Chapter Text
Shota closed the door behind him and simply leaned against it for a moment, doing his best to take even breaths.
Hizashi was in the kitchen grading, just like he usually was when he got home - even if Shota was several hours later than he normally was, due to the fact that he had been in his office, trying not to break down as he stared at nothing for far too long.
After making sure he wouldn’t fall to the floor as soon as he moved, he kicked off his shoes and trudged into the room. He then practically collapsed into the chair adjacent to his husband, who was still ever-focused on his laptop.
“Hey,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through what was probably an email. “How was your day?”
His mind flashed to his last class, where all his students had told him everything that had been revealed to them in the past week - everything that they had been keeping from him. He remembered Todoroki coming up and explaining all that they hadn’t been able to hear.
He still heard Bakugou’s screams echoing around his head, like a broken record, looping back over and over and over again.
“I fucked up.”
And maybe it was what he said, or maybe it was how quiet he said it. But he was pretty sure it was how broken he’d sounded.
Hizashi immediately looked away from his work. “What?”
“I fucked up,” he said again, putting his face in his hands. “So bad.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Hizashi said, completely pushing his computer and paperwork to the side and moving his chair to be right next to him. “What happened?”
What happened? Oh, where did he even start?
He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, though, and he wasn’t going to start now. “Bakugou is being heavily abused at home.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath and saw him physically flinch. It was several moments before he spoke. “Did you find out because of . . .”
“Because of the damn truth quirk?” he said, fully exasperated by the mere thought. Of course that would be the only reason he ever found out about anything, anymore. “Yeah. He accidentally spilled a lot during training today.”
“That’s. . .” Shota watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. That’s pretty bad. But how did you screw up?”
Shota almost put his head on the table as he remembered all that had happened. “Well, the kids all knew about it before today and didn’t tell me.”
“You couldn’t have known, babe,” Hizashi whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. “How did they even keep it a secret?”
“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, and then actually put his head on the table like it would block out all his troubles.
“That’s still not you’re fault,” he said, rubbing his back.
He almost smiled at the irony of his statement. “No. What was my fault was not realizing why Bakugou hadn’t been showing up to class. And why he was so angry at me for not being honest about how long the quirk could’ve lasted.”
“I mean, that’s still not your fault,” his husband said, still on his side for some reason. “He could’ve been avoiding everyone for any number of reasons.”
And that’s what Shota had thought. No offense to the blond boy, but he could be a bit . . . dramatic when it came to sharing his feelings. And when Midoriya had come to him and shared his thoughts on how the quirk was truly affecting everyone - which Shota was sure was happening, the boy was an analytical genius - he knew Bakugou was probably having a very hard time with it all.
He had figured he had accidentally let some of his emotions slip, and had been too embarrassed to face anyone. Shota knew about all his harbored guilt over how he had been in middle school, and had thought he had opened up to him about pretty much everything during their therapy sessions. After all, it was Bakugou who had originally come to him to ask for help in the first place, and Shota had been so proud of how much progress he had been making.
But apparently he didn’t know anything. He hardly knew anything at all.
“I guess,” he said with a shrug, sitting back up and rubbing his face with his hands. He wasn’t particularly surprised when he felt himself brush away a tear. “But I could’ve done something sooner.”
“Well, you can do something now,” Hizashi said, ever the optimist. “Have you talked to him yet?”
“No. I’m planning on it, though.” He shook his head and rested his chin in his hand. “Do you think . . . should we-“
There was a knock at the door.
Hizashi gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go and heading over, knowing Shota was in no shape to do so.
He didn’t pay much attention to who was at the door, knowing it was probably some security personnel or another teacher. He just sat at the table and tried to take even breaths.
That was before he heard a familiar voice. One that sounded heartbroken.
He looked up to see Hitoshi standing there, eyes red and puffy and hair more of an absolute mess than it usually was. “Shota?”
(It was a step up from Aizawa, at least. He had given him permission to call him that, hoping they could eventually work up to “Dad” one day.)
(He was disgustingly sappy like that.)
“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You okay?”
Hizashi led their unofficial yet soon-to-be-official son inside, and they both sat down so that Hitoshi was between them. The boy practically collapsed into his chair like he didn’t have the energy left to stand.
“No,” he said, the truth quirk still ever-present in him. “I’m not okay at all.”
“What happened?” Shota asked, already having a pretty good idea.
“Bakugou decided to actually talk to us,” he said, surprising Shota immensely. Maybe their therapy sessions had been doing some good after all. “And everything he said was so horrible and sad and just-“ he put his head in his hands, like he was trying to hide the fact that he was still crying. “He said he deserved it. That he deserved to be starved for days while being restrained by his own parents. That he deserved to be in pain.”
Okay, so maybe they still had work to do in the therapy department.
“He was what?” Hizashi practically hissed, and Shota realized that he had never explained just how bad it had been.
“I didn’t deserve it, right?” Hitoshi suddenly said, looking up at Shota with wide eyes. “They were wrong to-“
“Of course it was wrong,” he said, probably a little too fiercely. He could tell the boy hadn’t wanted to say that out loud, but nonetheless comforted him with a hand on his shoulder. “In no way, shape, or form did you ever deserve what happened to you, and neither did Bakugou.”
Hitoshi wiped at his eyes before staring at the table once more. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”
Shota snuck a look over his head, making eye contact with Hizashi. He wasn’t too surprised to see unshed tears in his eyes. Out of the two of them, the blond had always been the more emotional one.
He also knew the other understood what he wanted to do, and that they needed to talk about it.
All three of them.
“Bakugou is still under the custody of his parents,” he said quietly, still rubbing his back. “We could do something about that.”
Hitoshi looked up at him, like he definitely knew where this was going, but didn’t acknowledge it regardless. “You could throw his parents in jail.”
He couldn’t help but give a light snort at his words, and saw Hizashi smile, too. “We’ll get to that later, just like I told you I’m going to burn that foster home to the ground.”
Hitoshi smiled sadly. “But that’s not what you meant, was it?”
“No.” Shota gave him weak smile of his own. “But this is Bakugou’s choice. And it’s yours, too.”
“Mine?” he asked, confused. “Why would it be mine?”
“Because you’re a part of this family, too, now,” Hizashi said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “We wouldn’t do something like this without talking to you.”
He stared between them for a moment before looking down again and sniffing lightly. “How do I even make that choice?”
Shota hummed, considering his words. He decided to answer with a question of his own. “Do you want him out of there?”
“Yes,” he said without any hesitation. “More than anything.”
“Are you okay sharing us? With more than just Eri?”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “How could I deny someone this when I needed it so bad?”
(He really loved this boy - so, so much. How could anyone ever say he was a villain when he had such a selfless heart?)
“Do you think you could tolerate being in the same house as him all the time?” Hizashi asked jokingly.
“Yeah,” Hitoshi said with a weak laugh. “I guess I could.”
“He might not even want this,” Shota said, cutting down the mood like he was so good at doing. “I’m going to tell him he could be under official custody of UA, which would technically make me his guardian, just as his homeroom teacher, not a legal parent. Or he could decide to go into foster care.”
This made Hitoshi laugh in earnest. “I don’t think he’ll ever want to do that after all that I spilled.” But then the smile slipped from his face, and he looked at Shota with an almost pleading expression. “You just can’t let him go back there. No matter how stubborn he tries to be. You can’t - you can’t let him.”
He was crying again, and Shota tried to ignore the tears that gathered in his own eyes at the sight as he leaned over to hug him. He tucked his head under his chin and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “I won’t. I promise.”
“If he says yes, we’ll definitely need a bigger apartment,” Hizashi said mischievously, ever the mood-lightener of the house.
“Good,” Shota said. “I don’t need that mouse saying five people can live in a two bedroom place.” He suddenly pulled back and gave Hitoshi a questioning look. “There’s no one else that needs help, right?”
His heart sank to the floor when the boy looked down sheepishly. “Well. . .”
Shota almost put his head on the table again. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. “I need a drink. And a raise.”
Katsuki wasn’t really paying attention to the lesson. Which was stupid, because he always paid attention in class, but he just couldn’t force himself to. He wasn’t sure where his thoughts even were, anymore. It was like they were a jumbled up mess of emotional shit that was going to drive him insane.
Okay, what could he think of that wouldn’t make him dissolve into a panic attack in front of everyone?
He glanced across the room to look at Kirishima. He found himself smiling at the back of his head, like some love-sick puppy.
Gross.
(But at least his heart rate was down, now, the little traitorous romantic inside himself said.)
As if he could sense his gaze, Kirishima turned slightly and caught his eye. He looked surprised, like the sight of Katsuki smiling was a shock in and of itself, and smiled right back as bright as the sun before turning back around.
And really, how did he get so lucky?
He remembered again how he had apparently stood up for him about what had happened during the sports festival. Midnight had been avoiding looking at him these past few days, which was damn amazing. A relief from the ever-burning resentment he had held over what had happened.
It wasn’t just how it had affected his public image, or his internship experience. Or even his mental health, however fucked up it had been beforehand. No. It was because it had made home a fucking nightmare for weeks the moment he had stepped through the door with that damn first place metal buried deep in his backpack.
“Brat,” she hissed, slapping him in the face so hard it brought tears to his eyes. “What was that fucking display?!”
“Nothing, you hag!” he yelled, trying to make his way around her so he could escape to his room like the coward he was-
“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” she exclaimed, grabbing him and slamming him up against the wall. “I’m not done talking to you!”
“I just said no!” he said, trying to ignore how he was suddenly frozen. “Is that so fucking bad?!”
“It is when they want to tie you to a podium and you make a fool out of yourself! Maybe I should take a page from their book and strap you down again!”
He ignored the jolt of fear that went through him at those words. “You couldn’t pin me down if you tried!”
“Wanna fucking bet?!” she yelled, slamming a vase from a nearby table into the wall right were his shoulder would’ve been if he hadn’t wrenched himself out of her grip at the last second.
“I have school tomorrow, hag!” he yelled, lying through his teeth. “Don’t give me injuries I can’t explain!”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, I know you have off,” she said, but still backed away slightly, knowing he was right. She crossed her arms. “We’ll talk about this later. And clean up this mess,” she said, gesturing to the shards of glass now scattered all over the floor.
He didn’t dare move as she walked past. He knew what those words meant, and that this was far from over. She was probably just going to get drunk and be even worse later.
She was worse. He had to lay on his side that night, trying so hard to not think of the award at the back of his closet. At least she had left his face clear, since she had been entirely sober.
“Bakugou, please see me after class,” Aizawa said, jolting Katsuki out of his thoughts.
Oh, the lesson was over. Actually, the whole fucking day was over, wasn’t it? Great, he was now certifiably crazy. Thankfully he hadn’t freaked out on everyone. So much for thinking “happy thoughts” and all that shit, though.
He didn’t bother moving from his seat, glaring at his desk as everyone walked past him. He knew they were all looking at him, but didn’t budge. He didn’t want their pity.
(And maybe they weren’t even pitying him. Maybe they just . . . ugh, cared.)
(He really was losing it, wasn’t he?)
He stayed like that until everyone was out of the classroom. Until it was just him and Aizawa. And wait-
He knew about all of it now, didn’t he? Fuck. He hadn’t even thought about that yet, about how Aizawa was in the room when he lost it with Todoroki. Which was . . . great.
Just great.
“What do you want?” he practically growled, still not looking up from his desk.
“Do you want to talk in my office?” Aizawa asked - and just perfect, he was talking all soft and accommodating- “Or we could stay here. It’s up to you.”
“Why do you care?” he couldn’t help but ask. He wasn’t sure if that was him being bitter or if it was just the truth quirk, but he still regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
Because Aizawa had been there for him through so much. He had helped him through all his shitty feelings to the point where he could almost believe everyone actually liked him and weren’t just pitying him. It was because of his help his relationship with Izuku was better now.
He smirked lightly in his seat at the thought of the conversation they’d had that morning.
“So . . . do you want me to call you Izuku now?” he asked.
Surprisingly, the nerd made a face. “Ew, no. That’d be so weird. Like, I really appreciated it last night, but it still felt weird, you know?”
“I mean, I don’t want to call you-“
“The name that means something new to me now? The hero name you gave me?”
He scowled at the ground. “It was still an insult.”
“Yeah, well it’s not anymore. I like it. And what, am I supposed to call you Katsuki now?”
He felt himself make a face. “Ew, no. That’d be so weird.” Izuku just gave him a deadpan look. “Ugh, fine. Whatever you say, Deku.”
His smile disappeared when he remembered where he was. Because his mind didn’t know how to fucking work anymore, apparently.
He risked a glance up at Aizawa, and did a double take. He looked . . . really bad. Like he hadn’t slept in a week and was about to start crying at the drop of a hat. Which was ridiculous, because Aizawa didn’t cry.
(Katsuki didn’t cry, either. And that had been proven wrong.)
He looked back down at his desk, biting his tongue. He would’ve liked to go to his office, to maybe make it feel like one of their therapy sessions, but that would make it harder to pretend to ignore him.
He was sure Aizawa was going to wait for him to say something. And that he was going to keep trying the kicked puppy approach. But he was their teacher, and curve balls were his specialty.
“I can have your parents in prison by the end of the month.”
His head snapped up faster than it ever had in his life. “You can what?”
Aizawa looked as disinterested as usual now, like his distress earlier had never even existed. And Katsuki was grateful, because his head was spinning enough as it was. “You have been reportedly under the influence of an extremely powerful truth quirk. The entire conversation you had with Todoroki-“ conversation, yeah right- “in the gym was recorded by our top of the line security system, not to mention it was in front of over a dozen witnesses. You wouldn’t even need to give a statement, and as a pro hero I can fast-track the court process.”
Okay.
Okay, that was a fucking lot to process.
“And they’d just what, go quietly?” he asked once the gears in his brain started turning again. “They wouldn’t make a big deal over the fact that a hero students parents were being arrested for child abuse?”
(That child. He was going to pound him and that quirk of his into the ground. Actually, no - he was going to find the parents of the kid and pound them into the ground for thinking that mixing their two quirks together would be a grand idea-)
“We would force them to sign nondisclosure agreements. They would be facing almost twice the jail time for leaking anything.”
“And how long would it be without leaking anything?”
(How long did they deserve in prison for hurting him, however deserving or undeserving he was? How much did they do in the eyes of the law? Was scarring him mentally and physically only worth a few years? Did the closet thing add a couple? Where was the line?)
“Felony charges of the sort can go above thirty years for your mother. It would be less for your father, since neglect was his only crime, but it would still be over five years, possibly even ten. The court will also place restraining orders on them so once they are out of prison they can’t go near you without facing more consequences.”
And that was even more to process.
It was weird, hearing what they did talked about it such a legal manner. Like . . . they actually broke the damn law, didn’t they? It wasn’t just him being a brat, no matter how much that was true.
And if this happened, he wouldn’t have to see them ever again.
Did he want that?
A hand in his hair, shoving him into a closet. A shoe against his ribs. A father that only stopped by to do laundry. Glass in his skin, metal on his back. A fist in his face. Tears in the dark.
Yes.
Yes, he wanted that.
“But what if they were right?” he said. He couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “What if I deserved it?”
“You didn’t.” And his sad, kind voice was back. He glanced up to see he was standing in front of his desk now, like he wanted to get closer. “You never deserved any of that.”
“You don’t know that,” he spat, looking back down. Because even if Aizawa knew a lot, he didn’t know everything. He had made sure of that, because . . .
Because he wanted a parental figure that didn’t hate his guts, for once in his life.
“Actually, I do. Hitoshi told me.”
A flash of anger went through him. What right did he have, to tell him anything-
“He came to my apartment after you went to bed, clearly upset about everything that had happened. He told me he wanted you out of that house more than anything. His words, not mine.”
Oh.
(More than anything? Even under a truth quirk, that was the thing he wanted most, now that his own troubles were solved?)
(Did he really care that much?)
“And I want you to know that you could’ve been the worst kid in the history of kids - you weren’t, that’s not what I’m implying - and you still wouldn’t have deserved a single bit of what they did to you.”
He harshly blinked back whatever damn moisture was brave enough to enter his eyes. His chest was burning intensely, just like it had the night before.
He was getting sick of this.
He glanced back up and saw that Aizawa was right at the side of his desk now, crouched down so they were at eye level with each other. “I need you to understand. You’re not a villain. You never were one, and you’ll never be one. I’m proud of how far you’ve come, and I know you’ll make a great hero, one that’s compassionate and strong.”
(So many people had called him strong.)
(No one had ever described him as compassionate before.)
He certainly didn’t feel strong right now, that was for sure. He felt like he was going to fucking fall apart at the seams.
Aizawa still cared about him, knowing everything he had done.
He didn’t want to admit how great it felt to know he was proud of him.
He couldn’t remember his parents ever being proud of him. He won the sports festival, and they didn’t care. He escaped villains with his life, and they just said he was one of them. He came in first for the entrance exam, and they just told him he would be expelled within the first week.
(He gets a quirk, they only hurt him.)
“Katsuki,” and wow, he was using his name, that opened up a whole new floodgate of feelings- “Do you want out of there?”
“Yes,” he said immediately, not sure if it was against his will or not. Which was really annoying, if he thought too hard about it.
Aizawa hummed, like he was considering his words.
(Like he wasn’t just going to either shove him back to his parents or into a foster home. Which wouldn’t be too bad - he only had a few more years until he became an adult, and he was living in the dorms until then anyway. Whatever shitty home he would be shoved in for the summer wouldn’t be half as bad as anything he had already experienced.)
(Part of him was bitter. Bitter about the fact that Shinso got to be adopted by Aizawa and Mic - because of course he knew they were married, they weren’t subtle in the slightest - and that he was getting a better life.)
(God, this was why he was such an asshole. Shinso had been through literal hell, and all he could do was be jealous of him for being happy. Katsuki was the one that deserved to suffer, after all.)
(So why was he so upset?)
“You could become a ward of UA. It would make me your legal guardian, as your teacher. You would stay on campus over breaks and I would become your emergency contact.”
Katsuki’s heart stopped. There was no way; it was too good to be true. It was such a simple solution, one that didn’t leave him somewhere he didn’t want to be and let him live his life in peace.
(So why was he still upset? Why was he still jealous?)
(At least he didn’t have to confront Aizawa about his feelings, now.)
“How would you feel about that, Katsuki?”
It sounds fucking fine. Let’s do it and never talk about this again.
“I already see you as a father figure, so it’d work out well. I’m just jealous of what Shinso has, even if he never deserved to be hurt in the first place like me.”
He immediately put his face in his hands and tried his best not to scream out an extensive list of choice words. He couldn’t look Aizawa in the face ever again, and that was going to get really fucking complicated these next few years-
“Katsuki, what did I just say about all your parents did?” he asked, like it was the only problem he had with what Katsuki said.
“That I didn’t deserve it,” he grumbled into his hands, resisting the urge to also put his face on his desk. “I’m trying, okay?”
And well . . . shit. He was, wasn’t he? He was trying so hard to believe everyone. He could almost see himself believing them, sometime in the distant future. Maybe with a lot more fucking counseling.
“I know you’re trying,” Aizawa said softly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Katsuki lowered his hands slowly to look at him, and somehow wasn’t surprised to see a couple tear tracks on his face. “It just breaks my heart that someone I see as family thinks that of themselves.”
Someone he saw . . . as family?
Well, fuck.
So much for trying his best not to cry.
“We can be a family, if you want that.”
He hardly even felt himself nod, too focused on trying to stop the tears from pouring down his face. All he knew was yes. Yes I absolutely want that.
He found himself tightly gripping the hand Aizawa had on his shoulder, like that would ground him. His head was still spinning way too fucking fast. And maybe that was a good thing, so he wouldn’t be angry at himself for what he did next.
He hugged Aizawa like a goddamn child, and cried like one, too.
(He really needed to get his shit together, didn’t he?)
“You’re still, uh-“ he shoved a sob down his throat, trying to keep the last of his dignity from going down the drain. “You’re still gonna throw them in jail, right?”
Aizawa chuckled beneath him, and Katsuki definitely didn’t melt into him even more. “Absolutely.”
“And . . . what about Midnight?”
Because he had to ask, apparently.
He felt Aizawa almost growl below him. “Nezu said we’re already short staffed as it is. She’s on thin ice, though, I can assure you.”
He couldn’t help but bark out a weak laugh. “Thanks, Aizawa.”
He hummed. “Call me Shota, kid.”
Katsuki tried to wipe at his eyes the best he could before he left the building, because he knew all his shitty friends would be waiting for him right outside. And apparently his circle had grown a lot, since Izuku and his whole fucking entourage was there, too.
“Are you alright?!” Kirishima asked immediately, clearly seeing the redness around his eyes.
“I’m good,” he said quietly as he stared at nothing dazedly, head still spinning faster than the planet itself. “I’m really good.”
“Oh,” Kirishima said, relieved yet clearly confused. “I’m glad?”
“Shinso,” he said for some reason, looking around before finding him somewhere to his left. “We’re brothers now, I guess.”
Because that was how he was going to break the news to everyone, apparently.
Shinso just smirked and looked at him knowingly. “I had a feeling. Did he threaten your parents, too?”
“Promised to have them in jail by next month.”
He gave a low, impressed whistle. “Nice.”
“Wait,” Kaminari said, like this was the most monumental news ever. “Does that mean. . .”
“He’s adopting me,” he said. Because it was. It really was the best news that had happened to him in a long, long time.
“That’s amazing, Kacchan!” Izuku said, bouncing up to him like a puppy or something. “I’m so happy for you!”
Katsuki knew he was smiling, and for once he didn’t try to fight it. “I’m happy, too.”
“Just promise you guys won’t kill each other,” Kaminari said, swinging an arm around Shinso’s shoulders. “That’d be rather unfortunate.”
“Are you alright?” Shoto asked Izuku, who was crouched in front of the gym doors, looking like he was about to cry.
“I don’t know,” he said as Shoto sat down next to him. “It’s just - everything that’s happened. There’s so much pain in the world. How are we ever supposed to fix it?”
Shoto hummed and looked down, trying his best to not crush his spirits. “I don’t think we can.” So far, so good, he thought bitterly. “But our job as heroes isn’t to fix all the worlds problems. It’s to help people. That’s why All Might was the Symbol of Peace, right?”
“I guess.” He sniffed lightly and wrung his hands together. “And how am I supposed to live up to that? How do I become a - a symbol when there’s so much wrong with the world? Am I even worthy of his power?”
Shoto placed a hand on his arm, and Izuku to looked up at him with teary eyes.
And he couldn’t help but smile as he recalled what had been said to him so long ago.
“It’s your power, isn’t it?”
Izuku looked taken aback for a moment before his face split into a the most blinding grin Shoto had ever seen. He tackled him in a hug and buried his face in his neck, like he was meant to be there.
Shoto wrapped his arms around him tightly, because he really didn’t plan on ever letting go.
Denki was going to slam his face into the table.
“But why?” Mina asked, drawing out both words so that it was more of a groan.
Aizawa just rolled his eyes. “This isn’t the end of the world. It’s been over a month since you trained with anyone outside this class, and it hasn’t been good for your education. Class B has been specifically instructed to not antagonize you.”
“Like that’s gonna happen,” Jiro muttered. It was apparently close enough to the truth that she was able to say it.
Because yeah, that’s exactly what didn’t happen.
“Oh look!” Monoma exclaimed as soon as he saw them, striking one of his stupid poses. “It’s the truth telling class! Oh, I hope nothing embarrassing about class 1-A comes to light! That would be truly unfortunate-“
He was hit over the head by Kendo, who just smiled at them apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout him!”
“I can still beat your ass, Copy Cat,” Bakugou said, almost sounding bored. “Don’t need to lie about that.”
Denki raised his hand for a high five and was absolutely ecstatic when the blond obliged.
Unfortunately, his luck ran out, because he was grouped with the lunatic himself.
“Isn’t Class B the best?” he was saying before shooting Denki a look. “It’s a shame we have to be stuck with the dumb one, though.” He dramatically sighed. “At least you can wipe out the other team before short circuiting and becoming useless.”
They’ve been specifically instructed not to antagonize you, Aizawa said somewhere in the back of his mind.
“I can’t control where I let it out,” he grumbled, because he wasn’t going to lose the exercise just because they didn’t know how his quirk worked. “I’ll just shock all of you, too.”
“Pity,” he said, putting a finger to his chin. “And I was so looking forward to seeing you stumble around.”
Denki rolled his eyes. “Well, considering short circuiting severely hurts me, I’d rather not.”
“It WHAT?!” came a scream from the other side of the field.
(Just once. He’d like to keep a secret, just once. Was that too much to ask?)
And now Jiro was marching up to him, having heard everything because of her stupid quirk - everything he had been trying to not say - and she had the most rage-filled look on her face. It rivaled even Bakugou’s.
“Say that again!” she practically screeched, jabbing a finger right into his chest.
“Overusing my quirk hurts me. It makes my muscles spasm-y and gives me a huge migraine.” He really shouldn’t have been mad at this point, but he still had enough energy to groan.
Why does the universe hate me? he asked the sky. No one answered. Rude.
“Okay, I take it back!” she said, slamming a fist on his chest and looking five seconds away from angry-crying. “Only an idiot would keep something like that a secret! Why the hell did you think that was a good idea?!”
“I didn’t want to worry everyone,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “And it makes for good entertainment, I guess?”
“Good enter- I literally can’t even-“ she shook her head, which made the tears in her eyes fall all over her face before she settled her gaze on him with a glare. Which, whatever, right? He could handle-
“Mr. Aizawa!” she yelled, not taking her murderous eyes off of him. “We need your help over here!”
Okay, so he couldn’t handle that.
Aizawa came running over, probably because of the hint of hysteria in Jiro’s voice, and looked like he just wanted to curl up on the ground when he saw only her tears and not somebody lying dead on the floor. “What is it this time?”
He sounded so defeated, and Denki almost laughed - he probably would’ve, if he wasn’t the current center of attention.
“Kaminari, tell him what you just told me,” she practically growled.
He did, and Aizawa just pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something about a raise under his breath. “Kaminari, please see me after class.”
Great.
“I’d like to start by apologizing.”
That threw Denki for a loop - actually, it threw the whole room upside down and out the window. Wait, that didn’t really make sense. Whatever. “What? Why?”
“For saying everything I did in class the other day,” he said. He suddenly had the most genuinely emotional look Denki had ever seen on his face. “I never knew you felt the way you do, and I’m sorry for any time you’ve ever felt that you weren’t good enough to be here. You got into the hero course just like everyone else and you’re just as capable of being a hero.”
Denki couldn’t do anything but stare.
No teacher had ever apologized to him, much less for something like that. It left him almost unable to move, and he definitely wasn’t blinking moisture from his eyes.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, trying his best to sound steady. “I really appreciate you saying that.”
“Of course,” he said. “I was actually meaning to talk to you before now, but you were . . .” He trailed off for a moment, and Denki suddenly remembered the day he had stormed out of class was the day Bakugou had . . . also stormed out of the common room. “You didn’t seem ready to talk.”
He remembered how distraught all of them had been the day after. No wonder Aizawa had steered clear.
“Yeah, I was too in shock from what Bakugou told us.” And wait, now Aizawa knew just how long they had been keeping that particular secret. If the look on his face was anything to go by, he was not amused.
“I see.” He looked ready to take a nap. Well, he always looked like that, and maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad if he didn’t also look like never wanted to get back up. “I’ve been told you think you may have ADHD.”
Oh, so that was what they were talking about now? “Yeah. It makes sense, even if I don’t want to be crazy or something.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re crazy,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft. “Your brain just works a little differently. I think you might also have dyslexia, but we’ll get to that later. Have you ever been diagnosed for either?”
Dyslexia? Okay, that was a new one, but it made total sense anyway. “No, my parents thought it didn’t exist.”
Aizawa just stared at him for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Okay. Yeah, okay. That explains - yeah.”
It was almost amusing, seeing his teacher stumble over his words in such a way.
“Can you help me?” Denki asked, only slightly against his will. “Can you help me figure all this-“ he gestured to his head and wiggled his fingers- “out?”
“I can. I’m a licensed counselor, and I even have a degree in psychology. I would be able to diagnose you, if you would want that.”
“Yes.” He shook his head slightly from the whiplash of just how fast the word shot out of his mouth. “I want that. Er, please?”
“Of course,” he said again, almost smiling. He then shot an unexpected glare at him. “And don’t think we’re done talking about your quirk, either, problem child.”
Denki felt the blood drain from his face. “Cool. Coolio. Cool beans-“
Aizawa just rolled his eyes. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Denki walked out of Aizawa’s office in such a daze that he almost ran into the person right outside.
“Oh, shit, sorry-“ he mumbled before doing a double take. “Todoroki?”
The boy just tilted his head a bit. “Are you done? Aizawa said he wanted to talk to me.”
Denki couldn’t help but stare for a moment, head still spinning at a level that was probably dangerous. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”
“Alright.” He shuffled awkwardly before asking, “Did he help you?”
“Yeah, a lot actually,” he said smiling at the thought and . . . Wait a minute. “Is he helping you, too?”
“I hope so.”
He couldn’t help but beam at him. “I’m sure he will.”
Todoroki surprisingly smiled back, which made Denki just grin all the wider. “I’m sure he will, too.”
He then went inside, and Denki went to find his friends.
“You idiot.” Ah, there they were. “How the fuck could you not tell anyone about your quirk?!”
“Bakubro, relax,” he said, throwing an arm around Shinso’s shoulders because he knew the other liked it so much - he had told Denki himself, surprisingly enough. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Kirishima asked, sounding almost heartbroken. “Dude, we care about you. We don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“It’s been happening my whole life,” he said with a shrug. “I even used to like, charge our electronics at home when we were tight on money. My parents didn’t care, why should you?”
He meant it as a “duh, we should totally leave this alone now” type of comment, not a “holy shit let’s all start crying” comment. Which he couldn’t really tell the difference between, apparently.
Someone suddenly slammed into him. He looked down to see Jiro buried into his chest. “We care.” She shook her head, like she could just say no to everything going on around her. “We care so much.”
He looked up to see all their friends similarly distraught. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t about to become an absolute mess as he wrapped his arms around her.
“So what did Aizawa say? Did he freak out about it, too?” Sero asked.
“Oh, he flipped his shit near the end there,” Denki said, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time. “Kept yelling at me about “brain damage” and how I “held information from Recovery Girl.” He also diagnosed me with ADHD and dyslexia.”
This truth quirk made him sound even more random than normal, which was really saying something.
“That’s great, Kami!” Mina yelled, attacking him in a side hug so both her and Jiro were hanging off of him. “Now the teachers can help you in class and stuff!”
Mina was amazing. She always knew how to put a positive spin on things - how to make them all smile even when things seemed so bleak. “Thanks, Mina. And I actually think you might have ADHD, too.”
She blinked at him and let go, and so did Jiro. Damn it, he needed to shut his mouth-
“Really?” she said, seemingly just perplexed and not offended. “Why?”
“I’ve been reading a bit on ADHD and apparently it’s less diagnosed in girls.” And when the hell did he become a so called expert on this, why was he spouting this stupid word vomit she obviously didn’t want to hear- “It shows up as less hyperactive stuff and more inattentive stuff. It shows up more in girls as being talkative and supposedly lazy.”
She stared at him. Everyone was staring at him.
“Sorry-“
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, smiling yet obviously stunned. “That makes so much sense. I’ve always been called lazy when I can’t bring myself to do stuff.”
“Maybe you could talk to Aizawa, too,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He already said he’d help me with class work and study methods.”
Her smile widened and she linked arms with him. “I’d like that.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Shoto asked as he tried to sit down as un-awkwardly as possible. “Is this about what Bakugou and I said the other day?”
“Yes, it is,” Aizawa said tiredly, like he was dealing with far too much for his poor sleep deprived brain. “It’s come to my attention that apparently no one knows how to raise children anymore.”
Shoto couldn’t help but smile lightly at the sudden joke. “I’d say that’s accurate.”
“Are you okay?” Aizawa asked, suddenly serious. “Are you in any danger currently?”
“No,” he said, answering that question honestly for once in his life. So many people he didn’t know asking about bruises and cuts and burns, and he would have to lie to them, say he was fine, no he wasn’t being hurt by the person that was supposed to protect him - protect everyone-
Because now Endeavor was trying to apologize, to atone.
And Shoto - well. Shoto wasn’t like Izuku. He wasn’t a forgiving soul, no matter how much he was trying to let go of the anger that had been burning inside of him for so long.
(And Izuku was right: Bakugou and his father really weren’t comparable at all. Even before he knew the truth about the blond, it was obvious. One was a kid, and the other was an adult taken over by a lifelong grudge.)
(And how weird was it, Shoto thought, that his father only felt bad about what he did after he became the number one hero?)
“My father has been tolerable lately, oddly enough,” he said, staring down at his hands. “I believe it’s because he believes UA to be sufficient enough at teaching me, so he doesn’t have to anymore.”
“I see,” Aizawa said. “Well, if that’s the case, he wouldn’t mind if you became a ward of UA, of course?”
“A what?” Shoto asked, thrown for a loop. What was his teacher saying? “What do you . . . What?”
“A ward of UA,” Aizawa said again. “Yaoyorozu has already become one. You would be under official custody of the school until you turn eighteen, and I would be your emergency contact. Endeavor wouldn’t be a part of your life anymore as long as he signs the papers.”
Somehow, Shoto could hear the unspoken words there: unless you want me to have him arrested.
“Is there anything you would like me to do in regards to your father?”
Ah, there it was.
He looked down and thought for a moment, thought of his mother and how Fuyumi was busy getting her out of the hospital, about how no one even lived with his father anymore, about how much hero society needed to settle back down before the number one hero was arrested, for goodness’ sake-
-and about the numerous binders already dedicated to this very thing in his boyfriend’s room.
Shoto looked up at Aizawa and smiled, which must’ve surprised the hell out of him because his eyes were as wide as saucers.
“I would love to be a ward of UA, and I don’t believe my father would have a problem with that,” he said. “But as much as I appreciate it, I don’t think I need your help on the . . . other front. Izuku has all that covered.”
And maybe once they graduated they could get a little apartment together - maybe even open their own hero agency. He could visit his mom on weekends with Izuku, where she would be free of her prison and all the torment of her past. They could visit Inko, too.
And maybe Shoto could ask her for her blessing, and they could get married and raise some kids-
(Why the hell was he thinking that far ahead, they hadn’t even been dating for two months-)
(But then he pictured his eyes, his laugh, his smile, and realized he’d been in love with him for far, far longer.)
“I see,” Aizawa said, seemingly unaware of the fact that Shoto had just disappeared deep into his hopeless romantic side. “Midoriya, you say?”
There was edge to his voice, and it almost sounded like fear. It would’ve been amusing if it Shoto didn’t completely understand.
They locked eyes, and Shoto knew they were both thinking the exact same thing.
We are so lucky he’s not a villain.
(It was around dinner time when it happened, on some random weekday.)
(None of them saw it coming.)
It was Katsuki’s turn to cook that night. Which was good, because he needed a distraction from all the thoughts in his head, and almost no one else in the class could cook for shit anyway.
He just needed an idea of what to cook, because apparently everything he tried to make was “way too spicy for mortal mouths.”
Fucking wimps.
“What’d you guys want for dinner?” he asked Izuku and Todoroki, since they were the only ones in his general vicinity and he didn’t feel like yelling for once.
Izuku hopped over while his boyfriend followed. “Ooh, what are you making?”
“I don’t know yet,” Katsuki said. “That’s why I asked.”
“I’ll eat whatever you make, Kacchan.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “So do you want katsudon or ramen that will burn your tongue off?”
Izuku rolled his eyes right back. “Well obviously the ramen, since I hate katsudon so much.”
He went to spark at him, because why did he always have to be such a sarcastic little shit-
. . . before he felt himself freeze.
He froze completely, and saw Todoroki and Izuku do the same. For a moment, no one noticed how they stopped moving and the mindless chatter continued. But soon enough they were all staring at the three of them, who were all looking at each other with wide eyes.
“Say that again,” Katsuki managed to say.
“I hate katsudon.” A wide, shaky grin started to form on Izuku’s face. “I hate Katsudon. I hate katsudon! I hate katsudon!”
He was hysterically laughing at this point with tears in his eyes, and he continued to yell the phrase for all the world to hear. Of course, the extras all looked confused at the sudden outburst, and how the three of them looked so overwhelmingly happy.
“Why is Midoriya yelling about how he hates katsudon?” Kaminari asked, bewildered.
“He doesn’t,” Todoroki said, a grin on his own face - a rare sight. “It’s his favorite food.”
Katsuki could pinpoint the exact moment where it clicked.
“I hate katsudon! Hell yeah!”
No one even commented on how Izuku had sworn.
“I love math class,” Kaminari said, like he was testing the waters. He started grinning, too.
“Deku is the worst person I’ve ever met!” Uraraka yelled with laugh, running up and hugging him so hard they started to spin.
“Music is a waste of time and it sucks!” Jiro yelled with her hands in the air.
And now everyone was yelling, screaming obvious lies at the top of their lungs for all the world to hear. There was cheering, laughter, and tears.
“You’re all gonna give me a headache,” Katsuki grumbled. “God, I hate you lot.”
If anything, his words just made them cheer louder.
Aizawa looked directly at Izuku right before the end bell was supposed to ring, before turning to address the whole class.
“As it turns out, the quirk you were hit with did have an emotional aspect. The mother had a standard truth quirk, but the father’s prone to suggestion quirk worked based on the heightening of his target’s emotions.”
Izuku blinked. So he was right?
“Why didn’t we know about this?” Iida asked. And Izuku was inclined to agree - why on earth was that overlooked?
“I’m not entirely sure,” Aizawa said, completely serious. “Perhaps the father’s quirk registration was incorrect, or it wasn’t obvious in their child that they had mixed in that particular way. Regardless, just know that if you felt overly emotional, that it had nothing to do with how weak or strong your willpower was.”
Izuku noticed he seemed to be looking at Katsuki near the end there, and he couldn’t help but quirk his lips into a small smile. The boy in front of him was too stubborn for his own good, so he was glad Aizawa was looking out for him.
Katsuki very pointedly ignored him, and instead turned around. “Looks like you were right, nerd.”
“Guess I was,” he said, scratching his temple. “Although, I’m wondering just how much of the quirk from the dad really combined with the truth quirk or if it wasn’t actually all that powerful, or if there was another component that we don’t know about or . . .”
He kept talking, and didn’t see all of his classmates sweat drop around him.
“Attention everyone!” Iida said, hands chopping as he stood in front of the common room.
“It has come to my attention that so many of you had your secrets exposed, yet I was able to keep mine. I feel this is unfair, so I wish to share it with you.”
“Are you talking about Stain?” Kaminari asked, playing with Shinso’s hair. “We already knew about that, dude.”
Iida looked flabbergasted. “But - but how-“
“I might’ve told them on accident,” Midoriya said meekly. “In all fairness, I can’t keep a secret to save my life.”
“You-“ Iida stared at him, looking oddly heartbroken. “I didn’t even get to make my apology speech!”
“So let me get this straight,” Katsuki said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying his best not to scream. “You went home over the weekend. For the first time in over a month, might I add.”
“Mhm,” Izuku said, a pure, innocent look in his eyes. “My mom missed me a lot.”
“And you just-“ he sighed heavily and closed his eyes- “happened to be in my neighborhood.”
“We live in the same neighborhood, Kacchan.”
“That’s not-“ he groaned and almost slapped himself in the face. “Okay, you just happened to be walking by my house.”
“Naturally. It was great walking weather.”
“And you thought you’d just - stop by. To say hi.”
He looked up at him with those ever-so-innocent eyes. “It’s the neighborly thing to do, isn’t it?”
“And you just said “Hey, Auntie,” like a fucking idiot-“
“That’s her,” he said with a sweet smile. “Good old Auntie-“
“-and then socked her in the fucking jaw.”
He gave Katsuki a blinding grin and a peace sign. “Yep!”
“You really do have a death wish,” he grumbled, putting his face in his hands to hide his own smile.
“Oh! And that’s not all!” he said, like this was some damn commercial and there was a bonus for just the low price of nine ninety-nine, as Kaminari would say. “Your dad was home! Because they had to go over all the legal stuff Aizawa’s throwing at them! I got to punch him, too!”
“How fucking dumb are-“
“I got it all on video,” Todoroki said blankly, pulling out his phone.
Damn it. “Send that to me. Right now.”
“With pleasure.”
“Hey Jiro, have you seen Kaminari?”
She looked up at Hitoshi, and he was trying to look as not-awkward as possible. It wasn’t really working, if the smirk she gave him was anything to go by. “Last I saw him was in class, sorry.”
And now that the quirk was gone, he could finally trust that sneaking suspicion that she was lying. “Alright, thanks.”
“Might wanna try around your dorm room,” she said slyly before going back to whatever she was looking at on her phone.
Yeah, definitely lying.
So he did look, and sure enough, Kaminari was right outside his door like he was building the courage to knock.
“C’mon, Denki, you got this,” he muttered, jumping up and down a little so his hair bounced all over the place. “Just - knock on the damn door-“
“Hey,” Hitoshi said, trying to act like he hadn’t been listening. “What’s up?”
“Oh - uh, hi?” he said, eyes wide and legs crossed like he was hiding something. “Nice weather, right?”
Hitoshi just tilted his head. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Surprisingly enough, the blond boy didn’t seem all that shaken by his words. “Yeah, I was, um. I was looking for you.”
Haven’t seen him, huh, Jiro?
“Is that so?”
Kaminari looked down at his shoes for a moment, and Hitoshi got a clear view of the lightning bolt in his hair. He wondered if it was natural or dyed like Kirishima.
And he suddenly looked up, a steely resolve in his eyes. “I like you.”
Hitoshi’s brain went blank, which was weird because usually he was the one that did that to other people. “Huh?”
“I like you, like - more than a friend,” he said again, still looking emotionally stable somehow, while Hitoshi certainly was not. “If I learned anything from the past month it’s that you shouldn’t hide your feelings.”
“Oh, uh.” His mind was still wondrously blank.
“I didn’t want you to think I only told you because I had to,” Kaminari said, scratching the back of his neck, a flush creeping up his cheeks as his resolve finally crumbled. “I wanted you to know I did it because I wanted to.”
Hitoshi finally got control of himself and smirked lightly, and ignored the glowing feeling that was beginning to grow in his chest. “So you waited until a truth quirk wore off. To tell me the truth. To make sure I knew you weren’t lying.”
Kaminari froze, and then immediately put his face in his hands and groaned. “Well, when you put it like that-“
“I’m kidding,” he said with a laugh. He grabbed a hand from the other’s face, forcing him look at Hitoshi with wide-as-saucer eyes. “I totally get it. And I’m glad you waited, ‘cause I was going to, too.”
Kaminari actually jolted before staring at him with a dropped jaw. “Wait - you- you were-“
“Yeah.” He put his other hand in his pocket and smirked. “I like you. And stuff.”
Kaminari was holding his hand very tightly. “Uh, cool. Yeah, cool cool cool-“
“Just shut up and let me kiss you.”
“Shutting up now.”
“So how many couples even got together because of this whole thing?” Midoriya asked. “Like, three?”
“Do Hitoshi and I count as four?” Kaminari said. “I mean, we got together after but-“
“Yeah, that would count I think?”
“Guys, there were five!” Uraraka suddenly said. “Tsu and I got together!”
“You did?!”
“When did that happen?!”
“Did you not notice us holding hands for the past few weeks?!” she practically yelled. “Do any of you pay attention to anything?!”
“Uh, there were six?” Ojiro said with confusion. “Toru and I got together the second week.”
Nobody said anything for the longest time.
“For future heroes,” Tokoyami deadpanned, not looking up from his textbook, “some of you really don’t pay very good attention.”
“Hey, uh, nerd?”
Izuku turned around to see Katsuki right behind him, also walking back from class late. He caught up with him and they soon fell in step with each other.
“What’s up, Kacchan?” Izuku matched the other’s tone and spoke tentatively, because the blond looked on the edge of either blowing up or having a nervous breakdown.
“Uh,” he said, very eloquently, “I wanted to - fuck, why do I always-“
“It’s okay,” Izuku said, sensing the others obvious distress. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine-“
“No, I mean I’m apologizing,” he said, suddenly looking at him with great intensity. “That’s what I’m doing, not fumbling over my damn words like you always do.”
Izuku stared at him, at a loss for words for a second. “For what?”
The blond stared at him a moment longer before looking down at his shoes.
“For, well. Everything.”
Izuku stopped dead, and the other boy did too. He watched as Katsuki awkwardly fiddled with his nails, like he used to do in grade school when he thought nobody was looking.
“Kacchan . . .” Izuku said, slightly stunned - but he was mostly just confused. “You already apologized.”
“Yeah, but-“ he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to make sure you knew I meant it. That it wasn’t forced, and I wasn’t being, like, emotionally manipulated or whatever-“
His words cut off with a grunt as Izuku slammed into his chest and wrapped his arms around him. And it wasn’t too long before he started hugging him back.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to not sound too choked up. “Really.”
“Don’t mention it, nerd,” Katsuki said softly, and Izuku wasn’t going to mention how wet the other’s voice was, either.
They stayed there for a few moments before he pushed Izuku off of him with a growl. “Okay, that’s enough. I get it, we’re - friends now or whatever. You can stop being clingy.”
“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as they both started walking again. “You’re my friend now, and that means I’m gonna be as clingy with you as I am with all my other friends!”
Izuku laughed at Katsuki shoved him to the side with a groan. “I should’ve just locked the door to my room as soon as that damn quirk hit us.”
“But you didn’t!” he said in a sing-song voice. “And now we’re besties-“
“Shut your trap, Deku.”
Izuku just smirked. “No.”
“I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do,” Izuku said, elbowing him in the side. “Hey, do you think you could help me with my English homework? There’s this one verb conjugation I can’t seem to figure out and I really need to learn the . . .”
(He was too caught up his rambling to see Katsuki roll his eyes with a fond smile.)
Katsuki stepped inside the little apartment with his bag slung over his shoulder. It was all he had from his house now that his parents weren’t there - they were in jail now, thank whatever god there was in the sky.
(There was some part of him that thought he should be feeling guilty at the thought. Like, those were his parents. He shouldn’t feel happy that they weren’t going to see the light of day for a really long time.)
(But he did feel happy, and the majority of his inner being was saying “fuck them” so he was just gonna ignore any part of him that wanted to feel bad about it.)
He would be getting the rest of his stuff later, but for now he just had his weekend bag with him. Everything he had been able to shove into his duffel as quickly as he could before hightailing it out of there.
Hitoshi was sitting over on the couch, there for the weekend too, since it was one of the ones UA encouraged them to go home and see their families for whatever fucking reason.
(And this was his family now, wasn’t it?)
(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.)
“Are you good sharing a room?” Hitoshi asked, not looking away from whatever was in his lap. “They only have two bedrooms here. I’ve been sleeping on the bed so you’d probably want the pullout couch.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he grumbled, kicking off his shoes and putting his bag to the side. “Where’s Shota?”
(Still was pretty fucking weird saying his first name outside of class, but not a bad weird. It was strangely . . . nice.)
“Doing some work thing in his office.” He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Wanna meet Kaiya?”
“Who now?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he walked over.
He was not expecting a fluffy black cat to be sitting in Hitoshi’s lap, but then again, he didn’t really know what to expect nowadays.
“That’s Kaiya,” Katsuki deadpanned, trying to not show his extreme childish giddiness at the sight. He was a cat person, and he knew it - that didn’t mean everyone else had to know, though. Thank god he wasn’t going to impulsively blurt that out now.
“Yep,” Hitoshi said, scratching behind her ear. “She’s sweet. Shota pretends to not like her but is actually super sappy when no one’s around.”
“So like with his students.”
“I’d say that’s inaccurate,” Shota said, coming around the corner. “I happen to hate everyone equally.”
“Not hating everyone is still hating everyone equally,” Hitoshi said, standing up with the cat in his arms and walking over.
“Keep up that talk and I’ll expel you,” he drawled as he made his way over to the coffee machine. “I swear, the second the quirk was gone the sarcasm came back twice as strong as before.”
“So the cat,” Katsuki said, trying not to smile at the light banter - so different than at his house- “She’s yours?”
“Unfortunately.” He started brewing the coffee and Katsuki knew he’d be keeping it black. “She won’t leave me alone no matter what I do.”
“Sounds awful,” Hitoshi said as the cat climbed up on his shoulder.
“You said her name’s Kaiya?” Katsuki asked, resisting the urge to grab her off of the other boy.
“Yeah,” Shota said, a sudden sad look in his eyes. “It means forgiveness. I rescued her during a patrol one night. She was almost dead when I found her.”
Okay, that wasn’t a punch to the gut or anything.
“Can I see her?” Katsuki asked, which was stupid because he wasn’t under the quirk anymore, so he should’ve been able to keep his mouth shut and his emotions in check-
“‘Course,” Hitoshi said, and walked over before handing her to him. She was soft and warm, and immediately snuggled right up against his heart and started purring.
“What made you want to get a stupid cat you don’t like?” he asked, trying to not cry at the thought of a living thing not hating him at first sight.
“I had one growing up,” Shota said, sounding strangely distant. “And I couldn’t just leave her there, now could I?”
“You have a thing with strays, don’t you?” Hitoshi asked with a sad smile.
“Maybe I do,” he said, sipping his coffee that was as dark as he liked to make everyone think he was. “Strays that need to understand that they’re worth it.”
He shot a pointed look at Katsuki as he said that, like he could hear his thoughts.
He scowled. “Am I, though?”
(And he was so fucking confused. Wasn’t the truth quirk gone? Why was he still talking about all this? He wasn’t actually an open person now, right?)
(Maybe he was. With the right people.)
Shota took another long sip of his coffee before setting it down and staring at it. “Do you think I would be worth it?”
He had been looking down at the cat, but his head whipped up at the words and he vaguely saw Hitoshi do the same.
He couldn’t speak, but heard the other boy choke out, “What?”
Shota just smiled sadly. “A blindfold is like muzzle for the eyes, isn’t it? People are always scared of what they can’t control.”
(What was with all the information being thrown at him that he couldn’t process recently?)
(Why was he so prone to emotions after a life of nothing but pure anger?)
He found it within himself to speak, if only to break the tense silence that had just washed over them, since Hitoshi seemed frozen in place. “Was it your parents, or . . .”
“Yeah. My quirk wasn’t like either of theirs, and they were scared I would erase theirs.” He smirked at them, like he didn’t just drop the biggest fucking bombshell in the history of bombshells, like this was just some random fact about some old childhood vacation or something- “I understand you better than you may think.”
Katsuki’d heard a lot of shocking things recently, but somehow this just took the cake.
But somehow . . . it didn’t.
Because it made so much sense, when he thought about it for all of five damn seconds.
“If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. “I just want you to know that.”
“Thank you,” Hitoshi said, speaking for the first time in what felt like forever, but probably wasn’t even two minutes. “For . . . everything.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said, knowing he wouldn’t ever be able to put into words what he was feeling. “Thanks.”
Aizawa hummed before giving them a soft smile, like he knew exactly what they meant with so few words. “Repay me by becoming the best damn heroes the world’s ever seen.”
A familiar fiery determination filled him, and he knew it was being echoed in Hitoshi. He felt his usual passionate grin cross his face, and his teacher returned it. “You can count on it.”
(The cat - Kaiya - was still snuggled up to his chest. It seemed like she was starting to like him. Shota said her name meant forgiveness, right?)
(Forgiveness liked him.)
(He liked the sound of that.)
Izuku took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Uraraka answered, and smiled brightly when she saw him. “Hey, what’s up Deku?”
“Hey, uh-“ he whipped his sweaty palms on his pants. “You’re studying with Iida, right?”
Her smile fell a little at his shaky tone, but she tried to keep her tone upbeat nonetheless. “Yeah,” she said, opening the door a little to show him pouring over a textbook.
“Ah, Midoriya!” Iida said when he saw him, as enthusiastic as ever. “Would you like to study with us?”
Okay, now Izuku was starting to feel bad. He couldn’t just interrupt what they were doing, even if he really needed this, and they said they were willing to help him, and it was Sunday so Shoto and Katsuki were at remedial training so he couldn’t just go and bother them instead-
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Uraraka asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He belatedly realized he was shaking a bit. “You can talk to us.”
Iida had also stood up completely at the sight of his friend in distress, and was looking at him with the same expression she was.
“Right,” Izuku said, doing his best to sound sturdy. “You uh - you said I could come to you guys if I ever . . . If I was ever feeling sad for no reason, right?”
Understanding crossed both of their faces immediately.
“Yeah, of course,” Uraraka said, quickly letting him inside. “Do you want to talk about it or have us distract you with something else?”
“Something else, please,” he said, sitting on the bed. Anything else.
“Well, if we’re not going to study,” Iida said, punctual as ever, “we could discuss new combination moves for the three of us.”
Izuku felt a small smile tug at his lips. These were his friends, and they knew how to make him feel better, that was for sure.
An hour later when Shoto got back, he found the three of them talking and laughing in Uraraka’s room like nothing was wrong with the world.
Katsuki raised his glass of orange juice in the air along with everyone else when Mina called a toast. She was standing in the coffee table in all her movie-night-commander glory, a huge grin on her face. She had started to look so well rested recently, and he knew all the other girls were to thank for it.
They were surrounded by popcorn, soda (Katsuki wasn’t going to drink that garbage though, he was on a strict fucking diet, thank you very much), and mountains of pizza and junk food.
“Let the “Good Riddance, Truth Quirk” celebratory movie night begin!” she yelled, trusting her glass into the air with a cheer.
Everyone echoed the cheering back at her, smiles and laughter ringing throughout the room like some sort of plague. Katsuki pretended to be annoyed, as usual, even though he wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.
Good fucking riddance, truth quirk.
There was some talk of movie choices, but there was less arguing than usual for some reason. Katsuki didn’t participate as usual, because all the movies they picked that weren’t action movies were all equally as lame as the next.
“Hey, Kats!” Kirishima said with a bright smile as he came over with a giant tub of popcorn in his hands. He sat down and immediately tucked himself into Katsuki’s side and offered him the tub. He looked and saw it was practically caked in butter. “Want some?”
Okay, maybe he could have a little leeway with the whole “diet” thing.
“You’re training with me to burn off these calories tomorrow,” he grumbled as he stuck his hand in and grabbed some.
“Fair enough,” he said with a laugh.
“So how was staying with Aizawa?” Kaminari asked, peaking around Kirishima to smile deviously at Katsuki. “Did you see him in a bath towel?”
“No, gross,” he said, throwing popcorn at him. “It was mostly just me and Hitoshi hanging out and watching TV.”
“Lame,” Kaminari said, before snuggled up to said person like the duckling he was.
“What about me?” Hitoshi asked, glancing at them confusedly.
“Nothing, just talking about how you only watch nature documentaries,” Katsuki drawled.
He just huffed. “It’s not my fault they’re so peaceful.”
“You were watching a lion kill a whole pack of . . . whatever the hell lions eat.”
“Details.”
“So what if he likes nature documentaries?” Izuku asked from the other couch, his typical wide-eyed innocent look on his face. “The babies are cute!”
“Exactly!” Hitoshi practically yelled. “See? He gets it. And so does Mic - he watched it with me when you didn’t.”
If Katsuki was a childish person, he would’ve stuck his tongue out at him. So instead he did the very adult thing and flipped him off.
“Very mature,” Hitoshi said with a flat look.
“Wait, what was Present Mic doing at Aizawa’s house?” Sero asked, clearly confused.
So apparently they didn’t need a truth quirk to accidentally reveal confidential information.
“They’re married,” Katsuki said, knowing the idiots wouldn’t leave them alone until they answered. “It’s amazing it took you so long to realize. Actually no - you didn’t even realize it, I just straight up told you. So good job.”
Everyone stared at him. For a brief, wonderfully calm moment, there was silence.
And then the shouting started.
Katsuki shared a look with Hitoshi before they both smirked. After all, what was family without sharing each other’s embarrassing secrets?
(And not just the embarrassing ones. The deep, the dark, the dirty - the ones that kept you up at night and made you doubt who you were and your worth as a person. Family shared that kind of shit with each other, didn’t they?)
“What do you extras wanna know?” he asked slyly.
(They were all one big, problematic, disgustingly loving family, and Katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.)