Chapter Text
Bakugou Katsuki had not handled their trip to the past very well once he had discovered that the number one hero had apparently not made it back with them; which had to be bullshit because he had been the one closest to the kid whose Quirk had delivered them here so nicely. He’d had his hand on the boy’s shoulder for fuck’s sake!
Regardless, he wasn’t so willing to give up on Deku that easily. With their luck, the nerd was probably running around in his actual adult body instead of having been deposited into his younger form, like the rest of his peers had been. Unfortunately, they had a timeline to stick to if their plans were going to work out, which meant that (in spite of his agitation to get out and find that shitty Deku) pro-hero Ground Zero was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, restrained up to his neck, while the useless members of the League of Villains crowed about their successfully kidnapping him (again).
Bakugou hadn’t seen any of the big players as yet, but he couldn’t remember the fine details of how it had played out the first time as it had been over a decade ago, after all. He wasn’t overly concerned, however. They were aiming to recruit him, and so there was no doubt that Scar-face, Blood-kink and that damned Shigaraki would make their entrance sometime soon.
The volatile blonde was not disappointed as, almost as if summoned by his train of thought, the trio waltzed into the room. Two pairs of crimson eyes narrowed as they glared into the other’s soul. Speak of the devil, was the immediate, appropriate thought that wafted into Ground Zero’s mind as he eyed the lanky villain’s approach.
With a lazy hand, Shigaraki waved the lesser flunkies out of the room, gaining no protests as they scurried away at the command. The blonde-bunned girl was tugging on a sweater sleeve gleefully as she watched the light-haired young man continue to approach their captive, Dabi not far behind him.
The moment Shigaraki leaned his face into Bakugou’s space, the restrained boy hocked a gob of spit at him (which he managed to dodge, much to the hero’s chagrin). He raised a slender finger as if to discipline a child, “Now now, Katsuki. Where did those famous manners of yours disappear to?”
Bakugou snorted and sneered at the villain, “You clearly haven’t done your homework if you expected me to thank you for your hospitality, fuckface.” Shigaraki paused for a moment, as if taken aback (not that Bakugou could see whether that was the case with that creepy-as-fuck hand plastered to his face) and the pro-hero allowed himself a smug inward grin at the thought of catching the boy who would become their worst enemy off guard.
But then the teenager threw his head back and laughed. It was one of such surprised, genuine amusement that Bakugou could not help the cold fingers of fear that had begun to creep up his spine at the sound. After fighting the man for so long, he thought he would be able to anticipate everything that he threw at him. But this, this was so contrary to the character he had known that it sent shivers through his chest. He knew from experience that a Shigaraki who could surprise you, was a Shigaraki that could end you just as effectively. Although, looking at the other two occupants of the bare room, he could see that even Toga seemed vaguely disturbed by the display too, which made him feel a little better.
Again, even as he was chuckling hoarsely, Shigaraki waved a dismissive hand at his companions who, only after hesitating slightly (and receiving a glare that was very disconcerting when paired with amused wheezing for their efforts) vacated the room with very little pomp and circumstance. The blue-haired boy watched them go, red eyes on the closed door for an unnecessarily long period of time before he finally returned them to Bakugou’s seated frame once more.
Only increasing his wariness, Shigaraki pulled up another chair and sat down on it casually, facing Bakugou on his level as he spoke, “We have no curious little eavesdroppers out there now, Katsuki. So, how’s about you and me have a good, private talk.”
Bakugou was about to spit a response that was vehemently in the negative when he was distracted by a small flinch from the boy opposite him; who raised a hand to his face as he waited for the reply (to scratch his nose, perhaps?) only for it to collide with the disembodied hand that was already residing there. It was all the blonde boy could do to stop his jaw from falling open as he saw Shigaraki desperately tug the appendage from where it was clasped onto his cheeks and throw it a good distance away from the pair in disgust. The teen then shuddered and began to thoroughly scrub his face with four fingers of each of his own hands.
Then, as if remembering he had an audience, he lifted his head sheepishly (sheepishly!) and gave Bakugou a self-deprecating smile, “Eheh, sorry about that. No matter how much I wear it, that damn hand never stops creeping me out.”
At the sight of kind eyes, a genuine smile and surprisingly well-nourished skin that looked so inherently wrong on the face of the teenager that was supposed to be some kind of evil incarnate sitting before him, Bakugou felt something in his mind click. In his astonished state, his thoughts were actually pretty rational – which was probably a coping mechanism, now that he thought about it – and there was only one conclusion he could make.
“So, this is where you’ve been, Deku,” he allowed a conspiratorial smile to creep up on his lips even as he stared at the man who was certainly not Shigaraki. Not surprised in the slightest at his oldest friend’s capacity for accurate deduction, the pro-hero in disguise could only return the smirk in satisfaction.
“Let’s chat, Kacchan.”
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“Fuck Deku, you’ve been busy.” Katsuki wished he could say that he was surprised when he had heard that his reconciled childhood friend had somehow managed to actually befriend the villains that belonged to the League he was now inadvertently heading up. This, he thought as he dragged a hand down his weary face in exasperation. This would royally fuck up the original plans. But, he had been wondering why the two higher-ranking villains that Deku had sent out of the room last had seemed so hesitant to leave. At first he had thought it was because they hadn’t wanted to miss out on the action but now, Katsuki realised with disbelief, that it was because they were concerned for the little shit.
“I think that’s where we went wrong in the first place Kacchan,” Deku’s (he refused to refer to the hero as Shigaraki) voice was as raspy as he remembered it, but there were slightly bloodied bandages around his thin neck that the explosive blonde had not noticed before. He tuned back in to where the man was rambling on about their revised plans in light of new developments, “I think we were the worst type of hypocrites the first time around. ‘We tried to save everyone’, we said. But we didn’t, not really. There was one, important group of very hurt, very broken people that we didn’t even consider worth saving.”
“The villains” Bakugou breathed and Izuku awarded him with a sad smile, his eyes refusing to well up with tears that he had no doubt shed for this exact topic a number of times before, knowing the nerd.
“Exactly,” he paused, “But this time, we have to Kacchan. We have to save them.” His vermillion eyes burned with a familiar passion and determination that hinted at his natural leadership abilities, “At risk of sounding horribly cliché; if we save them, we save the future.”
After only a moment of hesitation, Bakugou gave him the answer he had silently asked for.
“Fuck it. I’m in, Grabby Hands.” He granted his friend a feral smile which Deku returned wryly, “That was very uninspired for you,” here he paused before his face twisted into a horrifying grin that actually didn’t look out of place on Tomura Shigaraki’s face as he hissed, “Kacchan.”
Katsuki blinked before standing up so forcefully that he knocked his chair over. He planted an accusing finger directly into Deku’s borrowed chest and growled, “Never do that again, shitty Deku.” And Izuku burst out laughing again, the pure sound making the knot that had coiled in Bakugou’s stomach at that one word untwist as he breathed a relieved chuckle of his own, “I guess you’ve had to put your acting skills to use, huh?”
Deku dismissed the sentiment with a wave of his hand, as it seemed he was wont to do lately, “It started that way, but I’ve been slowly transitioning into a character easier for me to maintain. It’s working so far.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘clearly’ before his features settled into a more familiar frown as he thought about his immediate fate, “So what now, Deku?”
Sensing the change in his friend’s demeanour, Izuku stood up and gestured for him to follow. They approached the door, Deku resting three fingers of his right hand on the handle as he turned back to address his friend, “Well, Ground Zero,” this earned a smug smirk, “I think we should introduce the League of Villains to its newest member, hm?”
It didn’t take long for Bakugou to infer the usefulness this role would lend him, and indeed all the heroes that had come back for the future. As a ‘double agent’ he would be able to relay information and the like to Deku as he pleased, and vice versa. Heck, they would probably even be able to coordinate field work together as well.
His smirk grew and he pounded a fist into his other hand as he gave one, curt nod of agreement to the number one hero, currently disguised as a sickly, teenaged villain. Izuku returned the gesture with a nod of his own and moved to open the door, but a throat-clear from Katsuki stopped him. He threw him a questioning glance only for his gaze to be redirected by a pointed finger that had been thrown out in the direction of where ‘father’ still lay discarded on the floor on the other side of the holding area.
He groaned aloud and pretended not to hear Katsuki’s maniacal cackling as he went to retrieve the offending appendage.