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The best thing about living at the school and having a shared common room was that Class 1-A was able to relax together, spending time bonding without the lesson, rules, and their scarily-serious teacher looming over them. Of course, there were still rules, but it was much more relaxed.
Currently, all of Class 1-A were spread around the room, trying to beat off the summer heat. The air conditioning unit was in the far corner, but it didn’t do a very good job of cooling the entire room. Todoroki did a better job, but he’d made his annoyance at being followed very clear when he froze Kaminari’s feet to the floor with a little smirk. He’d only melted it when Iida had given a very long lecture.
Kaminari had moved over to the air conditioning unit after that, sitting around it with Tokoyami, Ashido, Satou, and Sero. The five of them were spaced apart because body heat in summer sucked, so there was no room for anyone else.
Ojiro, Shouji, and Kuda were working on homework at a small coffee table just under the open common room window, accompanied by birdsong as three little sparrows and a blackbird sat on the windowsill. Once Todoroki had finished evaporating the ice on the floor, he joined them for the sake of peace and quiet.
The sofa was occupied by the girls, all sitting around the television with some weird drama going on. They had drinks in hand, all sitting back and investing themselves in the TV programme. Aoyama, for some reason, seemed to be just as intrigued from where he stood behind the sofa, leaning against it.
Bakugou was - reluctantly - in a conversation with Iida over by the food counter, since they actually had something in common. Remarkably, they both enjoyed cooking, although Bakugou seemed more verse in complex, flavoursome dishes, whilst Iida preferred the basics like Agedashi Tofu.
Two people were missing. Midoriya and Kirishima were on a mission. Or rather, they’d lost the game of jan-ken-po that meant they were the ones who had to bear the heat and go buy some supplies. Supplies being ice lollies, of course. Iida had first been nominated, but a demonstration of how his engine short-circuited and burnt his legs in heatwave weather had quickly seen the end of that idea.
“Oi! We’re back!” The door to the common room opened as Kirishima entered, victoriously holding up a bag from the nearby mart, filled to the brim with ice lollies. Midoriya sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as he held up a box of hand-held battery powered fans.
“I found these in the shop next door, aha… Do we still have batteries in the cupboard?”
“What the fuck, Deku? You were supposed to get ice-lollies, you fucking idiot! What part of ice lollies sounds like shitty fan replicas?!” Apparently, the heat had somewhat subdued Bakugou’s fiery personality, since his tone of voice was little more than irritation. Kirishima even risked his hand as he ruffled Bakugou’s hair as he passed on his way to the freezer.
“It didn’t take both of us to buy ice-lollies! Besides, this things rock!” He holds up his own fan - red, of course - with a cheesy grin that has Bakugou rolling his eyes and muttering ‘whatever’. Ashido and Hagakure are the first to bounce over, practically flattening Kirishima as they jump on either side of his back.
“Kirishima! Did you get raspberry? I love raspberry!”
“Ne, ne, can I have a blue one? They’re so cool, they turn your tongue blue!” Tsuyu peers over from the sofa, tilting her head in genuine curiosity.
“Can your tongue even turn blue if you’re invisible?” Kirishima laughs as he rolls his shoulders, shrugging off the girls before passing over the ice lollies they asked for.
“They’re kinda melted, but still cold! They taste best when they’re slushy anyways!” There’s that grin again, and Ashido gives her own bright smile in return, whilst Hagakure is preoccupied nabbing a green ice lolly for Ojiro. How she knows what his favourite is, it’s a mystery.
“Does anyone else want one immediately or should I leave them in the freezer for a bit?” There’s a frustrated groan from the sofa, Uraraka kicking her legs.
“I really want one but it’s way too hot to have them not frozen! I think I’m melting with them!” Tsuyu pokes her side, remarking about how it would be an interesting quirk.
“Kirishima.” Todoroki casually holds up a hand, asking without really saying anything.
“Got a preference?”
“Not really.” Taking a wild guess, Kirishima picks out a lemonade ice lolly and throws it at him. Todoroki catches it, and in an instance, freezes it. Then, he walks over to the sofa and drops in in Uraraka’s lap as he walks past, heading to his room.
“Eh?” She blinks rapidly, brain catching up to her as she picks up the frozen ice lolly and absolutely beams, holding it up as she twists to face Todoroki just before he vanishes from the room.
“Thanks, Todoroki~!” Kaminari huffs from the corner.
“How comes he wouldn’t use his quirk for me but he uses it for her?” Sero snickers and jabs a finger between Kaminari’s ribs.
“Simple. Cus you were exploiting and using him~. Uraraka never asked him to do it. He’s just n-ice.” Satou groaned at the terrible pun, echoed by those at the homework table, although if anyone listened closely, they would be able to hear Tokoyami muffling a chuckle.
“Shut the fuck up. That’s awful.”
“Aww, Bakugou, don’t be heartless! It was good, for Sero.” Bakugou snorts at Kirishima’s optimism, whilst Sero stares with his jaw agape.
“What do you mean ‘for Sero’?! I thought we were friends, Kirishima!” Kicking the freezer closed behind him, Kirishima holds up his hands in apology, his grin lop-sided and sheepish. Sero seems to accept this and goes back to trying to absorb the air conditioner, whilst Midoriya passes out the fans now that he’s put batteries in them. Both of them move over to the sofa, standing either side of Aoyama as he tries to explain what’s happening on the screen.
“- and in season three, he killed Karen, but nobody else knows, they just think he’s the good guy next door. But Anya has her suspicions, so I think she’s the next target.” Kirishima rests his chin in his hand, leaning against the back of the sofa heavily.
“Sounds cool. So this is a murder mystery?”
“Eh? Non, it is a romance drama!”
“... Nothing that you said made it seem like a romance!” Instantly, the girls have whirled on him, fingers over their lips as they shush him. Yaoyorozu, strangely enough, seems to the most insistent. Maybe she likes programmes like this? Kirishima wouldn’t be surprised, after that time she dragged them into a costume store because she wanted to, rather than making the props herself.
When had that been…? It was… It was…
Oh.
Kirishima freezes for a moment, followed by a shudder. His gaze drifts to Bakugou, engaged in an argument with Iida about the perfect temperature for frying aya sweetfish, before snapping back to the TV screen in an attempt to not let others see how his smile falters. He catches Aoyama blinking at him owlishly and forces a chuckle.
“I don’t really get programmes like these. Guess I should stick to the action stuff, huh?” Aoyama flicks his hair, almost sparkling, and puts a kind hand on Kirishima’s shoulder.
“It is up to you what you like, mon ami~! Do not force yourself with things you don’t like!”
“Thanks, dude! I’ll bear that it mind~!” Still, he can’t shrug off the tension in his shoulders, the horrible crawling sensation down his spine. He needs a breather. He needs to calm down.
“Ah, I think I’m gonna try getting a tan. Anyone coming with?” He’s very fortunate that no one jumps up at the chance or follows him out, grinning widely as he waves a hand and jogs out the common room. He exhales deeply in the corridor and lets the grin fade into a frown. He shrinks in on himself a little, one arm crossing his chest to grip onto his other elbow, squeezing tight.
Helplessness and uselessness flooded him, just as they occasionally did, but this time, it was stronger than ever. Even though he was the one who proposed the mission to rescue Bakugou, even though he put his friends in danger, what had he even done?! Held his hand out and said ‘grab on’! That was it! He was- He had-
He hadn’t done anything...
“Kirishima?” He lifted his head at the soft call, glancing over his shoulder with an obviously forced smile that wobbled as he held it. Kaminari said nothing, glancing back to make sure no one else was coming this way and jogging over, placing his hand on Kirishima’s back and guiding him away. Since the common room was on floor 1, Kaminari’s room was an entire floor closer at level 3, rather than 4.
The stairs almost proved to be Kirishima’s downfall, having to pause and hold back a hiccup as he wiped his sleeve over his eyes, legs shaking like they were about to give way. The good friend he was, Kaminari waited for him, rubbing his back supportively. He knew about Kirishima’s insecurities, though it obviously hurt to see him distraught like this.
“C’mon, you got this.. Just a little further…”
“M-Mhm, sorry…” The small, unstable voice didn’t sound like Kirishima at all. But he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to act all happy and enthusiastic right now. He was the glue that held the class together, but even he fell apart. By the time they got to Kaminari’s room, he was on the verge of tears.
“Just rest up, okay? I’ll cover for you if anyone asks.” Kaminari pulls the duvet up over him as Kirishima buries his face in the pillow, sniffling. As he turns to leave though, a hand darts out and grabs his wrist.
“Kiri-?”
“M’not good enough to be a hero, am I…?”
“What?! Why would you say that, of course you are!” If Kaminari wasn’t worried before, he definitely is now. He moves back to the bed, kneeling down as he lets Kirishima grip onto his wrist as if in desperation.
“I’m useless... I couldn’t do anything...”
“Is this- Is this about the training camp? ‘Cus that was scary as hell.” Kirishima’s eyes darken. Oh no. Uh oh. Wrong thing to say, that’s just made him feel worse. Kaminari winces at his own words, realising that he might have just thrown fuel onto the proverbial fire.
“I was useless there too. Fuck, I’m just- just worthless.”
“No, no, no! Don’t say that! You’re awesome, Kiri! You’re amazing! I mean, sure, you haven’t had a chance to prove it yet, but we all know how strong you are! Heck, Bakugou admits how strong you are, and he’s almost impossible to impress. You frickin’ befriended him with no fear! You’re legendary!”
“He’s not that scary… Just rough.”
“Dude, he blows up on a daily basis. Hourly.” As if to prove Kaminari’s point, there’s a resounding boom from downstairs, the muffled sound audible even on floor 3.
“See? Explosions 24/7.” Kirishima releases his grip a little, the corners of his lips twitching up. It’s not much, but it’s an improvement, and Kaminari gives a smile in return. It softens when Kirishima says nothing, most likely still beating himself up on the inside. There is, of course, one thing in particular that cheers him up like nothing else.
Hugs. For as hard as Kirishima’s quirk is, his heart is soft and kind, just like his hugs. He loves hugs, whether he’s the one giving or receiving. Right now, Kaminari reckons a long, comfortable hug could do a world of good.
“You wanna stay here tonight?”
“Mhm.”
“Shuffle over then, this bed isn’t meant for two people.” With a huff that could be a laugh, Kirishima shuffles backwards to leave space for Kaminari to squeeze into, wrapping his arms around Kirishima’s waist. They lie there quietly for about 5 minutes.
“... You know we still have afternoon classes, right?”
“Want me to text Sero with an excuse?”
“Like what?” Kaminari faults, stuttering as he tries to think of something. It’s only then that he feels the heat is coming from something other than the weather. Eyebrows creasing with concern, he moves his face closer to press his forehead against Kirishima’s.
“... Dude, you’re really warm.”
“S’just the weather. I’m not good with summer unless I’m using my quirk.”
“No, no, I mean… Seriously warm. Too hot.” Kaminari shuffles to sit up, pressing his fingertips against Kirishima’s neck. His pulse is too fast for Kaminari to be comfortable. Paired with the sweating, the heat, and the fact he went outside earlier, there’s only one thing he can think of to explain Kirishima’s temperature and subdued behaviour.
“I think you have heat exhaustion.” Kirishima raises an eyebrow at him, but the glazed look in his eyes shows that he’s seriously thinking it over.
“That… Would explain the headache. And thirst.”
“D’you feel dizzy or faint?”
“Not now I’m lying down.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah, but that’s just the summer mood.”
“Uh-huh, and… Uh… What else? Oh! You got any cramps?”
“...” The silence is telling and Kaminari sighs dramatically.
“You really should have said something, Kiri! You’re lucky I caught it before it got serious!”
“... Sorry…” The physical and emotional stress is building together, taking its toll, and Kaminari tries to placate the situation by petting Kirishima’s hair with one hand and giving him a thumbs up with the other.
“Don’t worry! I’ll go get Yaoyorozu! She’ll know what to do!” Kirishima nods, relaxing into the pillow with a yawn. He’s tired. So tired… He just wants to close his eyes and-
“Don’t sleep.” The grunt Kaminari gets in return isn’t a promise, but it’ll do for now. He has to be quick, just in case. Closing the door softly so it doesn’t make much noise, Kaminari takes off like lightening, jumping a few steps in urgency. He bursts into the living room via grabbing the door frame and swinging round, jogging over to the sofa and grabbing Yaoyorozu’s wrist.
“You’re smart! You know what to do with heat exhaustion, right?!” Dark brown eyes blink at him in surprise before narrowing in suspicion.
“You don’t look like you’re suffering, Kaminari.”
“No, no! Not me! Kirishima! It’s not really bad, but it’s bad!” All eyes are on him now, the mood in the room dropping from being relaxed and cheerful to worry and apprehension. Surprisingly, the one to break the silence isn’t Yaoyorozu, or any of the ‘noisy’ bunch.
“Where is shitty-hair? I know what to do.”
“U-uh, Kacchan, I don’t think physical violence w-would work…” Snickers arise at Midoriya’s statement, specifically at Bakugou’s expense.
“Eh?! Whatd’you say, Deku?!” The smell of nitroglycerin increases, but before Bakugou can create any explosions, Kaminari is dragging him away by the elbow.
“Hurry up! I told him not to fall asleep, but I don’t know what he’s like sick!”
“Oi! Wait a fuckin’ second!” Kaminari lets him go when Bakugou pulls back, but there’s desperation in his stance, and Bakugou immediately knows this isn’t just a joke.
“We need to take drinks, cold flannels, sponges, and cool packs up. Oi, Deku, pass me those fans too.”
“S-sure, Kacchan! Uh, how many?”
“I don’t give a shit how many! A fuckton, okay!?” Midoriya passes over the box with the rest of the fans in with a squeak, obviously a little frightened. Bakugou snatches the box, grabs some juice out the fridge paying no attention to who’s name is written on it, and takes the cold packs Iida offers since he grabbed them as soon as they were mentioned. He nods at Bakugou with mutual respect, which Bakugou only sneers at.
“Oi, Pikachu, fill a bowl up with cold water and bring with you.”
“Right. Oh, he’s in my room, by the way.” Rolling his eyes, Bakugou carries what he’s holding up the stairs. If anyone asks if he’s jogging, the answer is no way. (He is. Kirishima is the closest friend he has. Of course he’s hurrying.) On the third floor, he stops to read the nameplates on each door. It’s not his fault he didn’t memorise them. Who the fuck would waste their energy doing that?
He knocks on Kaminari’s door, loud enough that it echoes through the corridor.
“Oi, shitty-hair! I’m coming in! You’d better not be naked or anything!” There’s no answer, so he cautiously pushes the door open. He’s met with the scene of Kirishima half hanging out the bed, struggling to push himself back off the floor.
“... You idiot.” He throws aside the box of fans and other items he’s collected in favour of striding over to Kirishima and lugs him back up on the bed. He’s panting and sweating, definitely not healthy in the slightest. A blind man could see it.
“N-No, Bak’gou, I have to- to get to the bathroom…”
“No you fucking don’t.”
“Gonna be s-sick.”
“... Shit.” Bakugou looks around desperately for something in Kaminari’s room to use as a bucket, but Kirishima is heaving and retching before he comes up with a solution.
“Sit up, you moron! You’re going to choke yourself! Some hero you’d be, dying on your own vomit!” With no resources he can think of, Bakugou rips the duvet off him and folds it in half and half again, before shoving it on Kirishima’s lap, pushing him so hunches over and throws up directly onto the duvet.
“Fucking hell, this isn’t a quick thing. How long have you been hiding this from us?”
“F-Few days… Thought it’d go away…”
“Few days?! You’re really pushing it, holy fuck, you could have passed out on us!” Kirishima doesn’t answer, slumping against Bakugou with exhaustion as he breathes heavily. Disgusted, Bakugou nudges him to leaning against the headboard as he takes the duvet away, careful not to drop it until he’s ditched it in the bathtub.
“Gross.” Returning to the bedroom, he makes sure to pull the curtains across to create shade over the bed. Hopefully, that’ll be a little cooler without the direct sunlight on him. Although… The gaudiness of the room probably isn’t helping if he’s feeling dizzy. Or nauseous. Kaminari’s room definitely makes Bakugou feel nauseous. Everything thrown together so haphazardly is an eyesore.
“Ngn…” His attention returns to Kirishima, slumped over despite the fact Bakugou propped him up. His brow furrows with a hint of genuine concern as he crouches next to the bed and starts removing Kirishima’s shirt with surprising gentleness.
“We gotta get this all off. The fuck you dressing like an inuit for when it’s boiling out?”
“M’not… S’just a shirt and- an’ trousers…”
“You’d better not be commando under that.”
“No way. S’not manly.” Bakugou scoffs, hiding a huff of a laugh.
“Even sick, you’re still going on about that, huh?” The weak thumbs up he gets reassures him that Kirishima might be starting to recover, thanks to lying down for a bit. He’s got a long way to go though. He’s gotten Kirishima down to boxers before Kaminari enters, squawking when he sees his best friend being undressed.
“P-Pervert!”
“What?! No, it’s fucking treatment for heat exhaustion, you fuckmunch!” Kaminari makes an expression like he’s caught in the headlights and brings the bowl of cold water over. Bakugou dips his hand in it to make sure it’s cool enough.
“... Drench the sponges, flannels, and cloths in it.”
“Dude, are you trying to drown him?” A glare has Kaminari scrambling to do as told, not daring to comment on his now-missing duvet. Kirishima makes a vague groaning noise, flopping energyless against Bakugou.
“Lie the fuck down if you can’t sit up.” It takes a little manhandling, but Bakugou manages to wrestle Kirishima into lying down, slapping a drenched, cold cloth over his stomach. The ensuing yelp and whine at least shows he can feel it. One by one, the soaked materials are added, the cold packs shoved around his neck and under his arms. Even if Kirishima was starting to shiver, Bakugou didn’t stop making sure the cool packs were cold and the flannels were wet.
“Oi, Pikachu, pass the drinks over.” Kaminari nervously chuckles and hesitates as he reaches for them.
“You know these are other people’s, right…?”
“Do I look like I give a shit?!” Quickly, not wanting to incur Bakugou’s wrath, Kaminari passes over the bottles despite the fact that everyone has their own name on it. It’s only as Bakugou pauses to look at each one that Kaminari realises they’re all sports drinks. The best kind for rehydration.
“You… Really care, don’t you? In your own way.” A silent, sharp glare is all he gets, but the lack of a negative answer is telling. The corners of Kaminari’s lips twitch up as he watches Bakugou ease Kirishima forwards, partially sitting up, partially lying back. What Kaminari doesn’t like, is the way Bakugou frowns.
“I think it’s more than heat exhaustion. By this stage, it’s probably heatstroke.”
“Oh no…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bakugou sighs.
“Go get Sensei. We might need Recovery Girl, if she can deal with shit like this.” Kaminari nods, turning on his heel to jog out the room. As he turns into the stairwell, he almost crashes straight into Midoriya.
“Ah! Kaminari!”
“No time to stop, gotta get Sensei!” He feels a little bad for not providing detail when he sees the worry splash itself on Midoriya’s face, but he’s in a rush. Heat exhaustion is bad. Heatstroke is worse.
“W-Wait, I’ll come with you!” He pauses at the bottom of the staircase as Midoriya catches up to him, then, with a nod they take off in the direction of the teacher dormitories.
“Wouldn’t it have been quicker to send Iida?”
“Possibly, but he doesn’t know the situation. Kirishima’s suffering, dude. He’s really sick. Bakugou said it’s probably heatstroke.” Midoriya winces, but as they start towards the teacher’s building, grabs Kaminari’s arm.
“If we have classes this afternoon, wouldn’t Sensei be in the staff room?!” Kaminari bites his lip, looking between the main U.A school, and the route to the teacher dorms. Midoriya pats his shoulder and points in the direction of the U.A building.
“I’ll go this way. You go-” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Kaminari is dashing off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Midoriya swallows, clenching his fist. If carefree Kaminari is being so focused and determined, it has to be bad. No, more than bad. It was to be terrifying. Was Kirishima really that sick? He’d seemed a little off on the walk to and from the shop, and he was sweating an awful lot, but if he was bad enough that Bakugou had offered help…
“Sensei, Aizawa-Sensei!” Midoriya skid to a halt outside the staff room, strange looks sent his way from the other teaching staff, since the door was open. All Might peered over a stack of books, waving in greeting before noticing the desperate and determined look on Midoriya’s face as he regained breath from running up eight flights of stairs.
“What’s wrong, Young Midoriya?”
“A-Aizawa-Sensei! Is Aizawa-Sensei here!?” Midnight shakes her head, arms crossed with a hint of confusion.
“He’s not, but I’m sure we could help?”
“S-Sorry, it’s a Class A problem!” Midoriya bows thankfully, almost knocking himself out on the doorframe as he hurries away.
“Young Midoriya, wait-!” He doesn’t wait. If Aizawa isn’t in the staff room, he’s bound to be in the teacher dorms, where Kaminari is headed. He’s probably already there, considering there’s no stairs in the teacher dorms. By the time he reaches the bottom floor, Midoriya has to stop to breathe. A ding to his left makes him look up as the elevator opens, and All Might steps out.
“This is quicker, unless you can get down 8 flights without stopping for breath.” Midoriya ducks his head low in frustration. A can of orange juice appears in his vision and he timidly takes it.
“Thanks…” All Might flumps onto the step besides him, giving Midoriya a hearty pat on the back.
“Now… Why don’t you tell me your troubles?” Rolling the can in his hands, Midoriya’s shoulders slump and his brows crease.
“It’s not my troubles… Kirishima is really sick. I- I think Kaminari said heatstroke?”
“Oh, that’s terrible. I had that once, in my youth.” Midoriya stares up at All Might, a little taken aback.
“Eh? You did? You did?”
“Ahahaha! I may have been in my prime, but even I came down with illnesses! The weather, at times, is a greater threat than any villain. Many instances, a Hero has been disadvantaged or wounded because of the weather.”
“Oh! Like Sun Striker three years ago! He lost because of the typhoon, right?”
“Yes, my boy. Weather like this-” All Might gestures out the window to the beautifully bright day, a heat haze shimmering over every surface and making the ground seem blurry.
“- is often dangerous to those with quirk that thrive in the cold, or a thick defense. Young Kirishima may be sensitive to heat because of his quirk.”
“I… Never thought about that…” A skeletal hand pats his shoulder encouragingly, only to turn muscular in a puff of smoke as footsteps come towards them from the adjacent corridor. Midoriya stands up and peeks round the corner, a wobbly smile lighting up his face as Kaminari gives him a grin and thumbs up.
“Sensei went there immediately, he said to wait in the classroom since our lesson starts soon.”
“Then Kirishima’s gonna be okay~?” Kaminari’s grins falters and he moves to sheepishly rub the back of his head.
“I… Didn’t stick around to ask. Since Sensei is there, it should be okay, right?” This is the moment where All Might, in his muscular form, steps around so that Kaminari can see him too.
“Do not fear, Young Kaminari! Everything will be okay, because I Am Here!” He poses with a thumb jabbing at himself, giving off a sparkling grin of reassurance. Although Midoriya looks concerned - there’s no way he could keep muscle form up for an entire hour - Kaminari’s spirits are suitably lifted, his eyes gaining a twinkle of content.
“Guess I had nothing to worry about, huh? C’mon Midoriya! Let’s wait in the classroom!”
“Eh, but- Ah- wait-”
“We can see if anyone gets caught with the old ‘chalkboard eraser on the door’ trick!” All Might watches the children leave, Kaminari practically dragging a stuttering Midoriya into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Now then… To check on Young Kirishima.” He walks the corridors and hallways with purpose, his stride a little faster than intended. He’s worried. He won’t deny that. All Might, accidental dad of 1-A, almost breaks into a jog towards the student dormitories because he’s so worried.
Students are starting to leave the dorms, heading towards the school building as afternoon lessons start, and All Might ‘hides’ behind a concrete column. (Nobody mentions they can blatantly see him, mostly out of pity for his nonexistent hiding skills.) (Nobody, that is, except one.)
“All Might? What are you doing here? Are you not teaching us, since Aizawa-Sensei is occupied?!” Iida waves his hands at All Might in the odd way he does, Uraraka trying to get him to stop by shushing him, only to cut herself off with a squeak and forced laugh as All Might steps out from behind the column, since he’s been ‘discovered’.
“Your lesson today will be… Self-study! Reflect upon your Quirks and how you use them, and see if you can improve theoretically! Perhaps you could test each other with situations and mock circumstances!” Blinking, Iida lowers his arm to rub at his chin, as if he’s already thinking it over. Uraraka takes the opportunity to drag him away, waving All Might off. With the dorms empty of students, besides the obvious one, All Might takes a deep breath and enters. Since he was the one who sorted through the dorm allocation with Aizawa, he knows exactly which room to go to.
“All Might.” He pauses with one foot in the air at the call of his name, looking right as Aizawa calls him on the third floor, rather than the fifth.
“Aizawa? This is not Young Kirishima’s room?” The teacher shakes his head, pointing at the open door of Kaminari’s room.
“No. Apparently he didn’t get that far before he stopped holding back symptoms.” All Might discards his muscle form in a cloud of steam, his clothes sagging on him as he walks over and peers around the doorframe. Aizawa’s hand on his face pushes him back before the people inside see him.
Because it’s not just Kirishima and Recovery Girl. Of all people, Todoroki is also in the room, sitting in a chair next to the bed with his right hand on Kirishima’s forehead. Bakugou is grumpily perched on the bed, leaning against the wall by Kirishima’s feet. All Might smiles and lowers his voice to talk to Aizawa in the corridor without being heard.
“The children are bonding well, aren’t they?” Even though it’s hidden under his bandage-like scarf, All Might knows Aizawa is softly smiling. It shows in his eyes. No matter how dry and bloodshot they are, his eyes truly show all his emotions.
“They still have a long way to go.”
“Perhaps. But I never thought I’d see Young Todoroki and Young Bakugou sitting peacefully in the same room.” Aizawa nods, his voice picking up the faintest trait of amusement.
“It wouldn’t happen without Kirishima. He draws people in, somehow soothes things out and brings people together. Honestly, 1-A would be a mess without him.” All Might muffles a chuckle into his sleeve.
“Were you one of those drawn in, Aizawa? You’ve gone soft for this class.” Aizawa averts his gaze, looking away not so discreetly.
“They just have great potential this year.” A soft groan from the room cuts off their conversation, Aizawa peering in as Recovery Girl walks out. She shakes her head softly.
“The young ones these days, always getting themselves into bigger trouble than they should be.”
“Will Young Kirishima be okay?”
“Oh, of course! He simply need rest, shade, and quiet.” She diverts a glare back into the room before Bakugou can snap at Todoroki, who probably did nothing more than make a face. They guiltily averted their gazes, sheepishly looking down. Kirishima chuckles weakly, lifting his arms up and looping it around their necks, pulling them both against it.
“You guys are… So funny…~”
“Oi, let me go! The fuck, Shitty-Hair! You’re covering me in your sweat, you gross dunderhead!”
“Kirishima… If I try cooling you off like this, you’ll lose a nipple to frostbite.”
“Fuckin’ do it, maybe then he’ll let go.” Kirishima giggles, apparently a little out of it thanks to the heatstroke.
“Who ne-... needs nipples… Anyways?”
“You do, idiot.”
“... Oh.” Kirishima loosens his grip on Todoroki, allowing him to slip out of the hold and sit back up, placing his hand back on Kirishima’s forehead. Bakugou almost pops a vein trying to struggle out of Kirishima’s grip, especially when both arms are suddenly wrapped around him. He blankly startles when there’s a yawn directly in his ear.
“Oi!!! Now me, you turd! Let me go!”
“Nigh’ nigh’.” Todoroki snickers as Kirishima snuggles against Bakugou, falling asleep in an instance. Aizawa sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Alright, I’m going to go and teach the others. Don’t kill each other.” He almost regrets his words when Bakugou grins maniacally, raising a hand in preparation to create an explosion.
“Just don’t kill each other, right? I can do that!”
“Okay, new rule. No fighting. At all. No Quirks - unless for Kirishima’s benefit, no physical violence, no arguments.” Todoroki nods respectfully, although Aizawa might not be imagining the disappointed shadow in his eyes. Maybe leaving them alone might not be the best idea…
Ah well. Kirishima is there. It doesn’t matter that he’s asleep, even his presence helps.
(Aizawa hopes)
(Oh, how he hopes.)
Somehow, Todoroki and Bakugou manage not to maim each other in the full hour that they’re in the same room. All Might sits outside in the corridor, out of sight, out of mind, but listening for any signs of fighting. He’ll intervene if he has to. But in the course of an hour, he hears no fighting whatsoever. Instead, Todoroki and Bakugou talk about Midoriya, of all things, putting their tactics and knowledge together to come up a way to fight him, should they ever verse each other again.
45 minutes in, Kirishima wakes up, a little dazed from his sleep but nonetheless sounding much better, brighter. Bakugou forces him to drink whilst Todoroki takes his temperature, not allowing him to so much as complain whilst they take care of him. It’s almost… Funny, All Might thinks. These two boys, so competitive and at war with each other, are getting along like reluctant best friends just because Kirishima is there.
“I wan’ a ice lolly…”
“Shut up, Kirishima. The only thing you’re getting is drink, ice packs, and a smack for hugging me, you little shit.”
“So mean, Blasty McSplodey~.”
“Two smacks.” Todoroki muffles a laugh at the nickname, earning himself a harsh glare from Bakugou. He quickly sculpts his expression back into deadpan disinterest.
“You should probably dress him. He’ll catch a cold, otherwise.”
“He has heatstroke, you Antarctic sack of shit. He has to be kept cold.” Kirishima shivers, tugging at Bakugou’s shirt needily.
“No, please. I want my clothes back. I’m freezing.”
“Let me go, then. I’ll go grab something from your room.” Kirishima mumbles a thanks, wriggling to sit up as Bakugou leaves the room. He yawns, missing All Might’s voice in the hallway, and settles back against the headboard.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better, thanks to you guys.” Todoroki huffs with a hint of amusement, folding his hands over his lap, since Kirishima seems to be okay.
“You know you scared most of the class, right?”
“You included~?”
“Yes.” Wide eyes blink with a hint of a stunned expression, Kirishima visibly surprised by the admission. Todoroki averts his gaze with a touch of embarrassment.
“Wait, really? You were worried?”
“Everyone was…” A small, content smile tugs at Kirishima’s lips.
“I know I’m weak… But I’m not that weak.” Todoroki’s gaze snaps back to Kirishima, his face twisted like he’s about to as “What the fuck?”, but those aren’t the words he needs right now. A pity, because Todoroki has never been very good with words.
“You’re not- How- You think-... Wait, let me try and phrase this.” With a light laugh, Kirishima waves his hand about in dismissal, a tone of self-doubt creeping in, no matter how much he tries to hide it.
“Nah, it’s fine, dude. No need to wax poetry about lies. I know I’m weak. There’s not much I can do except, well, defend for as long as possible. I need to be stronger, so I can actually do something. Actively.” Before Todoroki can even say anything, a bundle of clothes whack Kirishima in the face, thrown across the room.
“You dense Thunderfuck!” With a pair of shorts hanging off his head and a crumpled shirt in his lap, Kirishima makes a sound of confusion as Bakugou starts stomping over towards him - thankfully not blowing anything in Kaminari’s room to pieces.
“Young Bakugou!” A voice that booms echoes in the room and a hand of unfathomable strength appears in the doorway, clapping Bakugou on the shoulder and holding him back from a rampage. For a split second, all Kirishima can see is someone grabbing Bakugou, someone taking him away, some villains stealing his friend-
It feels like his heart has stopped and the shiver down his spine isn’t because of the cold packs or Todoroki’s quirk. It’s like he’s been giving a jolt of electricity and doused in flames whilst at the same time drowning just because it’s happening again-
“ -ishima! Hey, Kirishima!” A hand on his shoulder jolts him, and with a whimper, he comes back, his hand extended out as if reaching for Bakugou and his Quirk activated, a couple of frightened tears rolling off the hard surface of his skin and onto the crumpled shirt in his lap. He reaches up to them as his skin goes back to flesh, brushing a teardrop away with a small “Oh…”.
Todoroki passes over a tissue as All Might frowns. He really does look strange without his smile, but this is no situation for grins and cheer. It takes little more than a nudge and nod to convince the other two to leave the room, although Bakugou does hesitate, pausing in the doorway to give Kirishima one last glance before he leaves and closes the door. All Might steps forwards. He sits in the chair Todoroki was in previously, the chair creaking from the weight.
“Now, Young Kirishima… How are you feeling?” The question catches him a little off guard as he tugs his shorts off his hair - which is starting to flop from how soaked he is, a combination of sweat and treatment.
“I’m… Fine? Still a little dizzy, but that’ll go in time!” The grin he flashes All Might before quickly moving to pull his shirt on is nowhere near as bright as it usually is, not a hint of genuine cheer anywhere. All Might sighs under his breath, lightly shaking his head.
“No, boy. I meant how are you feeling.”
“Eh.” He kicks away the cool packs, flannels, and sponges as he wriggles his shorts on, not caring in the least that they’re the wrong way round. There’s a moment of silence before All Might cautiously reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, not wanting to set off another flashback like the one Kirishima obviously just had. When there’s no negative reaction, he squeezes reassuringly.
“Being a hero… It’s more than being strong. It’s-... It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed, but also an ongoing nightmare. It’s strength coming from the heart and weaknesses coming from the mind. It’s saving people… And regretting those you couldn’t.” All Might knows he has Kirishima’s attention when scarlet eyes flicker towards him in amazement.
“The fact that you’ve had to experience the negative side of that so, so young… I apologise, Young Kirishima.”
“Huh? N-No! It’s not your fault! I- I should be stronger! I should- I just have to train harder! I should be stronger…” He tries to push himself out the bed, but gentle hands push him back down.
“You’re still sick. Heatstroke lingers, Young Kirishima. You must rest until you are healthy enough to train again.”
“... Can I at least go to my own room? Kaminari’s a cool dude, but… His room hurts my eyes.” The casual and almost relaxed way he says it has All Might laugh, relieved that the boy is most certainly going to be okay. Insecurities often broke through a Hero’s mental fortitude, but the ability to bounce back was what truly made a hero a Pro. All Might had no doubt that the students of Class 1-A all had what it took to be a Pro.
“Go ahead. I must return to the staff room.” All Might stands, the chair clinging to his backside until it comically pops off, dropping to the floor and wheeling a little further away. Kirishima snorts. He giggles. And then he’s hiding a laugh in his arm, trying to disguise the shaking of his shoulders.
(All Might knows. He’s not the smartest cookie, but he knows his class. They’re like his own children at this point.)
“Come along! I shall make sure your friends are not murdering each other in the corridor!”
“I think we’d be able to hear, since it’s Bakugou.”
“I heard that, Shitty-Hair! I’ll beat your ass next time we spar!” The muffled shout through the door only serves to tug Kirishima’s smile a little brighter, a little more genuine. He pushes up from the bed and walks over to the door, opening it with a flourish and jumping at Bakugou, tackling him into a headlock. Remarkably, Bakugou restrains his explosions at the last possible second - most likely remembering that Kirishima’s Quirk would be unstable at the moment. Illnesses suck.
“You have five seconds to let go before I throw you through the wall.”
“You couldn’t do that to me~.”
“Try me.” The tip of Kirishima’s tongue pokes out of his mouth cheekily, and he releases Bakugou with only one second remaining. Wisely, he bolts for it, jumping up the stairs with a cackle. Todoroki huffs and steps back as Bakugou takes off after him, shouting the usual explicits.
“Young Todoroki.” He barely looks at All Might, just a quick glance to let him know he’s listening, before turning his gaze back to the floor.
“Take good care of your friends. You never know when they’ll become your treasured and valuable teammates.”
“... Yes, Sir.” He gets the feeling All Might is talking about more than just the heatstroke. Still, these people he’s met… The class he’s in… To be honest, he doesn’t know much about friendship. But if anyone could be called his friends, it would certainly be this motley bunch. The corners of his lips twitch up as he heads up the stairs after Kirishima and Bakugou, no doubt expecting one to be wrestling the other into accepting that he was still sick.
When the rest of the class gets back, they’ll have to sort out a schedule for taking care of Kirishima for the next few days, whilst making sure no one missed too many lessons. It was strange for something so good to come out of a terrible situation, but Todoroki was certain that this instance of heatstroke would only bring them closer together as a class, as teammates, and as future heroes.
After all, it was Kirishima.