elephant in the room, though, kero” Tsuyu pipes up, a considering finger on her chin. “Only the top sixteen will pass through into the final round.”

The class quiets, considering. Sero’s lips thin in understanding. “That means not even our entire class is able to pass, no matter how well we do.”

“I volunteer to lose,” Todoroki says blankly.

“No,” Bakugo replies with equal emotion.

Iida steps forward. “I believe in the solid comradery of our class! Speaking realistically, our places in the first course were all but random… with the exception of Todoroki. Clearly, if we truly plan on working together, the only real cause for some of us to pass and some of us to not will be the value arbitrarily placed upon us by the teachers! Therefore, may I propose that we randomize who receives which value!”

“I agree” Hitoshi says quickly.

Ojiro turns to face him, a pitying smile at the ready. “It wouldn’t make sense for you to swap, though. People would still be after you, wouldn’t they? After all, I’m assuming that we aren’t going to be shouting out our plans to the rest of the teams.”

That garners some nods, though Hitoshi only harumphs. But, he is duly ignored as Bakugo turns to Izuku. “Well, nerd? You got a plan?”

Midoriya’s face goes red as the attention of the entire class homes in on him, expectantly. “W-w-wh-wha- mmm-mme?”

Ochako pumps her fist in the air. “You got this Deku!”

Hagakure squeals, “Oooh, this is starting to feel like a real mission with a super special secret plan and everything!”

“But I-I-I!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

All Might, sighs deeply, somewhat perplexed from his encounter with Enji in the hallway as he – deflated so as to not be recognized and stopped by more fellow heroes – enters the break room provided for the heroes and teacher on site. He’d been sitting with Inko for the first third, but they had been joined by Bakugo’s family shortly after the first segment ended.

Sensing tension and incoming emotions and conversation most likely not meant for him, Toshinori had briefly excused himself to allow them some privacy.

He does, however, do his best to force the unpleasant confrontation from his mind despite his bafflement for as to why Endeavor wasn’t pleased with Shouto. In fact, the Flame Hero seemed beyond unpleased. It flew in the face of all reason. All Might, for himself, was alight with pride for all twenty students (though, admittedly, one in particular held most of his focus for the duration of the task). Pouring himself a cup of coffee, breathing in the bitter steam, he can’t help but overhear a conversation between three heroes at a table just behind him.

“It’s hard to believe the gumption of those kids,” one of them said in quiet undertones. The other two nod, shrewdly. “Teaming up like that completely invalidated the whole point of the first test.”

“Wait,” one of his companions interrupted, Mount Lady was her name if All Might was remembering correctly. “What do you mean? Isn’t it a good thing that they were all working together like that? I mean, sure, it was weird, but every hero has to be able to work with others.”

“Fair,” conceded the first. “But, Heroing work is first and foremost a competition. Gotta be willing to put yourself out there and try your best to come out on top. People who are too willing to let the glory go to someone else often go hungry.”

“But still,” Mount Lady persisted. “Showing that level of teamwork has to count for something.”

“Yeah,” the other hero agreed. “But that’s what the second level is for. Gotta do both. Know when to work together, know when to push past and get ahead.”

All Might could concede the truth in that. But, even still, the kids from class 1A had completely thrown that out the window, and he couldn’t really bring himself to view their collaboration in such a negative light.

“Probably should have expected it,” said one of them. “All 20 of Aizawa’s survived this far. Makes sense that they’d be odd.”

Yagi couldn’t repress his soft smile.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Inko gently pats Mitsuki’s hand that she holds in her lap. Her old friend had approached, looking lost, a few minutes ago. Toshinori, showing a surprising amount of awareness, had disappeared before she could awkwardly ask for privacy. Masaru, for his part – though Inko couldn’t help but think that he should have remained mentally present – was pretending to be engaged with something on his phone.

Mitsuki had been standing towards the back for the first part of the event, unsure if little Katsuki would have wanted them there, at all, and she had admitted as much to Inko when she first sat down.

“It’s like I don’t know my own kid anymore,” Mitsuki says, watching a replay on the big screen of various moments from the obstacle course. She watches the footage of her son carrying another boy on his back across the chasm, then she glances down into the bottom of the stadium, where she can just make out his familiar head of blonde hair in a huddle of the rest of his classmates. “I’ve been terrified for years that… that if he actually tried to be a hero, he’d get himself killed. But… my brat’s easily one of the best out there right now.”

Inko nodded. “I completely understand, Suki,” she says, wiping happy tears from her cheeks, trying to balance her own pride for the boys with her sympathies for her friend. “For so long, my baby fought his way through discrimination from the whole world. I wanted to always support him, but even still, I was scared. Even when he excelled in his martial arts class, even when he brought home perfect report cards. Even then. But he made it in and look at the both of them. Aren’t they happy?” Inko sniffs again, then daintily blows her nose in her handkerchief.

Mitsuki shakes her head, fondly. Midoriyas and their waterworks…

“I was scared, and then I was angry…” Mitsuki said, eyes focusing like lazars on the MC box, where that damned hero is retaking his seat. “Fuck, I’m still angry. But…” she sighs. “The more I look around me… I suppose I should feel grateful. It isn’t me that made my kid into that beast down there.”

Inko lays a friendly hand on Mitsuki’s shoulder. “Suki… no matter your faults – and I won’t deny you’ve made mistakes – but even despite them, you’ll always be a huge part of little Katsuki’s story. Afterall. You are his mother.” Inko giggles a little bit. “I’m just his Not-Mom.”

Mitsuki manages a smile, but it soon fades. “I don’t deserve it, Inko,” she says quietly. “But I’m so goddamn proud of him.”

Inko smiles softly. “And I’m proud of you. You’re making the right choice.”

“It feels like I’m giving up.”

“But you’re giving up for a reason, with purpose, with determination to do the right thing. That, Suki, in and of itself, is such a strong thing to do.” Inko is quiet for a moment, scanning the crowd.

Mitsuki can guess who she is looking for and is about to change the subject, planning to tease her and ask where her new boyfriend ran off to, when Inko looks back to her, a question in her eyes. “May I ask… when do you plan on approaching the subject with them?”

Mitsuki chews her lip for a second, then exhales deeply. “I was gonna wait until Loudmouth was out of the hospital and… well.” Inko can’t help the smile that breaks across her face. Mitsuki notices, and pats Inko’s hand. “I… I really am glad your friend is okay, Inko. I’ll… I’ve already talked about it with Katsuki. I’ll give them a couple days to enjoy having Yamada back home. Then… and then.”

Inko reaches over and squeezes her arm, just in time for Toshinori to sidle back into his seat. The tall, rake-thin man is holding four bottles of drinks in his hands. “Those better be alcoholic,” Mitsuki says, loudly. Toshinori freezes in alarm. Inko snorts and bats her arm.

“Oh, ignore her, Toshi,” Inko giggles. “Besides,” she says to Mitsuki. “Toshi can’t have alcohol. Doctor’s orders.” She takes three of the bottles with thanks, and hands one each to the Bakugo’s. “I don’t think I properly introduced you! Suki, Masaru, this is Izuku’s quirk trainer! Mr. Yagi Toshinori. Toshi, these are my friends and Katsuki’s parents!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Bakugo, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Yagi offers them a small smile. “You truly have an amazing son. He’s a good friend to our Izuku.”

Mitsuki once again feels that burn of undeserved pride. “Yeah. We do.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“The countdown will begin in just a few moments. Hopefully, everyone has a game plan.”

            “Hey, bro,” Kirishima looks up at Katsuki, who sits atop of his shoulders. “Where’s your Papa?” Katsuki frowns, craning his neck to look at the box. His countenance very obviously deflates when he notices there’s only one figure inside.

            “I don’t know…”

            “I’m sure he’s just fine, Kacchan!” Ochako urges, brightly, from where she stands behind Momo, beside Kaminari, and underneath Tsuyu. “Otherwise, your Dad would be gone, too, to be with him! Maybe he just went to go lie down?”

            “That does seem to make sense, kero.”

            “We can ask Aizawa sensei after this?” Shouto offers, quietly. Katsuki nods, stiffly, and sits up a bit straighter. Iida, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Katsuki make up one team. Their goal is to fight and keep away as many of the other teams from Hitoshi as possible.

Hitoshi looks somewhat pale from where he sits on top of Tokoyami. Izuku and Ashido are also on his team, preparing to play defensively. They’d decided – though Hitoshi had argued – to let Hitoshi be the only one to keep his proper number of points. Koda, Sato, Jiro, and Aoyama stand beside him at the ready to draw attention. Sero, Hagakure, Ojiro, and Shoji stand in front of Hitoshi’s team. All twenty of them ready to kick ass as Aizawa’s drawl echoes over the intercom.

 “The event will start. Everyone in position. Five.”

            “Let’s show them what happens when they mess with Aizawa’s class,” Jiro says, ruthlessly.

“PLUS ULTRA!”

“Four.”

            “We got this in the bag, guys,” Ashido says, brightly, patting Hitoshi on the leg. He gulps.

            Seeing as how they all very determinedly made it so that none of them knew what value of points each student has, they have no way of guessing which team has better odds of making it into the next round. That said, while they will attack other classes’ teams for their bands, they’d sworn to leave each other alone. 1A will be just as surprised to see who passes as the audience. But, as far as Shouto is concerned, that really just makes the whole thing more realistic.

“Three. Two.”

            Shouto locks eyes with Kirishima, whom he stands shoulder to shoulder with. Kirishima is grinning. Bakugo must be rubbing off on him, a little, because it almost seems as though Kirishima is baring his fang-like teeth. Todoroki thinks of his father, the expectation that weighs on him to be the best. To dominate and defeat. For a split second, he’s torn. But, then Kirishima turns his fierce smile onto Shouto, and he decides right then and there screw him.

Fucking with his father isn’t worth causing his friends to lose.

“One”

            A horn goes off, and Jiro’s team immediately has to block a blow from the side, courtesy of one of the class B groups. “Let’s go, fuckers!” Katsuki howls. Iida charges forward, propelling their entire group, Katsuki leans forward, almost extending too far for them to balance him, and blasts a batch of other students, causing them to stumble and drop their rider who lands hard, breath knocked out of them. As they pass, Todoroki ices them to the ground, and snatches two of their bands. Kirishima gets an additional one.

            “Fuck yeah!” Bakugo crows.

            “Language!” Iida grunts as he dodges an enormous vine that a Class B girl had tried to knock Katsuki off with.

            “Fucking Japanese, Robo. You deaf?”

“It’s clear to see that the majority of the students have chosen to form their groups exclusively within their own classes. This, surprisingly enough, is an intelligent choice. Each class knows the ins and outs of their classmates’ quirks, whereas the quirks of the other classes are all but unknown. This is an advantage that the first years have against their upperclassmen.”

            “Seems like Aizawa Sensei approves,” Kirishima notes, grunting a bit as he hardens his arm and swipes at the legs of a passing student who looks vaguely like an antelope.

            “What’s the status on Shitstain, IcyHot?” Bakugo demands. Shouto cranes his neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees that Tsuyu’s team is successfully holding off two teams at once, using her tongue to maneuver them while floating via Uraraka’s quirk. Momo has given Kaminari two long, metal poles, which he is using to prode at other groups with his quirk running through it, keeping them at bay for fear of getting zapped. Hagakure’s team is using her invisibility and Sero’s tape to launch her at unsuspecting riders to knock them down and reel her back in, drawing attention away from Hitoshi.

            Jiro’s team, however, has been separated from Hitoshi, being ganged up on by several smaller groups, leaving Hitoshi’s left flank open. Shouto relays this information to Bakugo, who grunts his understanding.

 Iida, without prompting, steers the entire group towards Hitoshi, just in time to cut off the charge of the same vine girl who had been attacking them earlier.

Bakugo goes to land an explosion on her vines, but his arm is thrown off course by several hard shards of something being thrown at him. Like boomerangs, the shards double back and aim for him again, but this time, Bakugo is ready, and blasts them out of the sky.

            One of the girls beneath the rider cries out in pain. Shouto notes with surprise that her arm, though missing, seems to be regenerating. It must be part of her quirk, he thinks as he trails the remnants of the shards with his eyes. But then, he feels a tug at his neck, and hurriedly grasps the bandanas he’d retrieved from other students.

            “One of them has gadgets!” Kirishima growls. “Is that allowed?” Sure enough, a girl with pink hair – the girl from support who had nearly overtaken them in the obstacle course – was using a pack with tentacle-like appendages, made out of what seems to be cables and metal, whipping around in every directed to try and snag bandanas. More than one bandana was already in her grasp. Kirishima, hands hardened into knife-like points, tore at them – severing them at the ends.

            “NOT AGAIN” the support girl wailed. Seeing the tech piece fail, the girl from B with plant-based powers locks in on Shouto, who holds the most bandanas out of his team.

            “IcyHot, get her vines!” Bakugo barks, occupied with the shards that are intent on tearing off his own points.

            Shouto takes a deep breath and scoops towards her, sending a blanket of ice towards her as Iida desperately tries to evade. The ice holds only for a moment. Bakugo swats away another swarm, several small cuts on his face. “HALFY!”

            Heart pounding, hand shaking, Shouto closes his eyes.

            And for the second time that day, uses his fire.

            It’s just as before. There is no fanfare. No sudden silence. The world keeps moving. The crowd is still screaming. Katsuki’s weight is still heavy on his shoulders. Shouto opens his eyes. The girl’s vines are curling up, blackening. She cries out, and Shouto suddenly hopes that she can’t feel the burning. But Kirishima whoops in victory as the other group makes a retreat. “YEAH! YOU BETTER RUN!” Kirishima grins at Shouto. “Dude, I dunno why you don’t use your fire more often, because it’s amazing.”

            Shouto almost replies, unsure of what to say, but then Bakugo cries “4 O’CLOCK!!” and the battle continues without waiting for him to figure it out. And, honestly, Shouto prefers it that way.

            It’s about time, he thinks to himself, that his world stops revolving around his father.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi feels, well, useless.

            Sure, he’s nabbed a couple bandannas from other teams, trusting Dark Shadow to catch him and reel him back in when he launches himself forward. But he hasn’t been given a chance to use his quirk. Afterall, it’s not as though either game so far has really allowed for much conversation.

            What must the hero scouts be thinking of him? That he’s piggybacking off of his more capable friends? Hitoshi glances down beneath him at Izuku, who steers them sharply backwards away from an attacker. He grits his teeth.

            “Catch,” he warns Tokoyami has he springs forward once again, bouncing lightly on his toes off of a class B kid’s shoulder, bending swiftly to swipe his points. The strange warmth of Dark Shadow’s talons wraps around his waist and tugs him back to his seat.

            It’s fine, Hitoshi tries to assure himself. He’ll have time to shine in the next round.

            He’ll have to.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

“TIME! All teams cease action!”

            Some students let out a sigh of relief. Some students cry out of frustration. Others, namely those from class A, turn towards Hitoshi as once, and cheer in victory when they see that his team has come out untouched.

            It was time to tally the points.

Notes:

I hope everyone is staying safe and warm. Where I am, the Polar Vortex is causing a lot of problems. I'm currently buried under about four feet of snow, and electricity is sketchy. If I don't update for a little bit, it's probably because of either electricity or frozen fingers lol

Stay safe everyone!

Chapter 42: A return to normality

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The dust kicked up by opposing teams were still in the air when time was called. The students held their breath, all eyes on the scoreboard as the four winning teams were declared, the names appearing one by one.

Iida, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Bakugo

Hitoshi, Tokoyami, Midoriya and Ashido

Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, Kaminari, and Asui

Shiozaki, Tokage, Hatsume, and Tetsutetsu

The teams who got in let out a cheer, as the bitter reactions from those who didn’t echoed just behind. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Class 1A dominated. However, much to their dismay, the luck of the draw for how the points ended up being distributed at the beginning left two of their teams at a disadvantage. This allowed a mostly class 1B team to claw their way into the final match.

The bland voice of Aizawa crackled over the speakers, cutting through the cheers and groaning.

“Those who did not qualify may participate in the bonus rounds. It is advisable that you do so. Those who did qualify may take the next two hours to prepare for their final challenge.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

An odd combination of weary and excited, 1A trudged together back to their locker room. Glances from students of other classes and whispers followed them the entire way, eyes on their backs. Katsuki resisted the urge to turn around and blow their faces off just to get them to stop. The eerie feeling of being watched made the pit in his stomach grow heavier, and the exposed feeling that crawled over his skin grow more intense. Made him feel like he was doing something wrong.

Hitoshi threw his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders, jarring him out of his own head.

“Dude, I can’t believe half our class got disqualified!” Denki scowled; hands shoved in his pockets as they finally reached an empty section of the hall.

“Learn how to count, Kaminari,” Jiro rolled her eyes. “And besides, as someone who actually didn’t make the cut, I’m totally fine with how things ended. My quirk isn’t exactly the best for one-on-one combat.”

Koda nodded, looking a tad rueful, but not at all bitter. Sato chuckled. “Besides, I know without Midoriya’s plan, I wouldn’t have qualified anyway. As far as I’m concerned, class 1A’s best horses are all in the race.”

“Plus a few random donkeys,” Mina shot under her breath with a wink thrown towards Kaminari as she threw open the door of the waiting room. She held the door, allowing some of her fellow classmates to go past her.

“Yeah!” Hagakure cheered from somewhere near the front of the pack. “A win from any of you is a win for me! Don’t let us down!”

“Don’t you worry,” Bakugo sneered, stepping out of Koda’s way, letting the quiet boy go into the room. “I’m gonna win this thing. You skid marks just gotta stay out of my way.”

Iida broke through to the center of the group, claiming their attention with a decisive wave of his hand. “As class representative! I must insist that those who did not progress through to the third activity please attempt the optional games, giving you another opportunity to showcase to potential agencies your abilities!”

One of Shoji’s arms wound between bodies, a mouth opening at the tip. “I agree. While I do think we’ve already put our best feet forward, there’s no harm in trying a bit harder.”

“Ugh,” Kaminari whined. “But I’m tired.” Jiro smacked the back of his head.

“Doofus, you qualified, so you’re not included anyway.”

“Oh. Right.”

Tuning out the bickering, Todoroki gently tugged on the sleeve of Bakugo’s uniform. Katsuki turned to face him, confused.

“Since we have a while,” Todoroki said, quietly. “Did you want to check on your parents?”

Bakugo nodded. “I was heading that way, right now,” he said, turning towards the direction of the announcer box. “Coming?”

“Me, too!” Deku said charging forward to cling to Bakugo’s arm. Silently, Hitoshi falls into step beside them.

It didn’t take long to reach the announcer box, since the deeper sections of the hallway were mostly abandoned, save for a few patrolling pros who barely gave the four of them a glance.

Shouto pushed open the door of the box. “Sensei…” There’s no one inside. “Huh.”

“What is it, Halfy?” Bakugo shoved past him. “Fuck.”

“Is he not there?” Shinsou asked them, face stoic but voice betraying his worry.

“No,” Shouto informed him. “We must have just missed Aizawa sensei.”

“Fuck.” Bakugo repeats. “I’m going to check with Recovery Girl.”

As Bakugo turned to leave, Midoriya took hold of his elbow. “But what if he just stepped out for a minute? He might come back here, soon. I mean, someone has to MC the minigames that the other students are doing.”

Bakugo looks considering for a moment, then lightly pulls his arm free. “Then text me if I miss them, again,” he grunts, shuffling back the way he came.

Hitoshi snorts and throws himself into one of the chairs at the command panel. “What do you think the teachers would do if I turned these on and started talking.”

“Laugh,” Todoroki replied, blandly, taking the other seat. Hitoshi snorts again, throwing his feet up onto the table.

“By the way,” Hitoshi started. “You were really something else today, Halfy. Like, seriously. I knew you were a monster, already, but jesus.”

“Yeah!” Deku cheered suddenly, making them both jump. “I’ve never seen you use your fire so much before! I could tell it really does help you regulate your body temperature, which makes sense, because fire, so theoretically you could be able to use your quirk almost indefinitely without freezing or overheating if you were careful, so I’ve always kind of wondered why  you never used your fire, but then you’re so smart so I’m sure you have a reason, I mean of course you have a reason, but maybe your body is more built for using your ice, which would explain why you favor it, so when you use your fire – oh no! does that mean your fire hurts you? Todoroki if your fire is painful to use then maybe you shouldn’t-“

“It’s not that.”

Deku’s ramble stumbled to a stop. “What?”

Hitoshi put his feet down, slowly, sitting up. Something in Todoroki’s tone told him that he should pay attention. “Then… why?”

Shouto hesitated, breathing out slowly through his nose. Well, if anyone could understand… it would be his friends. Afterall, neither of them had ordinary lives growing up, either. What, with Shinsou being in the foster system, and Midoriya’s unexplained “lack” of a biological father in his life. (There’s also the very real possibility that- no, stop. Now isn’t the time.)

“Todoroki?” Midoriya asked him, eyes wide and wet, hands gently reaching for Shouto like he was something worth holding. “Is everything okay?”

Shouto swallowed, dryly.

“…have either of you heard of quirk marriages?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi was pissed. And a simple shared look with Izuku told him that the greenette was feeling just as angry. “Dude, everything you just told us? You need to repeat to Aizawa.”

Todoroki’s eyes flew wide. “I can’t.”

“You have to!” Deku looked moments away from bursting into sobs, and vaguely Hitoshi was impressed that his little friend had yet to succumb to his tears. Lord knew how close Hitoshi was to screaming. He always kind of figured that there was something a little off about Todoroki, but he figured it was something like Kacchan. Kacchan, who had a fairly good life with loving parents and a stable support system, and was just a little odd because he’s Kacchan. But… but to hear Todoroki lay out a timeline of a lifetime of abuse like it was nothing. Todoroki’s horror story put Hitoshi’s own pain to shame. So what if Hitoshi wasn’t loved at home, at least he wasn’t groomed from birth to be a fucking child soldier. At least he was never mutilated.

“Sensei has enough going on right now, with Present Mic being so badly hurt and the –” Todoroki cut himself off.

“And the what?” Hitoshi asked, cautiously.

A flash a pain and what looked like longing passed over Todoroki’s face, and the boy turned away from his friends, staring out the window. “When we were at sensei’s house last week, I found some paperwork.”

“Makes sense,” Hitoshi said carefully. “Dadzawa always complains that half of being a teacher is the paper-“

“Paperwork that declares him fit to be a foster parent.” Hitoshi’s mouth snapped shut, water roaring in his ears.

Izuku’s eyes brightened.  “But that’s perfect!”

“Perfect for Shinsou. With my father’s influence, there is no way he would ever allow me to slip out of his grasp in such a way.”

“For-for me?” Hitoshi gasped. His mind was reeling, grasping for hope but forcing himself back because there was no way. There was no way, right? Life didn’t work out that well, that easily, that perfectly.

“But I’ll bet sensei would be able to find evidence that could convict your father-“

But before Yamada got injured, things were kind of perfect.

“I don’t want to doubt sensei, but my father has a much greater pull with law enforcement than him. Not to mention the Hero Commission which has strong connections to the local and national governing powers.”

A warm home to come back to, full of light and laughter and food made with love. Food made for him. Arms held open for him. A spot on the couch for him.

“But can’t you at least-“

Hitoshi cut Izuku off, standing, stepping past Izuku, and leaning over to grab Shouto by the shoulders and look straight into his bi-colored eyes. “—Todoroki. If I can escape, so can you.”

Silence rang in the small booth. Hitoshi wished that Todoroki were as expressive as Kacchan, because the ice prince persona he was wearing made it hard to understand just what was going through his friend’s head. But he only tightened his grip, because part of what made before so perfect, was having his friends sit beside him in their own spots on that couch, eating with him. People who didn’t flinch away when he spoke, when he held open his arms.

“… I’ll think about it.”

“…okay.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The list of people that Izuku loves seems to grow every day.

But why is everyone on that list always hurting?

And why is it never a hurt that Izuku can fix?

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The doors to the medward feels strangely heavy as he slowly eases it open. The first thing he notices is how quiet it is. There’s no beep beep beep of the heart monitor. He takes a stabling breath. It smells of chemicals. But it does not smell stale. Katsuki raises his eyes.

Hizashi is sleeping, holding Aizawa’s hand in his lap, trapping the other man in the uncomfortable looking chair beside him as the two of them doze peacefully. Briefly, Katsuki considers shooting the other boys a text saying he’s found them. But, selfishly, Katsuki steps into the room, deciding against the thought. He takes in the silence, the soft breathing.

He crosses the room, not taking his eyes off of Hizashi. He’s asleep again. But, Katsuki forcefully tells himself, he’ll wake up soon this time.

He slumps down on the floor by his sensei’s feet, leaning his back against Aizawa’s legs, and closes his eyes. For the moment, it’s as though nothing bad had ever happened. It’s just the three of them, existing together.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

He wakes up to the gentle sound of laughter. Katsuki’s eyes flutter open, and he raises his head from where it had been resting on Aizawa’s knees, his teacher’s hand buried in his hair.

“Hey there, Kittycat.”

There’s barely time for a thought to fly through his head before Katsuki has bolted up to his feet and launched himself forward. His arms wrap around a waist that feels far too damn skinny.

“Careful!” Aizawa scolds him, and Katsuki goes stiff, suddenly and guiltily remembering how horrifically injured Hizashi had been. But when he tries to let go, a firm grip wraps around him in turn, pulling him closer with a scoff.

“I’m fiiiine Shouta. Let me hug my baby!” Katsuki feels his face go red, and almost pushes himself away, but…

He turns his burning face into Hizashi’s stomach. Stress falls away and out of his shoulders. “Okay?” he asks, voice muffled by fabric.

“Yeah, Kitty,” Hizashi hums, brushing his hand across the back of Katsuki’s head. “I’m okay.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The awkward silence that settled over the three of them sat heavily on their heads, forcing them to look away from each other. Hitoshi dealt with the discomfort for about ten minutes, before deciding “Screw this, let’s go follow Kacchan.”

Except when Hitoshi put his hand on the door handle, it flew open on its own, making him yelp and jump back.

Snipe chuckled, raising his hands in a placating manner. “Sorry thar, young’in.” Snipe gave a friendly nod to the other two. “Gonna have ta ask the three a’ ya’ll ta clear out. My turn in the booth.”

“What about…” Izuku hesitantly asked.

Snipe gave him a softer smile. “I’d say go and check the medward. Don’t you worry none. I’m just giving Mic a li’l bit of a breather.”

Which then led to Todoroki, Hitoshi, and Izuku all standing outside of the medward, looking at the small family. Hitoshi felt his eyes stinging, and he instinctively breathed a little more shallowly, like he was afraid someone would scold him for being too loud if they noticed him. Looking at them, he couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad. Maybe somewhere in between, or a mixture of the two. Happy, because finally finally things were right in his world. And sad because he wasn’t a part of it. (Yet a quiet part of his mind eagerly supplied, but he ruthlessly shoved it down. For the moment.)

But then someone pushed him lightly forward in through the door, making him stumble loudly on the linoleum tile. Aizawa and Yamada looked up at him, and he froze. That is, until Yamada smiled gently and opened up his free arm that wasn’t holding Bakugo. “Hey lil listener. You miss me, too?” The hero said cheekily. Later, Hitoshi will reflect with horrified embarrassment on how he reacted. Later, he would reflect on the look of surprise on Hizashi’s face when Hitoshi took him up on his half joking offer. But, in the moment, all he could feel was heartbreaking relief as a sob flung itself from his throat.

He rushed forward and burrowed right in next to Bakugo, who only grunted at him in vague acknowledgement when he jostled the other boy’s side with his landing. Yamada’s arm curls securely around him, and a warm, rough hand that could only belong to Aizawa rubbed his back soothingly.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Izuku cheerfully chirp something as the mattress dipped, presumably because the greenette decided to join the cuddle pile. Todoroki’s familiar bland rumble said something as well, but Hitoshi couldn’t be bothered to pay attention at the moment.

In the moment, all he could do was close his eyes and breathe in home.

Notes:

Sorry it's a little shorter than normal. Just wanted to put ANYTHING out. I've had the first half written for like a month and have just been sitting on it because of writers block. Work has been kicking my butt. My teaching gig is fun, but it relies on bookings, and those are low at the moment. So, if I don't get booked I don't get paid. It's been picking up recently, but until it's frequent enough to pay the bills, I'm having to work a second full-time job. That's enough complaining though! Hope you liked this chapter!

Chapter 43: SPORTS FESTIVAL FINAL

Summary:

Oh goodness this was so hard to write. I'm not great at battles, but I did my best! I usually try to post all through june but... well, things have been crazy. That said, I'm really grateful to all of you who have stuck with this story, and all of you who are just now finding it! I've been writing this thing for like, what, two years now? Crazy how time flies!

Let me know what you think! Comments feed my soul and creativity! Where would you like this story to go? What would you like to see? How have you liked the story so far? What do I need to work on? I'd love to hear all of your thoughts, no matter how long or short or detailed or vague. I love reading what you have to say, and the comments I've been getting these past few weeks have really been a great encouragement. Everytime I open my email to find a new comment, I always end up opening my document later that day and working on the story, even if only a little bit.

Thanks for everything.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi can imagine his friends up in the stands, getting ready to watch him fight. Todoroki – here, Hitoshi has to clench his fists. If Icy Boy doesn’t bring up his predicament to Eraser Head, well, Hitoshi is sure going to – is probably stone-facedly staring off into the distance like a model. He imagines Kacchan slouching with his arms crossed, pretending that he isn’t invested whilst glaring intensely down into the field. He can imagine Izuku clinging to one of Katsuki’s arms, mouth running at a mile a minute. Hitoshi, briefly, wishes that he could be a fly on the wall for Midoriya’s muttering. Lord knows he could do with a thorough breakdown of the thirty different ways Deku could think up for Hitoshi to bag the victory. But, unfortunately, Class 1A is already seated, waiting for the battles to begin.

And Hitoshi is standing in the starting tunnel, alone with the screaming of the crowd.

The crowd that’s growing antsier by the minute for the action to begin if the simmering energy is anything to go off of.

“Get her, ZOMBIE!” he can hear Hagakure’s distant scream from somewhere above. The anxiety buzzing in his gut fades, just a little.

ALLLLLL RIGHT ALL RIGHT ALL RIGHT!”

“Shiozaki Ibara representing class 1-B.”

ANNND Let’s not forget class 1-A’s very own Shinsou Hitoshi! This is gonna be a great start to our first-year finals! Heroes! Come onnnnn out!”

Hitoshi takes a deep breath, walking out of the tunnel in the wings and out onto the pitch. The sunlight is blindingly bright, and he has to rapidly blink spots out of his eyes. Across the stadium, once his eyes focus, he sees his opponent – a tall girl with long green hair, a lighter shade than Midoriya’s. Thicker, too. She says something to him, but, well, she’s across the field. He can’t hear a word. Which is a problem. If he can’t hear her, she can’t hear him.

Shit.

First one incapacitated or out of bounds is OUT! Everyone ready? START!”

Hitoshi throws himself to the side, rolling into a dodging sprint around the outskirts of the circle. After being a part of the hero course for so long, he’s noticed that most kids with strong quirks tend to favor opening matches with a full strength, head-on attack. And, sure enough, Shiozaki starts with her hair surging forward, snapping through the air, and winding through the packed dirt like a drill, destroying the spot where Hitoshi had been just moments ago.

“Quirk: Vines. She has versatility, defense, and range on her side. Not an opponent to be taken lightly.”

Uh, yeah. No duh, Dadzawa.

“Vine hair?” Hitoshi shouts. “So, instead of getting lice in middle school, does that mean you got aphids? Do you get caterpillars in your hair? Can I have one?”

The girl doesn’t reply. Hitoshi isn’t sure if it’s because she wasn’t impressed by what he said – which, fair – or if it was because she couldn’t hear him.

He’s gonna have to get in close to be heard, and Shiozaki is keeping him at a distance with her vines. Hitoshi ducks beneath a wave of hair-vines that slams into the ground with enough force to kick up dust and hard clumps of earth. He winces, charging ahead a few more feet.

“WOW! We’re starting this thing off strong! Shiozaki isn’t giving Shinsou a chance to breathe, but our Class 1A Dark Horse is gaining ground fast!”

“Man, it must be hard to style that. Or maybe it would be really easy? Which is it? I can’t even imaging washing it. Or do you just shave your head every night? That regrows, right?” She’s scowling now. Her hair shoots forward, twisting directly over his shoulder. He grabs it.

“CRUCIFIXION!”

Instantly, it wraps completely around him. It traps him in place, yes, but he’s now also about three feet from her face.

Ewwwww It’s all course and scratchy. Jeez.” She’s getting ready to throw him. He looks her dead in the eye. “If this were mine, I know I’d sure sleep bald. Yeah?” Her scowl deepens.

“How –“ Hah. Got’em.

“Put me down.” The vines unwind and retract. The audience is muttering and twittering. A glance at the screens shows a full shot of Shiozaki’s slackened face. “Walk out of bounds.”


“Quirk: Brainwashing. The moment he uses it, it’s an instant game over.”

ANNND OUT! SHINSOU IS THE WINNER!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Iida vs Hatsume ends up being an… interesting matchup. On one hand, Hatsume’s inventions gives her the clear upper hand. Of course it does – it’s basically the equivalent to her using like, ten quirks at once. On the other hand…

“She… she isn’t trying, is she?” Sero winces as Hatsume dances out of the way of Iida’s charge attack, showing off her rocket boots to the audience, alongside any potential investors.

Kero, at least this means Iida is definitely going to advance to the next round…”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Bakugo can’t help but feel warm as he watches Glasses get his butt handed to him by his future wife.

Then, well, he has a brief flicker of what if where he worries that, maybe he fucked something up? Maybe they won’t get married and have those beautiful little girls with their crazy hair zooming all over the place. But then he remembers seeing Big Iida in the crowd earlier, throwing him a thumbs up. One good thing will come from today, he tells himself. But then… who is he to dabble in trading lives? Is Tensei Iida’s wellbeing worth more than the existence of his nieces?

He looks down at Iida, who is gesturing wilding to Hatsume. Almost begging her to take their battle seriously. And he sees double.

The party is in full swing. All of class 1A is there, and even Eye Bags is over in the corner looking like a lost ghost that wandered in. The cake has been cut and plates passed around. Akari Iida, the birthday girl, is zooming around on her new roller skates, her Engine Quirk propelling her from the pipes protruding from her shoulder blades, pink hair flowing gracefully behind her.

Tenya karate chops her head, stopping her mid-pirouette. “No quirks in the house! I will not replace another couch this month! If you break it, you will have to sit on the floor!”

“Eh, it’s her birthday.” Mei ruffles her daughter’s hair before pushing a plate piled with pink birthday cake into her husband’s hands. “Let the babies play!”

At their feet, little Yuko Iida is attempting to put a lit sparkler candle into her mouth.

“NO!” Tenya surges forward and grabs it from her. “That is not an appropriate use of a candle! Who gave her a-“

He’s cut off by his daughter’s shrill scream at being deprived of her new toy. Kaminari responds by getting in her face and screaming right back.

For an instant, Yuko is too stunned to be upset. But then, she giggles, and screeches even louder. Kaminari echoes her, crying up towards the ceiling in an obnoxious roar. Akari joins in, and soon the three of them are whooping and hollering while Tenya is chasing Akari and Kaminari around the cake table in circles.

“Sounds like a party in here!”

“UNCLE TENSEI SAVE ME!”

Grandpa Iida is rolling Tensei into the room on his wheelchair. Akari ducks beneath her mother’s arm and launches herself into her uncle’s lap. “Careful!” Tenya cries.

“Careful shmareful, Tenya,” Tensei laughs. “I’m not that breakable.”

“Agree to disagree, Big Brother,” Tenya sniffs, even as he bends down to give his brother a hug. “But I’m glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tensei smiles. “Anything for my princesses. Now. Who wants a rocket launcher?”
“ME!”

“Please be joking…”

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki blinks. Deku is looking at him with his big stupid eyes. Katsuki glances back down onto the field. Glasses and Mad Scientist have cleared out, the next level already beginning. He looks back to Izuku.

“What?”

Izuku bites his lip, slipping his hand into Katsuki’s. Instinctively, he pulls Izuku’s hand into his lap and massages the delicate joints between his thumbs. Izuku smiles at him. “You just looked a little sad…”

“I’m not sad, nerd,” Katsuki assures him. “Who’s up?”

“Kirishima and a class B boy.”

All Right, Listeners! This is about to get heavy. We have brute force against brute force with KIIIIIRRISHIMA from Class 1A! AND TETSUTETSU TETSUTETSU of class 1B! Which hard-head will come out on top?!”

“Similar quirks and similar fighting styles. Going head-to-head in a situation such as this one requires a clear head for critical thinking and creativity.”

Instantly, Bakugo knows that this Kirishima is not the same Kirishima as the one who went head-to-head with Tetsutetsu up till a standstill at this point in time within the last timeline. This Kirishima squints at the other boy and waits, holding until the silver haired student makes the first move. This Kirishima ducks underneath the metal boy, with whom he is supposedly equally matched, and throws him over his shoulder.

Tetsutetsu doesn’t go over the line, but it’s a near thing. The class B student’s nostrils flair as he turns on his heel. The audience screams. Both boys activate their quirks once again, Tetsutetsu gleaming silver while Kirishima spikes up, rippling like a fault line. Kirishima swipes his arms across the other student’s torso like he’s wielding blades, while Tetsutetsu throws himself like a battering ram.

The swipe, strong and unflinching from Tetsutetsu’s attack, drives the silver boy off balance. Kirishima hurtles a fist upwards, knocking Tetsutetsu’s chin back into his skull. At first, he is completely unmoved, but the uppercut is swiftly followed by a powerful roundhouse. As the boy is thrown backwards, Kirishima grabs his opponent’s leg and heaves.

All in all, it’s over in about five minutes.

It’s such a deviation from how it went down originally, but this Kirishima is one who has spent every afternoon that he could spare learning self defense during Aizawa’s optional class. Who forced himself to apply 110% after Mic’s disastrous confrontation with villains.

Katsuki stands and roars in approval along with the rest of class 1A.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Get ready for a good one, Listeners heeeere’s TOKAGE and MIDORIYA! YAAAAAH!”

“Here we have yet another match up between classes A and B. Tokage, being a recommended student, is expected to perform exceptionally.”

BUT! Let’s not count Midoriya out just yet! One of the top students of class 1A, he’s sure to pack a PUNCH!”

Izuku centers himself, waiting for Mic to give the call. The girl across from him, quirk so far unknown, looks like she’s built for speed.

So, he’ll just have to be faster.

But does he take her out in one go? Or does he drag it out, show the audience what he’s really made of? Going up toe-to-toe with a known recommended student is a sure-fire way to get attention. But would an instakill (as Kacchan would put it) be better or worse than a drawn-out dance?

START!”

Izuku knows what Dadzawa would want him to do.

He charges, One for All powering his step. Like a bullet, he throws himself across the arena.

Only for the girl, Tokage, to split into hundreds of tiny shards, swarming away from his path. Izuku slams on his heels, only barely able to stop himself from spinning out of bounds, arms pinwheeling, tripping into the dust.

He looks up at her, where Tokage is reforming about ten meters away. Izuku digs his fingers into the ground, heaving up a chunk of the earth, and chucking it as hard as he can, sure enough, she splits again to avoid getting hit.

But this time, Izuku is ready. He grabs a piece of Tokage and squeezes. The girl makes no noticeable sound of distress, though the look on her face grows taught. One of her hands launches a punch at him, but it’s easily caught and held, tugging uselessly in his grip.

She attempts to reform, a piece in her side and her left hand slowly regenerating, leaving the hand in Izuku’s grasp to wither away like a dried-out leaf. He grimaces and wipes his now sweaty and dirtied hand against his shirt.

Tokage is breathing heavily. Izuku’s eyes narrow. Reforming seems to take a lot out of her. The beginnings of a plan forms in his head.

Midoriya locks eyes on her, and leaps forward, grabbing her by the arms, and not letting go as he starts to split, crushing what’s within his hands. Now, Tokage does cry out – though she still doesn’t seem to be in that much pain. No, this is a cry of frustration. She pulls herself back together, now struggling to reform chunks of her arm, though she still has full control over what she has left, aiming a devastating kick at Izuku’s knee.

He tanks it, then palm strikes her abdomen, forcing her back several feet.

“So, this is how class A treats their opponents?” The girl’s brows are furrowed. “I didn’t expect you do be so…”

“Strong?” Izuku asks, stepping forward.

“Ruthless,” Tokage corrects, taking up a firmer stance, readying for a final stand.

Izuku pauses. “Ruthless? I-I don’t really think-“ Tokage spins and one of her feet launches at Izuku’s head, the other knocks his own feet out from under him. He hits the ground rolling, and is back up in an instant, charging forward in the same breath. He tackles her, slamming her into the ground. She gasps, her pieces slowly, as if limping, collecting back into herself.

“A hero has to be efficient,” Izuku tell her. “It’s not because we’re… we’re…”

“Ruthless,” Tokage says, face bland.

Tokage, unable to continue, closes her eyes as Mic calls the match.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Todoroki is sure that this is going to be an interesting fight, if not an entirely fair one. He circles the outskirts of the field, watching Asui sit and watch him, wide eyed like a, well, like a frog. She leaps forward, Todoroki throws out his hand, testing her, an icicle flinging through the air like a shuriken. She throws herself up and forward over it, like, well, like she’s playing leapfrog.

“You look upset, kero.” She lands gracefully. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not upset.” Todoroki tells her. Then he thinks.

Todoroki hadn’t realized until that moment that he was, in fact, feeling upset. Though, he isn’t entirely sure why. He looks up at the booth, idly leaning out of the path of Asui’s tongue as she attempts to grab him. He can see the silhouettes of both teachers in the box and, briefly, feels a strange pang strike him across the chest.

Does he feel upset? He isn’t mad.

He isn’t sad.

Is he upset? Is he sick? Is he injured?

Todoroki looks down at himself to see nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling unbalanced, Todoroki throws his ice forward. Asui nimbly leaps out of the way, but Todoroki is just as fast, knocking her to the side with a towering sheet of ice that curves inward, blocking her path. She tries to grab him with her tongue once again, but this time Todoroki wraps his hands around her tongue, cringing slightly at the thought of touching it, and applies just a bit of fire. Enough to make her yelp and stumble, making it easy for him to throw her across the line.

He looks up at the box, where Mic is cheering, and feels the same pang as before. He rubs his chest, willing it to go away. Behind him, he can hear Tsuyu lopping up next to him. “Are you sure you’re okay, kero? I know you could have taken me out a lot quicker.”

“You’re very talented,” he assures her. “It was just a bad match up.”

“I know, kero.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki isn’t surprised when, during Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami’s match goes much like how he remembers it, if with a bit more push back from Momo. While Yaoyorozu is definitely improved from the beginning of the year, Tokoyami had training in this timeline like he didn’t have access to in the previous.

Momo is no match for him. Tokoyami pushes her out of bounds with ease, much to Hitoshi’s pleasure as he stands and screams louder than anyone else.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Denki is still justly wary of Uraraka. So sue him, but girls just slightly freak him out, now. If freaking Bakugo of all people had warned him about the wiles of female heroes, then Denki sure as heck can’t handle them!

So, yeah, he keeps her at an arm’s length.

At least, he tries to.

But then Uraraka just flat out runs at him, tackling him around the waist. He yelps, slapping his hands onto her back, shocking her with as much voltage as he dares.

She… she doesn’t budge. She glares up at him, sweat gleaming on her brow from the hot sun, and probably pain, teeth gritted and nostrils flaring.

Denki gulps, his stomach doing flipflops of fear all the way up to his throat.

Wait… that isn’t fear. Well, not entirely fear. Uraraka had powered through the charge, and sent them both upwards, soaring above the pitch. Kaminari’s return grip on her pulling her up with him.

“I’ll shock you again!” he tries to threaten, regardless of his voice cracking over the first word.

“Go ahead,” she growls, sounding startlingly like Kacchan in that moment. “I’ll float down like a feather, and you’ll just keep going up. Forever.”

Girls, man….Geez.

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Bakugo knows Mina, front and back, inside and out. His best girl. One of his closest, most trusted friends. He knows she can handle whatever he throws at her. Which is why-

“DIE BITCH!”

“YOU FIRST, MCSLPODES!”

They scream almost in harmony, Bakugo throwing his hands backwards and flying at her. She slides at him, melting the topsoil beneath her feet, hands stretched forward almost comically, dripping in acid. He dodges beneath her arm and sucker punches her stomach, making her heave.

But Mina, amazing Mina, doesn’t even pause. She knees him right in the nuts.

He slams his hand downwards and blasts her into the dirt.

Distantly, he is aware of the heroes in the audience muttering about how he’s bullying a poor defenseless girl. He grits his teeth. It doesn’t bother him, he tells himself, because he knows he’s a fucking piece of shit. Sure, fine, go off. But Mina? Mina is far from defenseless.

“SHOW ‘EM WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF ALIEN QUEEN!”

“EAT MY SHIT!”

She lobs a disgusting glob of acid at his head.

SHUT UP AND SIMMER DOWN! IF YOU THINK FOR A SECOND THAT EITHER OF THOSE TWO ARE BULLYING THE OTHER, THAT’S NOTHING BUT SEXISM AND IGNORANCE!”

Both Mina and Bakugo can’t help but pause. Neither of them can recall Present Mic sounding so angry.

“Bakugo isn’t taking any chances, he’s treating his challenger like a threat. In the real world, pulling your punches because of something as trivial as gender is a good way to get yourself killed.”

“Let’s finish this quick, yeah?” Bakugo grins at her.

“You’re welcome to forfeit at any time, babe.” She throws a playful wink despite the sweat dripping into her eyes.

“DIEEE!”

“RAAAAR”

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Iida might not be the best of friends with Hitoshi, but one would have to be both deaf and blind at this point to not be aware of his classmate’s quirk. Therefore, at first, he knows better than to respond to Hitoshi.

But, when Hitoshi suddenly asks, “Do you think Dadzawa would adopt me?” Iida can’t help but respond with “Of course!”

Iida can understand having a good strategy, but, all the same, he can’t help but feel a bit betrayed, though he can’t exactly pinpoint why.

Of course Aizawa sensei would take Shinsou in. Their teacher had proven time and again how compassionate he is, and there is no denying that Aizawa has taken a special interest in a select few of his class. Shinsou Hitoshi being one of that number.

Which is why, even before he goes to locate his older brother, Iida rushes to catch up to his taciturn classmate, approaching him quickly from behind to clasp a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder. Shinsou flinches, not looking up. “Listen, man, I’m-“

“I am aware that your question was nothing more than a distraction tactic!” Tenya would feel bad for interrupting, but he feels as though it’s only fair after the fairly dirty move Hitoshi used in their match. “But, it would be remiss of me to not inform you that it’s very obvious to me that Sensei cares for you very much!”

Hitoshi pauses. For a few breathes, the two of them simply look at each other. Measuring. “You really mean that, don’t you, Glasses?”

Iida sniffs, “As class representative, it would be a horrible thing for me to lie to a classmate!”

Hitoshi’s face slowly morphs into a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Prez. It…” the grin fades into something more real. “It means more than you could know.”

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The next few rounds go by like speed runs.

For all that Kirishima has improved his technique, he’s still no match for the spawn of All Might.

And Todoroki with his fire is an insurmountable wall as far as Tokoyami is concerned. At first, Todoroki sticks to his ice, but Dark Shadow is able to shatter those attacks. But then, Tokoyami and Dark Shadow make the mistake of attempting to attack from both sides. In response, Todoroki throws out both hands, ice on one side and fire on the other. From there, it was an easy win.

And poor Hitoshi is up against Midoriya, just as he was in the original timeline (albeit a little later in the games than before) and it plays out much the same.

(Katsuki can’t help but grit his teeth at the knowledge that despite everything… Midoriya has still managed to come away from a fight with broken fingers.)

And then –

“I’m not gonna go easy on you, Sweet Cheeks.”

“I’d be mad if you did!”

There was less booing than there was for his battle against Mina, but Bakugo gets the feeling from the much more subdued cheering from the audience that Mic’s earlier reprimand hadn’t really sunk in.

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It’s a familiar feeling, going up against IcyHot. And, of course, Bakugo gives his all. He wouldn’t settle for anything less, especially not with Todoroki starting off the match with a blaze like Bakugo had wished he would in the first timeline, managing to score a burn across the arm that Katsuki threw up to block it.

But by the time the cloud of flame had abated – Todoroki looking around in confusion – Bakugo had vanished, the place where he had been just moments before completely empty. Todoroki hadn’t seen Bakugo plummeting out of the sky and down towards his unguarded top until it was too late. As soon as he got up close, the match was already over.

After all, Ice Hot may have the raw power, but Bakugo has decades of experience that Todoroki can’t hope to match.

Not yet, anyway.

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The final battle is about to start, and Mic is equal parts excited and nervous.

Also, nauseous. And slightly –  just slightly mind you – exhausted and heavy limbed.

His energy, which had been somewhat recharged by his power nap, had been slowly depleted.

“Come on,” Aizawa urges him once more, just like he had been since about four matches ago. “We can save this for when we watch it all together. You won’t be missing anything.”
“C’mon babe,” Mic protests. “You know you want to see this, too! I know you want to see this. I can’t be the reason you miss out on our babies’ first match.”
“This isn’t their first match,” Aizawa snorts. “You’ll have plenty opportunities to watch them beat the snot out of each other in the future. But you need to take care of yourself,” he levels a serious look at him. “If not for yourself, then for them.”

Hizashi hesitates. Aizawa rests his hand on Mic’s.

“For me?” he asks.

Hizashi sighs, feeling the fight leave him.

“Movie night better be the best thing ever,” Hizashi warns him, grumbling half-heartedly under his breath. “I want all four of our boys there.”

“Done,” Aizawa agrees, already pulling out his phone. The dial tone is quickly interrupted by the other end picking up. “Snipe,” he greets. “I need one more favor.”

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And just like that, it was time for the finals. The crowd was ready for a break almost as much as they were for that last hit of adrenaline. The last battle.

The day had been going so well.

In fact, Katsuki was in rather high spirits as he and Deku squared off on opposite ends of the field.

“Here we are, folks! The final match of the first years! Here we have our two rising stars from class 1A, top of their class and ready to rumble!”

The crowd is going wild, and Katsuki can feel the adrenaline and exhilaration surging through his veins. All the thrill of a good battle. None of the risk. None of the damage. And Deku is grinning right back at him.

Then he realizes…

That isn’t Papa. That isn’t Sensei… It’s fucking Snipe.

He’s distracted. A rookie mistake. A flash of green and Katsuki’s head snaps to the side, a bruise already forming on his cheek, his jaw aching and perhaps fractured. He’s thrown several feet back, tasting blood. He tumbles ass over fucking head, luckily not going over the boundary line. He spits out a…. tooth? Well fuck.

“KACCHAN!” Deku’s face is pale.

Katsuki growls at him, and Deku reels back. He does not advance. He doesn’t move.

What?

Katsuki lunges to his feet. Arms outstretched behind him, and he lands a solid kick on Deku’s chest.

But… Izuku hadn’t even attempted to dodge. Frowning, Katsuki grips Izuku’s arm and flips him onto his back.

Without resistance.

Katsuki gets off of Izuku, and pushes him with his foot. “Get up, fucking Deku! The hell are you doing?”

“I-I-I-”

Katsuki slugs him across the face. Deku swerves and attempts to block, then stepping forward, attempts to sweep Katsuki’s legs.

Except he isn’t, not really. There’s no force behind what he’s doing.

Katsuki roars and pummels Deku to the ground, whaling at his face. Deku taking every punch, green crackling across his skin. He isn’t even bruising. The hell is this? “Take this seriously, you fucker!”

He’s never known a Deku who doesn’t give his all, who doesn’t strive to go even further beyond. Who doesn’t always aim for that Plus Ultra.

Is this… is this his fault? Why isn’t Izuku fighting back?

Katsuki stands and locks his aim onto Deku, bracing his right wrist with his left hand. Deku seems reluctant to even get back onto his feet. Despite that, as soon as he’s up, Katsuki fires him into the air with a powerful blast. There’re more green sparks, and Katsuki sneers as understanding washes over him.

“OH NO YOU FUCKING DON’T!”

Katsuki grabs Izuku by the leg just before he soars out of bounds and drags him back into the ring. “FUCKING FIGHT ME!”

He sounds desperate even to his own ears and he knows it.

“GET THE FUCK UP!”

But what else can he do?

“FIGHT ME!”

He’s never known a Deku who doesn’t get right back up, even against insurmountable odds.

Never known a Deku who didn’t take him seriously.

Never known a Deku who… who gives up.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Dinner that night was strained.

Shouto forced another bite down his throat, knowing that Fuyomi had worked hard to make it for him. Even still, it was hard to eat while his father was noisily chewing, glaring hard at him from across the table.

Shouto hadn’t won. He hadn’t even made it to the finals, rather tying for third with Hitoshi. To be perfectly honest, Shouto was content with his overall results. Afterall, much of how the fights ended up playing out was due to chance, who was matched up with whom. For example, had Shouto gone up against Hitoshi, or even Midoriya, Shouto was relatively sure that he would have won. However, Bakugo was by far the most technically skilled student in the class, even if Shouto believed that he and Midoriya both beat him out in terms of raw power.

The way that Bakugo could maneuver in the air… Shouto thoughtfully chewed on a vegetable, wondering if he could learn such a skill using his own quirk. Perhaps if he were able to use fire through both hands, but he wasn’t so sure about his ice. Not without leaving glaciers in his wake. Shouto put his fork down, considering himself. Not even a few weeks ago, Shouto would have balked at that thought – using fire from both hands – and yet even in his own head, it seemed natural. Of course he would be able to consider the possibility.

It was, afterall, his quirk. Shouto smiled to himself, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Bakugo.

Then, the smile dropped off his face. And it wasn’t because his father was still glowering at him, the intensity thereof growing by the moment.

No, it was because he couldn’t help but recall the end of the festival.

Bakugo, nearly frothing at the mouth in rage at a mostly unresponsive Midoriya. It was unlike anything Shouto had ever seen from either boy, with the exception of maybe when Present Mic was in the hospital, and Midoriya and Bakugo were at odds then. But, even still, back then Midoriya had been determined to power through and be there for his family, and Bakugo never truly seemed to be angry with them. He was just angry in general.

But… during the festival, he kept shouting for Midoriya to get back up, even though the other boy had long since allowed himself to be beaten. The teachers had to pull Bakugo off of his brother, and Recovery Girl herself had come to check on Midoriya, the only reason she didn’t usher him away to the medward, was because Midoriya had stood up and brushed himself off like nothing had happened.

It took nearly twenty minutes from then until the award ceremony. And Todoroki could scarcely believe what he saw. Midnight had used her quirk to sedate Bakugo. Fine, that was one thing. But then, they’d hauled his unconscious body to the reward podium, and chained him upright to a pole. He woke up, and immediately freaked out.

Todoroki couldn’t blame him. He would have as well. To be restrained in front of a crowd, that sounds like nothing short of a nightmare.

The rest of his class had agreed, Hitoshi particularly, opening voicing his protest, to the point of trying to refuse his own medal. All Might had lain the third place medal at his feet, and tried to give Hitoshi a congratulatory smack on the shoulder. Hitoshi had sidestepped with a glare. To All Might’s credit, he, too, looked uncomfortable at Bakugo’s treatment. Even still, he did nothing. And so, Todoroki accepted the medal, but he did not bow his head. Rather, he held out his hand with a bland expression, then turned away. Midoriya was the only one to have his medal placed around his neck by All Might, the only one who was given an embrace, though that was perhaps only due to the fact that he was standing still, unmoving, with his head drooping, eyes on the ground.

Bakugo, still raving and struggling against his restrains, looked up at All Might with fire in his eyes and said “Fucking try it, and I’ll never talk to you again.”

Midoriya had reacted then, holding out his hand for Bakugo’s medal.

The entire class had tried to corner Midoriya afterwards, but all that succeeded in doing was causing Midoriya to burst into tears.

On the forums, which Todoroki had retreated to during the awkward drive home with his father, people were just as baffled as he was at the boy’s behavior, to the point where there was speculation of Bakugo having been under the control or sway of some quirk. Though, there was almost as much confusion over why Midoriya, only a few moments into battle, had frozen and refused to fight.

Because that’s what happened. Midoriya got in one, solid hit that had their entire class wincing. And then, he stopped. He let Bakugo throw him around like a rag doll.

Todoroki cleaned his plate, then pushed his chair back from the table. That was when his father decided to speak.

“Your performance today was unacceptable,” his father’s voice was low. “To lose to those two incompetent fools… if I do not see a marked improvement by the end of the year, I will not be allowing you to return to UA.”

“Understood,” Todoroki told him, stepping away from the table, giving his sister a small smile. “Thank you for the food, Fuyomi.”

In his room, Todoroki took a peek at his notifications. People had been returning to one of Todoroki’s old posts.

984539483: [uploaded video 8.52 minutes]  8.1k upvotes

-Is it just me, or does Midoriya’s quirk look like All Might’s?

4.7k replies

Who else is here post sports festival?

[who else is here…] me. It’s like watching two entirely different boys

So weird man

I hope ther ok

[me. It’s like…] I mean, they did just almost lose a parent.

honestly, Bakugo did not deserve to be chained like an animal

These boys have so much potential

I’m like, honestly so confused rn

[I mean, they…] but mic is ok now! He mced!

[but mic is…] trauma doesn’t just vanish in a day

[honestly, Bakugo did…] im so fucking mad rn

[honestly, Bakugo did…] shamed on those teachers

[honestly, Bakugo did…] did anyone else feel sick just watching?

Sighing, not really having anything to add to the conversation, Shouto clicks out of it. It wouldn’t do to dwell in negativity. It only clouded the mind, Shouto had to learn that the hard way. It was much better to forge a plan to fix what was wrong.

But what was wrong?

Shouto worried his bottom lip between his teeth. To be perfectly honest… he wasn’t sure. Everything had been going well. Everyone had been having so much fun, even the people who were eliminated early. Even the people who lost.

Up until that final round.

He opens up his messenger app. But then he hesitated. Who does he text, what does he even ask? Sensei, where were you? Everything got ruined when you left? Or Maybe, Midoriya, why didn’t you try? Definitely not Bakugo, are you okay?

He exits that app as well.

And opens discord.

EraserMicFam Protection Squad

#general

Ochakoko: still no word? @Shinsou?

Shinsou: None. They didn’t offer to let me come home with them and I didn’t ask.

IidaTenya: and they have not reached out since?

Ochakoko: Deku isn’t replying to my messages. Gosh, this is just like back then all over again.

Shinsou: at least no one is hurt.

Kirishima: I hope

Kirishima: man, but Bakugo was scary.

Kirishima: it was like when Mic was hurt, but like times ten

Kirishima: im worried guys

Shinsou: same

Ochakoko: I just can’t wrap my head around what happened.

IidaTenya: Bakugo and Midoriya are both upstanding students

IidaTenya: there had to have been something to influence their behavior.

Shinsou: I agree. But what the fuck set Bakugo off?

Kirishima: well, that part is obvious isn’t it?

Kirishima: the only weird part is just how messed up Bakugo got over it

Ochakoko: Obvious? What do you mean?

Kirishima: Midoriya just stopped trying. I mean, id be pretty annoyed if the person I was fighting in front of a dozen cameras and a thousand people just stopped.

Shinsou: you have a point. But still

IidaTenya: even so, the reaction on Bakugo’s part was disproportionate.

Shinsou: I just want everyone to be okay damn it

Ochakoko: stay strong, Shinsou! Things will be okay! Mic is back, he’ll take care of them

IidaTenya: I have to agree. As worried as I am, the teachers are well capable of soothing any ruffled feathers.

Kirishima: This is more than ruffled feathers, man

Kirishima: I just can’t think of what made Midoriya just…

Kirishima: he was like a freaking mannequin and dude that is not ok

IidaTenya: I have been pondering various scenarios. About times when I have been sparing with my own brother.

Ochakoko: and?

IidaTenya: I have to admit, nothing would be capable of causing me to react like that.

Shinsou: Nothing?

IidaTenya: I know I shouldn’t say ‘nothing,’ but I honestly can’t think of any possible action that I or he could take which could result in what happened between Bakugo and Midoriya

Shinsou: I mean…

Shinsou: if we’re talking hypotheticals

Shinsou: if I were fighting a hypothetical brother…

Shinsou: maybe that first punch really freaked Midoriya out? I know if my quirk ever hurt one of my brothers I’d probably just fucking shut down. That’s almost what happened today, isn’t it?

Shinsou: he just shut down

IidaTenya: that’s very insightful of you. However, I must point out that they have been wounded while battling each other before.

Todoroki: What do we do?

Ochakoko: hey Todo

Ochakoko: just be there for them, I guess

Todoroki: ok

He closes the app and switches over to his clock.

He sets the alarm for four a.m.

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi slips his phone into his pocket with a sigh and can’t help but feel mildly abandoned. A familiar feeling these days, he thinks grimly. After the festival, Midoriya and Bakugo both seemingly vanished. As did their parents.

So, Hitoshi walked home, sore and tired from the long day of fighting, wanting nothing more than to sink into a hot bath before bed.

(Actually that isn’t true. He wasn’t nothing more than to go home. Home to his not-brothers. Home to his not-parents. Home to his not-cat and the warmth and safety they bring with them. He wants so badly to be held. He wants so badly for a family dinner. For someone to tell him he did a good job. For someone to ruffle his hair and send him off to bed with a kind word. He wants so badly that it hurts.)

But all plans to linger awake leaves him as he approaches the house. He can hear the foster parents arguing from nearly half a block away. His steps slow to a stop as he comes up the sidewalk to the front door. “…do about him?”

“He used his godforsaken quirk on hero students, for Pete’s sake… and they all let him? What if it goes to his head? What if he used his quirk on those poor kids at the end!”

“It’ll be fine… and if not, we have his social worker’s number.”

“I don’t want him in this house with our daughter! I never wanted that freak in my house!”

“The reimbursement checks help pay for her ballet classes. We wouldn’t be able to afford all of your fucking health food on just my pay!”

“I don’t care if I have to eat shit, I want him gone!”

Hitoshi takes a step back.

Then he turns around, and walks away.

Chapter 44: Home at last

Summary:

I feel as though we are coming to the end of the current angst-arc

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

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Hitoshi Shinsou wasn’t the type of kid to place too much value in “hopes” or “dreams”. Life hadn’t been kind enough to him for that. It was his belief that good things and bad things happened to all people at random, regardless of who they were and what they did. Nevertheless, he always did his best to take the high road, when possible, to be the better person. Even when people beat him down, taunted him, spit on him, called him a baby villain.

(He wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t.)

Life hadn’t been kind enough to him for a lot of things. Beyond the inability to hope for anything, anymore. It was hard, most days, for him to be able to muster up the courage, the will power, to pursue things. Get things done.

Personal hygiene? Maybe, if his bones don’t happen to feel like lead. Or if the buzzing in his ear is dull enough to ignore. Or if the knives forever hanging out of his back happen to feel less heavy.

Homework? Maybe, if there’s someone on his ass about it. If said person on his ass is kind about it. If he feels like it. If he’s gotten enough sleep, or if there is nothing else to do.

Sleep? Ha.

The first and only thing, in a long-long time, that he’d allowed himself to hope for. To dream for. To work for. Was being a hero. And even that was fueled almost entirely by spite. To show all of his ex-foster parents, ex-foster siblings, his fucking case workers, the random strangers who would shy away, to show them all that he isn’t worthless. He isn’t. (Right?)

But fuck.

Fuck.

He’s so tired.

Tired of fighting. And for what?

Some days, Hitoshi doesn’t know if pure spite is enough to drag him out of bed, anymore.

Because he’s tired.

Too tired to cry properly, just letting silent tears slide down his face as he stumbles in the half-light of the evening. The sun is basically set, his only company the flickering streetlights and family-filled cars that tear through the streets beside him. Past him.

He’s so tired of fighting. Fighting for himself. Fighting for himself because no one else will bother. (Maybe he is worthless.)

For a moment, just a moment, he had a fantasy about tearing into his foster home and ordering the bastards to light the whole thing on fire. Just a moment. But. It scared him. He wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t. (Right?)

Fists tremble in his pockets, clenched around his rumbling phone, shoulders stiff from stress and cold. His muscles bundled up in knots from the rough day he’s had, the emotional and physical highs and lows. He just wants a hot bath. He just wants a hot meal. He just wants…he just wants…

He just wants. He wants so fucking bad.

And he’s tired.

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In the end, it all happened because of a dumb joke that no body should have laughed at.

“Someone should put a muzzle on that kid.”

“Pretty sure if you asked Midnight, she’d have one in her purse.”

“Kinky!”

After the fact, no one would remember whose idea it was. Which B-Lister, arrogant in their own self-importance. Which UA senior, envious of their more powerful under-classman. Or else, no one would confess. “I heard somebody say it. It wasn’t me though!” “I thought it was a bad idea all along!” “I couldn’t have stopped it if I had tried!” “Other people seemed fine with it, so I thought it was okay!” “Well, you didn’t say anything either.” “I wasn’t there for most of it, anyway. By the time I noticed it was already happening!”

True, it was Midnight’s job to sedate trouble-some challengers who needed help coming off of an adrenaline high, should things get too out of control. No muzzle was involved, thankfully, no thanks to the mystery hero who first suggested it. But chains had been. Chains somebody had to have provided. Midnight, when pressed, would admit to having secured Bakugo willingly. But had done so thinking it was under orders, not thinking much of it, never really knowing when too-much was too-far. The pole had been provided by Cementoss’ quirk, after seeing the student already bound, once again thinking “Well, if no one else sees a problem with this…” And of course, All Might hadn’t really thought twice about the situation. Not until confronted by the stony glares of the winners, of the remaining student body, of Midoriya Inko.

It was ended by a threat. A threat of Aizawa storming into Nedzu’s watchtower, where he was overseeing the events, shoving his way past security and heroes. Hair flying with his quirk.

“Why the HELL-“

“This was not approved by me, Shouta-kun.” Nedzu’s face was stormy.

“You could have stopped this.”

“Could I have?”

“No.” Aizawa slammed his hand down on the table in front of his employer. Staff around them shuffled uncertainly, not knowing whether to come to Nedzu’s defense, or to stay out of the warpath that was Eraserhead’s ire. “I don’t want to play any of your bull-shit games. You know, you know that my child is traumatized. And yet you still allowed him to be-“

“If you truly think him so fragile, can he really be a hero?”

“Cut the-“

“Now –“

SHUT UP!” Aizawa was breathing heavily. Shaking. “Hizashi just got out of the hospital. You know my family has been struggling. If this is some sort of punishment for me letting Katsuki get away with shit while we were struggling with a possible death in the family, then fine. Punish me. ME. Not my child.”

Nedzu didn’t attempt to say anything, this time. Merely observing coolly.

“The next time one of your staff threatens my children, through action or inaction, whether with harm or public humiliation, I will quit. I will quit, Hizashi will quit, and fuck if he doesn’t rain hell on UA, and you know he has the public’s opinion on his side, and as smart as you are, people don’t like you like they like him.”

Nedzu smiles. “You say you won’t play games with me, and yet this sounds very much like a challenge. You forget, Shouta-kun, that I have All Might.”

“Yeah? Well, I have Izuku. And you know very well what that entails.”

Somewhere in the in between, it was Mitsuki Bakugo, barreling past security, knocking a sidekick flat on his ass and kneeing a B-lister in the balls, that stormed up the steps of the podium and demanded that All Might break her son’s chains.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

If somebody had asked Izuku what had been going through his head during the match, he wouldn’t have been able to respond. People did, in fact, ask him why he shut down so suddenly.

He couldn’t give an answer.

How could he explain? How could he say, without stumbling over his words, or else giving a three-hour TedTalk about the million and one and nothing things that were going through his mind? How he’d been having nightmares for the past year about his Kacchan, broken and bleeding on pavement with his head at a twisted angle from a sharp drop off of some unknown building? How, in a split instant, all of those nightmares surged to the surface when he nearly broke Kacchan’s neck, snapping his head to the side with all the force of One For All?

He might not have broken Kacchan’s neck, that time. But he’d hit him hard enough that he’d knocked out a tooth. He’d quite literally permanently mutilated his brother. Teeth don’t grow back was ringing in his head on a loop. And beyond his night terrors, beyond the horror, he suddenly was hit with what he’d learned about Todoroki, and how his friend had been scarred for life by his own mother, by his father. He was meant to be the next Symbol of Peace. Not the next Endeavor.

Izuku couldn’t raise a hand against his Kacchan. Not after that.

But… but then… was it his fault when they’d dragged his unconscious body, wrapped in chains, head lolling limply to the side in a way that made Izuku need to gag, up to a pole? On camera? For the world to see?

He stood frozen; eyes held wide in betrayal. As Midnight stood by. Snipe stood by. Ectoplasm, Cementoss, Power Loader.

All Might.

He’s such a fucking deku.

He didn’t wait for the announcement that it was all over; he didn’t wait to be dismissed, the moment All Might had torn the chains off of his brother (at the raging behest of Mrs. Bakugo) he grabbed Kacchan’s hand and drug him off the podium.

(He’d been half afraid that Kacchan wouldn’t go with him, that he would refuse to allow Izuku, deku that he was, to touch him. But when Kacchan followed willingly, tears of relief filled his eyes.)

Izuku didn’t know what had happened. Why it had happened. But he did know who had let it happen, and who he could trust to make it better.

He would learn later that it was started by a joke.

But it was all made better by Papa Mic, still in the infirmary, wiping away the frustrated tears with soft apologies whispered into Kacchan’s hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Getting home was a blur with the dragon raging in his chest. The aching need to hold his precious people close. With Recovery Girl’s help (and refusing to allow Midnight anywhere near his family. Not after that, not yet.) and with Tensei helping support Hizashi on the other side of Shouta, he got his family out to the car.

Izuku went in his mother’s car, and Shouta couldn’t help but protest the idea of having his boys in two separate houses that evening.

He needn’t have worried.

“I just don’t want to leave my car here overnight, Shouta dear. Believe me, I don’t really want to be alone with my thoughts, either.” Inko had originally been planning to celebrate her son’s performance with Yagi that evening, as a tentative olive branch for how All Might had been behaving himself.

She didn’t feel like extending such an offer. Not anymore.

The drive home, it was dangerously difficult to not disassociate. To focus on the road, and only Hizashi’s gently hand resting on his thigh was enough to ground him. His eyes kept flicking to the review mirror, to see Katsuki in the back seat with his head bowed. What was he supposed to say? How could he make this better?

“Kitty. Sweetheart?” Katsuki didn’t raise his head, so much as unbuckle and lean forward in his seat to press his head to Hizashi’s arm. “Hi there, lil listener. I hope you know that what those heroes did? It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t okay. Yeah?”

Silence for several heartbeats, but then. “…yeah.” Voice low, full of gravel, but he answered. And that was enough for the moment.

Aizawa drove slowly, aware of Kacchan’s lack of seatbelt, but unable to tell him to sit back.

Hizashi made a valiant effort, once they got home, to get out of the car on his own. His knees knocked together, and he exhaled deeply. But he met Shouta’s eyes and smiled. “We’re okay, Shouta. Let’s… let’s just order in some dinner. You all owe me a month’s worth of cuddles.”

By the time Inko pulled her car into the driveway beside theirs, both Hizashi and Katsuki were already on the couch in Pjs, watching some crap kid’s show. Izuku didn’t bother changing, just squeezing in next to them. Aizawa stood in the kitchen, hands in his hair, eyes screwed shut. He could hear whispering coming from the living room, not loud enough to hear.

(“I’m sorry Kacchan, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“Why, Deku? Just… just why?”

“I don’t even know… I don’t… I… I…”

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh. We’re all okay. It’s all okay. You hear me? It was just one big game, and the losers are the people who tied you up. You both? You both did amazing.”

“Tch. You didn’t even watch our fight.”

“I don’t have to have seen it to know. And I know. I saw most of it, and I’m so proud. Do you hear me? I’m so proud of you. Of both of you. And it’s okay that you two flubbed a bit at the end. You’re still so young. So much left to learn and live and that’s so okay, babies. Okay? And Dadzawa is pissed at the principal for letting that happen. Not at either of you. No one is mad at you, lil listeners. You get me? Least of all me, your Dadzawa, or Inko.”

“… I missed you, Papa.”)

Inko sidled up beside Shouta, running a soft hand down his spine, then back up to his nape, gently massaging his neck. “What’s going on in that head of yours, dear?”

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, before looking up and meeting her gaze. She sighed, and pulled him in for an embrace, forcing him to bend down quite a bit to meet her height. “Shouta, don’t blame yourself for something that happened while you weren’t there.”

“Every time I blink, someone I love gets hurt. It’s always as soon as I look away. Kacchan’s trauma. All Might targeting Izuku. Hizashi… Why? Why is it always our family?”

            “… I wish I had an answer, love. But look at your beautiful family.” Inko release him, and they peered out into the living room, where Hizashi sat flanked by two of his boys. “They’re here. Safe and sound and home.”

            “Most of them, anyway,” Shouta said darkly. “Fucking… did I tell you? What I overheard Endeavor say about poor Shouto? That… that child. I swear…. If I could… If I could I’d…” His eyes widen as his stomach drops. “Oh fuck.”

“Shouta?”

“Hitoshi. I forgot one of my kids, fuck!” He tore himself away from her hands and was out the door. Inko barely had time to rush to the window as Shouta’s headlights flared, and his car was backing out of the driveway.

“Mom?” Izuku’s trembling voice asked. “Where… why…”

“Don’t worry dear,” she smiled weakly. “I think he’s just stepped out to pick up one of your brothers.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

It had started raining.

Because of course it had.

And, of course, the chill from the rain was the only reason his chin was dripping, his body was wracked with shivers, shoulders trembling. Why the world was a smear through wet eyelashes. It’s just the rain.

Hitoshi sat on the swings, feeling like a cliché but not caring overly much.

He was tired, cold, sore, hungry, and alone.

And if he kept sitting out here in the rain, he’d probably be able to add “sick” to that list pretty soon.

But what else was he supposed to do?

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouta dialed Hitoshi’s number for the fifth time, cursing each time it rang, and hanging up angrily each time it went to voicemail, ignoring the growing fear each time the call went unanswered. He couldn’t freak out like this every time someone didn’t answer their phone. He couldn’t. He was probably sleeping, or in the shower, or just away from his phone. Right? But fuck, he’d meant to bring Hitoshi home with him after the festival.

There wasn’t anything he could do about what happened with Hizashi, Izuku, or Katsuki.

But fuck if he didn’t do everything he could for Hitoshi.

He didn’t bother pulling into the driveway at the crap hole that was Hitoshi’s foster home, he slide the car to a stop at the side of the road and jumped out, uncaring of the rain. He rang the doorbell then pounded on the wood of the door, already impatient.

It took nearly a full minute, and another round of banging before someone answered the door.

“What.” A man, taller than Aizawa and built like a pig, answered the door, snapping.

“Where’s Shinsou?”

“The brat never showed up. Why?”

“He never came home?”
“Probably knew better than to show his face after what he did to those poor hero kids today,” the man spat. “Now I ask again. Why?”

Aizawa couldn’t bite back the growl as he sprinted back to his car, heart pounding as he started the engine back up, holding his phone to his ear. Ringing. Ringing.

He drove slowly, peering as best as he could through the rain that was fogging up his windows. He nearly made it all the way back to his house, driving not even a quarter of the speed-limit, before he spotted his kid, nearly crashing as his whole being went numb with relief. “HITOSHI” The boy, sitting on a swing with his head bowed low, didn’t look up. Shouta parked the car, once again on the side of the road, and dashed out into the rain, slowing as he got closer.

“Kid.” Still no response.

“Hitoshi.”

“…sensei?” Finally, Hitoshi looked up, confusion written all over his face. “Why are you here?”

Shouta cursed quietly as he crossed the distance between them, shucking off his jacket, draping it over the kid’s soaked shoulders, and pulling the hood up over Hitoshi’s head. He held the boy at an arm’s length, looking him up and down. Then pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him as he tried to calm his heartrate, breathing in deeply.

“Why don’t we start with you?” he said, quietly, just barely able to be heard above the gentle sound of rain. “Your foster parent said you never went home.”

“… it’s for the best.”

What kind of answer was that?

“Let’s get to the car, kiddo. Everyone’s back at the house, getting ready for dinner. Okay?”

“Why?”

“Why what, kid, you gotta give me more than that.”

“You got Mic and Kacchan to worry about. And Izuku. They… they need you… right now.”

“Yes,” Shouta said bluntly. “But you seem like you need someone, too. Just as much as them.”

The boy was quiet for a moment, and Shouta was getting ready to steer him towards the car, when Hitoshi shuddered, burrowing his face into Shouta’s chest.

“Why…” he gasped. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

“I want you, Hitoshi.” Shouta’s eyes were burning. “No matter what’s going on. No matter what I’m doing, or who else has my attention. I want you. Call me. Find me. And answer your damn phone.”

“My… oh.” Slowly, Hitoshi reached for his back pocket, pulling out his phone. Eighteen missed calls, dozens of unread texts and discord notifications. “I didn’t feel like seeing the others celebrate.”

Shouta sighed. “I understand. Let’s just get you home. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

“Okay.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“I truly don’t want you as my enemy, Shouta-kun. Afterall, we work so well together. And, whether or not you believe me… I am sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, you’ll help me.”

“Help you?”

“The Sotomura’s. Look them up. I need a transfer of custody, yesterday.

“I see.”
“And Endeavor-“

“We’ve spoken at length about Endeavor.”

“I know you’ve got dirt on him.”

“Perhaps, and yet-“

“And yet we both know that kid deserves so much more.”

“Ho ho. Should I be concerned that you seem to be collecting talented young heroes?”

“You should be concerned about the repercussions of leaving talented quirk users in abusive environments.”

“…Hmmm. Aside from a custody transfer, Shouta-kun. You’re going to need more space.”

“…I’m listening.”

Notes:

I'm sorry it's been so long. Work has been kicking my ass, and I end up being so exhausted at the end of the day that I've got no energy for anything. I'm going to try to build up some more writing momentum, though. To everyone who has left comments, thank you so, so much. You've been such encouragements to me. Your comments really do help,

Chapter 45: What Comes Next?

Summary:

Basically the second half of the last chapter, the class' opinion on the sport's festival's conclusion, and a hint for as what's to come.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Shouta lays in bed with Hizashi, watching him breathe. Watching the early morning sunlight dapple patterns across his cheek. Watching as Hizashi’s eyes flutter open. Mic gently smiles, wiggling closer, but then wincing at the pull on his underused muscles.

Shouta halts him with a firm hand to the chest, sitting up and adjusting himself, moving closer before sagging back down, curling around Hizashi.

Hizashi exhales deeply into the curve of Shouta’s neck. “This is nice.”

“Mm.”

“Gotta get up soon.”

“Not you. You’re staying in bed until Recovery Girl calls you.”

Yesterday, Recovery Girl had sternly brought up the fact that Hizashi would need physical therapy and regular checkups, expressing how deeply unimpressed she was to find out that Tensei had snuck Present Mic out of the hospital, not officially checking him out.

“Sir, yes sir,” Hizashi mumbles cheekily. Shouta huffs but allows himself a moment to breathe. He does need to get up soon, to feed his kids and their monster cat if nothing else. He doesn’t really feel like going on patrol that evening. He doesn’t feel like seeing any of his fellow heroes. (Forget anything about his fellow teachers.) And, as it was weekend, he didn’t have any classes to teach.

But he does really want to bash a few skulls in.

Last night, his priority was his kids.

His entire priority was making sure Katsuki and Izuku knew that he placed no blame at their feet, but now he needed to know what had happened. He needed to make sure that Katsuki felt okay after being publicly humiliated. He needed to hold Hitoshi, reassure him of his place in Shouta’s home. He needed to check up on Shouto, make sure that his asshole of a father didn’t punish him for not placing first in the festival. He needed to talk to Izuku, ask just what was going through his head during the fight, and then discuss All Might’s behavior and said hero’s role as a mentor.

All Might, just the thought of him. Shouta clutched Hizashi just a bit tighter, humming softly in reply to his partner’s questioning grunt.

He needed to talk with All Might.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Tenya always felt comforted by his older brother. Whenever something went wrong, he was always able to rely on his brother having the answer. A cruel classmate in school? His brother knew what to do. A difficult assignment? His brother could help. A terrifying storm when he was younger, that kept him awake with its thundering howls? His brother’s door was always open to him.

And now, even though he couldn’t quite put a name to the unrest he was feeling, he felt comforted just for the moment as he had breakfast with his Tensei.

“…and I can’t believe Midnight.” He was saying, in between bites of his food. He swallowed down some grapefruit juice, clearing his throat. “Shouta was telling me he didn’t want her around his boys, and, honestly, if she had pulled that with you? I can’t imagine. I really can’t imagine what was going through her head.”

“Will you be speaking with her then?” Tenya asked, curious. “What will you say?”

“I’ll say what the fuck,” Tensei scoffed. “That’s what I’ll--“ He was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Sorry buddy, hold that thought.” He cleared his throat once more, then answered it, holding the phone up to his ear. “Ingenium, speaking.”

Tensei’s spoon clattered to the table. He stood abruptly. “What happened to Manuel?” Tensei’s chair scraped loudly on the tiles of their dining room. Tenya stood as well, unsure what was happening. Tensei quickly gestured for him to sit back down. “Don’t—alright. Yeah. I’m on my way.”

“Big brother?”

“I’m sorry, bud. I promise I’ll talk to Midnight for you later, but duty calls. I gotta go.”

Tenya, still awkwardly standing, watches as his brother rushes down the hall. Moments later, distantly, he can hear the front door slam.

Awkwardly, he sits back down. He’s feeling off balance. Both of his parents are already at their agency, and they rarely answer their phones until their lunch break for anything except emergency. And, as off kilter as he was feeling, Tenya knew this was no emergency. Still. He felt an anxious energy welling up inside of him.

He hadn’t liked the look on his brother’s face just then. But he didn’t have anyone to discuss this situation with.

Wait. That wasn’t true.

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

PonyTail: I am very torn about the festival, and not just the unfortunate end.

PonyTail: I know I am not the only one who feels as though they were unable to fully showcase their potential.

PrinceyPrincey: non, I too, feel as though my glimmer was somewhat eclipsed, mon amie. ( ◞᷄ ◟᷅ )

ShittyHair: everyone was super manly!

PikaPikaChuuuu: easy for you to say, dude.

KojiKoda: ( 。- 人- 。)

TheMuffinMan: Koda’s right. At least you made it to the last rounds @pikapikachuuuu

Gloves: I feel you! I don’t feel like I stood out at all!!!!

Pinky: oooonoooo don’t say that!!!

Tenya simply observes his classmates’ conversation for several minutes, pondering how to ask for help regarding his brother. But, he hesitates to actually pose a question – because he isn’t sure he should spread the information of his brother’s apparent distress. What if it’s personal? What if it’s nothing? Would his brother be upset if he found out that Tenya had been talking about him behind his brother’s back?

Frogger: ideally our teamwork in the first few rounds was beneficial to every equally.

SweetCheeks: I think that we all did really well!

LotsaJazzHands: I’m sure we made our people proud

Tails: our people at least. Yeah.

Gloves: ????

Tails: I know I should stay off of twitter but man I hate people

Shitstain: dare I even ask

SoySauceFace: the frik you on twitter for?

Tails: people really don’t like Bakugo rn

Tails: im seeing a lot of people saying hes… well…

Dekuzu: people have always said mean stuff about Kacchan!

Dekuzu: I’m so angry! I saw stuff this morning, too!

PikaPikaChuuuu: wait wut?

Pinky: mean stuff? What do you mean?

Tails: Kind of villionus behaviour ig?? Idk

Shitstain: they’re calling him a villain.

Dekuzu: I’m so sick of people calling him that!

ShittyHair: What the fuck?

SweetCheeks: What????

PrinceyPrincey: are you serious?

PikaPikaChuuuu: say sike rn I sewar

EarJaxx: are we talking about the same kid? The fuck

PonyTail: that’s completely out of line

KojiKoda: ????

Gloves: whatttt that’s so meaaaan

TheMuffinMan: he was angry, not evil. And he didn’t lash out at anyone outside of a sanctioned match

Frogger: that’s not a full picture of the publics opinion, but there are a good number that feel that way.

Halfy: There are also people on Bakugo’s side.

SoySauceFace: shits messed up man

Dekuzu: no one should not be on Kacchans side!!!

EarJaxx: call me out if im being stupid @Kacchan

EarJaxx: what if we came over? Just hung out? See you and Mic sensei, and Aizawa sensei.

EarJaxx: we r all worried, and we want to make sure ur ok

SweetCheeks: yeah! Screw the public! We love our Kacchan!

Frogger: all of us? I would like to see sensei, but having the entire class in a regular household feels as though it would be somewhat cramped.

ShittyHair: ngl I wanna see you, too

PikaPikaChuuuu: yeah! We havn’t gotten to see Mic sensei yet!

Kacchan: Nah

SweetCheeks: Kacchan!

PrinceyPrincey: do not listen to le imbéciles en ligne!

ShittyHair: Bro!

PikaPikaChuuu: hey Kacchanannnn!

Pinky: theres our blasty!

EarJaxx: no?

Kacchan: Papa’s still not feeling great.

Kacchan: wait

Kacchan: who the fuck told who

ShittyHair: IT WASN”T ME DON LET UR DAD KILL ME BRO

SweetCheeks: we all just kind of figured it out

Pinky: ur not slick, hoss

PikaPikaChuuuu: I feel like I somehow obsorbed the info through osmosis

PonyTail: to be perfectly honest, I can’t remember how I came to know.

EarJaxx: how the hell were you able to spell osmosis and not absorbed

ThatFuckingChicken: It was a secret?

PikaPikaChuuuu: don’t question me

EarJaxx: so @Kacchan rain check on the party?

Kacchan: Yeah. Papa’s exhausted from healing, and Dad’s feeling not too happy. So. Idk.

SweetCheeks: how are you feeling, Kacchan?

There is no response for several minutes. There are several people typing, but no one is actually posting anything. Now, more than ever, Tenya is aware this probably isn’t a good time to add more stress to the situation. He can discuss his brother’s behavior quietly and privately. Later. Perhaps with his parents. Or Tensei himself.

A message comes in, and Tenya almost drops his phone in surprise, fumbling to read it.

Kacchan: I feel fucking betrayed. That’s how I feel.

Kacchan: No one bothered to hear me out.

Kacchan: I know I’m horrible. I know. Ok?

SweetCheeks: Kacchan you are not horrible!

Dekuzu: Kacchan no! You’re amazing!

EarJaxx: Dude stop it. Ur not

PikaPikaChuuuu: Kacchan we all love you, broseph

Kacchan: But I’m usually a dick for a reason.

ShittyHair: Bro don’t say that.

Shitstsain: Don’t fucking even.

ROBOCOP: I must disagree! We all admire you!

TheMuffinMan: You’re abrasive, not horrible.

Gloves: Kacchan no

LotsaJazzHands: What the teachers did was out of line.

ShittyHair: We’re on your side. Ok?
Kacchan: Sometimes anyway.

SoySauceFace: Stop it man. It’s not on you.

Kacchan: I know I shouldn’t have freaked like that

ThatFuckingChicken: Bakugo

Kacchan: I wasn’t thinking clearly.

ThatFuckingChicken: Of all the people I have ever met. You’ve the most heart, the most soul, the most fire in your eyes. You light a passion in others like no one I’ve ever known. You are a candle in the darkness with the courage to light an inferno despite the danger. Despite the opposition.

Pinky: I agree!

ThatFuckingChicken: I will not speculate for as to why to reacted as you did. To speak frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is how those in authority reacted. That was entirely unacceptable. Regardless of anything else, first and foremost Bakugo we are children. You are a student. A kid. Their charge and responsibility.

ThatFuckingChicken: If anyone is horrible, it is them.

Shitstain: preach.

PikaPikeChuuuu: Dam. Ive never seen Tokoyami speak clearly like that

Frogger: I completely agree.

PonyTail: I feel as though we should file a formal complaint.

Tails: I kinda just want to not show up to Midnight’s class

PrinceyPrincey: Oui. Or All Might. ce n’était pas putain d’accord

Pinky: Hell none of our teachers did anything.

ShittyHair: Where were your dads? Not that I’m blaming them!!!! I can’t see Sensei doing nothing.

Dekuzu: In the infirmary. They didn’t find out until Recovery Girl told them. She was mad, too.

Shitstain: He looked pissed off.

Kacchan: he’s still pissed off. Papa has been tryna calm him down.

Frogger: We should walk out.

ROBOCOP: I wish to stand in solidarity, but I feel uncomfortable to disrespect authority so blatantly.

SoySauceFace: prez we need you on our side

Halfy: They disrespected us first.

PonyTail: I understand how you feel.

Halfy: No Yaoyorozu

Halfy: School is supposed to be safe.

Halfy: And our teachers are supposed to be heros.

Kacchan: I’ll ask Dad what he thinks we should do.

SweetCheeks: That’s a good idea

ROBOCOP: I am more comfortable with that idea

Halfy: Will you ask him to pick me up?

Kacchan: are you okay, halfy?

Halfy: actually, I can walk.
Halfy: I’m fine.

Dekuzu: What’s wrong, Todoroki?

Halfy: I just want to come over.

Shitstain: come over man

Frogger: I admit I’m jealous.

EarJaxx: Me too. I just wanna see Mic sensei

Kacchan: Icyhot is one thing. 20 stressed out hormone-bags is another

ThatFuckingChicken: I do not wish to snuff the ember that has only just been rekindled.

Shitstain: he’s on discord guys.

PikaPikaChuuuu: dude stop reminding us that were stupid

PonyTail: lol

#Only4Emergencies

EarJaxx: @PresentPapaMic here’s to one of the only heroes who’s never let us down.

PikaPikaChuuuu: I don’t like the sub. cant wait for u to come back 

PikaPikaChuuuu: ♬♫ ◖( ●。●) ♪♫

KojiKoda: @PresentPapaMic ( ´▽`)

ROBOCOP: @PresentPapaMic Sensei, it was truly a pleasure to see you yesterday.

Halfy: [o-o]/ ♪♫

Pinky: We love you, sensei! ♪(o^0^)o

PikaPikaChuuu: Hey Tododo ur gettn better at that!

PonyTail: @theDadzawa I wish to ask you what you think an appropriate response to yesterdays actions that were taken by the responsible heroes.

TheMuffinMan: I think you mean irresponsible heroes.

PonyTail: But I do not wish to interrupt your morning. Please answer at your convenience.

Halfy: I copied and pasted from your message.

SoySauceFace: @presentpapamic ur the greatest, sensei

Frogger: I hope we made you proud @presentpapamic

SoySauceFace: \\\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶// //

ROBOCOP: I would appreciate guidance. I know that as the class president that I should take responsibility for deciding the course of action. But as a student, I feel as though I must defer to your judgment @TheDadzawa

PrinceyPrincey: @PresentPapaMic le sub, he does not have your éclat glorieux (* ⌒▽⌒*) θ~♪

SweetCheeks: I just wanted to say good morning @PresentPapaMic

SweetCheeks: σ(εo)

PikaPikaChuuuu: @PresentPapaMic just wanted to tell you that im waitin for u to come bac to class to turn in my homework. I worked real hard on that essay you assigned so I wanted you to be the one ot read it.

ShittyHair: lol

Shitstain: lol

ROBOCOP: Kaminari that is not appropriate behavior

TheMuffinMan: lol

Gloves: hahahahaa ( ᐛ )و

ThatFuckingChicken: Even the dullest of blades can find use in the hands of a genius. I shall do the same in solidarity, my comrade.

Pinky: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

EarJaxx: I agree Tokoyami. Good thinking Dunce Face

PonyTail: I feel as though I should discourage you

SweetCheeks: hahahahahaha

PikaPikaChuuuu: only Kacchan can call me that!

Tails: loooooool

Frogger: are you making a joke? I can’t tell.

LotsaJazzHands: lol

Kacchan: he’s not joking, I saw it in his bag

Dekuzu: oh. I thought he said that as an excuse for not doing it

PikaPikaChuuuu: how dare

Tenya smiles, feeling his chest fill with warmth. Though he disapproves of Kaminari’s methods, he can appreciate the spirit behind it. Then he frowns, wishing he could ask Tensei how he would approach the teachers who had let his classmate down so terribly. But… Tenya glances out the door that Tensei had all but bolted from. He doesn’t wish to add to his brother’s burden.

He looks back down at his phone.

TheDadzawa: Problem Children. It is 6 am on a Saturday. Go to sleep.

TheDadzawa: Also, Present Mic doesn’t have his phone on him, but he’s been reading over my shoulder.

TheDadzawa: you made him cry.

Kacchan: omw

Shitstain: can I come in?

Dekuzu: CUDDLES COMING

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto, in an extreme show of will, determinedly doesn’t pull his vibrating phone out of his pocket as he slides open his bedroom window, casting a nervous glance at his bedroom door, then slips out into the crisp morning air.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

SoySauceFace: So are we all just gonna ignore that Shinsou is also at EraserMic’s house?

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Inko can hear quiet weeping from the master bedroom. At first, she is concerned, slowly sitting up from the cushions where she had been laying, swaddled in extra blankets, on the couch. But then she watches as all three boys file out of the second bedroom and down the hall towards the crying sounds.

Smiling faintly, she gets to her feet and shuffles somewhat tiredly into the kitchen.

It feels like a waffle-day.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto holds his phone, still sporadically rumbling with notifications, tightly in his hand as he walks. He thinks about the EraserMic family. He couldn’t help but notice that Shinsou was apparently at their house, and he also couldn’t help the sharp and sour feeling of jealousy that lanced through his lungs.

All last night, unable to sleep, he’d stalked the forums. Public opinion, as it was wont to be, was divided. On the more mainstream social media platforms, a heavy debate was warring between two main factions, and Shouto had felt something like a referee as the firestorm spread from Facebook posts to Twitter threads to YouTube video essays and beyond. On one hand were the Pro-Pro Heroes, who were furious that some random mother felt the need to crash the award ceremony by assaulting two heroes. They were calling for her to be arrested, sued, fined, doxed. The same people were also calling for Bakugo to be punished for “ruining” the festival – first by bullying weaker classmates, and then by “acting like a villain” when ‘accepting’ the medal. Not to mention the smattering of ire against the rest of the runner-ups, who had “disrespected” All Might.

But then, there was a not-unsubstantial portion of the internet that was nearly literally on fire, enraged on behalf of Bakugo. GIFs and short video clips of him being limply strung to the pole, of him waking up and panicking. From many perspectives, this was nothing more than a scared or angry or embarrassed (or some combination thereof) teenager. One of the more popular “memes” being spread in dark ironic humor, was a still image of Bakugo lifelessly wilted, head sagging at an uncomfortable angle, scrapes and bruises still visibly unhealed; it was captioned “VILLAIN”. No one quite knew what to make of that final match, but everyone had an opinion on it.

Basically, half of the internet was calling for Bakugo’s head, and the other was calling for UA’s.

Of course, on the EraserMic forums, there were other files, videos, pictures being shared. Of sensei stalking through the hallway, his quirk very clearly flaring. Of Izuku and Katsuki being ushered down a stairwell by Ingenium and Midoriya’s mother, hand in hand, very clearly not at odds. Of Izuku leading Katsuki off of the podium by the hand. The debate was less who is at fault and more who do we make responsible. People were asking where their parents were. People were asking which teachers were present. People were asking if this was Principal Nedzu approved. People were asking… a lot of things.

After that morning’s discord discussion, Shouto felt he couldn’t stay quiet. He wanted to get more opinions. More options. He just wanted someone to give him a straight answer for as what to do.

984539483: [uploaded image bakugomidnight.jpeg] 13 upvotes

  • I’m angry at the teachers. What do I do.

2 replies

So you are a student

Fuck im angry 2

 

Shouto put his phone down for a moment and sighed. He wondered if this would be something to ask sensei about. Or if that would just add more stress onto his poor teacher. He pondered this as he walked, wandering through his muscle memory down the vaguely familiar streets, finding himself all-to-soon at his teachers’ house. And still without an answer.

He looked down at his phone, again.

984539483: [uploaded image bakugomidnight.jpeg] 201 upvotes

  • I’m angry at the teachers. What do I do.

58 replies

So you are a student

Fuck im angry 2

[So you are a…] don’t pry, oomfie, its dangerous

Report them

I would report them

Is there someone you can talk to?

[Report them] lol ive already reported them many time

There are online petitions to suspend their teacher/hero liscences

[There are online…] that’s a little extremes

Report them dude

Email the board of education

[that’s a little…] no whats extreme? Tying an unconscious child to a stick.

Report them

 

 

Well, clearly, the internet had a strong opinion for as to what he should do. But for now, Shouto simply locked his phone, sliding it into his back pocket.

And knocked on the door.

A soft woman he recognized as Midoriya’s mother answered the door. “Hello, Todoroki-kun. Come in. The boys are in your sensei’s room.”

Shouto cautiously stepped inside, suddenly unsure. Afterall, he’d all but invited himself over. And that was after Bakugo had basically ordered the rest of the class not to come.

“Will… will I be bothering-“

“Oh no! Go on in. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to see you.”

“I don’t want to intrude… I… I was worried-“

“And I’m sure they were thinking of you, too, dear.”

“No… I… it’s just that yesterday…” Shouto trailed off. Would it be strange to confess to this all-but stranger that he needed to be… to just be in the presence of safe people after having to face his father’s ire last night? Would it be awkward to bring up that he woke up that morning feeling as though he was walking on sharp rocks on a narrow ledge without shoes on? Would it make her uncomfortable to know he wished to sit next to her son, and her son’s brother, and her son’s fathers, and the cat, and breathe in their warmth and safety?

Probably, he decided.

And, well, he had already decided to be selfish that morning when he basically ran away from home.

So, he steps further into the house, toeing off his shoes, and gingerly making his way down the hall, wincing unintentionally at every floor-board creak.

He knocked on the master bedroom.

“Inko?”
“…sensei…”

There was shuffling, bodies moving, blankets dropping to the floor. Todoroki took an instinctive step back as the door opened. Shouto couldn’t bring himself to look his teacher in the face, instead staring at his knees.

“Todoroki.” Sensei’s voice was flat. Bland. And Shouto felt is heart hammer in his chest.

“I… I…sensei-“ What could he say to explain himself? He didn’t know, and was left grasping for anything to say at all. “I wanted to see you.” Anything but that. He winced, eyes clenching shut at the same times as his fists as he bowed his head towards the ground.

A gentle hand ran through his hair, and tension dropped from his shoulders, like a heavy load just slipped off his back, falling to the ground.

“There’s always room for you, kid.” There was a brief loss of warmth as sensei took a step back. For a moment, Shouto felt upset, but then he realized that sensei was holding the door open for him. “Well, get in.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouta -- with Hizashi pressed to one side, his stray collapsed on his other, Izuku snuggled up to Hizashi, Hitoshi laying across Bakugo with his head on Shouta’s lap, and now Todoroki awkwardly folded between Izuku and Hizashi –- rested his head against the backboard, sitting upright with his family pressed around him.

All four of his boys. His partner. And his kid’s mom in the kitchen, puttering around making what he assumes will be breakfast.

Retribution can wait.

This… this is more important.

Notes:

I started writing this before I posted the last chapter, but I thought it would take longer to get done. However, your all's comments really encouraged me to get this out quickly! I really did love reading all of your comments! I hope you know that even if I don't reply, i do read everything!

Also, I want to write another drabble in "Sometimes, Every Now and Then." Any ideas?

Chapter 46: Sleep Over

Summary:

Wow. It's been a while. Sorry I disappeared for a while, guys. Thank you to everyone who left a comment, and to the 6k people who left kudos. It's crazy that this story has gotten so much attention over the years.

That said, I'm considering looking for a beta reader? I'm aware that what I post tends to have a lot of silly errors, and it would help to have someone else looking at it. also, it would be nice to have one or two people on my case about writing. I'm one of those people that if I'm not told to do something, I probably never will.

let me know if you're interested!

Chapter Text

Midnight takes a deep breath. She can’t remember the last time she’d messed up this badly.

Of course, there have been frequent minor fuck-ups throughout her career, where she didn’t properly read the room and made someone important uncomfortable. She’d received complaints from parents of students about her behavior on the occasion. She’d been getting negative feedback from her PR agent for years. However, there had never really been a time where she’d truly felt the need to shift course.

But for the first time since she was a rookie, still gaining confidence in herself, she felt this gripping emotion of oh shit. That rock in her tummy of maybe I shouldn’t have done that. She’d been given a verbal slap down by her agency, once again telling her that she’d taken things too far. But, in the past, she’d been able to laugh it off, because the public had been on her side. That was just who she was! That was her bit! That was her vibe!

But… the portion of the public that was on her side was a portion of the public that she didn’t really want to be on her side. It was the portion that was calling for the expulsion of Bakugo. It was the portion that was blaming the children for making a mockery of the Sports Festival. It was the portion of the public that were calling Bakugo and Hitoshi little villains. People who were accusing Hitoshi of using his quirk on the finalists out of petty revenge.

Steeling herself one final time, Nemuri knocks on the door. (It had been a while since the last time she was here, life getting in the way of her friendships. She still remembered the housewarming party Hizashi had put together. The way everything was so easy between her and her three boys. She can’t help but wonder when it all started to sour. When everything got so much harder. When the four of them grew up.)

Beyond it, she can hear voices and movement, soft music playing. Footsteps. Hopeful, Nemuri tenses.

The door swings open.

Instead of Shouta, however, she finds herself faced with Mrs. Midoriya, who stares her down with an unreadable expression on her face. “H-hi.” Nemuri nervously clears her throat. “I’m here to talk to Shouta. I don’t know if you recognize me out of costume but-“

“I know exactly who you are Miss Midnight,” Inko interrupts her flatly, not looking pleased in the slightest. “Unfortunately, Shouta is asleep at the moment. So, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave a message with me.” And go away, was left unspoken.

Nemuri chuckles nervously. “Mic’s here, too, right? I’d love to talk with him. They’ve talked about me, right? So, you know that we’re friends?”

“Oh.” Inko’s eyes widened, disingenuously. “I hadn’t realized.” Her voice, despite her faux-expressive face, was flat. “What, with how you behaved yourself yesterday.” Midnight winces.

“That’s what I’m here about,” she says, with an awkward smile. “I wanted to clear up any… misunderstandings…” the more that Nemuri spoke, the cloudier Mrs. Midoriya’s face became.

“Inko, it’s okay.”

Nemuri felt nothing but relief at hearing the new voice come up behind Mrs. Midoriya. The greenette woman frowned. but allowed Hizashi to switch places with her. Nemuri smiles widely at him.

“Hizashi!” she beams, stepping forward, expecting him to make room for her to pass into the house. But he doesn’t. Confused, she tries to go in for a hug, but he stops her, blocking her with a hand held up between them. “Hizashi?”

 “I was told that you helped save me,” Hizashi said, slowly, as though carefully chewing over his words. “At USJ.”

“Of course, I did,” Nemuri told him, softly, still smiling. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“Then,” Mic looked up at her, visibly exhausted, looking nothing like his cheery hero persona. Looking nothing like the vibrant boy she’d been friends with in high school. “Why did you hurt my kids? What could have possibly been going through your head? Maybe he was acting out of turn. Maybe he needed to be scolded or sat down and talked to. Maybe. But do you know what he didn’t need? To have his distrust of authority figures reinforced by literally every adult who works at his school.”

“I… I didn’t realize it was a big deal… at the time…” Nemuri quietly admitted. “And I know, in hindsight, that I was being unbelievably stupid. But, I swear, if the thought had ever crossed my mind of it being harmful, or wrong, or-or cruel I wouldn’t have! You have to know I wouldn’t have!”

“Yes,” Hizashi smiled softly. “I do know that. But that doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“Tell me how I can make it better, Mic,” Nemuri pleads. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Hizashi was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.” He admits. “I can’t think of anything that would make this better. Just.” He sighs, deeply, massaging his forehead. “Give us some space. Okay? Shouta doesn’t want to see you. My boys don’t want to see you. Hell, the rest of 1A is prepared to just full on skip your class period.”

“What?” Midnight frowns, confused.

“You hurt one of their friends, Nemuri.” Hizashi gently reminded her. “You’re in the wrong, and you need to own up to that.”

“It wasn’t just me!” Nemuri protests.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t at least partially at fault.” Hizashi starts to close the door. “I’ll see you later, just… not right now.” The door clicks, and Nemuri is left staring at it in disbelief. On her way here, she assumed that she’d be forgiven. She assumed that she’d at least be able to apologize to Katsuki. She thought she’d at the very least be able to see Shouta.

Slowly, she began to step away. Mind buzzing. How could she make this better? Her fists tightened.

She had to talk to Nedzu.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Himiko sighed dreamily.

Of course, he wasn’t perfect. But she loved the way the bruises mottled the skin on his face. She loves the glisten of the fresh burn along his arm. The lovely way his neck sloped limply against his restraints. The tantalizing hint of blood at his lips.

She’d love to see more of it.

The rest of the users on the fansite didn’t seem to agree with her, unfortunately. But there was still a goldmine of content. The short clips of the way Katsuki Bakugo asserted absolute dominance in the fights. The ruthlessness in his final match. The passion behind his screams.

She’d love to make him scream even louder.

And, of course, there was the other boy. His supposed brother. Midoriya. Oh, how she adored the way he allowed the other boy to make him bleed. He just stood there, laid there, and took it. Like a good boy.

She scrolled down, absently. Taking in the various pictures and fancams. Then, she paused.

984539483: [uploaded video 8.52 minutes] 11.6k upvotes

 - Is it just me, or does Midoriya’s quirk look like All Might’s?

6.1k replies

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto had obviously heard about “sleep overs” before. He’d watched various children’s media that portrayed giggling girls and pillow fights and gossip sessions. He’d read online books with passages that outlined silly games like truth and dare. He knew, in concept, what was involved.

Katsuki shoved a bundle of clean clothes into his arms with a growl. “Should fit you. If it doesn’t, then fuck you and your freakishly broad shoulders.”

Shouto blinked, nodded, and shuffled towards the bathroom. He’d been given a pair of loose sweatpants and a tee shirt that was in fact a little tight around the shoulders. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His reflection was smiling back at him. A novel experience.

He slid the bathroom door shut behind him, and nearly bumped into Aizawa sensei, who was standing, waiting, with a cloth sack half full of clothing. “Dirty clothes in here. I’ll wash them tonight,” he said, gruffly. Obediently, Shouto dropped his clothes into the sack, watching briefly as Aizawa pushed passed him, into the bathroom, dropping the sack on top of the washing mashing in there, rummaging around in the overhead cabinet space. As if sensing his gaze, Aizawa stopped and looked down at Shouto. “Go ahead,” he said, nodding his head towards the living room.

“… are you certain that it’s alright? That I’m staying over?” Shouto asked, softly, hand nervously sliding into his pocket to touch his phone. He’d been getting messages, calls, for the last several hours. Demands for his whereabouts, and for him to come home. “He’s already threatened to pull me out of school.”

Aizawa was silent for a moment, before sighing. He pulled down a tub of detergent, setting it on the machine, and closed the cabinets. Then, he approached Shouto, slowly, resting a warm hand on top of Shouto’s head, thumb massaging through his fringe, back and forth. “I won’t let that happen.” Aizawa promised him. “Nedzu won’t let that happen, either.”

“I thought you were mad at him, sensei.”

“I’m livid,” Aizawa told him, seriously, though his lips were quirking up, slightly. “But it’s easier to work with the rat then against him, and it seems that he feels similarly about myself. For now, we are in agreement.”

Shouto furrowed his brow. Aizawa’s thumb gently smoothed over it. “About what, sensei?”

“That you boys are important,” he said, simply. Then, he released him. “Go on. I’m pretty sure Inko will have the food ready, soon.”

“Yes, sensei,” Shouto lingered, just for half a moment longer, then he turned back down the hallway, leaving his teacher to load up the washing machine with four boys’ worth of clothes.

It was late, nearly six in the evening, meaning he’d been at the EraserMic household for nearly twelve hours. His phone buzzed again. Another call from his father. He stared at the screen for a moment, unsure. He let it ring. There would be hell to pay, he knew, later. But, for the moment, he found that he didn’t really care.

And, aside from that, he trusted his sensei. If Aizawa said that it would be okay… then Shouto was willing to believe that it really would be.

It was… freeing. Relieving. The act of trusting his future, even just his immediate future, to an adult was equal parts scary and exhilarating. For the moment, he just allowed himself to be, trusting that whatever danger that lie ahead would be handled by his teacher.

He slid his finger across his phone screen to ignore.

He walked past the kitchen, glancing in. Mrs. Midoriya (“Call me Inko, honey! We’re all family here!”) looked up from where she was frying rice, smiling at him. “Nearly ready, sweetheart. Go relax in the living room with your brothers.”

Warmth, cozier than a fireplace, roared in his ears, spreading across his cheeks. He didn’t know whether that was… a metaphor… or some kind of reference he wasn’t getting. Brothers, he thought to himself. Of course, he had Natsuo… and Touya… But one was gone, and the other was distant. Shouto looked down at his feet. Brothers. Huh.

“Is there anything I could do to help?” He asked, regardless.

“Nothing at all” she chirped. “Go on, now.” He nodded at her, and kept going on into the living room, where Izuku was playing with Explodocat on the floor, Katsuki was sat on the lounge chair with his phone, and Hitoshi was dozing on the couch.

Not knowing what exactly to do, he sat down, stiffly, next to Hitoshi. The purple haired boy looks up at him, and for all that Shouto has been getting better at reading people, he can’t quite decipher the look on the other boy’s face. “…yes?” he asked, hesitantly. Hitoshi snorts, then lists sideways, until he’s leaning heavily against Shouto – Hitoshi’s head resting firmly atop Shouto’s shoulder.

The music on the television suddenly changes, making the four boys glance at it, idly. Then, at once, they frown, deeply. Katsuki is scowling, and it’s Izuku who reaches for the remote to turn up the volume a little.

On the screen, Nedzu is standing behind a podium. Cameras flash from the audience. Nedzu raises his paws for silence. “You all know who I am,” Nedzu smiles, blandly. “I am Principal Nedzu of UA. And I’ve called you all here to address the events that transpired at the closing of the First Years award ceremony at this year’s Sports Festival.”

“Turn it off,” Katsuki growled. “I don’t wanna hear-“

“UA did not and does not sanction or condone the actions of the heroes which led to a student being restrained.”

Katsuki stumbled into silence, face stormy as he glares at the TV, but no longer demanding that it be shut off.

 “I, personally, and those in agreement with me, find their actions that day to be entirely unacceptable, both for educators as well as heroes. In response to their unacceptable behavior, UA will be working with the Hero Commission to evaluate the status of the licenses of the pro heroes in question. But, effective immediately, the heroes involved who also currently work at UA will be suspended from their classrooms. Mandatory evaluations will be undergone by the Board of Educations, and it will be decided on an individual bases for whether their teaching licenses will be suspended or revoked entirely. Those who are suspended will be required to undergo recovery programs until deemed fit to teach again by professionals.”

“…Jesus,” Hitoshi muttered under his breath.

“The students, specifically the finalists and runners up, will not be held accountable for their actions or the actions of the people around them. All conflict observed was conducted during and within a sanctioned match, and any disagreements between the individuals will be handled privately.

“UA, and myself, apologizes to the students and families involved, as well as to any spectators who were upset by what they saw.  Steps will be taken to ensure nothing of this type will ever happen again.”

The camera flashes are going crazy, and already the babble of reporters clamoring to ask questions has reached a boiling point. They’re shouting questions and accusations at Nedzu, who fields them calmly. The four boys sit there, quietly spectating, until the remote is plucked from Izuku’s hand, and the station is swiftly changed. A cartoon plays in its place.

The four of them look up at Hizashi, hair mussed from sleep. The man doesn’t look particularly pleased, but his expression smooths as his gaze flits from the TV and onto the boys.

“I don’t know about you, babies,” Hizashi says, mildly, “But I don’t really want to deal with that, tonight.”

“And in any case,” Inko cuts in from the entrance, saving the boys from having to say anything, “it’s time for dinner!”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

1:34 am

SweetCheeks changed StayOutGeezers to KacchanProtectionSquad,

 

Class 1A Discord Server

#KacchanProtectionSquad

Kacchan: no

ShittyHair: Yeah!

ShittyHair: Wait why no

PikaPikaChuuuu: Lol Protecccc

Pinky: I have no objections

SweetCheeks: I’ve decided

Frogger: decided?

SweetCheeks: we need to let the public know who we are! Take a stand! Make a mark! We need to let people know that we are real people, with real lives!

Shitstain: what

SweetCheeks: We need a Twitter account!

Shitstain: what

TheMuffinMan: Why twitter

PonyTail: I’m unsure what that will accomplish

Pinky: girl what? Lol

Halfy: I’m not terribly fond of Twitter

Kacchan: no

Dekuzu: I’m confused

KojiKoda: ?

Princey: (◎-◎;)????? mon dieu mais pourquoi

ROBOCOP: It is my opinion that we should get an adult’s opinion on this matter!

ThatFuckingChicken: It is naught but true folly to seek out the darkness

SoySauceFace: I just don’t see the point, man

LotsaJazHandz: I’m trying to avoid twitter at the moment

EarJaxx: Can you explain your thought process a little better @SweetCheeks?

Tails: I’d appreciate that

Gloves: I mean, I’m not against it or anything?

Shitstain: Don’t most of us already have accounts tho?

ThatFuckingChicken: you do?

ThatFuckingChicken: Hitoshi I thought better of you

Shitstain: Oh don’t give me that

SweetCheeks: no listen

SweetCheeks: I’m sick of seeing people assume things about us

Princey: Les gens feront ce qu'ils veulent

Kacchan: I agree with twinkles

Pinky: yeah?

ShittyHair: you speak French????

Tails: no offence but im not sure what a twit account is gonna do about that

TheMuffinMan: How that gonna help?

SweetCheeks: give me a sec to explain, guys

SweetCheeks is typing…

SweetCheeks is typing…

SweetCheeks is typing…

SweetCheeks: I don’t know if you remember, but during the festival, whenever a boy was fighting a girl, people would react stupid when the boy got the upper hand, like they were bullying us or smt and it really freaking sucked. Esp with Kacchan and Mina or Kacchan and Me. Shinsou and the plant girl, too. Also, there’s the whole thing about people saying that Kacchan is evil for freaking out, and I even saw people saying that Shinsou is a villain for supposedly using his quirk on Kacchan and Deku at the end to make them act out. And I’m sorry guys, but I am so not okay with any of that. But if people got to know us as people, maybe that would help? I know it wouldn’t fix anything, but if people really got to know us as people then they wouldn’t just assume that Kacchan is mean, or the Shinsou is malicious or that us girls are weak. I mean, it’s 2XXX, it’s about time we take the situation into our own hands. Why is the Sports Festival the only time and way that us students can market ourselves? I think we should put ourselves out there! Let the world know who we are!

People are typing…

PikaPikaChuuuu: I’m in!

PonyTail: I’m still not sure

Gloves: I think that’s a great idea

Frogger: I see where you’re coming from

Pinky: Yeah, that really fucking sucked. I had a lot of fun during my and Kacchan’s match!

ShittyHair: but twitter?

Dekuzu: I like it! Let people see our goodsides on our own terms!

ThatFuckingChicken: Perhaps what the darkness conceals is meant to remain out of the light’s eye.

SoySauceFace: what would we even do

Kacchan: no

Shitstain: I’m all for letting people know I’m not evil, but I’m really not loving the idea of using Twitter for it. Seems… cheap?

Princey: Est-ce sage ? (,, ꒪꒫꒪,,)

KojiKoda: ( д ๏)

ROBOCOP: I HAVE A SOLUTION

PonyTail: you do?

EarJaxx: you do?

LotsaJazzHandz: You do?

ROBOCOP: Seeing as how we seem to be in agreement about the public opinion aspect but divided over the platform of choice.

ROBOCOP: what if we created our own platform!

Kacchan: sure

Dekuzu: sure?

KojiKoda: ?

ShittyHair: like a website?

Halfy: our own fanpage

SweetCheeks: I like that idea even better!

Halfy: I like it.

Pinky: I have a friend who does web design!

PonyTail: I would be willing to reimburse them for their work!

Gloves: ooooh im loving that idea!!!!

Tails: good compromise, but I’m not promising to be super active.

SoySauceFace: so we’re doing this?

ThatFuckingChicken: and it’s once again back up the slope.

Shitstain: at least this time we’ll have some pickaxes

ThatFuckingChicken: so long as the cuts do not slip

PikaPikaChuuuu: I will never get either of you

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto decided that real sleep overs were far superior to the imaginary once he’d watched on TV, or read about, or dreamed about in his own head.

In reality, the entire floor space of the small second bedroom was covered in four bedrolls laid out side by side, with no space in between them. Mounds of pillows, half of them shaped like animals or food, were dropped haphazardly around the floor. Folded blankets and swathes of unfolded blankets were sitting invitingly scattered around.

Katsuki’s laptop was sitting on a pillow, propped up against a wall, playing the third Disney movie of the evening. Shouto and his three friends (brothers? Inko had called them brothers. Was he allowed to call them that? was it a joke? Katsuki called Izuku his brother, and they weren’t related. Was brother a step up from friend? Where was the divide between the two? What was the distinction?) were swaddled in warmth, huddled in all but a pile.

Hitoshi’s legs kept kicking his, and their sides were pressed together from hip to shoulder. Katsuki had Izuku pinned underneath of him and was leaning diagonally into Shouto’s space. Izuku was dead asleep, snoring softly beneath Katsuki’s arm. Hitoshi looked like he was nearly there himself.

It was nearly three in the morning. Shouto never allowed himself to stay up so late (early?). Never. Because he always had morning training to look forward to. But… before Inko had left for the night, she had made a remark about sleeping in tomorrow, since tomorrow was a Sunday. Did that mean the EraserMic boys didn’t train on the weekends? Or… did they not train outside of school at all? Or was it just not a morning routine for them?

Hitoshi’s head had fallen onto Shouto’s arm. Shouto looked over at him and watched a strand of his hair get blown up and down with every breath the other boy took. Katsuki yawned, loudly, making Izuku stir. Then, the blonde crashed downwards, onto his side, and wrestled a stray blanket over himself and Izuku.

Slowly, Shouto put down his own head, pillowing it on his arms. Warmth of sleeping bodies on either side of him, he found himself smiling as he fell asleep.

Chapter 47: Repercussions

Summary:

Things are finally looking up for the Eraser Mic household. A bit of fluff before the next storm.

Credit to MuppetOfaMan for editing my work!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Hitoshi wakes slowly. His side feels very warm, but not uncomfortably so. He shifts his head and looks over. Todoroki. The jerk is somehow managing to still look put together, despite being flat passed out in his borrowed tee and sweatpants. Hitoshi stretches luxuriously, pushing himself up, smacking his lips. Kacchan and Izuku are curled up under the blankets next to Todoroki. Katsuki has one hand on each of the other boys’ backs, sleeping with a scowl on his face.

Horrible fondness wells up, and Hitoshi quietly gets to his feet, sliding towards the door. Closing it behind him, he makes his way down the hallway, where he hears fierce whispering coming from the kitchen.

 He pauses.

It sounds like an argument causing apprehension to bubble in his gut. Are… are Aizawa and Yamada fighting? His feet freeze on the carpet.

The possibility of them fighting had never even occurred to him before.

He doesn’t know whether to risk going into the kitchen, or even going past the kitchen to get to the living room. Or if he should just retreat back into the bedroom and act like he hadn’t heard anything.

They’re not like the Sotomuras, Hitoshi reminds himself, determined, steeling himself. He walks further, keeping his steps light, listening closely.

“…back to bed , Zashi.”

“I’m not an invalid, babe! I can make pancakes just fine, thank you.”

“I’m not saying you’re an invalid. I’m saying you're still recovering. Please, just let me handle breakfast today.”

So… so they aren’t fighting?

“I wanna do something for my babies!”

“I’m sure they’re happy just seeing you alright.”

“Shouta, they deserve pancakes.”

“I’ll make them some, then.”

Slowly, tension releases from Hitoshi’s throat. They aren’t fighting. Not really. They’re just being… dads.

“You suck at it though.”

“No more than you.”

“Excuse you sir, those are fighting words.”

“You really want to fight me? Because I will beat your ass.”

“Engard, good sir!”

There’s the gentle sound of whap! and Hitoshi isn’t entirely sure what the source is. But he does hear Aizawa’s low chuckles, and the shuffling of clothes. Something plastic clatters to the floor, and the voices stop.

Hitoshi turns the corner, and then hastily retreats a few inches.

Because Mic and Sensei are kissing in the kitchen, and now Hitoshi really doesn’t want to interrupt. Though, he breathes out with some relief; he’s glad. He knew they couldn’t really be fighting.

He takes another step back, planning to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes, when a floorboard creaks beneath the carpet under his feet. “Kacchan?” Sensei doesn’t sound irritated, thankfully, but Hitoshi cringes all the same.

He bits his lip and comes back around the corner. “No, Dadzawa, it’s just me.”

Mic grins and beckons him over. “Hey, lil listener! You ready for some pancakes?” Aizawa gives him a flat look.

“You’re not-“

“I’ll cook today,” Hitoshi tells him, interrupting, face blank, stepping further into the kitchen. “You geezers got a waffle iron hidden somewhere?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Nedzu very rarely feels out of his depth. He prides himself in his control – over his own being, and over the world around him. After his unfortunate beginnings, control is something he finds nearly essential to his functioning. It’s why being the principal of a school comes so naturally to him. Leadership comes naturally to those who act and think such as he does.

However, even the greatest leaders cannot always account for the actions of… incompetence. The actions of the ignorant. The actions of the – for lack of better word – stupid.

And this whole affair was, regrettably, rather stupid. Avoidable. Needless. Preventable. And yet it happened all the same in the space of two shakes of his tail. The moment he’d turned his head. And yet, despite him not being in the room, people looked to him for accountability.

That is, regrettably, the price of being in charge. Being in control. Even when things happen so far out of your control.

Nedzu sighs, putting aside yet another sheaf of paper he’d finally finished filling out regarding the numerous lawsuits that were levied against the school – the Bakugos, the local school board, the broadcast station, the hero commission – and that the school, itself, was levying against various Pro Heroes who had been involved in the matter.

A knock on his door made his nose twitch in irritation.

He hadn’t been expecting anybody. He glances at the monitor to his side. The security camera poised above the hallway outside shows Midnight standing, a determined hold in her stance. Nedzu quickly runs through the possible reasons for her being there. She was, obviously, one of the main heroes responsible for what happened. Clearly, there were two most likely possibilities. Firstly, and most likely, to argue her case. Secondly, to own up to her actions and attempt to atone. Nedzu knew which one he was hoping for, as he called her in. Not an ounce of his annoyance in his tone.

Even still, Midnight looked cautious as she entered the room. She stood before his desk, ramrod straight in the faint impression of standing at attention. Her countenance was somewhat at odds with how he knew her personality to be. His ears twitched.

“Principal,” Midnight started. “I…” she took a deep breath, brows furrowed. Her head bowed towards the floor.

“Might I hazard a guess?” he asks her. “This is about the Sport’s Festival, correct?”

She swallows, hard. “No.” Nedzu has to forcefully keep a shocked look from his face, keeping his eyes and nose still.

“Oh?”

“It’s about… I’m resigning from my position.” From a pouch at her side, Midnight retrieves her ID card, indicating her as a teacher at UA. She slowly slides it onto her desk. “This isn’t the first time I’ve messed up as a teacher. This isn’t the first time I’ve messed up as a hero. And I don’t want it to seem like the only reason I’m facing consequences is that I’m being forced to. I’m resigning, as a teacher and as a hero. I’m going to retake the qualification exams and reexamine who Midnight should be going forward. Until then…” Nemuri closes her eyes. “I don’t deserve to be a hero. And I don’t deserve to be a teacher.”

When Nemuri left his office five minutes later, Nedzu felt as though, once again, something had slipped through his paws. Out of his control. On one hand, he respected her for her decision and her convictions. On the other… well, now he is down a teacher. Even still, she most likely would have had her licenses revoked anyway. At least going down this route, both she and the school will be able to save some face.

Speaking of saving face, Nedzu gazes back down on the files that lay closed on his desk. Aside from potential lawsuits, he’d also been considering his Todoroki problem.

The Hero Commission was hiding… a lot: the number of civilian deaths Endeavor was responsible for,  the number of villain deaths that Endeavor was responsible for,  the sheer scale of property damage. Not to mention the potential domestic violence and abuse cases that could be unearthed. However… sadly, the Hero Commission cares more for results and efficiency above all. And, for all Endeavors many faults, his efficiency is the highest there is – save for All Might.

And yet… even the Hero Commission must occasionally bend to the whims of the public, seeing as how they are mostly funded through government taxes and private donations. Should the public suddenly, drastically shift gears, the Hero Commission may have no choice but to follow.

Even considering this, the public doesn’t often show much empathy for the faceless, no matter how numerous, civilian casualties. Unless counted among the dead are one’s own friends and family, the sad truth is that the majority of people simply don’t care. Same goes for property damage unless it is one’s own property. And no one cares about villains who die in the process of being captured.

No… but… a fellow hero . Now, there is a face and a name that people can rally behind. And, unfortunately, Endeavor’s bloody history wasn’t solely limited to civilians and villains.

Now… the question is: should this be done publicly from the start, or should he attempt at a more private resolution? Which would benefit more people? Or rather, should he be focusing entirely on the children of the Todoroki family?

His office phone begins to ring.

With a stifled sigh, Nedzu answers it. “This is Principal Nedzu speaking!”

“….”

“…the Satomuras, you say.”

A grin spreads over his face.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#KacchanProtectionSquad

Pinky: sooooo if anyone wants to take a look at this

Pinky: https://AllofUsPlusUltra.Ua.edu

Pinky: It isn’t done, but the bare bones are there.

SweetCheeks: I love it already

Frogger: There isn’t much here is there

PrinceyPrincey: Nous pouvons le rendre plus beau plus tard ( ●♡∀♡ )) *

Gloves: Wait wait can we add stuff

Gloves: like class pics?

ThatFuckingChicken: why was that image used for my profile

PikaPikaChuuuu: I kinda like that its all simple and clean

EarJaxx: I kind of agree. We can make it look nice without making it cluttered

SweetCheeks: Oooh, there’s a place for blogs???

SweetCheeks: I didn’t even think about that!

Tails: I’m not writing a blog

ThatFuckingChicken: I would like to

ThatFuckingChicken: the shadows that dimly surface offer many tales to be shared

Shitstain: I’ll help.

Kacchan: god help us all

Kacchan: we want to market ourselves

Kacchan: not make ppl think wer a cult

PikaPikaChuuuu: Hail

ShittyHair: Hail my Bro!

ROBOCOP: please don’t start with that again

ROBOCOP: I appreciate that there are profile entries for all of us. However, they seem somewhat impersonal

ROBOCOP: can those be edited?

Pinky: Oh yeah absolutely

Pinky: my friend just did the bare min so that she could pump something out real fast

PonyTail: we can change whatever we want going forward

Dekuzu: We should have a profile for sensei, too

TheMuffinMan: So are we like updating this regularly? Is there going to be a main person in charge?

IcyHot: I would like to help

PonyTail: We can all help!

PrinceyPrincey: ꉂ ( ̤ॢ ू‵̤๑))ˉ̞̭

Gloves: ꒰✪ૢꇵ✪ૢ꒱ෆ

KojiKoda: ♡♡ +. ( ε *) +.

IcyHot: (๑ ๑)

Kacchan: stop

Dekuzu: by the way! Remember you guys wanted ot come see Papa?

EarJaxx: Wait can we now?

Pinky: Yess!??!

ShittyHair: how is he man?

PonyTail: If we can come over, I would very much like to

PikaPikaChuuu: Yes please???

LotsaJazHandz: Is he feeling any better

ThatFuckingChicken: should a murder of crows blacken the sky, one must beg the heavens for a reprieve.

Dekuzu: Dad okayed it!

Dekuzu: since it’s so nice out today and we don’t have school until Tuesday

Dekuzu: you should all come over!

Dekuzu: hold on a sec I’ll share the address!

PrinceyPrincey: Oui mon amie!

Pinky: LESSSGOOOOO

Frogger: omw

ROBOCOP: so long as our teachers are fine with it, I would love to meet you all there!

SweetCheeks: FINALLY I CANT WAIT

Tails: See you all there ig

PikaPikaChuuu: I’m bringing snacks!

ShittyHair: POG

KojiKoda: !

TheMuffinMan: I’ll bring snacks as well

LotsaJazHandz: YUS LETS GO

EarJaxx: FUCKING FINALLY

EarJaxx: I’m already on my way

SoySauceFace: I’ll grab some chips and dip for the party

ThatFuckingChicken: I shall bring some KFC

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Hanging out in the back yard with the entire class almost felt more chaotic than the entire Sports Festival. Granted, it may have been due to the fact that all twenty students were gathered together in a relatively small backyard rather than spread out on the field of a stadium. Jiro had set up a portable speaker, though Mina had commandeered it, blasting kpop loud enough to deafen the elderly couple that lived across the street.

Aizawa manned the grill with Shoju at his side, ready with utensils, plates, and patties. Momo had already produced several blankets and spread them out on the grass some feet away. Bags of chips and candy were piled up in the center of the blankets, and the distinctive smell of fried chicken whetted appetites as they waited for the hamburgers to be ready.

Despite the lack of space, they made it work.

It was during an intense game of Mafia that Hizashi emerged from the house.

“No!” Hizashi laughed, as the kids all stood up from their lop-sided circle to greet him. “Don’t stop! I wanna watch!”

Lunch was served on paper plates alongside a variety of junk food – courtesy of Kaminari, Sato, and Tokoyami. There was no mention of the Sports Festival or its rough ending. There was no mention of the repercussions of the heroes involved. There was no talk of school, heroics, or injury at all. For the moment, they were just kids.

Unfortunately, the glass sphere they were in shattered as Hound Dog came around the side of the house. “Hey, there Mic,” he greeted, jovially. “You forget about me, then?”

Hizashi laughed sheepishly.

“I might have, yeah.” He was a bit stiffer, a bit slower, than the class was used to seeing him as he rose to his feet to shake hands with his fellow hero.

“Are you leaving?”

Jiro spoke up, almost unintentionally, breaking the sudden silence that had fallen over the class. She flushed heavily and looked away. Mic smiled gently. “Inui is only here to drive me to UA,” he told her. “Nothing to worry about. Recovery Girl just sent him so that I didn’t have to take a cab or have Aizawa drive me.”

“Recovery Girl?” “But why?” “Are you okay, sensei?” “If you’re feeling bad, you shouldn’t have come out!” multiple people all spoke at once. Mic held up his hands as if to stop the flow of chatter.

“Just a checkup, lil listeners,” he said, soothingly. “Don’t you worry at all. I’ll see you all in class, okay?”

After getting various sounds of assent, Hound Dog led Mic back around the front of the house. No one spoke as they heard the car doors shut, the engine start, and the car disappear down the road. The festive atmosphere had been popped like a balloon, and now none of them really knew how to restart.

There was a deep sigh, and all twenty heads turned to see Aizawa close the grill with a clang . Without a word of warning, Aizawa lowered himself onto the corner of the largest blanket, sitting between Shouto and Katsuki. “Well?” he asked them. “How do you play?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki drains the last of his coke, idly watching the pathetic excuse of a dance battle that Pinky initiated. Denki is attempting to do the worm, and only succeeding in getting the mother of all grass stains on his shirt. “Smooth like butter, like a criminal under cover!”

Jiro is recording on her phone, whooping loudly as Mina and – surprisingly – Tsu go through the actual choreography, hitting every beat like a pro. “ Ooh when I look in the mirror, I’ll melt your heart into two! I got that superstar glow so-“ Iida is staring at them intently, muttering to Yaoyorozu about how dancing could potentially act as a genuine training exercise. “ Sidestep right left to my beat! High like the moon rock with me, baby!” And Koji is watching them with wide eyes, as though expecting one of them to explode at any given moment. “ Know that I got that heat, lemme show you cuz talk is cheap!”

Aizawa, unsurprisingly, has fallen asleep in the shade of the house sitting upright against the fence. Katsuki frowns. Last time he’d glanced that way, Todoroki had been sitting there next to him. He looks around, counting heads. Hitoshi had fucked off somewhere, too.

Sidestep right left to my beat, get it, let it roll!”

Not wanting to interrupt the fun, Katsuki quietly lurches to his feet and makes his way into the house. He catches Deku’s eyes on the way in and raises his empty cup as an explanation.

It doesn’t take long to find the two missing boys. He hears them before he sees them.

“…I’m serious, Shouto. If you don’t tell them…”

“What? Will you?”

“No. I wouldn’t go over your head like that. But… but for real! Sensei could help! You said for yourself, you saw the fostering paperwork. He’s a hero, and he’s got the principal on his side. He could actually do something. He isn’t some nobody. I get that your dad’s a big deal, but like… we both know that if push came to shove that Sensei would get All Might to help.”

“… I don’t want people to know. I don’t want people to see me… see me like… like…”

“… I get it, ‘roki. Really, I do. But sensei wouldn’t judge you. I don’t.”

“I know you don’t… but… but say sensei does do something. Everyone will know. They’ll know how… how he… how I…”

“We don’t know that.”

“We do.”

“We really don’t. Sensei can be private. We both know that . He can get it done quietly. And even if people do find out… so what? So, they find out that your dad’s an asshole. So, they find out that you’re a survivor. That doesn’t change anything.”

“This… We… Sensei already has two kids.”

“Bullshit.” Both boys jump, flinching like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t, and turn to stare wide eyed at Katsuki. Katsuki pretends like the expletive was intentional, and crosses his arms. “Sensei has twenty kids, a cat, and a Hizashi, and he likes it that way. So what if he ends up living with more than he bargained for? That’s on him, not you.”

“I.. well… you…” Todoroki flounders. “What?”

Katsuki slides away from the wall. “I won’t say I know what you’re going on about, but I’ve got your back, Thermostat. Just lemme know who I’ve got to murder.”

This, unexpectedly, causes Shouto to start crying. At first, it’s just a welling in his eyes, but soon it devolves into chest-wracking sobbing.

Katsuki and Hitoshi look at each other, at a loss, over Shouto’s head.

“Are you okay?” Hitoshi asks, quietly, like he’s not sure whether or not he should talk.

“Is it… it okay… if… is it weird if… is it weird to… may I—”

“Spit it out, fuckwad.”

“May I have a hug?”

Hitoshi doesn’t hesitate, and Katsuki is just a beat behind him.

Get it, let it roll!”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

As the sun sunk lower, the party slowly wound down and then dispersed. First, Tsuyu left to go home to her siblings, and not long after that Iida and Yaoyorozu both headed out to their respective families as well. By the time the sun was fully set, Aizawa was seeing the last of the class (that wasn’t his) off down his driveway, closing the door behind them. He breathed a sigh of relief. As tolerable as his class was this year, six hours was just a bit too long to be around that many teenagers at once.

He was ready for bed.

“Sensei…”

But apparently going to bed would have to wait a little longer, because, of course, he still had several teenagers to take care of.

“Todoroki.”

The boy was wearing one of Hizashi’s sweatshirts, and the sleeves pooled around his fingers as he tugged at the hem. He looked so very young just then. And the strange, hesitant look on his face only added to the illusion.

“…”

Todoroki’s eyes were steadily trained on his bare toes.

“What is it, kid?”

Todoroki’s eyes briefly flitted up to meet his own.

“…if I told you something bad… would you believe me?”

“Something bad? Bad about you?”

“… Sort of… It’s… it’s about Endeavor.”

Yeah. Bed would definitely have to wait.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Their last day of freedom before school started up again saw Izuku and Shouto at home, alone, together.

Aizawa had gone to UA to meet with Nedzu, and Katsuki had joined Mic to go to his physical therapy appointment – with the enthusiastic approval of Papa Mic, who was craving more “kitty time. ” Hitoshi had disappeared almost directly after breakfast, though Izuku is fairly certain that he’d headed over to Tokoyami’s house.

With the household scattered to the winds, it left the house feeling strangely empty in the way that subconsciously forced you to speak more quietly then normal, step more quietly then normal. At first, it’s awkward. The two of them had never interacted without some kind of buffer, Izuku realized. It had always been them and Kacchan, or them and Hitoshi, or them and sensei. The two of them had never just… been together.

“Izuku… may I ask you a question?” Izuku startles, attention snapping to the present from where it had wandered. They were sitting together, somewhat stiffly, on the couch. Not-really watching some old anime.

“Of course, Todoroki!” he says, encouragingly. “We’re friends!”

Shouto still looks hesitant, almost embarrassed. “Bakugo said that… the two of you are not blood brothers… but that your quirk is like your fathers… so” he looks Izuku dead in the eye. “Does that mean All Might is your father?”

Now it’s Izuku’s turn to hesitate, “I can’t say anything, but it’s not because I don’t trust you! But, w-well, it’s just, you know, I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone. And since it isn’t really my secret to tell. I mean it is because it’s about me, but it isn’t really about me it’s more about, about, about nothing! It’s not about anything, but if it were about something it would be something I can’t talk to you about.” Shouto nods his head, as though he entirely understands, and Izuku is fairly certain the bicolored boy is now convinced of his “heritage.”

On one hand, well, to be perfectly honest it’s a good enough excuse for his quirk if anyone were to ever find out about it. A good cover for the actual secret. And if he’d been confronted with this idea earlier on in his relationship with All Might, he would have been secretly overjoyed that someone thought they were connected in that way. But… now? Now he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about All Might. He’d forgiven him, for before. For Mic. But then All Might had – to borrow a phrase from Kacchan – fucked up . Again.

He so wanted for All Might to be the hero that Izuku had always seen him as. That Hero that Izuku had idolized since he was a baby. But, well, the real All Might was turning out to be far more flawed. Which, of course, made sense. He was only human. But, even still. Izuku had been disillusioned, disappointed.

And yet… and yet .

“Midoriya…” Izuku looks back over to Todoroki. “If you ever need to talk. If you’re ever able to talk. I’ll listen.”

Izuku is shocked, but Shouto continues, as though he doesn’t notice. He probably doesn’t notice.

“My whole life there’s been…an expectation . This standard that I’ve been held against since the moment I had a quirk. Before then, even. Endeavor always wanted for me to be the next him . And it burned me. Worse than…” he holds a hand up to the side of his face. He looks up at Izuku through his fringe. “So, I worked to hide my fire. To become ice. Harden myself, become cold. To be only the part of me that isn’t him. I wanted to become number one on my own terms. Wipe the pride, the ego, off of his face. I wanted to destroy him.” Todoroki pauses. Swallows. “But recently I’ve decided that it isn’t the kind of hero I want to be.

“I… I don’t want to be number one. I want to be the kind of hero… the  kind of person that makes people smile. That moment at the festival when all of you – when all of my friends – were cheering for me. You all looked so happy. I want to relive that moment for the rest of my life. I want to live as a hero that makes people laugh. That makes people feel good.”

Slowly, he reaches over and places a hand on Izuku’s. There are splashes of red on Todoroki’s cheeks, but he’s looking directly into Izuku’s eyes. Izuku can’t help but notice a muscle on the side of Todoroki’s cheek is pulsing as the other boy forces a smile onto his face. “That’s why I want to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Izuku asks, flabbergasted.

“Yes. Thank you. For being one of the few people in my life that makes me feel good. You- you make me feel warm.”

Izuku is crying by this point, and he clocks the moment that Shouto notices. Then panics.

“Why are you- please don’t cry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’ll be quiet no—"

Izuku clasps Todoroki’s hand in both of his own.

“Shouto, you already make people happy. All you have to do, to be that hero, is never change.”

Shouto’s panicked expression softly melts into a smile.

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Do you… want to play Mario Cars?”

“… Yeah… I’d love to play Mario Cars with you.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Hitoshi likes hanging out in Fumikage’s room. It’s quiet and calm and clean. Nothing like the Satomura’s. But also nothing like Sensei’s.

It’s nice.

Hitoshi is sitting next to Tokoyami on his bed, not as closely as he would sit next to Katsuki, but close enough that he can still feel the warmth of his friend. A documentary on All Might plays on Fumikage’s laptop that’s perched on the bed in front of them as they eat assorted nuts from a bowl between their knees on the covers.

Hitoshi hadn’t given the other boy so much as a heads up before he came over. He didn’t say why he was there, and Fumikage didn’t ask. He was cool like that. Instead, he’d just lead the way up to his room and set up his laptop. That’s one of the things Hitoshi loved about his friend. Everything was so simple with him. And, eventually, Hitoshi found the strength to bring up what he’d come over to talk about.

“Todoroki found foster parent paperwork in sensei’s house.”

Tokoyami freezes, one hand hovering over the bowl of nuts. He slowly reaches for the remote and then pauses the documentary.

“Would you be comfortable with the change that comes with the passing of the night?” he asks, quietly, after a second had passed. “Or would it compound the darkness you find yourself in?”

“It’s the opposite of dark,” Hitoshi says, with a small smile. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Parents who like me. A house that doesn’t look or smell like shit. Siblings that like me. A cat.” Hitoshi runs his fingers across the knitted designs on one of Fumikage’s blankets. “But… my whole life… that’s felt like… a sort of end goal. My end goal. The – I dunno – gold at the end of a rainbow.”

Tokoyami, as ever, is quiet. Willing to just listen. A smooth hand lightly touches Hitoshi’s knee, and he looks up at Fumikage’s face.

 “I can’t even imagine the other side,” Hitoshi whispers. “Whatever comes next… it’s like staring into a cave at the top of a mountain. I worked so hard - so long - just to get here… but now that I’m here, I have no idea what happens now.”

The silence stretches between them, and Hitoshi squeezes his eyes shut, willing the dampness in them to go away. “I know I should be happy. But right now, I’m scared.”

Tokoyami clears his throat. “In my experience…” he says, slowly. “That isn’t for you to worry about— though I understand the need to think of the future. The future is a heavy, complicated mass of tangles. And it isn’t a child’s place to unravel it. Rather, now that you have the means, allow those with the wisdom of experience to take the lead. Allow the other side of the rainbow to be one of lightness – not just the brightness of day, but the weightlessness of it. You’ve carried yourself up the mountain. Allow someone else to bear you from here.”

Hitoshi sits, silently. Head bowed. “I want that.” His voice is hoarse. “But I keep waiting for them to change their mind.”

“Hitoshi,” he looks up in surprise at the use of his given name. “No one who has truly taken the time to know you… would ever change their mind.”

“… thanks, Fumikage.”

 

Notes:

I would love to read your thoughts on where this story is going! What you think should happen next, how certain ideas and events should play out. Of course, the internships are the next big event. It's kind of crazy how long it took for me to get here. By the time I reach the end of the All for One arc, this thing is gonna be like a thousand chapters long.

any way, thanks again to my beta reader, muppetofaman! I feel like this is a lot cleaner than my usual posts are.

Chapter 48: its been 84 years

Summary:

we're keeping her moving. On towards the internships!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Stepping back into the classroom after everything went down was surreal. Like waking up from a dream, only to realize you weren’t awake at all. Somehow, the air felt new. And in that newness, the class greeted the bright Monday morning, in which Aizawa stood at the front of the classroom, standing tall and firm like he hadn't been for weeks. He brought with him a sense of purpose, and that sensation was quietly vibrating in the expectant silence of the classroom.

It was ten minutes to class time, and yet everyone was in their seats, eyes directed forward.

Aizawa glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, then shook his head slightly. “I suppose there’s no point in stalling, is there.” He cast a serious look over the classroom. “Despite current events, I want you to know that each and every one of you truly went above and beyond in the Sports Festival. You caught the eye of many heroes, many agencies, and the public at large. You made your presence known, and for that, I must applaud you.” Aizawa’s firm line of a mouth seemed to soften, just slightly “Good work.”

Though no one spoke, there was much straightening in chairs as the class sat tall. “That said, time waits for no master. And so it’s time to move past the festival, and look towards your futures.” His gaze briefly touched the eyes of his students, one at a time as he glanced across the room. “Today, homeroom will be about Hero Informatics.”

“... does this mean we’re taking a quiz?” asked Kaminari, uncertainly. A few people giggled, though some looked worried as well. Aizawa didn’t look amused.

“Today,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard what was said. “You will be choosing your hero names.”

Voices erupted and smiles bloomed. Izuku and Katsuki shared a knowing look - they’d spoken at length about potential hero names throughout the years. “I have so many ideas,” Ochako said, brightly. “I think I might need help choosing.”

“Yes,” Aizawa interrupted. “All code names that you take on as a student must be approved by a teacher. Seeing as how I am neither the most creative, nor did I come up with my own hero name, we’ll be looking elsewhere for help.”

“You didn’t pick your hero name?” Kirishima asked, surprised. “Who did?”

Aizawa put his phone down. He’d been quietly texting somebody, but now he set it to the side. “You’ll see.”

GOOOOOOD MORNING, MY LOVELY LISTENERS!”

“Mic!” “Mic Sensei!” “Present Mic!” “You’re here!” “Good morning!”

Hizashi beamed at the warm welcome he received, as he stepped through the door of the classroom. He stepped lightly, somewhat stiffly. The class scanned him carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort or that he was in pain. Much to their relief, he truly did seem to be looking fine, if a bit gaunt in the cheeks.

“Were you the one who picked sensei’s code name?” Jiro asked, interestedly. Mic smiled and bobbed his head up and down.

“Sure did, listener,” he smiled. “Wayyyyy back in our first year here at UA.”

“It’s so cool that you’ve known each other for that long,” Kirishima said, subtly casting a glance over at Kastuki. Hizashi laughed.

“I agree! Now,” Mic clapped his hands together. “Let's talk code names!” The class instantly simmered down. “There are a couple things to keep in mind when you’re thinking about how to name yourself. First, and probably most obviously, it needs to make sense. What themes are you going for? What kind of hero do you want to be? What do you, as a hero, want to stand for? Look at names that hold meaning that matters. Secondly, think about marketability. Is the name easy to say? Easy to remember? It doesn’t have to be, but believe me when I say it definitely helps. And lastly,” he gave a dry little smile. “Take this seriously, and keep it appropriate. I don’t want to see any ‘Turd Machine’ or ‘Butt Man's' in here. Okay, little listeners?” There was some laughter. “I’m looking at you, Kaminari.”

“I didn’t even say anything, yet!”

Aizawa passed his partner a handful of dry erase slates and a bundle of markers. Hizashi walked around the room, passing them out, talking as he went. “If you really can’t think of anything right now, that’s okay. It really is, so don’t feel stressed or pressured. You have three years to think of a name, and even then, some heroes just go with their real names. That is absolutely an option. Struggling and stressing out isn’t necessary. Don’t sweat it too much, but if you want some help, feel free to ask me or a classmate!”

Hizashi glanced at his phone to check the time. “Alright? Alright. You babies have fifteen minutes, and then we will present what we’ve got to the class.”

Heads were already bent over the boards, working quietly.

Katsuki hesitated.

On one hand. He was Overkill. He would always be Overkill. He’d spent nearly two decades operating under that name, and he still felt a small amount of pride and glee whenever he heard that word being used over the years, however irrelevant and undeserved that might be in this timeline.

But was he? Was he still that man?

He looked across from him at Kirishima, who was scribbling on his board with his tongue poking out between his sharp teeth. As though sensing his look, Eijiro looked up at him. Katsuki couldn’t help but meet his eyes, looking deeply into them. He’d always loved their color. A pool of blood he could drown in. He watched in amusement as Kirishima’s face flushed, but noted with satisfaction that he did not look away.

Katsuki smiled at him. Kirishima fumbled, his marker flipping out of his grip and clattering to the floor. Kirishima’s face flushed further as he scrambled out of his seat to chase after it.

Even after all these years, Katsuki loved him.

He hadn’t really let himself think about it, lately. Afterall, Kirishima was fifteen.

So are you , a voice whispered in his mind. Katsuki typically ignored this, but, now, he examined it. He was fifteen. He was fifteen , and fuck if he didn’t feel every ounce of his youth. All the uncertainty and imbalance that came with it. But, he was also nearly fifty, as gross as that was to think about. What was okay? Was it okay?

He examined his feelings further. 

He loved Kirishima. Passionately. But… he didn’t want to have sex with him, as blunt as that thought is. It’s not that the idea repulsed him, but rather that the urge simply wasn’t there. 

He just wanted to exist next to him. To hold his hand. To hold him. Kirishima, face still red, slowly brought his eyes back to Katsuki’s. He smiled back. Even though Katsuki hadn’t deserved it these past few weeks, acting, as he had, like an asshole - Kirishima hadn’t abandoned him. He hadn’t turned away in disgust. He only held on tighter, always asking what he could do to make him feel better, even when the answer was nothing at all.

Kastuki loved him.

“Aaaaaand, TIME!” Hizashi interrupted his thoughts. Begrudgingly, Katsuki turned his eyes back up front. “Who wants to go first?”

“Moi!” Aoyama glided up to the front, glistening as he went. He slammed his board down on the front standing desk for all to see. “PRINCEY!” Katsuki froze.

That…wasn’t right.

There was some laughter, and the class applauded Aoyama as he bowed with a flourish. “Me next!” Mina jumped out of her seat.

“PINKY~”

At least that was the same, Katsuki felt himself relax a little as she moved back to her seat. “I can go next,” Yaoyorozu raised an elegant hand. Mic nodded at her, and she calmly walked to the front and presented what she wrote. Katsuki frowned.

“PonyTail” she said, a twinkle in her eyes. There was more laughter. She flipped her ponytail sassily as she walked back to her seat. Iida seemed to be vibrating. 

“I shall go next!” he declared, zooming up to the front, moving quickly yet somehow still walking. He proudly presented his own name. “ROBOCOP”

Denki was laughing so hard he slid out of his chair, and the rest of the class wasn’t far behind. Except Katsuki, he frowned further. That wasn’t right, either. But, well, Katsuki considered, Tensei wasn’t hurt. He’d stopped that from happening. So… Katsuki was deep in thought, not paying much attention as Tsuyu declared herself “Frogger” and Koda announced himself as “Anima” before Sato proudly declared that he was “The Muffin Man.”

Katsuki had changed things. Some might say… for the better. Some things, he did manage to make good . Hitoshi was on the hero track. Ingenium wasn’t crippled. All Might hadn’t pushed himself at USJ and lost more time. And, while he still cursed himself for being the prompt that got Mic injured, he’d recovered, and no one else was hurt. Not to mention… well… he didn’t remember being on such good terms with his… friends… so early on.

He glanced over at Kirishima.

Maybe… he wasn’t Overkill anymore.

Kirishima caught his eye, and flushed again. But, this time, he winked. Katuski blinked in surprise. “I was considering going with Shitty Hair,” he said to much giggling. “But Mic said it had to be appropriate, so” he turned over the board. “Red Riot.”

Tension left Katsuki. He hadn’t wanted that detail to change, and so he felt a great relief that it hadn’t. He glanced to where Deku sat. Deku beamed at him, and pranced up to the front. 

“Deku!” Deku said.

“Couldn’t imagine it being anything else,” Shitstain said, dryly. Then he slid out of his seat.

“Mindjack,” he announced. “Kacchan helped me think of it.”

“Shoulda gone with Shitstain,” Katsuki told him. Shitstain only grinned. 

Denki hopped up behind him. “Pikachu!” His name board didn’t have writing on it, just a very crudely drawn portrait of a pokemon.

“Isn’t that copyrighted?” Jiro asked him. 

“Nope!” Denki said, brightly. “Pikachu came out like a bajillion years ago. Public domain now, baby. I checked!”

Shoji was next, declaring himself to be “Jazz Hands.” Hagakure came after with “Gloves.” Then Sero with “Soy Sauce”

Katsuki was starting to sense a pattern. “Ear Jax,” Jiro said, winking at Katsuki.

Why did people keep winking at him?

Ojiro decided on “Tails” and then Tokoyami walked up, proudly presenting “That Fucking Chicken.” The class immediately lost it.

“No,” Aizawa told him.

“Yeah…” Mic said, trying not to grin, trying to cover his mouth with a hand. “That’s a no from me, too.”

Face still blank as ever, Tokoyami flipped the board. “Poe” was written on the other side.

Last to shyly slink up was Todoroki. He was looking down at his board, then, head still bowed, he held it up. “IcyHot” was written on it.

“I thought this one sounded more like a hero name then Halfy.” He said softly. Uraraka quietly cooed under her breath at him. 

“Great choice, man!!” Kirishima told him.

“Yeah! It’s so cute!” Pinky chimed in. Then, the class looked over at him.

“Kitty?” Hizashi prompted. Aizawa threw him a look for using a nickname in the classroom, but Mic ignored him. Everybody present knew, anyway. “You got an idea, baby?”

Katsuki slowly nodded, scribbled something on his board, and then walked up to the front. He looked down at the board in his hand, then up at the class. All 19 of the other kids were looking at him expectantly. Katsuki slowly turned the board around, displaying it to the room. 

“Ground Zero,” he said, almost surprising himself with how steady his voice was.

The class was looking at him encouragingly. Deku seemed somewhat confused. “Because,” Katsuki said, clearing his throat. “I’m starting over from here.”

He was rewarded with a roar of support from his… friends.

He felt a presence behind him. Aizawa ran a hand down Katsuki’s back, before gently pushing him back towards his seat. After he’d sat back down and Mic had settled himself comfortably into Aizawa’s chair, Aizawa turned on the projection board behind him, and a list of names and numbers popped up.

“This,” he said solemnly. “Is what you can consider to be your final results from the festival.” Everyone in the class was represented on the board, with a number next to their name. “These are a record of all the offers for internships you have received. There are thousands of agencies in Japan, and hundreds in the local area, alone. Consider, very carefully, which ones will benefit you. Don’t look only at the ones with the most prestige. Don’t look at the ones with your favorite heroes. Look at the ones that align with the future you envision for yourself.” Katsuki examined the board.

Todoroki was number one, obviously. Deku was at number two. Katsuki himself was number three. Hitoshi was a respectable number seven. On like that the list went. And, Katsuki was pleased to note, with the exception of the top three numbers, nearly everyone in the class was in the same ballpark as far as offers went. There was no repeat of Before , when Deku had sat with a grand total of zero offers down at the very bottom. No one was left behind like that.

Aizawa passed around packets. “These are due at the end of the week. Think about them carefully. And, remember, I’m always available to ask for recommendations.”

“Me, too!” Hizashi chimed in. “I’m gonna have a lot of down time… for a while.”

Aizawa plopped a packet down in front of Katsuki. With a grunt of thanks, Katsuki picked it up and ran his eyes down the list, nonchalantly taking the names in. Best Jenist had offered him a place again, he noted. So had Endeavor, interestingly, enough. And Hawks. And Ryuko. And Mirko. And hundreds of other names that he recognized, and hundreds more that he didn’t. 

He was tempted to go with Mirko. For nostalgia’s sake.

And yet… he glanced up at Mic who was talking quietly with Aizawa. Katsuki had already had three internships. He’d already been a hero. He knew his stuff, and so he didn’t really feel the need to shadow some Pro for experience. Best leave those opportunities to someone else.

“Papa,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the class as they looked over their prospects. A few of his classmates glanced over. “Why aren’t you on here?”

“O-oh,” Mic said, uncertainly. He seemed to be trying not to frown. “Kitty, baby, I’m still injured. I can’t do active hero work yet. Otherwise, I totally would have! We can do an internship next year, okay?” Katsuki harrumphed, but accepted the answer. He turned to Aizawa, expectantly.

Aizawa had a soft look in his eyes, but his words contradicted his tone. “I see you enough as it is, brat. Pick somebody you don’t…” he paused. The silence in his pause felt considering. “Let’s talk about this after class.” Katsuki nodded at him, ignoring the knowing looks of his classmates. Fucking butt nuggets already knew about them. Why did they keep acting so surprised? 

Aizawa cleared his throat and addressed the class at large. “You have ten minutes until your first class. Use them wisely.”

“Group photo!” Uraraka stood up quickly before anyone could move. “For the blog!”

“Blog?” questioned Aizawa, tiredly.

Desks were shuffled away from one wall, and Yaoyorozu’s phone was unceremoniously shoved into Aizawa’s hands. The students, name boards in hand, posed against the wall with cheesy grins on most of their faces, flashing their new codenames to the camera.

Aizawa sighed, but snapped the picture anyway.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

UA Class 1A Forum

Hello world! We are the Class of 1A, and we’re here to show you all the best sides of us!

Robocop: [uploaded image groupselfie.jpeg] 22 upvotes

-          We’re more than classmates. I consider myself privileged to call them my friends.

             6 replies

Pinky: we love you too prez!

Kacchan: I hate you all

[I hate you…] Dekuzu: you love us!

Pikachu: look out world we comin thru

RedHair: Look how manly we all look

[Look how manly…] Sensei: I see you.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Uwabami (“Call me Yamane Sensei.”) was the new art history teacher.

At first the kids didn’t know how to react to this. Afterall, Midnight was such a big personality, that seeing somebody else in her place felt odd. Hitoshi’s gut response, however, was relief. He didn’t want to have to sit through her talking at him for an hour. Didn’t know if he would have been able to. Even still, he didn’t necessarily want her gone. He looked over at Katsuki and… couldn't read him at all.

Luckily, this was the third period. Second period had been Mic Sensei teaching English. Hitoshi hadn’t minded the sub, Mr. Yagi, as much as some of his fellow classmates had, but he had to admit that having Yamada back where he was supposed to be just made the whole day that much better. It even made up for having to sit through English class in the first place, as Mic had given an entire lecture on commas .

Of course, this was Mic . So the lecture that was given was animated and energetic, as much as the hero could muster given his current health. By the end of the period, Hitoshi was in a pretty good mood, though it soured slightly as he recalled what class was next.

And then Midnight didn’t show up.

Instead, it was the tall and curvaceous figure of Uwabami. She wore a long dress that seemed just slightly too formal for a teacher to wear. Looking at her, Hitoshi was worried they’d have another Midnight, the horribly flirtatious and inappropriate vibe that followed the other woman like smoke from a cigarette.

But it wasn’t like that at all. Uwabami was professional, even slightly stern. She spoke in an airy tone of voice, and frequently mentioned art galleries she’d graced with her presence and gifts of fine art from her many fans; but other than that, she was a good teacher. She was thorough, with a strange emphasis on the art of France from the 18th century. She’d managed to give an entire lecture on Marie Antoinette with a Rose , and about the female artist that painted it. Funnily enough, it was interesting. She was a very animated speaker. Due in part, she said, to the many speeches she’d given over the years at award shows and fan conventions.

While Midnight’s emphasis had been on sexuality (which was all well and good for an adult woman to express - just not at a school of all places), Uwabami’s had been on fame and popularity. Both, she said, are important parts of being a hero. It gets you seen, it gets you out there, and your popularity can even serve as a sword, so that your mere presence in a city can deter crime before it even happens.

Hitoshi… didn’t disagree.

He was still going to be an underground hero, though.

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Kirishima was almost unreasonably happy that Midnight was gone. Vindictively so, even though the feelings he was feeling made him feel just the smallest bit unmanly. But, what she did at the Sports Festival - it was almost unforgivable. He’ll never forget the way Katsuki looked, or how quiet and withdrawn the normally fiery boy had been afterwards. The grown ups never even gave his bro a chance! Not to explain himself. Not to calm down. Not anything, and it wasn’t fair, man.

The new teacher was great! She was funny and interesting. And - he’d peeked over at Katsuki’s impassive face - she didn’t seem to be triggering Bakugo’s ire. Kirishima had learned, watching Katsuki, that he was a pretty good judge of character. The people he avoided tended to be… not great people. But the people he flocked to tended to be amazing. So, the fact that Uwabami Sensei seemed to be somewhere on the low end of acceptable to Katsuki made Kirishima relax.

After class, their friends all tried to subtly swarm Katsuki’s desk, forming a barrier around him between Katsuki and the retreating back of their new art teacher. Kirishima honestly can’t tell if the other boy noticed their behavior or not. He just sneered at them in his charming way and told them they better be a challenge for him during the remedial PE class. Which, yes? Kirishima was totally going to stay and hang after school. Especially since, when Bakubro said that, he’d been looking directly his way.

But, anyway, he’s glad Midnight’s gone. 

Good riddance.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“Tell me you’ve got something,” Aizawa demanded before the door had even fully swung shut. Nedzu watched him impassively as he poured them both a cup of tea.

“Do sit down, Shouta,” he invited in a way that wasn’t really an invitation. He gestured to the empty chair across from his desk. Aizawa sat, but didn’t drink the tea that the rodent genially pushed his way. He just stared, waiting.

Nedzu brought his own cup down and away from his furry snout with a sigh. “Yes, Eraser. I do, in fact, have something.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a file. He slid them across the desk’s top towards Aizawa. Forcing himself not to fumble with the file like an eager teenager, Aizawa carefully picked it up and flipped it open.

They were interviews. Formally written ones. “Previous foster kids?” Aizawa asked, thumbing through one after the other. Previous fosters of the Sotomura couple. There was some good stuff in here. Testimonies on unfit and unclean environments, as well as improper usage of the government funds provided for childcare. In addition, there was enough in them to build a solid case for child neglect, seeing as how the Sotomura’s very frequently left children at home, alone or together, unsupervised for hours or up to days at a time. Furthermore, there is a serious case that could be made for medical neglect, both for annual doctor visits as well as for injuries and illness gone untreated. All in all, it painted a very damning picture.

“But,” Nedzu took a long sip of tea before continuing his thought, making Aizawa click his tongue in irritation. “do we want to settle this quietly, and arguably, more quickly? Or do we make a splash of it, to ensure the well being of the other children?”

Aizawa was quiet, looking at the files, the evidence of child maltreatment. But, then he thought of finding his kid, crying to himself in the rain, thinking that he wasn’t wanted. That he wasn’t loved. Unbidden, he then thought of Katsuki, crying his little eyes out on top of that thrice-damned tower that featured frequently in his nightmares. 

He’d rather be tortured then see another one of his boys brought so low. And how could he know just how close Hitoshi was to the edge? He cleared his throat of the emotion that was building up.

“Let me talk to Hitoshi about it tonight. But be ready for either.”

“I understand completely, Shouta. Now, as for Endeavor – “ Aizawa snarled, unintentionally cutting the principal off.

“He needs to be six feet under. If you don’t put him there, if that law doesn’t put him there, then I fucking will, so help me God.”

“…this is an unusual amount of venom, even for you, I must say.”

Aizawa slapped the files on the desk, though Nedzu didn’t react, and leaned forward in his chair, voice low like a growl.

“You don’t know what I know. You didn’t have to stand there and have a little boy ask me if it was his fault that his mother got beat or that he had bones broken or if he should have been strong enough to climb a mountain with his HANDS TIED. That little boy was treated like a weapon in training, and he did not deserve to have his life almost ruined by that sack of shit.”

“Please, sit back down, Shouta.” Aizawa hadn’t realized he’d stood up at some point during his rant. “Let’s discuss this rationally.” Aizawa released a slow exhale, achingly sitting back down, trying to still his shaking hands. He was too close to this, he knew, but god damn that putrid maggot masquerading as a hero to hell

“I already know that Todoroki wants this to be done as quickly as possible.” Aizawa said, voice shaking only slightly. He shook his head. “He doesn’t want to go back to that hell hole at all.”

“Then let’s start from there, and work our way outwards, why don’t we?”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Himiko licked her lips. 

She’d found a gold mine .

Her eyes hungrily took in the pictures, freshly posted. Bakugo’s golden skin was gleaming in the low sunlight, sweat glistening like dew. She thought about how lovely he would look if it were replaced by rivets of blood, running down his yummy arms, his toned neck, his shapely shoulders and torso. She thought about how those bulging muscles would look straining against restraints, against chains.

She ran her eyes against the images of his quirk, blasting him through the air. She loved how powerful he was. How dominating. Ground Zero, huh?

Cute.

She wanted to break him.

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Hizashi frowned, looking all around him. He didn’t know if it was big enough.

“Well,” Inko said slowly, walking through the lounge area into the kitchen. “It’s… cozy.” She said, tentatively. “But, the boys would have to share two bedrooms. And with the one bath, it might get a little tricky in the mornings if everyone is in a rush.”

Hizashi hummed and nodded, opening and closing cabinet doors. They squeaked just a little. “That was my thought, too,” he said. “I was only considering it because it’s so close to UA.” The boys would have been able to walk instead of taking a train every morning. “But, you’re right. And it would be nice to let all of them have their own space as they’re getting older. But going much bigger than this would mean moving out towards the city limits, or up near the fancier parts of town. And I know my Shouta, he wouldn’t like either of those options.”

Inko hummed. “Well,” she said, thoughtfully. “You know, Izuku doesn’t really need his own room at your place. When he comes over, he can just bunk with little Katsuki. So you really only need a four room, two bath, right?”

Hizashi nodded, ignoring the realtor who had been standing in the corner, inching closer to listen to their conversation. Eh, better than having to repeat himself. “Yeah, sounds about right. But it would be nice to have a separate kitchen and dining room.”

“Well,” the realtor lady spoke up suddenly. “If you’re looking for a place like that, I do have an option in mind for you. It’s also only a twenty minute walk from UA, a little bit of a hike, but manageable for a young body.”

Hizashi frowned. “Why wasn’t that brought up earlier?” 

“What’s wrong with it,” Inko asked at the same time.

The lady gave a fake little laugh. “Oh, it’s really just superstition nonsense. You see, there was a murder there, recently. That’s why it’s empty. The family is looking to get rid of it, but it’s been a struggle to find a taker!”

Hizashi and Inko shared a thoughtful look.

“Well,” Inko said. “Why don’t we go and see for ourselves.”

“Nope,” Hizashi vetoed immediately. “If we’re going to a potentially haunted house I’m waiting for Shouta to come protect me.”

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Tensei solemnly retraced Manuel’s steps, the patrol he took the night he was murdered. Rain Fly, his patrolling partner for the day, is examining the roofs that rise up over the edges of the alley they found themselves in.

Tensei tried to push aside the horrible guilt he felt. It was his fault Manuel was there that night. It was his patrol route that he’d been taking. He couldn’t help but feel… as though he had been the intended target for the murder. The murder by the infamous hero killer, Stain.

Though, why either of them would be targeted, would be hunted, was beyond Tensei. Afterall, Tensei wasn’t the most famous or the flashiest. Neither had been Manuel, to an even greater degree. Why was the Hero Killer in his territory?

Rain Fly seemed to know what he was thinking, because he sighed and patted Tensei’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Ingenium.” He said, sternly. “Let’s focus on finding the criminal. On bringing them to justice.”

Tensei breathed deeply, but nodded, grateful that he wasn’t patrolling alone with his thoughts.

Eraser’s older kid, Katsuki, had called him up the other day. Out of the blue. He’d casually asked what his agency’s policy was on working solo. Originally, he’d thought that the kid was trying to interview him for some kind of school project, or else that he was calling to follow up on a conversation that he’d been having with Tensei’s little brother. Seeing as how Tenya had nothing but good things to say about one Bakugo Katsuki, Tensei hadn’t minded humoring him, talking while driving to work.

 They'd had a long but meaningful conversation about the merits and detriments of working as part of a team. The conversation had ended, much to Tensei’s surprise with Katsuki saying. “Well it’s real fucking nice to hear that you feel that way, Big Iida. Especially with that Hero Killer runnin’ around. I’ll make sure that My Iida knows that you’ll always have a buddy with you.” And then he hung up without another word.

He’d sat there in the parking lot in stunned silence.

Definitely Shouta’s kid.

Then, he couldn’t help but laugh at the blatant manipulation.

Well, can’t disappoint the kids, now can he? Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he moved to catch up with Rain Fly.

He doesn’t notice the shadow that rises up behind them.

            

 

Notes:

So, it's been a hot second, but I wanted to share
I GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL
NOT ONLY THAT, but I'll be the GA at my university, teaching a creative writing course there. I'm so fucking excited you guys. But, yeah, that's why I kind of disappeared for a bit. Really busy getting ready. Also, it's a residency program, which means that I basically had to go on a business trip for school, and I'm being lectured at six to eight hours a day, plus workshops and readings. It sounds like a lot but it's actually really fun~

That said, this one might be rough, because i typed it up on my phone during down time. And my big fat thumbs aren't made for that.
Also, I've never asked this before, but would somebody please make me a picture of the group photo? That would make me really happy lmao

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 49: A New Place to Call Home

Summary:

I'm not too happy with how I wrote the Stain fight, but, ah well. It is what it is.

Chapter Text

Shouta honestly enjoyed talking to his boys. He liked watching their eyes light up as they animatedly explained some TV show or TikTok or YouTube video they’d watched. He liked relaxing or cleaning or doing his paperwork to the background music of their bickering. He especially loved the quiet one-on-one moments where he and one of the boys would share something that had been on their minds or else work through some problem – usually school or friend related.

            And so, Shouta wasn’t really dreading talking about the upcoming mentorships with Katsuki. But that didn’t necessarily mean it was going to be an easy conversation. To grease the gears, so to speak, Aizawa decided to forgo his usual hour of grading and paperwork after dinner, and ushered Katsuki into his bedroom with lure of chips and Kool-Aid.

            “I’m not a baby,” Aizawa’s child said as he thrust his hand into the chip bag and then made a grabby motion at one of the drink-boxes in Aizawa’s arms. “You don’t need to fucking bribe me.” Aizawa ignored his protest and sat beside him.

            “I wanted to talk about your internship,” Shouta started, helping himself to some chips as Katsuki settled in.

            “No duh, Dad.” Aizawa tried not to let on how warmed he felt.

            “Is there any particular reason you’d prefer that either I or Hizashi mentor you?”

            “I know you.”

            “Is that all?”

            “I dunno, fucker, does there need to be some other reason?”

            Aizawa was quiet for a moment. “Would you feel comfortable going with a stranger?” This, at least to Aizawa, seemed to be the crux of the problem. Katsuki had never really been one to actively seek out new people or experiences – his behavior at UA aside. Throughout his formative years, Katsuki shied away from adults he didn’t know, especially new teachers year to year. Perhaps the root of that problem is what’s upcropping now.

            Katsuki genuinely seemed to be thinking this over, which Aizawa was grateful for. Though, by the same token, Katsuki’s hesitation also seemed to insinuate that he wasn’t entirely certain how comfortable being in such a situation would make him. “Well,” Katsuki swung his legs against the mattress, bouncing. “I mean… it wouldn’t make me uncomfortable, I guess.”

            “But you’d rather not?” Aizawa inferred. Katsuki slowly nodded.

            “I guess if I had to pick… maybe Best Jeanist?”

            “Is there any reason in particular that would make you chose him?”

            Katsuki scowled. “Obviously.” He spat out. Aizawa patiently waited, knowing that Katsuki had more to say. “I know my personality’s kinda shit, and Jeanist is all about presentation and whatever. Maybe it would be… good?”

            Aizawa bristled, affronted on Katsuki’s behalf. “There’s nothing wrong with your personality,” Aizawa furrowed his brows further when Katsuki only scoffed. “I’m serious, Kacchan.”

            Katsuki looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t want to be the next Endeavor,” Katsuki growled. “I know that I’ve got to-“ Aizawa cut him off, pulling the now thrashing young man into his chest. “Gettoff!”

            “There is nothing, nothing¸ you could do that would pull you down to his level,” Aizawa said as sternly as he could. “You have nothing in common. Endeavor doesn’t try to be a good person, he takes joy in his destruction. All you do is try, Katsuki. And that’s why you’ll always be better than him.”

            Katsuki stopped resisting, exhaling. “Fuckin’ whatever,” he grumbled, and then gently pushed away from out of Aizawa’s grip. Aizawa let him go this time. “I just… he was one of the agencies that offered me.”

            Aizawa hummed, fiddling with the straw of a Kool-Aid box in his hands. “I had seen. If I weren’t required to, I would have left him off of everyone’s lists. But, as it is, I legally had to process every legitimate offer. He also reached out to Izuku and, obviously, Todoroki.” Katsuki wrinkled his nose but said nothing. Aizawa exhaled through his nose. “Here’s the deal, kid,” Aizawa said finally. Katsuki looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Aizawa narrowed his eyes right back. “I want you to apply somewhere and go there. If after a day or so, maybe longer, you decide it isn’t for you – you can come home and finish your internship with me. Okay? I just want you to make an honest effort.” Katsuki turned this over in his head.

            “Yeah, okay.”

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Izuku peered into Aizawa and Mic’s bedroom. Kacchan and Aizawa were sitting together, not saying anything. He hoping he wasn’t interrupting anything important when he shyly pushed the door open further and leaned in. “Hey, Dadzawa?” Aizawa looked up at him, then scooted closer to Kacchan and patted the mattress beside him.

            “C’mon in, Izuku,” he offered. “Have you decided which agency to choose?” Izuku sat down and let himself slide sideways into the dip of the bed that Aizawa’s weight created. He leaned slightly into the man’s warmth. “Well, u-um. You see – “

            “Spit it out,” Kacchan said around a mouth of chips.

            “All Might made me an internship offer after class?”

            Aizawa’s eyes flashed dangerously. “He fucking did what?”

            Izuku… quietly agreed with the sentiment. After school that day, Izuku had an… incident with one of the buttons on his PE uniform as he was changing for the remedial afterschool class. He’d had to go back to his locker to grab a spare, but on his way, he was blocked by All Might.

            Or, rather, by Yagi, seeing as how the hero hadn’t been in his muscular form. “My boy,” All Might had said, uncertainly. “I have something I needed to discuss with you, if you don’t mind?”

            Izuku kind of did mind, actually. But, by the same token… this was still All Might. Still the hero that Izuku had looked up to his entire life. The man who told him he couldn’t be a hero. The man who told him he could be a hero. The man who believed in him enough to give him a quirk. The man who let Mic be hurt. The man who let Kacchan be hurt. The man Izuku would give anything to believe the best of but couldn’t really bring himself to. Not after all the times he’d been let down.

            “… Can I help you?” Izuku asked, politely. This, unfortunately, seemed to perk Yagi up. The hero glanced around the empty hallway, then gestured for Izuku to follow him.

            “Let’s talk somewhere more private,” Yagi told him, quickly. Izuku, not really one to ever disobey an adult, let alone a teacher, reluctantly followed behind him to an empty break room for the teachers. Yagi slid the door shut, and then turned to Izuku with a deep sigh. Izuku just stood there, waiting.

            “Sit down, sit down,” Yagi offered him.

            Izuku sat.

            Yagi took his place on the couch across from him, hands on his knees. “Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Midoriya Shonen,” he said earnestly. “It’s… it’s been a while.” Izuku looked away.

            “You let them tie up Kacchan,” Izuku tried to sound objective and not accusing, but he isn’t entirely sure that he managed it, because Yagi still winced.

            “I…” Yagi started, hesitantly. “At the time… it just seemed like a fittingly dramatic end for a dramatic day…” Izuku tensed, ready to get up and leave. “But,” Yagi continued urgently, probably sensing that he’d struck a nerve. “Looking back, I can’t believe how appallingly ignorant that thought was.” Izuku relaxed some. “I know firsthand how strong young Bakugo is. I had thought it hadn’t mattered, that he could take it. But… I see now that he shouldn’t have had to. If I thought Bakugo would accept it, I would apologize…” Yagi sighed. “But instead, I apologize to you, my boy. Though I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness so easily.”

            Izuku softened. “It’s… well i-it’s not okay. But I understand, I guess. It wasn’t just you…” All Might smiled at him, and despite everything, Izuku felt something that was wilted inside of him perk up, just a bit.

            “Thank you, my boy,” he said, softly. After a beat of silence, he cleared his throat and clapped his hands together loudly, as though to dispel the awkwardness in the room. “Well!” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come with me,” he said. “The truth is… I wanted to ask how you feel about taking your internship with my own mentor?” Izuku’s eyes widened.

            “Your mentor?” Izuku asked in amazement at the prospect of being taught by the same person who taught All Might. All Might grinned at him as though he’d been expecting that reaction.

            “Indeed,” he boomed. Then he looked a bit sheepish for some reason. “I, uh, had neglected to tell him that I’d found a successor.” He laughed nervously. “He’d only realized it upon watching your performance at the Sport’s Festival.”

            “O-oh,” Izuku said, uncertainly, not sure what to make of that statement. All Might, perhaps sensing his concern, nodded with a grimace.

            “He was… not happy with me,” All Might said blatantly. “And, he thought I had been neglecting your training based on… what he saw.”

            Izuku bit his lip and looked down at the floor. He knew he messed up. He knew that, ultimately, everything that happened at the finale of the festival was on him. If only he hadn’t frozen up. If only he hadn’t thrown that punch to begin with. If only he’d been able to give Kacchan a good fight without hurting him, like what they’d done at the beginning of the year. Izuku just hadn’t realized how much his power had grown since then. It had been so gradual that he hadn’t noticed… until it was too late.

            “So?” All Might, Yagi, prompted. “May I have your answer, my boy?”

            “I don’t know,” Izuku said finally. “Let me talk to my parents about it.”

            Yagi slumped a bit but nodded. “There may be some wisdom in that decision.”

            Now, Izuku watched as Aizawa’s face darkened, and the hand on his knee tensed, gripping him tightly. His lips were thinned, like he was biting his tongue. After a long moment, Aizawa spoke.

            “I wish you had come to me earlier,” he said. “But thank you for bringing this to me now. But, Izuku, regardless of what happened at the end of the sports festival, you did do a great job. You did fantastically. Whoever All Might’s mentor is must not have been watching close enough.”

            “Do you know who it is?” Izuku asked, hesitantly.

            Aizawa shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met the guy.” Aizawa paused, and then continued in a softer tone. “If you ever feel ready to talk about what happened, you know I’m more than willing to listen.”

            All this time, Katsuki had been quiet, looking at the wall with a scowl on his face. But, now, he turned to look at Izuku expectantly. Izuku gulped, knowing he owed at least Katsuki an explanation.

            “… I… I wasn’t really thinking about anything at the time,” Izuku said as honestly as he could. “I’m not sure why I froze. I just… after I saw that I knocked Kacchan’s tooth out, I just couldn’t fight anymore.”

            Aizawa nodded, considering. Katsuki just scowled. “We need to spar more,” Katsuki said, after a beat. “That way we beat that out of you.”

            “Nothing needs to be beaten out of anyone,” Aizawa said, tiredly. “But I do agree that perhaps we should schedule some monitored sparring during the extra PE class in the afternoons.”

            Izuku thought this over. “I think I’d like that,” Izuku said. “During the sports festival, I wasn’t thinking about how I might hurt someone. I wasn’t thinking about holding back at all. I was fighting with everything I had and… Dad, I think I just scared myself. That’s it.”

            Aizawa pulled Izuku closer by the back of his Tee and tucks Izuku’s head under his own chin, holding him there for a second. Izuku slumped into his hold. “That’s a good impulse,” Aizawa tells him, softly. “It would have been worse if you went all out and didn’t see anything wrong with it. Because… you could hurt someone. That power you inherited, it’s immense. And you need to be careful about using it. Sparring will be good for your control.”

            “What if I hurt someone?”

            “Then we have Recovery Girl on hand,” Aizawa said swiftly. “And no matter what happens, we still care about you. You’re still loved even if you mess up.”

            Izuku sniffled a but, but ultimately nodded his head. “So… should I go with All Might’s mentor?”

            “Do you want to.”

            “… I think I do.”

            “Then you can.”

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            “For the last time, Hizashi, there’s no such thing as ghosts!”

            “You don’t know that, Shouta!”

            Aizawa sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do know that. Every sane person knows that.”

            “Excuse you, I’m perfectly sane,” Hizashi pouts like the overgrown child he is. “I just don’t know how comfortable letting our babies sleep where somebody died.”

            Aizawa sighs again, but it’s mostly for show. Just like how he knows Hizashi’s complaints are mostly for show. In truth, he’s warmed from his core to his skin, because he never in a thousand years thought he’d ever be doing this – house shopping with his partner and the mother of his kid. He never thought he’d ever have kids, let alone enough to warrant house searching for a large home in the first place.

            “There’s a lot of storage space,” Inko calls from somewhere deeper in the house. “And the basement is very tidy. It doesn’t look like a basement at all, what with the carpeting and accent wall.” She comes up the stairs and flicks the light for the stairwell on and off a few times. “The lighting throughout the house is fairly good, too.”

            “Please don’t flicker lights in the ghost house,” Hizashi pleads, though his eyes are shining.

            “Are you going to be like this when we bring the kids,” Aizawa asks.

            “Yeah,” Hizashi grins. “Probably.”

            Aizawa peeks his head into one of the smaller bedrooms. Walk in closet, office nook, window seat, and dark purple walls. Perfect for Hitoshi. A lock on the door, even. Aizawa pauses for a moment, wondering if locked bedroom doors would be a hazard in case of a fire, but then he decides to let it be. Hitoshi would probably appreciate his door having a lock.

            “Ooh,” Hizashi whistles. Aizawa peeks his head around the corner to where Hizashi is standing in the doorway of another room. “I like the master bedroom,” he says brightly. “The walls are gold!”

            “We’re painting it,” Aizawa informs him.

            “Awwww.”

            The realtor clears her throat. “Does this mean you’re interested?” She asks, hopefully. Aizawa looks at her, consideringly.

            “How much is the asking price?”

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            Being back at school post Mrs. Uwabami’s arrival was much the same as before, but with a strange difference in the air. For one, it seemed like no matter what, all of 1-A silently agreed to travel in groups, adhering apropos nothing and nobody to the buddy system. It wasn’t even something they was discussed. Everyone just started doing it one day. As Cementoss was also quietly replaced by a pro from Kanto, suddenly it seemed like the school was just that much less safe. Teachers were kept at an arm’s length, everyone, from Lunch Rush to Snipe to Recovery Girl. On the rare occasions when a teacher had to be addressed before or after class, it was always in the presence of two or more classmates. It seemed like the only exceptions were Mic and Aizawa, much to the concern of the rest of the staff.

            Nevertheless, Shouto enjoyed school about as much as he always did. Especially since the afterschool PE class was made better with the introduction of sparring, and the new feeling of relief that came with not having to contact his father before and after for permission. In fact, emboldened by the support of Aizawa, he’d blocked Endeavor’s number. At night, after practice, he went home with them to their cozy little house and fell asleep next to the best friends he’d never thought he’d get to have. And their cat.

            But, with dread in Shouto’s stomach, he steps over the threshold of the Aizawa-Yamada residence for what might be the last time. Because there are boxes everywhere and a cat carrier waiting empty at the door. “Did you pack the dishes?” Aizawa is asking from the living room where he’s folding bath towels into a large box, using them as padding between layers of breakable items.

            “Almost done!” Hizashi calls from the kitchen. There’s some clattering of porcelain on porcelain, the scratch of spoons and forks on a hard surface. “Just finishing!”

            They’re moving – Shouto isn’t sure to where or why now. Why at all. He loves this house and the many hours of peace it represents. “Tod- Shouto.” Shouto looks up at Aizawa. Shouto is sitting on the floor in a mess of game consoles and brightly colored cords. “Shouto, would you wrap all that up in that box to your left?”

            Shouto nods, but inwardly he’s cringing. He doesn’t want to help them collapse his safe house around his ears. He doesn’t want them to move and leave him behind. Are they leaving the city? Is this because Aizawa was fighting with Nedzu? Are they leaving UA? Will Midoriya and Bakugo go with them? Would Hitoshi?

            Is he being left behind again?

            Shouto’s long fringe covers the tears in his eyes as he slowly wraps the cords into loose bundles and tucks them into the box, laying the boxy consoles on top of it. He moves as languidly as possible as he slides disk and cartridge boxes into place.

            He wonders to himself if he’ll be allowed to visit.

His eyes don’t follow Aizawa out of the room as the man leaves with a mumble about sorting the last bit of laundry left in the dryer. Katsuki brushes past him, carrying a box with toys and pillows visibly leaking out of the open top. As they pass each other, Aizawa runs a hand down Bakugo’s back. Bakugo doesn’t react beyond scrunching his nose a bit, much like how Explodocat does when you scratch his head.

“Where are you going to sleep tonight?” Shouto asks abruptly. It’s already early evening. They started packing up a few days ago, little by little. They only finished up today after school was out.

“Weren’t you listening, Halfy?” Bakugo growls, but he’s hiding amusement behind his scowl, and despite everything Shouto is proud that he’s able to see it. “We’re dumping all this at the new place and crashing in a hotel for the night. ‘Cept Deku. He’s going home.”

An hour later, and they’re loading up the car with the last of the boxes, checking the trailer hooked up behind it, and Aizawa is locking the door for the last time. As the lock clicks into place, Aizawa releases a deep sigh. “And that’s that,” he says with finality. Shouto can’t hide his wince, but, luckily, no one is looking at him. Aizawa turns to walk to the car, and Shouto realizes it’s probably time for him to go… home?

Shouto takes one last, lingering look at the house, and then starts to walk down the driveway.

“IcyHot, where the fuck are you going?”

Shouto stops in his tracks and looks at Bakugo, feeling trace amounts of anger rising up, though he isn’t sure why. “You’re leaving,” Shouto says flatly in lieu of answering.

“Yes,” Bakugo storms over to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the car. Hitoshi is already in the car, and Izuku is already at the new house with his mother and the rest of their possessions, brought over in a rented truck. “We are fucking leaving, so get your fucking ass in the fucking car so we can fucking go, you fucking buttwipe.”

“Kacchan,” Aizawa narrows his eyes at him from the driver’s seat. “Don’t call your- Don’t call Shouto a buttwipe.”

“But he’s being a buttwipe.”

“Just get in the damn car.”

            The anger fades away as something lighter settles in Shouto’s stomach. He slides into the middle seat, thigh pressed up warmly against Hitoshi’s. Explodocat’s carrier is snug between Hitoshi’s feet, and the feline is spitting and hissing at anyone who will listen. Shouto leans over to stick his fingers between the metal bars of the door. Explodocat nips at his fingertips.

            “Baby’s angry,” Hitoshi says with a pinched smile. Shouto doesn’t know why Hitoshi looks upset. He heard Mrs. Midoriya saying earlier that Hitoshi would get his own bedroom in the new apartment. Bakugo slams the door shut behind him, elbow jutting uncomfortably into Shouto’s side as he squishes in. It’s a little cramped because of the duffle bags squashed in beside them. Shouto doesn’t mind. He’s not looking forward to when the drive is over and rides like it never happen again.

            The drive is relatively short, all things considered. Shouto is relieved. Perhaps this means they aren’t leaving UA after all. His fears are put firmly to rest by Hizashi saying happily, “It’s only twenty-minute walk to school from here,” he says. “So, when you boys want to leave on your own, you won’t have to go too far by yourselves.”

            Bakugo scoffs and yanks his door open.

            True to what Bakugo had told him, they only spend about half an hour unloading everything into the new living room before they load up to drive to a nearby hotel. But it’s enough for Shouto to get a decent look. There’s a large kitchen with a good amount of counterspace and a breakfast island floating between the kitchen and a cozy dining area where their dinner table is already set up, thanks to the Midoriya’s who are still there to help them unload. There is deep and soft carpet blanketing the floor of a living room that’s twice the size of the one at the old house, a new, plush sofa already set up in front of the TV. Down the hall, Shouto can see several doors that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. And in the hallway leading to the kitchen, there’s a wooden door that Hizashi tells him, “Oh! That’s where the basement is! It’s gonna be a great hang out place.”

            And then they’re loading up into the car. Shouto starts praying that the rising hope in his chest doesn’t let him down, that they’re really taking him with them to the hotel and not dropping him off with his father. But, that can’t be right. Aizawa already told him that he wouldn’t have to go back. Aizawa was the one who told him to ignore his father. Aizawa wouldn’t leave him like that. That only leaves one option, they have to be bringing him along. Right?

            Please?

            It’s a short, perhaps two-minute trek to the hotel. And soon the family is pouring out of the car, grabbing their overnight bags, and following Aizawa into the lobby as he checks in.

            The first impression that Shouto gets of the hotel room is that it’s very white. The walls are white, the floor is tiled off white, the bed coverings are white, the counters are white, the furniture is white. Hitoshi plops Explodocat’s carrier down along the front wall and lets him out. Explodocat doesn’t move from out of it, hissing at Hitoshi when he tries to lure the cat out with a clicking tongue.

            “Just leave him,” Aizawa says, sounding as exhausted as he always does. “Get ready for bed. Now.”

            There are two bedrooms in the space. One, obviously, with a larger bed in it for Hizashi and Aizawa. In the other are two queens, assumedly for the three boys to share.

            “So,” Katsuki drops his duffle in the middle of the floor. “Who’s bunking with who.”

            “Rock, paper, scissors?” Hitoshi holds out a fist. Bakugo mimics him. Confused, Shouto does the same. “Paper, scissors, shoot.” Hitoshi says as he and Bakugo shake their fists up and down.

            Hitoshi opens his hand, flat with the palm facing the floor. Bakugo has two fingers extended in a V. Shouto is still just holding a fist out. “Paper, scissors, shoot,” Hitoshi chants again. This time, Bakugo is holding out a fist as well, with Hitoshi holding a V. Shouto is still holding out his fist, not entirely sure what’s going on.

            “Meh,” Bakugo shrugs. “Me and Halfy can share.” He looks to Shouto as if expecting him to complain, but, if anything, Shouto is glad that he’s going to be sleeping beside someone. He’s gotten used to feeling the warmth of another body next to his own, and he knows he’d miss it if he’d gone without.

            As they get changed and take turns in the small connected bathroom, Hitoshi starts teasing Bakugo. “I saw your new bedroom is connected to Dadzawa’s.” Hitoshi grins. “Through the bathroom? That’s cute,” Hitoshi smirks. “Mommy and Daddy gonna come kiss you goodnight?”

            If Hitoshi was trying to get a rise out of Katsuki, it didn’t work. Katsuki only shrugs, flopping backwards onto the bed closest to the window. “I mean, probably,” he says bluntly. “They do every night. Fucking annoying bastards.”

            Every night? Shouto frowns as he brushes his teeth, listening in front the bathroom. Katsuki must mean every night that they don’t sleep over. Because while they might peak their heads in, probably to make sure the boys are actually lying down, they hardly ever come in. And when they do, it’s certainly not to pass out goodnight kisses.

            Shouto wonders why, but Hitoshi voices the thought. “Aw,” Hitoshi whines. Shouto spits and rinses his brush, before stepping back into the bedroom. Hitoshi is lying on his bed on his side, facing Bakugo. “Why don’t they love me and Halfy?” Hitoshi complains. “They never give us kisses.”

            “Don’t really do it when Deku is over either, actually,” Katsuki says idly, eyes shut. “Maybe they think I’d be embarrassed or some shit. I don’t fucking know how their minds work.”

            “Would you be?”

            “Why the fuck would I?” Katsuki looks at him. “Or maybe they think you wouldn’t appreciate it. We’re high schoolers after all.”

            Shouto perks up, maybe that’s it. Either way, Shouto suddenly really wants Aizawa to know that he wouldn’t mind getting tucked in. Or maybe he could be more subtle about it since he is, after all, a high schooler. Maybe he could just mention casually that Bakugo wanted them to say goodnight, and maybe they’d tuck him and Hitoshi in as well. Aizawa sensei is fair like that, and Hizashi is, too.

            Shouto heads for the bedroom door. Hitoshi rolls over to look at him. As good as Shouto is getting at understanding his friends expressions, he finds he can’t quite read Hitoshi’s face just then. “You gonna go say goodnight?” Hitoshi’s expression is flat, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Shouto embarrassed.

            “Yes,” he says anyway and steps out.

            He crosses the space to where the other bedroom door is cracked open. He’s about to knock when he hears Aizawa say “…Endeavor’s bullshit.”

            Shouto pauses, leaning in closer to listen.

            “But what are we going to do about it, Shouta?” he hears Hizashi ask.

            “We’re currently just gathering intel, well, sort of. Gathering momentum, more like. Talking to small time heroes who know someone who’ve gotten caught in Endeavors crossfire. There’s even more injury than we originally suspected, not to mention the death count. In addition, we’ve got All Might’s people looking into civilian families and communities whose homes and livelihoods were damaged or put at risk. And then there’s the civilian deaths.”

            “All Might?”

            “Asshole’s good for somethings, I guess. Though I’d be a lot more happy to work with him if he’d fucking leave my kids alone.”

            “I know, babe. I know.”

            There’s silence for a moment, so Shouto raises a hand to knock. But then Aizawa continues, and what he says stills Shouto’s hand once again. “I might need to have Shouto actively give a testimony if we want something to stick,” Aizawa sounds defeated. “But I don’t want to put the kid through that. But… Endeavor’s good, and his lawyers are better. He’s dodged lawsuits and accusations before. I don’t know if anything short of a verbal account from his kids will do anything.”

            Emotion rising in Shouto’s soul, he feels eager. It’s that easy? No way it’s that easy. Could it really be that easy?

            Shouto pushes open the door, it swings open violently, bouncing off of the door stop on the wall. “If I do,” Shouto asks, almost gasping. He’s choking on the hope rising in his throat. “If I do, do I get to stay with you forever?”

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            Rain Fly unleashes another wave of boiling water at the villain. It hits him in the side, and Tensei can see the skin of his face and arm turning red. But it doesn’t stop him at all. It doesn’t even slow him down.

            Stain pivots in midair, the katana in his hand missing Rain Fly’s head by a millimeter. Tensei can see strands of the other hero’s hair, shorn, drift down onto the concrete.

            Tensei grits his teeth and revs his engines, he braces his arms as he shoots forward, angling his fists and forearms towards the hero killer. Sparks fly as Stain’s blade glances off the metal braces protecting his arm, and Tensei lands a blow square on the villain’s jaw. Stain’s feet stumble backwards, but his blade doesn’t falter. It flashes, as quick as the silver tail of a fish in a river, to the side.

            Rain Fly screams. He falls to his knees, clutching at his arm. It’s bleeding profusely, but Tensei can’t stop long enough to assess the injury. Stain is on top of them, readying a killing blow to finish off the other hero. Tensei steps between them, and the forward strike meant for Rain Fly rains down on Tensei’s chest. Only the thick protective shield of his breast plate saves him, and, even then, there’s a shallow gash where the sword landed. Another blow like that, and Tensei is good as dead.

            Stain runs the still bloody blade across his lips, his tongue swirling out to lap up the blood. Tensei’s stomach lurches, even as he readies his quirk for another powerful blow.

            “Ingenium,” Rain Fly gasps. “I can’t move! I can’t move at all!”

            “It’ll be oka-“ Tensei cuts himself off, taking Stain off guard as he lunges forward. Instead of punching him, this time, he uses his legs and the momentum he’s build up to knock the villain onto his back. Faster than even he can think, body reacting on instinct alone, Tensei kicks again, this time flinging the katana out of Stain’s hand and into the darkness of the alley behind them.

            Tensei throws himself down knees first, punching the air from Stain’s guts. He pulls the quirk canceling cuffs from the belt of his suit, wrestling the Hero Killer into position. It takes everything he has. Surely, this man’s quirk is strength related? It has to be, because even with all of Tensei’s training, it takes several minutes to close the cuffs around Stain’s wrists.

            “Pathetic,” Stain spits. Rain Fly is standing now, shaking. His arm is dripping with blood from underneath where he has a hand clamped to the wound. “Pathetic, all of you false heroes with your empty words and promises.” Stain hacks a glob of spit and blood at the feet of Rain Fly. Then he twists his head to look behind him at Tensei.

            “Tell me, pretender,” he sneers. “Why do you fight? Money? Fame? Women?”

            Tensei shouldn’t talk to him, he knows this. He shouldn’t entertain this monster for even a moment. And yet, something about the serial killer prompts him to answer. “I fight so that my brother has a hero to look up to,” Tensei says. “And so that kids like my brother feel safe on the streets.”

            Stain scoffs. “So, pride, then.” He spits once more, blood dripping from his chin from where Tensei had struck him before. Tensei hopes he broke some of the bastard’s teeth. “A selfish goal.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Chapter 50: Chapter 50 - we getting somewhere

Summary:

A bit more fluff, a bit more plot, who knows what's next ;)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Aizawa might have been putting off this conversation. Partly, because it just didn’t feel urgent. Partly, because he didn’t want to put an already emotionally unstable Hitoshi into a bad mood (images of Kacchan on that fucking tower, flickers, his oldest replaced with images of Hitoshi and Shouto). Partly because… he just didn’t want to deal with the fucking Sotomura’s. However, the case worker would be visiting their new home by the end of the week, so he really was running out of time to talk to Hitoshi.

            “Hitoshi.” The kid looks up through the tangled mass of purple bangs hanging over his eyes. He’s seated on their newly positioned couch in the living room next to Shouto, the two of them watching as Kacchan and Izuku set up the TV and game consoles.

            “What.” Hitoshi answers, just as flatly.

            “Come with me.” Hitoshi raises an eyebrow, but obediently slides off of the cushions, pouring onto his feet, and standing to follow. Aizawa leads them into his and Hizashi’s bedroom, closing the door behind them.

            “Well, this isn’t ominous at all. Whoever tattled on me, they’re lying.”

            “You’re not in trouble.”

            “That’s new.”

            “Hitoshi.” The kid closed his mouth, looking a bit apologetic, though not frightened. Aizawa was glad for that. “We need to talk about your foster situation.” It was like someone had shot Hitoshi with a taser. Tension raced up the teen’s body, his shoulders and back tensing, like he was getting ready to be hit. His head lowers, face bowed towards the floor.

            “I have to go back, don’t I,” Hitoshi whispered. Aizawa couldn’t help it. He didn’t consider himself to be a soft individual, but even the most callous person – particularly one who worked with children – couldn’t have stopped themselves from stepping forward and gathering Hitoshi into his arms. Unlike with Kacchan, who melted almost against his will the instant someone he liked embraced him, or Izuku who squeezed back so tightly, it left Aizawa unsure whether or not he was in the habit of using his quirk, Hitoshi froze. It was like hugging a mannequin. At first, Aizawa was worried that he’d crossed a line, but then Hitoshi gasped and boney hands reached up to grab at his shirt, clutching the fabric so tightly that Aizawa could feel it give just a little. Hitoshi pressed his forehead into Aizawa’s collar bone, reminding him that Hitoshi was nearly grown – had gone nearly his entire childhood without an ounce of stability. “I don’t want to go back,” Hitoshi pleaded. Aizawa opened his mouth to assure him that he never would, but Hitoshi kept rambling. “I thought I could stay. ‘Roki found that paperwork. I thought I could stay. Did you get denied? Did they decide I was too troubled to give to a new parent? The Sotomura’s wouldn’t fight for me. They don’t even like me. But they get a lot of money for me. The fucking government basically has to bribe people to take me. Are they-“

            “Hitoshi,” Aizawa called his name for what felt like hundredth time. Though, this time, it was whispered into the boy’s hair. “Hitoshi, I’m not letting you go anywhere. You have a room here, for fuck’s sake. I know you’re smart, use your head.”

            The trembling and tension that had been wracking Hitoshi’s body subsided, just a bit. Hitoshi pressed even further into Aizawa’s arms, though he didn’t say anything. Aizawa took this as a sign to start talking. “We’ve contacted past fosters of the Sotomura’s, and we’ve got all the evidence we need to take you away from them – you and the other children. However, if they fight us, we might have to go public to get this done quickly-“

            “Yes,” Hitoshi interrupted him, fists tightening even further on his shirt. “I want them drug through the fucking mud. I want them ruined. I don’t want any other villainous kid to have to go-“

            “You’re not villainous, Hitoshi, and the next time you call yourself that, I’m making you eat a thai chili. Whole.” Hitoshi choked on a laugh, turning his head into Aizawa’s neck. This was the first time Aizawa can remember holding Hitoshi like this, and a pang of guilt pricks at his core. Clearly, this was something that the boy had needed for a while, if the way he was clinging was any indication. That then made him think of Shouto, and he determined that he would make sure that the other boy knew that he was available for physical affection, should it be needed or desired.

            Then Aizawa sighed, deep in his soul. His younger self would be reeling, should he know how Aizawa had turned out in his old age. “It wouldn’t bother you? Embarrass you?”

            “I don’t care,” Hitoshi said, pressing even closer still, drinking in the offered comfort like a wilting flower drinking in a delayed summer shower. Aizawa rubbed firm circles into Hitoshi’s back, feeling the tension and stress knots built up beneath the skin. “Hell, I want fucking All Might to do the public shit. I want everyone to know that what those assholes did isn’t okay.”

            That shocked Aizawa. “All Might?”

            “’S’all’s he’s good for, ain’t it?”
            Aizawa huffed, but nodded.

            “I’ll talk to him. If he wants to get back on my good side, he’ll agree.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Tenya was used to spending a lot of time alone. Afterall, he’s the youngest of a heroing family. He doesn’t resent the time that his parent’s can’t give him. He knows they’re busy. They’ve always been busy. When Tenya was younger, it was Tensei who tended to him, who made sure that he was doing okay. His parents were something like guardian angels who watched over him from afar, but Tensei was the one who held his hand when he needed it.

            Even still, the abrupt departure of his brother the day before left Tenya feeling unsettled. He dearly wanted to ask his friends for comfort, but, in comparison to all that had been happening to the class lately, feeling oddly after a strange cut-off conversation with his brother hardly seemed urgent enough to bring up. Especially with the way that everything finally started to get back to normal, with friend groups blurring together and all twenty students sharing smiles and laughter. Instead, Tenya decided to simply bask in the simple joy of being with his friends, putting his discomfort on the mental backburner.

            But then, he was back home. Tensei had yet to come back from work – not unheard of, for his brother to spend multiple days at his agency, though usually he called and let Tenya know first. Even still, it left Tenya feeling wrong footed. He wanted desperately to ask his brother’s opinion on which agency he should go to. On one hand, his first choice was, of course, going with his brother. But what stopped him was the fact that neither Aizawa Sensei nor Present Mic were offering their agencies to either Midoriya or Bakugou. Did that mean there was something wrong about interning with family?

            He considered talking it over with Aizawa Sensei himself, but after classes that day, he’d just looked so weary and tired that Tenya dared not bother him with his silly concerns.

            The front door to his house opened. “I’m home!” Tenya shot to his feet, racing through the parlor to the entryway to greet his older brother. “Big brother!” Tenya said with relief. “How was your patrol.”

            Tensei looked at Tenya for a long moment. Then, his face burst into a grin. Tenya found himself wrapped up in his brother’s arms. Again, not unusual, but less common now that Tenya was nearly as tall as his brother. “We got him,” Tensei whispered into his hair.

            “Him?” Tenya asked.

            Tensei sighed. “You’ll hear about it soon enough, no doubt. I don’t want to talk about it right now. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, the last thing I want to think about is work. Have you eaten yet?” Tenya shook his head.

            As they’re sitting down a half an hour later at the small kitchen table, rather than the larger dining room table, Tensei clears his throat. “So, buddy,” he says. “Tell me about your school.”

            Tenya perks up. He’d been waiting for this opportunity. “Big brother!” he said. “I wanted to ask your opinion on picking an internship!” Tensei blinks.

            “You’re not coming with me?” He asked, sounding a little put out. Tenya hesitated.

            “Would that be okay?” He peered up at his brother. “None of the other hero’s children are going with their family.”

            “Well,” Tensei chews thoughtfully, “that’s their decision, isn’t it? And this is your decision. We don’t know what’s going on with them, but we can focus what’s going on with you. Is there any reason you can think of why you shouldn’t work with me?”

            “Networking,” Tenya said, instantly. “It would be helpful to meet new people and start forming bonds that will help my career.” Tensei smiled at him.

            “Easy fix,” Tensei assured him. “You and I, if you come with me, can visit our sister agencies. A lot of us smaller agencies work together, you know. Anything else?”

            Tenya thought for a moment. “I can’t think of anything,” he said, honestly. Tensei smiled at him, spreading his hands.

            “Well then,” Tensei continued. “Can you think of any reasons why you should work with me?”

            “I’d be more comfortable with you,” Tenya replied. “With would be helpful for my first time on a team. In addition, we have similar fighting styles, due to the nature of our quirks. In addition, your brand of PR and heroic personality are the same as what I would like to aim for.”

            Tensei smiled fondly at him. “Well,” he sat back a bit. “There you go.”

            That night, Tenya opened up discord, feeling better than he had in a while.

Class 1A Discord Server

#KacchanProtectionSquad

PikaPikaChuuuu: and that’s why you should never leave the oven on broil

Pinky: Why on earth are you still trying?

PikaPikaChuuuu: Muffin Man’s so popular because he brings snacks!

TheMuffinMan: I’m popular because I’m awesome.

Frogger: Are you popular? I hadn’t noticed.

            There were only a few of his classmates online, but that was fine by Tenya. All the better, in fact.

ROBOCOP: Hello my friends! Does anyone mind if I share something that has been on my mind? It is a little negative, and so I understand that some of you may not want to hear it!

PikaPikaChuuuu: Hey prez. No worries. Whats up?

Pinky: Aw, r u ok?

ROBOCOP: I am concerned about my older brother.

Frogger: Did something happen?

ROBOCOP: He suddenly left in the middle of an important conversation last night and only just returned now. I feel as though he isn’t telling me something important.

TheMuffinMan: Maybe its somethin he cant tell u?

ROBOCOP: A possibility, but I do not think that is it. He said I will hear about it later, which implies that it is severe enough to make the news.
Frogger: That doesn’t necessarily mean its something he can share right now though, does it?

Pinky: or maybe its something he just wants to not focus on

Pinky: like how I want to talk about anything BUT school when I get home

Pinky: Its not that anything bad happened, I just want to be at home when im at home, not focusing on school

            Tenya thinks about that for a moment.

ROBOCOP: You do not think my brother is mad at me?

PikaPikaChuuuu: Idk bro do u think ur bro mad at u?

ROBOCOP: I suppose not.

ROBOCOP: Thank you for talking with me.

PikaPikaChuuuu: np prez.

Pinky: that’s what friends are for!

TheMuffinMan: anything else on your mind?

ROBOCOP: No. however, now that I have spoken with you about it, it feels like such a small thing to have been worried over.

TheMuffinMan: It wasn’t small if it was bothering you

PikaPikaChuuuu: Nah bro u good

Pinky: Aw, prez.

Pinky: It doesn’t matter how big or small

Pinky: if it matters to you it matters to us!

            Tenya smiles to himself, grateful that he has friends. He lay on his bed, on his back, thoughtfully staring up at the ceiling. In truth, Tenya thought to himself. His classmates at UA may, in fact, be the first friends that Tenya had ever made.

            And he couldn’t ask for better ones.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

A polite pounding on his front door is what alerts Kiro Sotomura that morning that anything is amiss. Truth be told, he’d been having a good couple of days, ever since the blasted school festival at UA in fact. Except for his annoying coworkers who kept complimenting him on his “son’s” performance (as though he’d ever claim that weasel as his own), it had been blessedly quiet. Not the stilted quiet that came with having a delinquent villain lurking about the shadows of his home, but rather the calm that came after a storm.

            The pounding echoed again, decidedly less polite this time.

            “All right, all right,” Kiro groused. “Hold your horses, then!”

            He tore open the door to see a group of professional looking men and women standing stiffly on his front lawn. Beyond them, he could see several parked vehicles, including two police cars that belonged to the four officers that stood behind the professional looking folks.

            A high-pitched voice cleared itself. Kiro Sotomura looked downwards. There, on his doorstep, was a white, humanoid mouse… bear… hamster… thing. “Hello!” it said, cheerily. “I am principal Nedzu of UA! I’m here on behalf of—”

            “Did that rat get into some kind of trouble?” Kiro grunted. “I expected as much. Saw on the TV that you were smacking down on responsible parties for that whole shitshow. I’m just surprised you didn’t come sooner. Took him this long to confess, huh?”

            “Oh, you misunderstand me, good sir.” The creature, Nedzu, seemed to be smiling, but with the odd face shape, Kiro couldn’t be sure.

            “Honey?” Kiro’s wife, Chidori, made herself known. Fuck. He should have known she couldn’t keep her nose out of things. He sighed.

            “Go back to the kitchen,” he told her. “It’s nothing. Just some folks from the damned brat’s school.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Kiro noticed that several of the suit-wearing people, as well as three of the officers, appeared to be sporting more hostile expressions than they had been previously. Shit. What did that little weasel do? “Look,” Kiro said, exasperated. “I don’t know what he did, but go ahead and expel him. Unless you’re looking to take him off our hands-“ Kiro started to say, somewhat hopefully, though he would miss the paycheck. Government knew no one would risk having the brat around without good incentive.

            “Once again,” the mouse thing was still smiling… sort of. “You misunderstand. It’s not what our dear Shinsou did, but rather you, Mr. Sotomura.”

            “Me?”

            The rat thing nods at someone behind him, and suddenly a large, muscular woman is shouldering past him into the house. “Hey!” he shouts at her, though she doesn’t heed him, only heading up the stairs. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing, here!?”

            “Oh,” Nedzu giggles. “She’s informing your wards to pack their bags. This time of day, they should all be home, correct?”

            “The fuck? Where do you get off tellin’ my kids what to do?!”

            Several more suits shuffle in, despite Kiro’s best efforts at stopping them. Two or three are taking pictures of random objects or angles. Now that they’ve spread out a bit, Kiro notices that a handful look like heroes, though none he recognizes. The rat snaps its fingers. A file is handed from one of the suits to the rat. The rat then hands it to Kiro, who doesn’t take it.

            “You see,” it says. “Here we have enough evidence of negligence and abuse to take away your fostering license. In fact, I dare say we have enough evidence to relieve you of custody of your daughter as well.”

            It’s as though someone turned on a white noise machine inside Kiro’s head. “How fucking dare you!” he snarls. “We do our best, and I don’t know what lies that fucking villain has been telling you-“

            “I should warn you, Mr. Sotomura, that these wonderful officers are recording on their body cams.”

            “I’m not doing shit!” Kiro howls. “Just see here-“ That’s when he sees Sena, their case worker, standing by the side of one of the officers. She looks as though she’d been crying very recently. “Sena? The hell did you tell these people?”

            She doesn’t answer him aside from a few sniffles. Women. Useless.

            Within the next half hour, all of the children, including his own damn daughter, are removed from the house. His wife, the waste of space, is wailing, reaching for their daughter as she’s being ushered, crying, into a nondescript car by one of the maybe-heroes. “You can’t take her!” he demands, behind held back by the large woman who first stormed the house. “She’s our real kid!”

            “And your house is unfit for humans or animals to inhabit,” the rat sniffs at him. “You’re lucky you’re being allowed a chance to keep custody of your biological child,” Nedzu informs them blandly. “Though there will be a wellness check before the month is through, just to ensure that this lesson regarding what sort of hygienic environment children need has sunk in. Perhaps she shall be returned to you then, though I wouldn’t count on it.”

            “I’ll go to court!” Kiro frees an arm with great effort, though he’s only able to go so far as to shake a fist at the little demon that appeared out of nowhere to ruin his life. “I’ll make you pay!”
            “Please,” it looked almost amused. “Go ahead and try. It would definitely make it cheaper on our end. I assure you, Mr. Sotomura, that you will be seeing me in court. Sooner or later.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Aizawa is putting the finishing touches on Kaminari’s most recent masterpiece of personal essay. The assignment had been to write about their goal as a hero, and yet somehow, the student had managed to include nearly the entire plot of some anime episode that Aizawa didn’t recognize. It was fairly well written – as least as far as student essays go – but it wasn’t at all what is asked for, unless Kaminari was trying to say that he wanted to emulate the main character’s behavior. But, if he was, that wasn’t made clear, and even then, Aizawa didn’t know enough about either the episode nor the character to decide whether such a role model would be a good or bad thing. He’d have to check with –

            “Kacchan!” He called. There was no answer. Aizawa frowned. “Izuku?”

            “They went for a walk,” Shouto explained, peeking his head into the bedroom. It was their first day in the new house, and the bicolored boy was still stepping lightly, as though he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “And Shinsou went to the store. I think he was getting candy.”

            Aizawa was thrown back to the night before, when he’d listened with proud dismay at how desperately Shouto wanted to help put his father behind bars. Proud, because the young teen was being very brave in the face of possible public backlash should they actually have to go to court. Dismay, because it seemed like Shouto was only doing it for the possibility of living with him and Hizashi, and not because he, himself, desired it. Aizawa only hoped the boy didn’t regret his decisions in a few years. He needed to talk to Nedzu, let him know that plan B was a-go should plan A fail.

            “You didn’t join them?” Aizawa raises an eyebrow. Shouto steps in a little further, revealing that he’s holding the sleeping form of Explodocat. “Ah.” Aizawa looks down at his paper. “Have you heard of… Yuri on Ice?”

            To his surprise, or maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, Shouto’s eyes light up. “I love that show.” There was more passion in that phrase than Aizawa usually heard from Shouto. He sits back a bit, then beckons the teen to sit beside him. He does, do the disgruntlement of Explodo who hisses and jumps away with just the slightest suggestion of claws.

            “Tell me about it.”

            The next fifteen minutes are spent with Aizawa carefully listening to all the reasons Shouto enjoyed an anime about ice skating of all things. At the end of the boy’s rant, Aizawa still didn’t entirely understand how it related to Kaminari wanting to be a hero that “fights like Katsudon” but it did make him realize that he should sit down with Shouto more often, and talk about happier topics than fucking Endeavor.

            “And have you tried ice skating?”

            A small smile appears on Shouto’s face. “One day, when my father left for patrol, I snuck into the training hall and iced the whole floor.” Aizawa chuckled at the mental image. “It didn’t go well at first, but after a few days, I got the hang of the balance. Now, I can skate fairly well. I move more quickly like that than if I run.”

            Aizawa nods in understanding. “I seem to recall you doing something like that during the Sports Festival.” The small smile grows just a little in pride.

            “Bakugou once told me that anything can make you a better hero if you try hard enough.”

            Aizawa shook his head, fondly. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” Unfortunately, their conversation is interrupted by his cell ringing. Aizawa stifles a groan. That ringtone belongs to the principal. “Alright, kiddo,” Aizawa pats Shouto on the back. “I need to take this. Go on.”

            Shouto rises without complaint and leaves the room. Once the door clicks shut behind him, Aizawa answers the call. “Yes?”

            “Shouta! I have some good news for you!

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Allowance was a novel concept to Hitoshi. Despite the fact that the childcare checks from the government more than paid for his living expenses, none of that was ever shared with him. If he wanted pocket change, he’d be forced to illegally – since he wasn’t yet old enough to do it legally – get odd jobs from privately owned stores or do chores for neighbors. Even then, sometime his ‘caretakers’ thought ahead and spread malicious rumors in the guise of warning people about his quirk. That made it very much more difficult in finding work. So, he very rarely had any money of his own.

            And yet… freaking Hizashi wasn’t even his guardian (yet, an obnoxious, hopeful voice whispered in his head) and he’d suddenly, out of nowhere, handed twenty bucks to each of them and told them that if they were “good” (whatever THAT meant) they could expect the same every Friday.

            “What happens if we’re bad?” Todoroki had asked with a concerningly blank face. Hizashi had visibly blanched and backpedaled.

            “N-nothing, baby!” Todoroki, far from looking threatened, seemed almost pleased by Hizashi’s reaction. “Nothing at all!”

            Hitoshi wasn’t entirely certain why they were starting the whole allowance thing now, particularly when Hitoshi knew for a fact that Kacchan usually just swiped however much money he wanted for something straight from their wallets. Or maybe it’s because of that, and now that the four of them are (probably) going to live with them for the foreseeable future (forever, hopefully) they didn’t want four teenagers randomly stealing cash from them whenever they felt like it.

            As he walked towards the mall, he fingered the folded up bill in his pocket. He should probably invest in a wallet. He’d been putting is UA ID in his school folder, but now that seemed like a foolish place to keep it. Maybe the first thing he could buy was a nice wallet?

            He considered, briefly, about saving up for something expensive. But, the siren’s call of shopping for himself for the first time in forever was too tempting to pass up. It’s not like he doubted Hizashi’s word, that he doubted that this could be a source of money that he could count on. It’s just, he’d never been able to just go out and buy something for himself. He’d always had to rely on his friends' goodwill to buy him stuff, to stumble his way through Christmases and birthdays without buying presents, making crappy ones, or – when he was really desperate – stealing.

            Hitoshi briefly stops in front of the mall. Customers are shuffling in and out, many holding bags full of purchases. He touches the folded up bill again, scarcely daring to believe that this is something he can do. With a deep breath, he heads in, making a bee line for the escalators that will lead to the hero merch store.

            It’s as he’s passing the retro hero aisle that he spots him. “Kirishima?” Hitoshi finds himself saying out loud in surprise. The redhead’s face snaps up, catches sight of him, and beams.

            “Bro!” he smiles. “Fancy seeing you here, my guy. Uh,” Kirishima’s eyes nervously glance around them. “Hey, uh, I don’t suppose… uh, I mean… is…”

            “No, Kacchan isn’t here,” Hitoshi says, amused. “Want me to tell your boyfriend you said ‘hi’?” Kirishima’s face flushes as bright red as his hair.

            “B-bro!” Kirishima covers his ears like it’ll stop him from hearing Hitoshi’s lies. “He’s not—we’re not—I mean-!” Hitoshi laughs. Kirishima frowns at him. “Yeah, well. How’s that fucking chicken, huh?” Hitoshi stops laughing. Raises an eyebrow.

            “Tokoyami is fine,” he says, slowly. “Why?”

            Kirishima grins. “Just wondering when you’re gonna ask out your boyfriend,” he says, tauntingly. Hitoshi scoffs, rolls his eyes, and doesn’t rise to the bait.

            “Unlike you, I’m not ashamed of my crush.” Hitoshi says. “For your information, I’m the one who isn’t ready for a relationship. My life’s too complicated right now. If I’m still interested after shit’s calmed down, then I’ll ask him out.”

            Kirishima’s smile fades from something mocking to something more genuine. “That’s really manly, dude.” He says, sincerely. Then he looks sheepish, “And, um. I’m not like, ashamed or whatever. Bakubro is super manly! Of course I have a crush on him. I’m sure like, half our class does.” Hitoshi nods, conceding the point. “It’s just… I’m not sure he feels the same way? Afterall, he… I dunno man. I don’t know him well enough, but I’m not sure he really processes relationships the same way most people do. Is that mean to say? I don’t mean it to be. I just really don’t want to put pressure on him if he doesn’t feel the same way, because I really am totally cool with just being friends!”
            “It’s just that you’d like to be something more?” Hitoshi prompts. Kirishima nods, forlornly. “And nah, I don’t think you’re being mean. Dadzawa thinks he’s on the spectrum, though last I heard he hadn’t been tested, though I’m pretty sure it’s on the to-do list.” Hitoshi pauses. “Don’t spread that. I don’t know why I’m telling you. I probably shouldn’t have.”

            “I mean,” Kirishima shrugs. “I kinda guessed for myself? ‘Roki too, unless I’m totally misreading things. I don’t really care though… he’s manly either way.”

            Hitoshi laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I dunno. Again, if he is, he’s probably never been tested. Or if he has been tested, his fuckwad of a dad probably won’t tell. Makes me wonder though.” Hitoshi pauses as something occurs to him. “Wait, what do you mean you don’t know if he feels the same way. You guys literally went on a date.”

            “T-that!” Kirishima goes red, again. “I’m not sure that counted as a date-date. Maybe it was just two bros hanging out!”

            “Kacchan didn’t deny it when I called it a date to his face.”

            “He didn’t?” Kirishima looked very hopeful. “Do you think he likes me? You should know, right? He’s like your best friend slash almost brother?”

            “Well-“ Hitoshi frowns at him. “Almost brother?” He narrows his eyes. “What do you know?”

            “Nothing!” Kirishima raises his hands in surrender. “Nothing at all! I heard nothing and I know nothing! I am but a simple bystander with no cats in the ring!”
            “That’s not how that saying—eh, nevermind. I like that version better.”

            Kirishima clears his throat. “Anyway, it was a cool hangout place! Even for not-dates! I’ve been wanting to go back for a while, but it’s kinda awkward to go alone,  you know?”

            “If this is you asking me on a date, I literally just said I don’t want to be in a relationship right now, and even if I was ready, you’d be like, my sixth choice.”

            “No, wah, bro— hey!” Kirishima looks both offended and amused. “But, no. I meant a class trip! We could all go together!”
            Hitoshi finally allows himself a laugh. “That’s cool. Papa said he’d been wanting to go, too, remember? Maybe he can chaperone? Or would that be lame?”

            “No way, bro!” Kirishima looks even more excited now. “That would be so cool! What do you think? Tomorrow after school?”

            “Would have to check with everyone else, but I’m game.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Shouto looks around his new room. It looks nothing like his old one, which was very much done in traditional Japanese style. This one has a plush mattress on a bedframe. The comforter looks thick and soft, with colorful gradient red fading to blue, with a splash of purple in the middle. The carpet is thick enough for bare feet to sink into. His curtains drape down to the floor and don’t let any errant light in, so that the entire room is cast in comforting darkness when the lights are out. There is a large closet for his admittedly small collection of clothes – he didn’t bring anything when he left his father’s house, so he’d been wearing Bakugou and Midoriya’s clothing, mostly. Yet, when he’d opened the closet for the first time, there were already clothes, new clothes, hanging up inside. He wondered if the last residents had left in a hurry, leaving things behind, and if it was okay for him to wear them. It looked like most, if not everything, would fit him.

            There was a desk for his schoolwork that already had writing utensils and notebooks inside and on top, as well as a laptop he didn’t recognize and a charger to go with it. There was a giant bean bag in the corner next to a nearly empty bookshelf which held a statue of a snowflake and not much else. There was even a bedside table with a lamp on top that was shaped like a teddy bear.

            Shouto really liked the lamp. But what he liked most was that on top of the bed was a soft, plush cat doll. The cat doll was mostly yellow with brown and black spots all over it, including a brown splotch over one eye. Shouto sat down on his bed. His bed. He’d never had a bed before, not like this.

            He sits there for a while, enjoying the quiet, but, then, the quiet gets to be too much. He slowly gets back to his feet, and stands there for several minutes. He listens very intently. He can hear the other boys getting ready in their rooms. Midoriya had gone home for the night, so it was just Aizawa, Yamada, Bakugou, Shinsou, and him. And Explodocat.

            He thinks back to his conversation with Shinsou and Bakugou the night before. He bites his lip, but then gathers his courage and goes to seek out Aizawa. He doesn’t know why he mentally chose Aizawa, rather than Yamada. In his head, he knows that Yamada would without a doubt be willing to tell him goodnight. But, something treacherous in his heart whispers that Yamada would tuck anyone in. Aizawa is different. Scarier but somehow also safer. Even if he gets mad, Shouto can trust that he won’t hit him. Maybe he’ll just scowl. Maybe he’ll just say no.

            The thought of irritating Aizawa to the point of anger freezes Shouto in place just as he gets to the livingroom, where Aizawa is sitting on the couch with Yamada, Explodocat at their feet, watching TV. Aizawa looks up. It looks like Yamada has fallen asleep, leaning with his head back against the cushions.

            “You okay, kid?” Aizawa asks him.

            “Yes.” Shouto tells him.

            They stare at each other for a few moments.

            “Do you need something?” Aizawa asks him, still not looking particularly irritated.

            “No.” Shouto tells him.

            A few more moments pass by.

            “Do you want something?”

            “…yes.”

            Aizawa looks at Shouto for several seconds, and Shouto gets the odd feeling that Aizawa is looking inside him. Though, Shouto finds that he doesn’t entirely mind. In fact, it’s somewhat of a relief to think that his teacher would be able to understand what it is that Shouto is asking for without him actually having to, you know, ask for it.

            Shouto’s heart leaps into his throat when Aizawa slowly gets to his feet, not taking his eyes off of Shouto. He takes a step towards Shouto, moving around the coffee table. Shouto doesn’t move, but his eyes fall away from Aizawa’s face and train themselves at the floor, watching until Aizawa’s socked feet come into view. A warm hand is placed on Shouto’s back, and the weight of it is a grounding one, a pressure that Shouto thinks he might be able to feel inside of himself, pushing into his pounding heart.

            “C’mon, Shouto,” Aizawa says, his voice gentle, like it usually only ever is with Bakugou. Shouto has often fantasized about someone, anyone, using such a tone with him, ever since he first heard Aizawa use it with Bakugou, but never in a thousand years did he think the very same man would direct such tenderness towards him.

            Shouto allows his teacher (guardian? Parent? Is Aizawa his parent now? Is it an emotional distinction or a legal one? Foster parent? Where is the line?) to guide him towards his room. Shouto pauses near the door, but Aizawa steps further into the room and rolls down the bed coverings. The top layer, the fluffy comforter, flops aside easily, but Aizawa grunts a little with a grey one underneath.

            “I don’t know if you’ve seen this yet,” Aizawa said. “But this is called a weighted blanket. Kacchan likes them, so I thought you might too. If you don’t, just toss it to the side. Try it out.” Aizawa extends a hand towards Shouto. Slowly, scarcely daring to believe this is happening, feeling awkward and embarrassed and hopeful and so very happy, Shouto takes it. Aizawa draws him closer and shuffles him onto the mattress. Shouto slides his feet beneath the sheets and lays back into the mountain of pillows. Aizawa silently pulls the blankets over him. Suddenly, Shouto understands what Aizawa meant about the ‘weighted’ blanket. It’s strange at first, but in truth the added pressure is heavenly. It cocoons him, surrounds him, presses him into the cloud-like mattress. It feels like what comforting darkness looks like. It feels like what Aizawa’s soup tastes like. It feels like what Explodocat’s pur sounds like. The softness of the top layer makes it even better as it brushes against his face where Aizawa has pulled it all the way up to his chin.

            With a deep breath, Aizawa seats himself on the edge of the bed, a calloused hand sliding into Shouto’s hair, stroking. His hand starts at Shouto’s forehead and combs down, curling around his ear, thumb rubbing up and down, then it starts all over again. Shouto can feel himself going loose limbed, already half asleep and in a daze.

            “All good?” Aizawa asks, voice nearly in a whisper. Shouto doesn’t want to speak. Something about the moment feels too fragile for words, and he’s afraid that it might pop like a bubble. And, besides, he doesn’t know what he would say anyway. Words sit oddly in his mouth, and he doesn’t want to talk. His eyes flit towards Aizawa beneath slitted lids and meet his gaze. Aizawa doesn’t seem to mind his silence, he only hums a bit and continues to stroke Shouto’s head.

            After a few minutes, Shouto’s eyes have fully fallen shut. He feels more than sees Aizawa place the stuffed cat beneath the blankets near his head. It’s a comfortable weight on his pillow, almost like the real deal. Then Aizawa’s warm weight on the bed is gone, and Shouto almost opens his eyes to watch him go.

            But, then, there’s a scruffy sensation on his forehead, followed by the firm press of lips and something wet. Aizawa’s hand pats his head one last time, and then Shouto hears him leave the room, shutting the door behind him. Now that he’s gone, Shouto risks a glimpse into the darkness of his room. He notices, then, that Aizawa didn’t close the door all the way, instead, leaving a slim crack that leaks in light from the living room.

            Shouto exhales so deeply that he feels himself sink even further into the embrace of his bed. There’s a small moment of jealousy that Bakugou has had that available to him his entire life, but it soon fades to pure ecstasy that Shouto will have it for the rest of his.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouta leaves his kid’s room, not being able to bring himself to close the door all the way, and slowly walks back into the living room to where Hizashi is blinking himself awake. Hizashi is stretching, yawning so wide that his jaw could crack, and then looks up at Shouta.

            “Hey, babe, ready to hit the-, Shouta?” Hizashi stands in alarm. “Why are you crying?”

            Shouta touches his face. Oh. He is crying. That’s inconvenient. Hizashi’s arms come around him, and Shouta allows himself to fold around his best friend. “C’mon, sweetheart, talk to me?”

            “That…” Shouta swallows around a voice crack. “That…” baby, his mind supplies. “That kid has never been tucked in in his life… has he?”

            “Who… Shouto?” Hizashi asks. After a moment, he answers, voice much softer. “No… I’d imagine not.”

            Shouta sighs. “The next time I see that bastard, it’s on sight.” But his insides are such a mess, he can’t even muster up the proper amount of loathing. He’s just… sad… along with a strange feeling that’s a mix between indigestion and being in love. Shouta clears his throat and steps away. “I’m going to check on the other boys,” he says.

            “I’ll come with you,” Hizashi smiles. “Is… is Shouto already asleep, or can I say goodnight?”

            “He looked pretty out of it,” Aizawa told him. “I wouldn’t.”

            Hizashi clicks his tongue in disappointment, but concedes the point, following Shouta to Hitoshi’s room. Shouta knocks.

            “What?” Comes the voice from inside.

            “Are you ready for bed?”

            “Why?” Hitoshi snorts, still from the other side of the closed door. “Come to kiss me goodnight?”

            The two of them look at each other. Hizashi clears his throat. “Do you want us to?” he asks, carefully, “Lil’ listener?”

            There’s no answer for a long moment, but then the door creaks open, revealing Hitoshi wearing the new PJs that Shouta had bought and left in his drawers for him to discover. His arms are cross and his cheeks are red. He’s looking at anywhere but their faces.

            “You don’t need to,” he mumbles so low that Aizawa can barely hear him.

            “I really want to though,” Hizashi says, hopefully. Hitoshi peeks up at him through his hair.

            “I’m fifteen,” he says.

            “Wow, really?” Hizashi says in surprise. “I’m thirty-two!” This makes Hitoshi crack a grin and step away from the door to that they can come in. Before the moment can get awkward, Shouta shuffles past and yanks down the blankets, making enough space for Hitoshi to crawl into. Hitoshi hesitates for a moment, but then, cheeks still red, he crawls up and settles under the sheets. After he gets his legs in, his eyes widen.

            “A weighted blanket?” he says in delight. “I’ve always wanted one of these but I could never…” he trails off, but he didn’t need to finish the thought out loud of Aizawa to feel a flash of anger towards all of his previous so-called ‘caretakers.’ Aizawa swallows down another burst of emotion as he realizes, belatedly, that here is another little boy who has probably never been tucked in.

            “They sometimes help with insomnia,” Aizawa offers once he’s sure his voice won’t break. “I know it helps me.”

            Hitoshi isn’t meeting their eyes as he leans back, but he’s curled on his side facing them. Aizawa gently tugs the blankets up and snuggly situates them around his body. Then, with less hesitation then he had with Shouto – just because it’s easier the second time – he presses an almost apologetic kiss into the boy’s hairline, lingering just long enough so that Hitoshi knows that this is no chore, that Aizawa is there by choice. As he pulls back, he sees that Hitoshi’s eyes are screwed shut, and there are tell-tale traces of moisture at the corners. Aizawa’s own eyes burn, just a bit, as he strokes Hitoshi’s too-gaunt cheek, then steps back for Hizashi to say his own goodnight.

            Like with Shouto, he leaves the door just a crack open.

            When they get to Kacchan’s room, the brat is sitting crosslegged on the bed, glaring at the door. “Fucking finally,” he spits without venom.

            “Aw, kitty, were you waiting?” Hizashi grins, bouncing over and scooping Kacchan up into an almost desperate hug. Saying goodnight to Hitoshi must have affected Hizashi, too, Aizawa realizes. Hizashi kisses Kacchan on both cheeks, making the teen hiss and wriggle away. Explodocat hisses as well from where their movement jostles him from where he’s curled up on one of Kacchan’s pillows.

            Hizashi bundles Kacchan beneath the blankets and then moves to make room for Aizawa. “How’s the new house, brat?”

            “Fine, I guess,” Kacchan settles in more comfortably, already closing his eyes. “I like that I have my own room, again.” Aizawa snorts.

            “Don’t lie, you loved having those sleepovers.”

            “Don’t love waking up with a knee in my bladder.”

            “Fair.” Aizawa doesn’t give Kacchan a goodnight kiss so much as briefly lay down next to him and hold him tightly, thanking whoever or whatever is listening that he found, at least, this child sooner than the others. “I love you. Okay?”

            “What’s brought this on?”

            “Nothing, you asshole.”

            “Love you too, fucker.”

 

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

To no one’s surprise, Present Mic was more than happy to go with his “favorite troop of listeners” to the owl café. He brought along his suitcase of work to chip away at and settled in at a corner booth that gave him a good surveying place of the rest of the café. Once there, they all separated into their usual groups, though Hitoshi and Tokoyami splintered off right away to go talk about who-knows-what by themselves, and Kirishima and Ochako found themselves at a table with Katsuki, Izuku, and Shouto.

            “…which is why female heroes need more promotion!” Ochako was finishing up an impassioned rant. Izuku was nodding along with every word, though Shouto looked a little confused.

            “Why…” he looked lost. “Why…don’t… they already?” He asked, slowly, as though he were mentally processing the words even as they came out. “Why is it in question at all?” He looks genuinely baffled.

            “Exactly!” Ochako cries, slapping him on the back. Shouto doesn’t move, as still as an ice statue, though he still looks confused.

            “There’s a history of male heroes dominating the industry that dates back to the pre-quirk era. Before then, even. I mean, it would be something that you should probably ask a real pro about, like Uwabami sensei, I’m sure she would have a lot to say. But as far as I understand it, the specific bias in the hero industry specifically dates back to fictional heroes, which is a strange thing to think about, but one can’t discount the effect that popular media has on public biases. But even today you can see the effect that the old comic books of five hundred years ago has on today. For example, in the costumes that women heroes wear – they tend to be much less protection oriented and more form fitting than male counterparts, and while that can also be explained by the entertainment and fan-service nature aspects of modern heroism, it can also be blamed on proto-hero types like Wonder Woman and Power Girl. In addition-“ Izuku was off on a rant that started out strong but soon spiraled into muttered ramblings. Ochako and Shouto still look enthralled, but Kirishima’s eyes start to glaze over despite his obvious interest in the subject.

            “Wait… what’s a proto hero?” he whispers.

            “…Do you actually want me to answer? Because I will, but it’ll take about ten minutes.” Bakugou offers, amused. Kirishima actually considers this offer for a few second, before shaking his head.

            “It’d probably still be too complicated for me to understand,” Kirishima says, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I’m kinda dumb.”

            Katsuki frowns at him. “No. You’re not.”
            “I mean, I’m kinda at the bottom of the class.”

            “No, Kaminari is. And, Eijiro,” Kirishima’s eyes snap up to Katsuki’s face at the use of his given name, but Katsuki continues like the usage was nothing to him. “You’re in the lower tier in the top class of the best school in the country.” He raises an eyebrow. “UA literally has a 0.01 acceptance rate. Out of the hundreds of applicants to the hero course… forty got chosen, and you were one of them. It’s not just because of your quirk, you also had to pass one of the hardest academic tests that Japan has to offer. You’re smart, Eijiro. Fucking own it.”

            Kirishima can say nothing. He just stares into Bakugou’s eyes, searching for something, anything to say. Maybe something that will be so dumb that Katsuki will have to take back what he just said and admit that Kirishima is a dumbass. Maybe confess his undying affection. Maybe drop to his knees and propose on the spot, never mind the fact that his brothers and Papa are right there in the room, in addition to literally all their friends.

            “Uh,” is all that comes out.

            Bakugou smirks at him, though there’s something soft about it around the edges. “Hey,” he says, quietly, nudging him in the side with his elbow. “Let’s go order something, yeah?”

            “Okay,” says Kirishima, still in a daze. Bakugou is still smiling at him with that peculiar look in his eyes, something that seems almost fond, as he grabs Kirishima by the arm and hauls him up, all but dragging him towards the counter to order. Kirishima has just enough presence of mind to ask, “Hey, what was the thing you ordered for me last time?”
            Katsuki pretends to think about it for a few seconds. “Um. I dunno. The butterfly bullshit.”

            After they order and sit down, Izuku and Ochako’s conversation seems to have moved on from women’s rights to small animals, as they debate whether hamsters or guineapigs are cuter.

            “Okay, but guineapigs are bigger, so there is more to cuddle!”

            “But hamsters are softer and less annoying!”

            “They are not annoying!”

            “They’re so loud!”

            “That’s part of why they’re cute!”
            “You morons going to fucking order, or are you just going to keep mouthing off at each other?” Twin glares are shot in Katsuki’s direction, which he answers with one of his own, before they flounce off in direction of the counter, still arguing. Shouto is sitting there, staring into empty space with blank eyes. Katsuki flicks him on the nose, then slams a drink in front of him.

            “There you fucking go, IcyHot,” he says. “Happy Birthday.”

            “It’s not my birthday?” He says, confused.

            “Well, then,” Katsuki moves to take the drink back. Shouto blocks him and takes a deep drink. Then he looks at Katsuki in surprise.

            “I like this!” He says like it’s a marvel.

            “Well duh, did you think I’d get you something you didn’t?”

            Shouto looks touched, which inexplicably makes Bakugou feel slightly guilty, though he isn’t sure why. The café is filled with chatter. Unlike when Kirishima and Katsuki came here alone when it was calm and serene, now you can barely hear yourself think, and you have to shout in order to have a conversation. The owls are ruffling themselves and flitting about, much to the delight of the teens. Present Mic has two right next to them, and one has stolen a pen, though he doesn’t really seem to mind at all.

            “Everybody look this way!”

            Yaoyorozu is standing on a chair, Iida is next to her, trying to tell her to get down. She’s holding up her phone in landscape position, aiming it at the room at large. “Get into view Iida!”

            “Here,” Tokoyami sends Dark Shadow out to hold the phone. “This way, all of us can be seen.” Yaoyorozu happily passes off her phone and jumps down to squeeze into a booth next to Ashido. “Everyone say Mic!”

            “MIC!”

            A flash, and then Dark Shadow is dropping the phone into Momo’s lap. Jiro leans over to look at it. She nods in approval. “Excellent. Got my good side and Denki’s bad side.”

            “Hey!”

            “You gonna put it on the website?” Ashido asks. Yaoyorozu nods.

            “Uploading it now! What should I write for the caption?”

            “Does it need one?” Shoji asks.

            Momo hums. “I guess not. You’re right. I’ll just let the photo speak for itself.” Her eyes widen. “Oh! We have over a thousand followers already. That was fast. I wonder how word got out so quickly?”

            Both Todoroki and Uraraka subtly palm their phones into their laps where they’re hidden. Katsuki looks at them both, suspiciously. He pulls out his own phone and thumbs onto the page. Sure enough, Momo has already uploaded the picture, which now has twelve likes and two replies. At the top of the page, it shows that there is a respectable 1.1k followers thus far.

            Huh.

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

            Everyday, she’s blessed with a new post. Sometimes, if she’s especially lucky he will be in it. Sometimes, he’ll even be fighting or using his quirk. Usually, though, he’s just scowling in the corner.

            Still, she thinks to herself as she licks her lips, watching the short clip of a sparring match where Katsuki Bakugou is absolutely annihilating the robot boy. I’ll take what I can get.

            “What do you mean, ‘Stain got arrested’?!” comes an irate voice in the background from the lower level of the bar.

            “I mean, Stain got arrested!”

            “So much for recruiting him.”

            “Shut up! We can still fix this… we just need to find more recruits for the plan…”

            “I don’t think we can go much bigger than attacking UA and All Might. If that didn’t get us applicant’s, I dunno what will.”

            “Fool. That was a private affair. We need to be bigger. We need to attack wider. And, perhaps, we can free Stain while we’re at it. Where is he being held?”

            “Uh… Hosu?”

            “Hmm… let me think. I might just have a plan.”

            Himiko rolls her eyes and goes back to the blog, trying to decide whether or not to leave a comment. Surely, it wouldn’t be too telling? Already, hundreds of randos are leaving replies and favoriting blog posts and pictures. Surely, it wouldn’t seem too out of place should she say something, anything, to get noticed.

            And boy did she want him to notice her…

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Notes:

I've been told I can't promote here, so please go to my tumblr for information or to contact me. I'm Wawa-Boonliang on there, too.

Chapter 51: Just some Fluff

Summary:

A common complaint I’ve gotten is that I infantile my child characters, and it’s really killed my interest in writing this. But, here’s the thing, trauma can stall development. Katsuki was heavily traumatized back when he was emotionally and physically 5. I tried to write this to showcase that even though he has the memories of an adult, he is still for all intents and purposes a child. Izuku, the least traumatized child this go around, acts the most his age. Hitoshi, who has been emotionally and physically abused since a very young age, sometimes also acts younger than he is. And Shouto has also been heavily traumatized and abused since even younger than Hitoshi. I worked in childcare for many years, and am, in fact, a survivor of abuse. Something that not many people know is called “arrested development.” Essentially, development can slow or even halt entirely because of trauma. Sometimes, this shows more blatantly when a traumatized child is entered into a “safe” place, because the child is suddenly able to act like a child. It shows that healing has started. Anyway, I’m probably not explaining it right, but ¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

Chapter Text

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

 

Shouto woke up happy.

            One moment, he was asleep and aware all at once with the warmth and cold of his quirk comforting him in the familiarity, the soft covers swathed around him, and the slightly frosted texture of his pillow grounded him as he slowly floated into alertness. Then he opened his eyes and realized he was smiling.

            He laid there for a moment and felt his heart beat. Dadun…dadun…dadun…deep breath in. Dadun…dadun…dadun….deep breath out. Relaxed shoulders. Unclenched jaw. His heart jittered in his chest and up towards his throat, sending a burst of warmth sweeter than anything his quirk could muster all through his limbs, straight to his fingertips, his toes.

            He was happy.

            He reached up and snagged the soft cat plushy from next to his head and burrowed into the fur, turning onto his side and snuggling into the bed, the coverings falling over his ears. He luxuriated in the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to get up right away and train until he wanted to puke. He could lay here for as long as he wanted, because it’s a Saturday. And, now, Saturdays meant sleeping in and playing with his friend’s cat and eating sweet things with his friend’s parents and sitting on his friend’s couch watching TV with said friend. Friends. Multiple friends.

            Shouto was a person who had multiple friends.

            His smile felt out of place on his face, and yet he couldn’t quite repress it. He hadn’t known this kind of low burning elation was possible. But, here he was, still tucked in from the night before, pressed down by the comforting weight of his blankets. He could smell breakfast cooking – knowing Hizashi Sensei, it was probably pancakes.

He’d been eating a lot of pancakes, lately.

Wiggling a bit to free his arms, he stretches out to snag his phone from where it’s sitting next to his (his!) teddy bear lamp plugged in. 124 unread notifications from Discord.

Class 1A Discord Server

#KacchanProtectionSquad

Kacchan: Full offense and fuck all of you

Kacchan: I don’t need your pity

ROBOCOP: It is not pity! I truly wish to help you!

Kacchan: I don’t need your help glasses!

PonyTail: Bakugou you were the one who said your grades fell

Kacchan: Still better than yours!

PikaPikaChuuuu: wait wut grade u get?

Kacchan: fucking idk

Kacchan: like a 92

ShittyHair: !!!!!! Bro ewaidjokasdcui

ShittyHair: I got freaking 79 and I tried so hard wtf

ShittyHair: u rite u dont need help u need to help me

Kacchan: tf u get a 79 for

ROBOCOP: I thought you said your grades were falling?

Kacchan: On what planet is a 92 acceptable?

Pinky: um. Ashido Planet.

SoySauceFace: lmao bro I failed that quiz

Halfy: what quiz?

Dekuzu: the pop quiz in Applied Science

Halfy: that was a quiz?

PikaPikaChuuuu: dude u was ther

Halfy: what grade did I get

Pinky: lol

ROBOCOP: Yes, Todoroki, there was a quiz.

Halfy: Oh.

Halfy: You mean the worksheet.

Kacchan: You got a 96. Bastard.

Dekuzu: it wasn’t a worksheet it was a quiz

Halfy: That’s good to know.

PikaPikaChuuuu: Bros u need to help me study

ShittyHair: We could have studied at the cafe! Darn!

PikaPikaChuuuu: didnnt u bros get a new house? We could hang ther!

Pinky: Sleep over!

Kacchan: fucking no I just got my own room back im not sharing fuck

ShittyHair: did you not have a room bfor?

Kacchan: I had to share with the extras

Halfy: Am I an extra?

Kacchan: what do you think Freezer Burn?

Halfy: Oh. I like that name.

Halfy: I like Thermostat too

Halfy: Do you think I should change my hero name from Icy Hot?

Pinky: lmaoooooo

Gloves: I’m so jelly u got so many Kacchan names to choose from

Dekuzu: I like IcyHot!

ShittyHair: ngl Freezer Burn sounds super manly

Frogger: I still think Halfy sounds the cutest

Pinky: I agree with Tsu!

PrinceyPrincey: Chaque nom est un bon nom, mon ami! ( ●♡∀♡)) ☆*

Kacchan: Ferme ta gueule bitch

PikaPikaChuuu: Hey Kacchan how do you say wtf in French

PrinceyPrincey: Putain ( ノ^ ヮ^) ノ*: ・゚

Kacchan: Putain

PikaPikaChuuuu: Putain ヽ/ ❀o ل͜ o\

ROBOCOP: Language!

Kacchan: French. Fucking duh

            Shouto can’t help the sudden giggle that spills from his throat. A set of footsteps that had been passing down the hall pauses just outside his door. Shouto looks up, expecting his door to open. Through the crack, he thinks he can make out the dark form of Aizawa Sensei, though it could just as easily be Hizashi Sensei.

            His phone rings.

            It startles him, and he nearly drops his phone. Who could be calling him? Nearly everyone who might want to talk to him is already on Discord or in the kitchen making breakfast. Except Shinsou. If Shouto knew him at all (and he liked to think he did), then he knew Hitoshi would probably be asleep, still. Shouto picks the phone back up, eyebrows raising when he sees the caller ID.

            Fuyumi.

            Shouto hadn’t seen his sister since the dinner before the morning he ran away. To his shame, he’d barely even thought about her – or Natsuo – for over a week. It’s not that he has any resentment towards them. Any and all of his negative feelings are mostly directed towards their father, he’s aware that the distance between them was caused by Endeavor. Even still, for all that he knows Fuyumi cares about him, he can count the number of times she’d been active about reaching out first on one hand.

            Swallowing, sitting up a bit and pushing the warm coverings aside, Shouto clears his throat and answers his still ringing phone. “Hello?” he asks, cautiously.

            “Oh, Shouto!” Shouto winces. Fuyumi sounds… relieved. Extremely relieved, like she wasn’t sure he’d be on the other end to answer. Shouto feels a wave of guilt crash over him, as he suddenly realizes he probably should have told his sister where he was, even if nothing else.

            “Hello, Fuyumi. How are you?”

            There is silence on the other end. “Shouto, where on earth are you. I-I thought that we’d just been missing each other or that you were staying late at school. But-but-but then Father said last night that he was going to file a missing person’s report on you! He-he was talking about…” Fuyumi’s voice breaks, and when she talks again, it’s in a whipster. “He was talking about Touya.”

            Shouto freezes. They never talk about their dead sibling. His name is one that is never uttered, even more so than their mother. More than a sore spot, Touya is a bleeding, gushing, infected wound on their family. For Father to bring up Touya… was it an empty threat or did Endeavor really think he was… dead? Surely that wasn’t the case. Didn’t Endeavor know where he was? It was just a threat, right? But a threat to whom?

            “Well,” Shouto said, slowly. “I’m okay. I’m staying with my teacher and his family. I’ve told them… Fuyumi… I told them everything. And… and he said he cares about me anyway. So… I want to stay here.” There is silence on the other end. “They have a cat.” He reminded her, just in case she had forgotten.

            “Shouto… what?” Shouto isn’t sure what she’s asking. “How long have you been there?”

            Shouto counts backwards. “Three weeks. Give or take. They gave me my own room, it’s really nice and there’s a—”

            “Three weeks! Why didn’t you tell me?” Shouto didn’t know how to answer. Should he just blatantly tell her that it didn’t cross his mind? Would that be mean? Shinsou once told him that being too blunt can make people think you’re being mean, and Shouto didn’t really want to be mean to his older sister.

            “I don’t know,” Shouto decided to say. On the other end, Fuyumi exhales deeply. Shouto thinks she might be mad, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why or what to say that might make it better. “Are you okay?” he decides to ask.

            Fuyumi laughs on the other end. It’s not a very nice laugh. “Father barely looks at me except to tell me to clean up or make him food. I’m fine. He’s never hurt me. You know that… it’s only ever been…”

            “Me.” Shouto finishes blankly. “He’s only ever hurt me.” It’s strangely easy to say. Perhaps it’s all the practice he’s gotten talking about it. First with his friends, then with his teachers, not once but twice. And, after all, it’s not like this is news to Fuyumi. He finds that he doesn’t mind talking about it with her. “And Touya. But that’s why I’m here now. Aizawa Sensei says that it wasn’t okay. That what Father was doing is abuse, and that I deserve better. I want to stay with them, Fuyumi. I didn’t have to train today. Or yesterday.” He knows that he’s talking more quickly than he usually does, but Shouto is overtaken with the need for her to understand. “Fuyumi,” he says, urgently. “I ate ice cream yesterday.”

            There’s silence on the other end. “Shouto…” there’s a sniffle. “Shouto, I’m so sorry…”

            “Why are you apologizing?” Shouto frowns. “You never hurt me.”

            “Yes,” Fuyumi says, resignation lining the word. “Yes, I did. I hurt you because I never did anything at all. I-I was always too scared of him to do anything. Even after what Mom did… after she… I didn’t say anything. Or do anything. I couldn’t even find it in me to get mad I just got scared.”

            “I’m not mad at you.” Shouto told her. “I was scared too.”

            For some reason, that prompts another sob. Shouto winces. If only he were like Bakugou. Bakugou would know what to say. Not even Midoriya cries when Bakugou talks. Maybe Shouto should swear more.

            “Shouto… can I see you?”

            “Okay.”

Shouto hangs up the call.

Then he selects her contact and presses the option for video call. It rings for several moments, but then it connects.

            Fuyumi looks tired. That’s the first thing he notices. Her eyes are red and puffy, and they’re underlined by dark circles. Her hair is rumpled, like how Aizawa Sensei’s gets when he runs his hands through it too many times. She’s sitting with her back pressed up against a low brick wall that Shouto recognizes is in their garden. Shouto assumes, based on the fact that she bothered calling him at all, that Father isn’t home.

            “Hello.” He tells her. For some reason, this makes her laugh. A nicer laugh than before. Just once, but his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “Fuyumi, look.” He shows her the teddy bear lamp.

            “O-oh,” Fuyumi says. “That’s really cute, Shouto.”

            “Look.”

            “O-oh, is that a cat?”

            “Look.”

            “I-it’s a very nice room, Shouto.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Private Chat

@ActuallyDead98 [AKA Shitstain]

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I see you lurking, my friend, none can hide in the darkness eternally

ActuallyDead98: its nice just seeing everyone joke around

ActuallyDead98: I had a really great night ngl

ActuallyDead98: and seeing everyone be idiots is making this whole thing feel more real

ActuallyDead98: I guess

ActuallyDead98: idk that prolly doesntmake any sense

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: that makes perfect sense, Hitoshi

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: To see the sunlight is one thing

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: to grasp it is another

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: that impossible thing that we all must attempt

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: is made possible by reaching out to others

ActuallyDead98: you’re saying I should talk to people?

ActuallyDead98: ew

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: shall I be frank?

ActuallyDead98: I’d rather you be Fumikage

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: than allow me to say this

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: being your friend has taught me many things

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: chief among that being

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: true friends need not say anything to say everything

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: and even nonsense is meaningful when care is applied

ActuallyDead98: I never thought you spoke nonsense

ActuallyDead98: so then, go on. What am I saying?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: something happened last night that doesn’t involve the move

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: if I had to guess, something with your foster family

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Something good, but you feel guilty, because it was bad for someone else

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: following logic, something bad happened to the bio kid

ActuallyDead98: Ive discovered your secondary quirk

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Hitoshi

ActuallyDead98: Fumi

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I care about you.

ActuallyDead98: I think you might be my best friend, now.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: ?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I had thought that sacred title had been bestowed upon one Bakugo Katsuki

ActuallyDead98: Well…. He’s my brother now. I guess.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: …congratulations, my friend.

ActuallyDead98: youre right. It finally happened. A case worker is coming in a few days.

ActuallyDead98: but Dadzawa said its all formality at this point bc nedzu is on our side

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: And how does that gold at the end of the rainbow feel?

ActuallyDead98: shut up. I know that was a dumb metaphor

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: it wasn’t. I was only teasing.

ActuallyDead98: Sure. Sure.

ActuallyDead98: better than I imagined.

ActuallyDead98: can I say something really embarrassing?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: you can tell me anything Hitoshi

ActuallyDead98: but like. You can’t make fun of me or I might actually die

ActuallyDead98: but I want to tell somebody.

ActuallyDead98: you. I want to tell you.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I can see it’s important to you. Of course I wont make light of it.

ActuallyDead98: they tucked me in last night.

ActuallyDead98: with a freaking forehead kiss and everything

ActuallyDead98: it fucking hurt like a gut punch

ActuallyDead98: but I want them to do it every night even though I’m fucking fifteen

ActuallyDead98: why does being around competent adults make me feel like im 5

ActuallyDead98: idk

ActuallyDead98: I feel like im mentally regressing

ActuallyDead98: like… sometimes I just realy wwant to hold onto them and cry

ActuallyDead98: like I wouldn’t do it

ActuallyDead98: but sometimes I really want to

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: why wouldn’t you do it?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I hug my parents

ActuallyDead98: that’s not the same

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: youre right its not

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: you have all the more reason to seek out comfort

ActuallyDead98: you don’t understand. I don’t just want a hug I want to be held. Ok? Like a fucking baby.

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: understandable

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: this is new to you

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: in many ways, this is like being a small child

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: Youve never had the option or opportunity

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: and you know what they say about forbidden things

ActuallyDead98: I just don’t want to be… annoying?

ActuallyDead98: I want

ActuallyDead98: I want to be treated like how Kacchan is treated

ActuallyDead98: but that’s stupid bc Kats needs more love than a normal kid

ActuallyDead98: I hav no right being jealous like this

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: yes you do

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: are they not your parents now also?

ActuallyDead98: so wat do you think I should do, Fumikage?

AbbadonDestroyerofWorlds: I think you should go ask your fathers for a hug, Hitoshi

ActuallyDead98: …okay

 

Fumikage sighs as he sees Hitoshi log off, his status changing to inactive. He hopes the other boy really is going to seek out comfort. If anyone deserves it, it’s Hitoshi. He shouldn’t have to put his own wants and needs on the back burner just because he perceives that his “brothers” deserve it more.

            …even if his brothers might need it more. Fumikage has enough faith in his teachers to know that they have enough attention to go around, if the way they subtly – and not so subtly – dote on the students they see as theirs is any indication.

            Fumikage slinks out of his room, hitting the lights off as he leaves. Downstairs, he can hear one of his parents puttering around, probably cleaning. Downstairs, the TV is on, but muted. Fumikage slides onto the couch and sinks into the cushions. Unsurprisingly, All Might is on the screen. He’s standing in front of what looks like a government building, a microphone shoved under his face. Fumikage pats around for the remote, finding it half buried in between the couch cushions, and unmutes the TV.

            “…children with villainous quirks?” the reporter is saying. All Might’s ever-present smile is a bit dim, but it’s only something Fumikage picks up on after having been exposed to his true smile for so many hours at school. In fact, to Fumikage’s eyes, All Might almost looks mad.

            “There’s no such thing as villainous quirks,” All Might says, his voice delicate, though his eyes are as hard as steel. “More than that, there is no such thing as a villainous child – only difficult circumstances that prompt the vulnerable to act in perhaps villainous ways. Not that any child involved in this specific case acted at all like a so-called villain. Every child involved is one hundred percent an innocent. A victim. And we can’t forget that.”

            “Of course,” says the reporter. “But surely, the foster couple can’t be blamed for acting out of fear in the presence of vil—of terrifying quirks?”

            “Absolutely they can,” All Might says, as bluntly as Todoroki on a bad day. “They were in a position of power over these vulnerable children, and they took advantage of that. They misused funds meant for childcare. They were neglectful. They were worse than neglectful. They were the true villains of this story, and I’ll not have it be told any other way.” All Might doesn’t look like he’s smiling anymore. More like he’s baring his teeth.

            “R-Right,” says the reporter. The camera pans over to him and he speaks directly into it. “As for—” his voice breaks a bit, and he clears his throat. “As for the details of this case, due to the nature of the crimes concerning minors, it is closed to the public for the time being, though more information may be released at a later date…”

            ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki needed some air. It was fairly early in the morning on a Saturday, the sky still tinged pink and orange with wispy clouds drifting above the treetops that speckled the street. Their new neighborhood was charming with perfectly manicured lawns and front gardens. Their own front lawn had room for a couple flower beds and a blossoming tree near the mailbox. The kind of safe neighborhood that was too brightly lit at any given time to feel at all dangerous. At the corner was a small playground with shining equipment that couldn’t be more than a few months old since the last update to it. There were no potholes in the street or cracks in the sidewalk. Really, the house should have cost much more than what they paid for, but for some reason, superstitious fucks decided that because someone or someones had died in it before meant the value tanked.

            Well, their loss, Katsuki’s gain he supposed.

            There was something surreal about living in a full house. Well, a full house that actually had room for everyone, anyway. At the old house, which Katsuki definitely wasn’t the slightest bit homesick for, it felt temporary when everyone was over. Here, it felt permanent. Solid. And Katsuki could see a future that stretched for at least three or four years where all of them stayed. For Todoroki and Hitoshi, probably longer than that.

Katsuki quietly left the house when Hitoshi had randomly walked into the living room where Mic was resting on the couch and slumped into Mic’s side. Without questioning, Mic had wrapped his arms around Hitoshi’s shoulders. The two of them hadn’t moved for several minutes, and Katsuki felt a pang of guilt, though he wasn’t quite sure why. So, he left.

He walked for a while, not really keeping track of how long, but with one hand in his pocket resting on his phone so that he could feel it if it started vibrating. He kept his eyes on the sky, watching as the colors faded into a uniform blue. Before he knew it, he’d walked all the way into the heart of the city, traffic and people bustling around him. He’d been too deep in his own head to really notice, but once he didn’t notice, the immediate irritation he felt drove him in the direction of the nearest park.

But then, he stops. There, sitting slumped on a bench was All Might. Well, not All Might. Yagi. Katsuki slumps over in his direction. He’d seen what All Might said that morning on the news. Emotions warred in his chest. On one hand, All Might was a fucker who kept fucking up and hurting people. On the other hand… this was All Might. Not even Katsuki was immune to the hero worship that consumed everyone else, even if he didn’t lose his head about it like Deku used to.

Katsuki drops himself lazily next to him on the bench. All Might starts, and looks up, before he clocks who just interrupted his morning sulk. From the look on his face, it seems All Might couldn’t decide between relaxing and fleeing. “Yo, Whatsit.” In that moment, All Might looks so heartbreakingly happy, that Katsuki feels he has no choice but to forgive him. Afterall… the whole fuckery of the award ceremony had happened the first time around and nobody had cared. The only reason that people care now is that they see him as their responsibility. He’s made himself their problem. So, really, it’s Katsuki’s fault for this situation more than All Might. If he hadn’t forced Aizawa to take care of him, All Might wouldn’t have been, for lack of better word, punished like this. His and Deku’s relationship would still be sickening sweet instead of stilted.

“Race you to the beach?” Katsuki grinned.

All Might’s smile, which had bloomed when Katsuki addressed him, faltered a bit. “Race? In this form?”

Katsuki snorted. “Obviously not. But it’s Saturday, you don’t need to be muscled up to teach. And I’m assuming you don’t have any more press conferences.”

All Might is still hesitating. “I might be needed.”

“After, we can go visit Deku. Not-Mom’s making Katsudon for lunch. Nerd told me it’s a reward for some shit. I dunno. Wasn’t paying attention. I’m invited, I’ll just tell em to make enough for one more.”

“I-I w-well, I-I don’t know if M-Miss Inko would appreciate—”

“C’mon Fuckwad, daylight’s wastin’!”

They go for a run to Dagobah Beach. It’s nostalgic in a way, even though it hadn’t been all that long since the days when they used to train on the beach before UA. The exertion is worth the gawking of passers by at the strange sight of All Might himself racing some random teenager across the beach, blasting sand and mist in their wake.

They show up on Inko’s doorstep just a little bit bedraggled, their hair crusted and clothes a bit stiff. Inko’s face is the slightest bit blank when she first sees him, but when Izuku’s face lights up at the sight of the two of them together, she melts. Though, before the meal, Inko catches Katsuki alone in the hallway. “Is everything okay?” she asks him.

Katsuki meets her gaze. “He’s not a bad person. He’s just a fucking moron.” Inko snorts.

“I find that most men are, dear. Do try your best to break the mold.”

“Darn straight.”

Chapter 52: Happy October

Summary:

Start of the Internship Arc!
Also Im doing the Flufftober challenge! Please check out what I'm writing for it! One story a day all month! Already on day four!
It's the third story on this series, Forever and a Day.
Check out the Flufftober prompts and feel free to leave a comment about ideas that you have!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Katsuki puttered around his room, swiping shirts at random out of drawers and stuffing them into a worn duffle bag plopped on his bed. Explodocat watched nonplussed from the open doorway, his ever present scowl on his face. Katsuki rummaged through the bag. Socks? Check. Underwear? Check. Enough pants to have a spare in case something happened once or twice? Check. Katsuki pondered what else he would need. Probably toiletries would be helpful.

He was packing up, getting ready for his internship. In a lot of ways, this felt like a new beginning. More than going to UA. More than moving to this house. This was his first step into true independence since Before …. And yet he was doing it with Papa Mic’s name on his permission slips.

They’d signed the papers yesterday, giving sensei and Mic in loco parentis rights. His mother had been surprisingly civil. Not entirely friendly, but not aggressive either, which Bakugo took as a win. His father had been smiling, even, and shaken hands with sensei after all was said and done. Then, his parents had gone home, and Mic had taken him and Aizawa to a nice restaurant after making a quick stop at the house to pick up Shitstain and IcyHot. Shitstain, being a Shitstain, told the waiter it was Katsuki’s birthday when the rest of them weren’t looking, surprising them all when a group of the staff came out with a cupcake with a candle, singing the birthday song with customer service cheer.

Mic had, of course, played along with it, while Aizawa slinked down into his seat as though trying to slide out of sight. Though, Halfy had looked entirely confused the whole time. “I thought your birthday was in April?” He asked, bewildered. 

“It is,” Kastuki grunted. This didn’t seem to make things any clearer for Halfy.

It was a good day. They had gotten home late, put on a movie, and then woken up magically in their own beds. As annoying as the two interloping fuckers were, Katsuki couldn’t help but think that he could get used to this. 

He grabbed his toothbrush and snagged one of the spare toothpaste from the bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinets for travel-sized soap and shampoo. “Kitty? You already packing?”

“Obviously.”

“You still got a few days.” Mic leaned against the doorframe. 

“Like I’m gonna fucking rush around panicing like a dweeb the day of,” Katsuki scoffed. “I’m not Shitstain.” Mic laughed. 

“Fair enough.”

Deku had, like last time, decided to go with All Might’s mysterious suggestion. When Katsuki had drug him to Aunty Inko’s place, Yagi had waved Izuku into the hall. Apparently, Yagi wasn’t sure it was still on.

“...I understand if you’ve reconsidered, my boy…” Katsuki had been lingering outside the hallway with Not-Mom right next to him, blatantly eavesdropping. “But I do believe that Gran Torino would be able to help refine your quirk.”

“N-no! I haven’t reconsidered! I already talked about it w-with Dadzawa and everything!”

There was a long pause, and when Whatsit next spoke, there was a thick air of hesitation. “...and what did he say?”

“...he was mad. So was Kacchan.”

“O-oh. Well…”

Most of the rest of the class were going with the same mentors as last time, with the exception, of course, of Halfy and Shitstain. Shitstain was going with Dadzawa, learning how to vault across rooftops unseen, mostly, seeing as how he would most likely end up being an underground hero. As for Halfy, he’d stared overwhelmed at the list he’d been given, before asking Katsuki where he was going.

“Best Jeanist,” Katsuki had told him. “Number Three. He’s good if you want to work on your presentation.”

“Presentation?” Halfy had asked, blankly.

“Like PR and shit. How to be likeable, or, at least, how to get the media to work for you.”

“Oh.”

And so, Todoroki would be going to the Number Three agency along with Katsuki, which he wasn’t at all pleased about, no siree.

         ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Tenya was just putting the finishing touches on his packing list when the shouting started. Tenya frowned, putting down his pencil and notebook next to his empty suitcase and slowly walked over to his bedroom door, opening it just a crack. 

“You were supposed to encourage him to go to a higher quality agency!” His father’s voice was raised.

“And what’s that supposed to mean,” returned Tensei’s ever calm tone. 

“Dear,” came the placating voice of his mother. “You know your father is just worried about Tenya’s prospects. He needs to meet people.”

“I already talked to him about that,” Tensei told them. Tenya nodded to himself with a smile. His brother had sat him down last night and asked him all sorts of questions about what kind of hero he wanted to be, the kind of agency he eventually wanted to either join or create, and what he struggled most with in class. Together, they’d compiled a list of heroes to interview and work with during his internship. Tenya had been quite happy with the results.

That is, until he heard his father say “He didn’t get any higher offers, did he.” A scoff. His father had scoffed. Tenya furrowed his brow, very tempted to leave his room and confront his parents himself. But he didn’t dare. He didn’t know how his father would react. While he had heard his father take this tone with Tensei before, it was rarely - if ever - directed towards him. “I knew acting like that during the sports festival would hurt his prospects.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Dear…” his mother sounded reproving. “I know you’re disappointed but-”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Tensei’s voice was cold. “Tenya did incredible during the sports festival and you know it.”

“He didn’t stand out at all.”

“He made it to the third round!”

“By pure luck, it sounds like,” his father shot back. “And then in the second tier he completely failed. He didn’t hold his own at all. What kind of representation of our family is that?”

“It was a bad quirk match up-”

“That villain kid wouldn’t have stood a chance if Tenya had-”

Tenya burst out of his room. “Shinsou Hitoshi is my friend!” He declared, gesturing bolding at his father. “And he won his round fair and square using tactics that will serve him well in the field-” He narrows his eyes and stands taller than he ever has, speaking back to his father in a rebellious flame he’d never felt before. “-when he’s a hero.”

         ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Tensei was often proud of his baby brother, from the moment his parents had brought him home as a tiny, serious-even-then, bundle. Tenya was often at or near the top of his classes, putting the full force of his stubborn mind (and he was stubborn, no matter what Tenya liked to think about himself) towards anything and everything he did, whether it was cleaning his plates during meals or sparring with his quirk.

But seeing little Tenya stand up to their admittedly very intimidating father made Tensei just burn in pride. Especially since Tenya hadn’t even been standing up for himself. He only appeared, though Tensei was aware he’d been listening from his bedroom the whole time, to reprimand their father for speaking ill of a friend.

Tensei thought back to those rough days in the hospital when they weren’t sure whether or not Mic would pull through. He thought back to the way all of those kids huddled together, leaning shoulder to shoulder, offering comfort when the adults around them weren’t sure how. Tenya was a team player. Tenya was a good friend. Tenya had a strong and dedicated support system made of budding future heroes with more potential than he was used to seeing from kids that age. Tenya was in a good spot.

He didn’t know why his father couldn’t see that.

Hell, Tensei wouldn’t be surprised if the lot of them started their own agency in the future after they all graduated. 

But thinking about the discussion with his parents brought to mind the conversation he’d had with his brother a few days ago about Midnight, before all the crap with Stain went down. Midnight was his dear friend, had been since school. But he couldn’t help but remember the sick feeling in his stomach when he saw Eraser’s kid chained up to a pole like an animal, and the betrayal he felt when he realised that Midnight had helped put him there. Sure, she wasn’t solely responsible, but she didn’t help the little guy either.

(But then, a small sneering voice in his head reminded Tensei that he hadn’t helped either.)

He had no right to condemn her. Tensei looked at his phone at where her contact information stared up at him almost accusingly. He pressed dial, and held it up to his ear.

It rang twice before it picked up.

“Iidaaaa,” Midnight slurred on the other end, sounding slightly muffled like she was holding the phone in an awkward position. “Heyyy buddy, howsit kickin’?” 

“Are you drunk?”

There was an answering hiccup on the other end.

“I’m fuckin’ failing at getting my teacher’s liscense back that what.” Midnight growled. “The instructors got it out for me, I’m tellin’ ya.”

Tensei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Eraser’s never gonna let you near his kids with you acting like this.”

“You don’t know how I’ve been acting,” Nemuri snapped, suddenly sounding a bit more sober. “It’s just today, bitch. It’s Saturday. I got nothin’ going on.” There was silence on the other end for a long moment as Tensei searched for something to say. Nemuri beat him to it, softly admitting. “It’s not like I’m a hero right now.”

Tensei swallowed dryly. “Keep at it. That’ll change.”

Nemuri snorted. “Will it? Man. Man, I fucked up. I don’t even know if I should have my licence back.”

“Your teaching licence or your hero licence?” Tensei asked. 

There was no answer. 

“Nem,” he said softly, gentling his voice. “One fuck up shouldn’t dictate the rest of your life. We’re still young. You’ve got plenty of time to make up for your mistake.”

“Still young,” Midnight scoffed. “I’m in my thirties. I was already falling out of favor with the public. No one wants to see a forty-year old pretending to still be sexy.” Tensei had no answer to that. “Teaching was my only future. We all know women can’t be heroes for as long as men. They get pushed out. I was already feeling it before I lost everything.”

“Nem,” Tensei trailed off. He didn’t know what to say.

“I just…” Nemuri’s voice broke. “Forget the license. I just… I just want to apologise to the kid. Even if he doesn’t want me to be his Aunty” there was a noise on the other end that sounded like a sniffling, quiet sob. “Even if, I still want to be Shouta’s friend. I still wanna get drinks with Hizashi. I still wanna be in their lives. Tensei, I haven’t talked to them in a month.”

Tensei sighed, casting a glance backwards at Tenya’s room where his little brother was no doubt repacking for the third time. “I understand,” he said. “But I also understand Eraser and Mic. You hurt their kid. Honestly, Nem, I don’t know if I could have ever forgiven you if you hurt Tenya like that. That kind of hurt doesn’t go away like a burn or a cut. Public humiliation like that lingers. It’s a kind of trauma on its own.”

“I know,” Nemuri wailed. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wasn’t. I got caught up in the moment, everyone thought it was funny. I thought it was funny. I didn’t think that the kid wouldn’t be laughing with us. I didn’t… I didn’t think. I just didn’t think. I’m a horrible person.”

Tensei bit his lip because he half agreed with her. It was a horrible thing to do. But “Just because you did something horrible doesn’t make you horrible. It makes you human, maybe a dumb one, but human nevertheless.” Tensei mulled a thought over in his head for a moment before speaking it. “If you want, Tenya and I can go with you? They leave for their internships on Monday. We can visit tomorrow before they go.”

Midnight sniffled on the other end. “You’d do that?” she asked quietly.

“I would,” Tensei confirmed firmly. “But let me call them first. Make sure they’re cool with it.”

“Of course,” Nemuri instantly agreed. Then, after a beat. “Thank you, Tensei. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“Sometimes it’s not about deserving,” Tensei told her. “Sometimes it's just enough that you’re sorry.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The Friday before they left for internships, Shouto had gotten an idea. After Applied Science Class, when the teacher filed out and it was just the students, Shouto cleared his throat and stood up. “I would like to ask for permission to post something to the blog.”

“Of course, man,” Kirishima instantly replied. “It belongs to all of us equally, and I’ve been posting pictures all week of us.”

“Same,” Sero agreed. “As long as it's not, like, something weird,” he leveled a look at Kaminari.

“I took it down,” he protested.

“What did you have in mind, Todoroki?” Yaoyorozu asked him. Shouto cast a glance towards the door and then to the clock. They had a fifteen minute break before their next teacher would come in for Math. 

“I want to tell the public something,” Shouto said. “But I don’t want to go to a typical interview. I feel like this would be… more comfortable. Easier.”

Jiro leaned forward in her desk, giving Shouto her full attention. The other students all followed suit. “This sounds serious, Halfy.”

“A-are you sure, Shouto?” Izuku asked. 

Shouto nodded. “I want to tell the world about my father. I want to post a video. I understand if you all don’t want something so serious and upsetting on the blog. But, considering the size of our audience on there, I felt it would be the better option than other avenues.”

“Whatever you need, Thermostat,” Bakugo told him. “Lets put that fucker in the ground.”

“Socially or literally?” asked Sato. “I mean, I’m down for both if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. And if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, fuck that guy.” There were nods all around. 

“Preferably both,” Shouto said, feeling an awkward smile crook on his face despite the heavy atmosphere. Having their instant and unconditional support was a novel feeling, but one he thought he could get used to. He really liked having friends. “But for now, socially. I think it will help with getting… certain things moving.”

Yaoyorozu produced a video camera. “Whenever you’re ready, Todoroki.”

“I don’t want to be called that anymore,” Shouto told her. “Call me Shouto. Or Halfy.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Halfy.”

         ♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Dabi slumped at the bar, sitting next to Himiko, who he considered to be the most tolerable person in the League of Villains. Cloudhead is polishing a glass behind the counter of the bar, scrubbing at a nonexistent smudge while two glasses filled with some unnamed drink sit in front of them sweating condensation, untouched. Himiko is watching something on her phone with a dreamy expression. The lizard was sharpening a knife, holding himself in an uncomfortable post that he probably thought made him look cool. Who knows where the other weirdos went. Not Dabi. Somedays, he heavily regretted joining them, but his anger towards his sperm donor overrules it every time.

Himiko suddenly giggles, “hey, got some good news for you Daaaabi ,” she croons. “You know that pro you hate?” Dabi narrows his eyes at her. Himiko being this gleeful usually leads to or stems from bloodshed and Dabi really isn’t in the mood right now. Right now, it’s one of those heavy days when he can’t get out of his own head. He both wants everyone to fuck off and leave him alone while at the same time he can’t stand being alone in a silent room. 

(He remembers a time when he sat quietly next to Fuyumi. His sister would read or crochet silently next to him while he watched TV and nursed his wounds. Just existing together. He remembers laying next to his baby brother and watching him sleep, both protective and envious of him.)

“Endeavor?” Dabi asked, genuinely uninterested. He might hate the guy, perhaps to the point of obsession. But today was one of those days where he didn’t care about anything. Not even this. Not even revenge. One of those days when existing was a burden and he just wanted to curl up and sleep. Except he couldn’t do that. It would be too quiet in his room, for all that being in the living area was annoying him. 

“Who else?” Himiko shot back, which, fair.

“What about him?” Dabi grunted, laying his head on the cool wood of the bar, watching a drop of water slide down the side of his glass.

“There’s a lawsuit being filed against him!”

“It’ll never stick,” Dabi sighed. “Unfortunately. They’ve tried before. Fucking corrupt Hero Commission will dig him out. Who leveled it this time?”

“All Might, apparently.”

Dabi shot up. “What?” He grabbed her phone out of her hands.

“Hey! I wasn’t done reading that blog post!”

“Blog?” Dabi says, dumbly.

He ignored Himiko’s protests, frantically scrolling up to the top of the post. Freezing when he saw a video that was frozen on his baby brother’s impassive face.

Shouto, who has the same blank-ass babyface he did when Dabi… left, is staring directly at the camera. It unpaused when he hovered over it. “I have something to say.”

(He’d grown up so well.)

(Dabi didn’t care at all. He didn’t .)

Dabi paused the video as he scanned the description. “Our very own Halfy has something important to say. Please take this seriously. No hate in the comments, please. Except towards Endeavor.”

Slowly, Dabi unpaused the video again. He watched as his baby brother outlined years worth of abuse. His stomach clenched at some of the things that Shouto said. The things that the bastard did to his little brother. To his mom .

If it turns out he laid a finger on Fuyumi, he was dead.

Well, deader. Dabi already wanted him six feet under.

 “All Might has taken my side,” Shouto concludes, his face as frustratingly impassive as ever. “And you should all hear about the lawsuit being filed against him, soon, with the main charge being domestic and child a-abuse.” Dabi flinched at the word in time with Shouto’s stutter. “And… and I’m going to testify against him, elaborating for the judge things that I feel are inappropriate to air here.”

If that bastard assaulted his baby brother, then death will be a mercy not afforded to him.

“Wait!” said a young voice behind the camera. “Did he **** you?!” The word was bleeped out, but Dabi knew what had been said.

The wind rushed out of him in a gush of relief when Shouto only looked confused.

“No?” he said. There was a long awkward pause, before he turned back to the camera. “I meant things about the rest of my family that are no one’s business but ours.”

Dabi sat back in his chair, heart still racing. He’d still kill the bastard, but thank fuck .

Just then, the front door burst open. And in his shock, Dabi accidentally throws Himiko’s phone. Luckily, she’s able to catch it, glaring at him and clutching it to her chest like a baby.

It was Shigaraki that had burst in. “Good news, everyone!” he crowed. Dabi braced himself, not sure if he could take anymore good news that day.

“I’ve just come back from visiting Sensei. I’ve received permission to use some more of his… special weapons… to rescue and recruit Stain the Hero Killer.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Class 1A Discord Server

#StayOutGeezers

ShittyHair: Guys im so super pumped for this you have no idea

PikaPikaChuuuu: same tho! Like this is going to be awesome

PikaPikaChuuuu: i feel like a real hero. We about to go on patrol today

TheMuffinMan: I was a little worried about interning w Lunch Rush but he’s actually super cool

PonyTail: Im uncertain about Uwabami sensei. Except she has a lot to say about women’s right. Especially when it comes to female heroes

Pinky: that sounds cool! I thought about her, but in the end im glad i went w cow lady

Pinky: she has a lot to say about using the physical parts of a quirk

Dekuzu: im not quite at my destination yet

Dekuzu: i dont know anything about him

SoySauceFace: bro why go to them then?

PikaPikaChuuu: whyd u choose them?

Dekuzu: it was recommend to me by my quirk trainer

Shitstain: well i have the best internship mentor

Gloves: oooooh did you manage to get ALl Might?

Shitstain: what no???

Shistain: I got the one and only Dadzawa

SweetCheeks: awwwww

Pinky: Jealous!!!!

ROBOCOP: I am also interning with family!

ROBOCOP: Im excited to spend the week with my brother!

Frogger: Bakugo are you interning with one of your fathers?

Kacchan: nah

Kacchan: best jeanist all the way

ShittyHair: Number Three??? No way!!!

LotsaJazzHands: I wasn’t aware you were a fan

ThatFuckingChicken: striving only for the light can often lead to deeper shadows

Kacchan: i aint going because hes number three

Kacchan: im fucking going bc hes good w people

Kacchan: and i suck ass at talking to people

SweetCheeks: Thats not true at all!!

PikaPikaChuuuu: Bakubro who told you that????

ShittyHair: NO ur grat!!

PikaPikaChuuuu: ima zap em for u!!!

PonyTail: I dont see a problem with the way you speak, Bakugo

ROBOCOP: after getting to know you, I agree that there is a certain charm to your behavior. For the most part.

Kacchan: shut the fuck up

Kacchan: maybe i just want to learn how to talk fancy so I can do the opposite huh

Dekuzu: that does sound like you

Shitstain: i know ur lying but if that were true that would be hilarious

Halfy: I also got an internship offer with best jeanist

Halfy: i am going because i also feel as though i am a bit awkward with people

Kacchan: the fuck you mean “also”

Notes:

Dont forget to check out my Flufftober stories! I'd appreciate you giving them a read~

Notes:

Thank you! If you love me, please feed me!

 

~Wawa

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡
Hope you are all safe and happy right now.

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