Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tokoyami has three things in common with Bakugou: they both stay up later than anyone else in the dorms, their Quirks are dangerous, and they were both targeted as potential villain candidates during the school trip.

But that’s where their similarities end. Their Quirks aren’t compatible, and neither are their personalities. Bakugou is as loud and bright as the explosions that burst from his palms, while Tokoyami is as cool and quiet as the night Dark Shadow adores. Bakugou tends to react quickly and violently while Tokoyami prefers to analyze situations before reacting. Bakugou is in control of his quirk, and Tokoyami isn’t. He doesn’t have a problem with Bakugou, but Tokoyami’s not really sure how to handle working with him.

But for this exercise, he’ll have to learn to.

“Hey, birdbrain, keep up.” Bakugou’s voice echoes off the ruined walls of the tunnel. The collapsed building environment that Cementos created is more elaborate than Tokoyami thought it would be. They have to wade through piles of soot and climb over giant chunks of concrete and around huge metal supports sticking up at odd angles. Tokoyami forces himself to stop staring at the scene and keeps walking ahead.

Today’s hero exercise is a rescue mission. Rescues aren’t Bakugou’s strength, as exemplified during their hero license exams, so Tokoyami is understandably nervous. But that’s not the main reason why he’s tense. The further in they walk, the smaller and darker the tunnel gets, and the more anxious Tokoyami becomes. The incident at training camp is fresh in his mind. Tokoyami’s taken to sleeping with a nightlight on - not that anyone else knows.

Bakugou trudges ahead, blasting through a huge block of concrete without so much as a warning. The concrete breaks apart and sprays in every direction. Tokoyami hides behind Dark Shadow to avoid the flying rocks. Bits of dust rain from the ceiling as the building groans and cracks.

“Bakugou,” Tokoyami says, catching up to Bakugou’s side. “Perhaps you should chose which rocks to remove a bit more carefully. This building is in danger of collapsing completely.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” Bakugou snarls.  

Tokoyami rolls his eyes. Bakugou always sounded sure of what he was doing, and to be fair, he was usually right. He had absolute faith in his quirk, and absolutely faith in his purpose. Even being captured by the League hadn’t deterred his spirit.  

If Tokoyami had been the one who was captured, would he have reacted the same? Tokoyami often wonders this when he turns his on night-light before he goes to bed.

The building is a maze of torn up concrete and precariously placed rocks. They have to track down their target, one of the other students playing the part of a trapped civilian, amidst this chaotic mess. They could be anywhere in the building, and he and Bakugou have only covered a quarter of the field so far.

“How the fuck are we supposed to find the bastard in this mess?” Bakugou says, kicking a block of concrete. Tokoyami watches it rolls across the rubble deeper into the tunnel. It’s even darker ahead.

“Dark Shadow can help us search,” Tokoyami says. Bakugou look at him with something akin to surprise. “But you need to stop using your quirk while I call him.”

Bakugou eyes him warily. “You sure you can handle him in the dark?”

Tokoyami winces, but nods. The truth is, he’s not sure. But he can’t falter now and let Bakugou do all the work.

Tokoyami walks further ahead, rubble crunching under his feet. He takes a deep breath, and calls on Dark Shadow, instructing him to search further ahead.

He staggers backwards as Dark Shadow surges forward, darkness bubbling up and pulling out of Tokoyami’s chest. He extends his control over Dark Shadow, but juggling his fear and uncertainty while trying to maintain control is no easy task. His reign over Dark Shadow stretches taut like a rubber band waiting to snap.

Don’t lose control, don’t lose control.

Suddenly Dark Shadow spots their target. Tokoyami runs to catch up with him and finds himself staring at a dead end.

Bakugou catches up with him. “The fuck is this?”

Tokoyami feels a tug in his gut as Dark Shadow gestures to a gap in a crack in the rock. It’s too small to see through, so Tokoyami leans his ear up against it.

Faintly, he can hear Sero’s voice saying, “Oh no. I am trapped. Help me, Obi-wan, you’re my only hope.”

Tokoyami looks at Bakugou proudly. “He’s behind here - ”

BOOM! He’s barely finished speaking when Bakugou blasts through the wall. Dark Shadow cowers in front of him, saving him from the majority of the debris, but a sharp rock knicks his elbow. Tokoyami winces. That blast wasn’t enough to weaken Dark Shadow this much. He knows the only reason why was because Tokoyami was holding him back.

He looks to Bakugou, who stands proudly in front of the half-demolished wall, broad smirk on his face, hands still smoking.

“How can you be so sure of yourself?” Tokoyami says. The words slip out of his mouth before he realizes it, but he doesn’t regret asking.

“Ha?” Bakugou turns to him and glares. “The fuck does that mean?”

Tokoyami looks away. “You’re…confident in your abilities. In your quirk. Even when the League recruited you to be a villain.”

“Look, I don’t give a shit what anyone else says,” Bakugou says. “What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. I’m not a villain, so my quirk isn’t a villain’s quirk. It’s part of me. I’m the one who controls my quirk, it doesn’t control me.”

He turns back to the obstacle and punches through the last bits of the wall with the battle cry, “You just gotta fucking own it!”

The bright white blast momentarily blinds him. The wall erupts in cloud of dust, raining down pebbles, clearing their path ahead.

Tokoyami always had trouble understanding how Midoriya could look up to Bakugou even though he bullied him horribly, but right now, he thinks he understands. The simplicity and raw honesty of Bakugou’s explanation was so compelling, Tokoyami felt himself believing in his words.

Dust clears from the air, revealing Sero lying on the ground under a giant block on the other end of the room. He cranes his neck up to see them. “Oh look, heroes,” he says flatly. “Please save me, I am small and helpless.”

Bakugou stomps over to him. “Get the fuck up, we’re here to rescue you and shit.”

Sero sighs dramatically. “Alas, I cannot, for my limbs are pinned down by this huge fucking rock.” Suddenly he brightens. “Oh hey, that rhymed! No wait…”

Bakugou groans loudly.

Tokoyami offers, “I think as part of our assignment we need to move the - ”

“Yeah, yeah I got that!” Bakugou interrupts, waving him off. “Listen, I’m going to explode this piece of shit. You cover for him so you guys don’t get killed by the debris. You up for that?”

I’m the one who controls my quirk, it doesn’t control me.

Tokoyami looks to his left at Dark Shadow. His quirk floats beside him, shy, but eager to be put to use. Maybe Tokoyami is still scared of Dark Shadow’s power, but right now, he has a level head and a strong will. He refuses to let his fear of losing control limit the power he knows he can control. Dark Shadow is a part of him, and Tokoyami gets the final word.

Tokoyami turns to Bakugou and nods. “Yes.”

The explosion comes a moment later. Tokoyami tightens his reigns on Dark Shadow and then pushes him forward. Solid darkness covers Tokoyami and Sero like an umbrella as rubble flies in every direction. Pieces patter against Dark Shadow, but he never falters.

The dust from the explosion clears, and Tokoyami reaches down and helps Sero to his feet. “Damn Tokoyami, I’m glad it was you who was paired with Blasty, or else I would have been shredded to ribbons.”

Tokoyami smiles. “The ribbons of darkness never fail to protect.”

“Oh hey, that’s a pretty cool catchphrase.”

Sero heads off to get cleaned up, and Tokoyami returns to Bakugou’s side. He’s staring at his palms intently, lost in his own world.

“Nice teamwork,” Tokoyami says.

Bakugou snaps of his trance and looks up. “Whatever,” he says. He stalks off the training grounds, but Tokoyami counts that as a victory.

He never thought he and Bakugou could be compatible teammates, but Bakugou had impressed him once again - not with his talent, but with his words. Tokoyami supposed this should be shocking, but somehow, it’s not surprising at all.

The next time it’s just them in the living room, up late in the night when everyone else has gone to sleep, he nods at Bakugou, and Bakugou nods back. And Dark Shadow, relatively tame despite the moonless sky, nods to them both.

Tokoyami feels a new dynamic between them. Camaraderie, perhaps. Whatever it is, something’s changed. Tokoyami has the distinct feeling that they will both grow strong together. 

Chapter Text

Jirou never expected to run into Bakugou while on duty. She supposes the potential was always there, but the possibility never crossed her mind.

But here they are. Cornering a villain together.

“What’s this? Heroes trying to stop me?”

The villain was trying to steal the precious trickets of an old rich family. Jirou found him right as he was trying to escape, but he had evaded her, quickly climbing up the stairs on tiny steel beams that sprouted from his fingertips. It looked like that was his quirk: fingernails made of metal that could extend and retract. How irritating.

They ended up on the roof, where Bakugou was waiting, fists as ready as ever.

“Trying? We’re going to stop you, fuckmuch,” Bakugou says. He charges the villain with his wrist grenade out. Silver beams spout from the villain’s outstretched hand, launching him up in the air just above Bakugou. He lands a few feet away with a bow. Bakugou fumes.

“You won’t stop me that easily,” the villain says in a voice that whines like nails against a chalkboard. He twirls his bag of goodies around one of his fingers, droopy smile on his face. Jirou reaches out with her ear to try and take it, but a silver beam smacks her out of the way. “For it is I! The villain with nails of steel - Fingerjail!”

Fingerjail? Jirou can’t help but snort.

“What the fuck kind of name is Fingerjail?” Bakugou shouts.

“Seriously,” Jirou agrees. “What poor, misled soul told you that was a good idea?”

“Fingerjail’s” droopy lips curl into a snarl. “Quiet! You are talking to the Fingerjail!”

“And who the fuck is that?” Bakugou roars.

“I’m with Bakugou here,” Jirou says between her cackles. “No one’s ever heard of you, dude.”

Bakugou whips around. “Hey! Call me by my hero name, bitch!”

Jirou rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, we told you, we’re not calling you King of Explodo-kills - ”

A flash of silver flashes across her vision as Fingerjail shoots above them. Bakugou moves quicker than she does, sending an exploding punch against the steel nail beams. The explosion doesn’t break the nails, but the force is enough to blow him off balance. Fingerjail topples over near the edge of the roof.

Bakugou marches over to him. “Thought we wouldn’t notice, shitfist?”  

Fingerjail raises himself from the concrete, holding his hands out in front of him in a defensive stance, his nails forming a protective fortress in front of his body. “Fingerjail is getting tired listening to you children bicker,” he chides.

Jirou scoffs. Who is this guy? “Referring to yourself in the third person is the greatest crime you’ve committed tonight,” she says. 

Bakugou rushes him again, but Fingerjail leaps out of the way. While they continue their dance, Jirou calls for backup. Any villain that could toy with Bakugou for this long - even one with a name as stupid as Fingerjail - might require extra hands.

“Calling for help?” Fingerjail shouts as he flings himself over her head. Jirou’s ear-jack shoots out and jabs him in the leg, squeezing a yelp of out him. She barely manages to pull it back before his nails stretch out to grab her. He lands on his feet a few meters away, shaking his head sadly. “So young, too. You must be interns! Such potential! Pah, what a pity you ran into me!”

“I’d say it’s a pity you ran into us,” Jirou says, “but no one would take pity on a guy named Fingerjail.”

The villain smirks, his smile as sharp and stiff as the half-moon of a clipped fingernail. “I don’t need pity with a quirk as strong as mine. What do you have, girl? Long ears? You don’t even have the looks to make up for your lame quirk. Assaulted by a female hero, and she's not even cute! How unlucky for me!”

A stab of self-consciousness hits her in the gut. She wants to call him out, to have some clever retort to his misogynistic comment, but with her self-esteem dropping, her wit fails her.

Not even cute...

Jirou knows she’s not the most attractive. She knows she doesn’t have a cute face like Uraraka or an exotic appearance like Ashido or a blooming bust like Momo. She knew it herself, but hearing other people say it...even someone as insignificant as this villain...it was stupid, but it hurt anyway.

It’s never been her goal to stand out in that way, but when all the female heroes she looked up to had perfect bodies and perfect faces, it was hard not to think about the consequences of her own plain figure.

Could she survive in the cutthroat world of heroes without a model’s body to boost her reputation? Could she keep up her confidence knowing her competitors far outshone her beauty?

She’s so stricken that when she notices the nails, it’s too late.

A sharp pain bursts in her cheek just as an explosion rocks her off her feet. She hits the ground, along with Fingerjail, a few feet away from her.

She feels blood dripping down her cheek from where the nail grazed her, and her vision’s swimming, but Jirou tries to pull herself anyways. She can’t let Bakugou have all the glory - not after failing to fight back like she just had. She has to keep going.

“The fuck kind of insult is that?” Bakugou shouts. Jirou looks up, gaze finally focused. Bakugou’s standing over Fingerjail, fist aimed at his face. “Who the fuck insults looks like that? If you think you’re anything compared to her, you better look in a fucking mirror, fuckface.”

Bakugou’s words are empowering. She knows he’s right - insults based on other’s appearances are lame. She shouldn’t listen to some villain lecture her about her looks. He's a misogynistic villain, who cares what he thinks?

It still hurts, of course. But she can’t let herself be put down by a villain.

Bakugou turns to her. “You’re going to let him get away with that?” he shouts. 

Jirou meets Bakugou’s eyes. They’re as bright and fiery as ever, but full of confusion, like he can’t understand why she didn’t react that. He probably can’t understand. Jirou bets he’s never felt bad about how he looked before. Bakugou was confident about every aspect of himself - including his looks, even though he didn’t look like a typical hero. His smile was practically the antithesis of All Might’s, but he wore it with pride. He was still strong, and people still admired him, and despite his shitty personality, Jirou knew he would become a successful hero people looked up to.

Maybe that’s the kind of hero she can be, too - not a voluptuous temptress, but one whose smirk scares her enemies instead of seduces them.

“I - ”

Two fingernails shoots out and rip Bakugou’s grenades right off his wrists. The momentum flings him backward, slamming him against the ground.

“Bakugou!”

Fingerjail lifts himself up on his thin steel supports. “You won’t stop me that easily, brat. This girl has already tried. And failed. I thought you’d be a better opponent, but I suppose my hopes were misplaced.”

Jirou had refrained from using her heartbeat inside, since she didn’t want to break anything in the house. But now that they’re in the roof, away from precious glass, there’s nothing holding her back.

She reaches her jacks behind her and plugs them into her boots.

BA -BOOM . BA -BOOM . BA -BOOM.

“Ahhhhh!” Fingerjail cries out, dropping to his knees, trying to cover his ears with his hands. He’s doing a pretty shitt job of it since his long fingernails stop him from reaching his face. Jirou takes the chance and charges him, delivering a roundhouse kick to his face.

The villain crumples to the ground. Blood seeps from his nose onto the concrete of the roof, pooling around the metal fingernails that have fallen limp.

“The fuck was that? Why didn’t you warn me?”

Jirou looks behind her, where Bakugou stands with his hands covering his ears. The steam flowing out of them making him look like an angry tea kettle.

She is rolls her eyes. “I didn’t want to alert the villain, idiot.”

“Who’re you calling idiot?”

Jirou ignores him in favor of checking on Fingerjail. Looks like she knocked him out. Serves him right. She kneels by his side, and takes the bag of jewels from where he hid it under his jacket.

Jirou pulls open the drawstring of the bag, revealing twinkling treasures: jewels, rings, shiny trinkets. A shiny gold hair comb, etched at the top with silver swirls, slips out into her palm.  She wonders if she’d look cute wearing it. Maybe the sight of a terrifying smile would be even scarier on a girl wearing a cute comb like this.

Jirou stands up. She rubs at the blood on her cheek; it’s already beginning to dry, so the cut can’t be that deep. “Back up should be here to collect him soon. I’m going to go return these to their proper owner,” she says, waving the drawstring bag. “Watch the villain.”

Bakugou shoots her a glare. “Don’t fucking order me around.”

Jirou works pretty well with everyone, but she’s never had to work with Bakugou before. And it wasn’t as bad as she would’ve thought. She found Bakugou’s arrogance and bad attitude as annoying as anyone else, but she never thought anything good would have come out of it. The past year must have mellowed him out a bit.

Except when it comes to fighting villains, of course. But that’s probably for the better.

Before she heads back downstairs, Jirou punches him lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

Bakugou snarls. “The fuck? Why?”

Jirou raises her eyebrow. She knows that he knows, he’s just being stubborn. “You’ve changed, you know. I don’t think I could’ve standed to work with you at the beginning of this year...but you defended me back there.”

“Did not.”

“You did whether you admit it or not. So thanks.”

Bakugou grunts. Jirou takes this as a “you’re welcome.” She looks him up and down, at his disgruntled expression and uncomfortable suffling. “You’re not weaker for being nice, dumbass,” she tells him.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to have a reply to that.

She makes her way off the roof, leaving Bakugou to deal with the villain and that final thought. She swings around the bag of precious items. She thinks about the comb, and decides maybe she’ll buy one for herself later. It can be part of her signature look - not the look of a typical female hero, but one that will be completely her own.

Chapter Text

Kouda likes hiking in the mornings best. The time when the sun’s peeking over the horizon, giving just enough light to see, but not blazing down from the middle of the sky, when the animals are beginning to stir, before the chaos of UA life begins - that’s Kouda’s favorite time to hike.

There’s a mountain near the dorms that lies undisturbed by UA facilities. He comes here every Sunday. This many months into dorm life, it’s become routine. Kouda got permission from Aizawa to hike up here, provided he stick to the path and tell people where he is.

Sometimes Jirou or Tokoyami will come with him. He appreciates their company; he likes having a friend to hike with. Plus, they can scare off the bugs for him. As much as Kouda loves nature, sometimes his fear of bugs holds him back. He especially hates the summer when the bugs come out. When he was younger, all the other kids would always ask him to use his quirk to summon beetles for them to catch, and it was always embarrassing to explain to them why he couldn’t.

Today, he's out here alone, but since it’s nearing winter, it’s not so bad. The weather is perfect; a cool breeze counteracts the effects of the bright sun. His boots pat against the dirt as he follows the trail he takes whenever he comes up here. A call of a bird directs his attention to the sky. A black kite sails overhead, wingtips glowing gold in the lazy sunlight. Kouda watches as it dives into treetops, no doubt snatching up a rabbit or shrew for breakfast.

It used to bother him, watching animals eat other animals. He understands now that all animals need to eat, and some animals need to eat other animals, and that’s the way it is. That’s the cycle of life.

It’s still a little sad, though.

Kouda crouches down and mumbles, “Good morning creatures of the grass and trees, follow me on my trek through the flora of this godly mountain, if you would like.”

A dozen mice scramble up to his side, soon joined by a few rabbits. He stands up, and beckons them to follow as he takes to the pathway once more.

He walks with the animals for a half hour in silence. By now, he’s almost halfway up the mountain.

Suddenly the rabbit in front of him comes to a halt, ears perked up. Kouda looks up and listens carefully; he can hear rustling of leaves, shoes crunching against the undergrowth.

A figure bursts through the bushes, and the animals scatter.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Bakugou comes out of the bushes, dressed in a black workout jacket and cargo pants hanging low on his hips, a red backpack looped over his shoulder.

Kouda’s jaw almost drops. Bakugou was the last person he expected to see out here.

Apparently Bakugou thought the same.

“The fuck you are doing out here?” Bakugou glances at his boots and backpack. “Hiking?”

Kouda nods.

Bakugou gives him another look, the walks out onto the pathway up ahead of him, continuing on without a second thought.

Happy to have someone else with him, Kouda comes up to Bakugou’s side - keeping a few feet of distance between them - and starts walking next to him.

Bakugou stops, and looks at him.

“You don’t talk much,” he states.

Kouda grins nervously and shrugs. It’s true, he’s not much of a talker, unless he’s using his quirk. Since he was little, he primarily used sign language around his single hard-of-hearing mother, so he didn’t need to talk much. The habit stuck when he entered school.

Bakugou gives him one more look, then continues walking. Kouda followed a moment after, and they walk in silence, the only noise from the wind whispering through the autumn leaves and the sound of birds chirping as they fly high in the sky.

As time goes by, a small horde of animals begins following them. With Bakugou’s uncharacteristically calm demeanor, the animals are comfortable around him. They walk closer and closer, until he and Bakugou are being followed by a small army of shrews and rabbits and foxes and even a few deer, like ducklings behind their mother.

Kouda decides walking with Bakugou is nice. He keeps a fair pace, not as fast as Jirou and not as slow as Tokoyami, and doesn’t try and force conversation. There also seems to be less bugs around them. Kouda wonders if it’s because Bakugou’s sweat smells bad to the bugs. Like a natural bug spray. Or maybe they’re just scared of him, Kouda thinks, smiling to himself. Who could blame them?

Suddenly Bakugou pauses. The animals stop with him. Then he hurries off the path, disappearing into the trees before Kouda can follow.

Huh? Was he supposed to follow? Or was Bakugou done, and he wanted to leave? Kouda lingers in the middle of the pathway, tapping his fingers together while he debates what to do.

Kouda’s just about the ask a fox to follow him when Bakugou comes trudging back, a massive stick in his hand. Without an explanation, he continues forward, dragging the stick behind him in a perfect line.

Kouda looks at the animals and shrugs. Not what he was expecting, but he can understand the joy that comes with carrying a big stick. He hurries to catch up with Bakugou, careful not to tread on the line he makes.

While Bakugou watches the tree tops like a fox on the hunt, Kouda watches Bakugou. He wouldn’t have pegged Bakugou as someone who appreciates nature, but he did hear from Kirishima that Bakugou liked hiking, so maybe this shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Suddenly Bakugou stops. He tiptoes toward a tree next to the pathway, eyes wide and focused. He eases the branch against the tree, aiming for a small spot on the trunk.

That’s when Kouda sees the beetle, and his blood goes cold.

He can only watch as the beetle crawls from the tree onto the top of Bakugou’s branch. Bakugou lets out of a shout of victory and parades the stick around in the air, oblivious to Kouda’s fear. Kouda tries to step back but Bakugou smirks and shoves the branch at him.

The beetle is nearly as large his finger and it is two inches away from his face.

Kouda bolts, stumbling backwards and falling against a tree trunk five meters away from Bakugou and the branch.

Bakugou flings the stick over his shoulder. “The fuck is wrong?”

Kouda points his finger to the branch and shakes his head.

He glances at the branch, and back at Kouda, and takes the beetle off the top of the branch and into his hand. Kouda holds his breath, watching the beetle like a hawk. Bakugou just flings it into the trees, far away from them.

Trying not to act as embarrassed as he feels, Kouda recovers his composure and hurries back next to Bakugou, hands clenched in front of him awkwardly. They start walking down the path again. The animals were scared off in his fright, and Kouda doesn’t want to take the time to call them back.

He twiddles his fingers as he waits for Bakugou to comment on his fear.

“Doesn’t your quirk make you an animal whisperer or something?” Bakugou asks skeptically.

Kouda nods.

“And you’re afraid of bugs? That’s stupid.”

There it is. Kouda looks down at his hands. He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help it. They’re just so creepy, they have too many legs and they’re too small and they’re definitely not soft. He knows he can deal with bugs when he has too, thanks to Jirou, but only when he absolutely has to, and that’s good enough for him.

“A quirk is an extension of yourself,” Bakugou goes on. “If you don’t use it to your maximum capacity, it’s like you're leaving part of yourself behind. That’s just fucking dumb.”   

Kouda never really thought of it like that before.

Is he really just content mastering part of his power? Everyone at UA gives it their all. Jirou made her ears bleed just so they could pass their end of term exam. Kouda needs to do his best to support than all too, and if he wasn’t using the full potential of his quirk, then he wasn’t doing that at all.

They reach the peak in no time, the edge of a sloping cliff that overlooks the UA campus. Of all the aspects of the mountain, Kouda’s favorite thing is the view. From here, they can see all of UA spread out before them, as tiny as a children’s play set. He spots the dorms, where the rest of their classmates are probably sleeping in on this Sunday morning.

Bzzz.

Kouda flinches. Oh dear, what was that?

Something brushes against his arm. Gulping, Kouda looks down.

There, on his arm, is the largest, creepiest moth he’s ever seen.

“KKYAAAAAA!”

Kouda leaps up, shaking his arm wildly as he runs around in circles. Suddenly his foot catches on a branch and Kouda finds himself tumbling headfirst down the cliff face. Adrenaline rushes through him as he grapples for something to hang on to. He catches on to a root, and hangs on for dear life, huddling against the rocky wall of the cliff face.

Once he’s sure he’s not immediately going to fall to his death - and that the moth is long gone - Kouda peeks down.

“EEEEK!”

The cliff slopes down at a steep incline and it’s a long, long way to fall. What are his options? He can call a deer, and grabs its horns to pull him up, but he doesn’t think a deer would be strong enough to lift him, but maybe two deer? Or perhaps -

“Gimme your hand!”

Kouda looks up. Bakugou is bending over the side of the cliff, hand extended towards him.

“The fuck are you waiting for, dumbass?” he barks, opening his hand again. “Take it!”

Having witnessed Bakugou’s quirk in action, his outstretched hand is almost as terrifying as bugs, but Kouda takes it without hesitating.

Their hands clasped together, Bakugou yanks him up and over the peak, sending them toppling over into the soft dirt behind them. Kouda rolls and bumps into a tree. His chest heaves shaking breaths and he clutches the ground below him, thankful for a solid surface.

Once his heart has and the adrenaline has started to fade, Kouda pushes himself up into a sitting position, back resting against the tree trunk.

Bakugou’s sitting in the dirt a few feet away, shaking out his arm.

“Thank you,” Kouda tells him.

Bakugou looks up at him, eyes wide in surprise. Kouda expects him to say something along the lines of “So you can speak!” or “I see what you mean about the bugs,” but he doesn’t say anything at all.

Maybe his way of saying thanks for Kouda not saying “Wow, I didn’t know you could rescue people!” or something other patronizing thing that insinuates Bakugou isn’t hero material. Knowing Bakugou, he's probably not trying to say thanks, but Kouda can imagine it anyway. Words unspoken are sometimes more important than anything that can be said.

In lieu of words, Bakugou stands up, smacks the dirt off his pants, grabs his bag, and heads down the mountain without looking back. Kouda lifts himself up and hurries after him.

Out of all their classmates, Bakugou scares him the most. He figures most of their classmates would say the same. It was a little difficult to imagine the guy who wanted to be called “King of Explodo-kills” as a hero, but right then, Kouda had no trouble at all.

About halfway down the mountain, Kouda notices a spider crawling on Bakugou’s shoulder.

Kouda freezes in his tracks. He feels his heart thundering in his chest, senses still heightened from his encounter with the moth. He watches its spindly legs creep along Bakugou’s jacket, making its way toward his neck.

Kouda gulps and steels himself. After Bakugou saved him, he wants to do something in return. He wants to support his classmates, even if it’s scary. He’d done it once. He can do it again.

He starts muttering before he can think too long about it. “Oh, eight legged beast, venture far into the wilderness, long ways away from here, if you please.”

Bakugou whips around, right as the spider jumps of his shoulder and onto the ground. “The fuck are you saying?” Bakugou asks.

Kouda points to the spider. They watch as it scurries across the dirt and climbs up a tree. Kouda shudders, trying forget the sight of those creepy crawly legs.

“I thought you said you were afraid of bugs?” Bakugou asks.

Kouda smiles sheepishly and nods.

Bakugou raises an eyebrow. Kouda thinks he sees something like satisfaction, but maybe he’s imagining it. He certainly feels satisfied with himself - maybe even proud. He knows it’s just one spider, but like his mother always tells him, little steps move you forward, too.  

They make it back to the dorms before anyone else is up.

“You gonna hike up there next weekend?” Bakugou asks him.

Kouda nods.

“Same time?”

He gives a thumbs up.

Bakugou gives him a crooked smile. “Maybe next time we’ll catch some bugs to leave them on Kaminari’s bed. That’ll teach him not to fuck with me when I’m cooking again.”

Kouda shakes his hands no but Bakugou just gives a barking laugh and walks upstairs.

Kouda smiles to himself. Looks like he gained a new hiking partner. Today’s adventure was not at all what he was expecting and maybe a little terrifying, but Kouda can confidently say that he’s looking forward to next week’s trip.

Chapter Text

Momo spends her evening making a chess set.

The purpose of making the chess set is twofold: firstly, to practice forming small, intricate figures made of both wood and paint, and secondly, to play chess. Chess was always something she wanted to try, but never had the chance to. That’s not entirely true: she’s played against a computer before, so she knows the rules and a bit of strategy. But she’s never played with a real person. She wants a real game, during which she can physically move the pieces and see the board in three dimensions. She wants to play against a real person she can clearly see in front of her.

Momo sits in the common area, laying the board she created first in front of her. Then she begins making the pieces, concentrating deeply while pieces fall out from her thighs. At first, Jirou and Tooru keep her company, but they soon tire and head off to eat. Aoyama compliments her on the shiny paint job. Iida asks if he would be allowed to play against her once she’s finished.

In total, it takes her two hours. By the time she finishes, she’s starving. Before she heads to the kitchen, Momo arranges all the pieces in their proper places. She’s pretty proud of her work; the pure white and pitch black armies look rather regal standing off against each other on the checkered board. As an afterthought, she pushes a white pawn forward.

Her stomach rumbles, and Momo heads off to make herself a big dinner.

The next morning, she sees that the chess board is not as she left it. A black pawn has been moved two spaces forward, two columns away from the one she pushed forward last night.

She asks around to see who might have done it, but no one knows.

Before she goes to bed that night, she pushes her pawn forward another space. And the game begins.

It goes on like that for a week. Momo still doesn’t know for sure who she’s playing. She doesn’t think it’s one of the girls; since she’s friendly enough with all of them, they would most likely tell her directly. Her second guess had been Iida - he had said he wanted to play her. But when she had asked, he said it wasn’t him. She suspects it’s Tokoyami, or maybe Ojiro. They seem to have the disposition for chess, and might be shy enough to avoid confronting her about it.

She can’t bring herself to ask them, though, afraid that if she did, she would scare them off and the game would end.

But playing one move a night is agonizingly slow. They’re getting nowhere at this rate. So that night, Momo waits up, hovering around the kitchen while keeping an eye on the common area.

Evening fades into night, the natural light of the setting sun replaced by electric lights within the dorm. The hands on the clock tick away slowly, round and round, and still, no one touches the board. Each of her classmates head up one by one, until it’s only Tokoyami and Bakugou left. And then Tokoyami heads upstairs.

No way.

Sure enough, Bakugou gets up and moves a piece. He flickers his eyes up and glares at her.

Momo jumps. She didn’t think he realized she was there.

“Well?” he asks. “Your move.”

Momo treads warily out of the kitchen and sits down on the white side of the board, directly across from Bakugou. He perches on his shins, watching the board like a hawk, waiting for her to make a move.

She pushes a pawn forward, watching as his lips tighten into a line.

Momo had never thought Bakugou would have the patience for a game like chess, or that he would play with her. Yet, he certainly has the intelligence the game requires; Bakugou is third in their class in terms of grades, after all. And he likes competition. Momo bets he probably couldn’t help himself when he saw a game with only one player.

Momo’s not sure how she feels about facing off against Bakugou. By chance or luck, she’s never had to work with or against him in any training exercise or otherwise. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s a little intimidated by him. But she can’t back down now, not when the game has already begun.

Playing against a person is different than playing against a computer. Momo can read the minute expressions on Bakugou’s face. She can feel the anticipation rise as she waits for him to make his move. The moment after she makes her move and gauges Bakugou’s reaction is just as exhilarating as any villain battle.

Yet the atmosphere is completely different any battle she’s fought. Not just regarding the game, but regarding Bakugou. His silence surprises her the most. Apart from swearing under his breath a few times, he’s quiet, contemplative. After only knowing Bakugou as loud and abrasive, this quiet Bakugou throws her for a loop.  

Eventually she glances at the clock.

“Oh...it’s late,” she says. It’s been nearly an hour. It only feels like a few minutes have gone by.

Momo stands up, feeling a little woozy. She usually doesn’t stay up this late, and she didn’t realize how much brain power she was using for their game.

Bakugou glances up at her, eyebrow raised.

Momo looks at her feet, afraid to meet his eyes. “Could we, um, continue tomorrow?”

To her relief, Bakugou nods.

“You start next time,” he says.

Momo nods and scurries off to her room. When her head hits the pillow, she crashes into a deep, satisfying sleep.

If Bakugou Katsuki was a matroyshka doll, playing the game that night would be Momo popping open his first shell. At first she thought the Bakugou who played chess with her was different than the Bakugou who ravaged the battlefield. But she soon realized they were one and the same - the Bakugou on the battlefield was always calculating and strategizing too, even if it didn’t look like it. This Bakugou was just a deeper aspect of himself, a layer underneath his aggressive personality.

Momo wonders what lies at Bakugou’s very core.

Nearly every night from then on, Momo plays chess with Bakugou. It becomes a part of the common area routine. Iida places coasters under the stray glasses that dot the counters. Satou makes sweets for everyone on Saturday nights. Kaminari and Ashido play weird music really loud when they try to ‘study.’ Momo and Bakugou play chess in the corner every night.

Sometimes people will stop and watch them. Ashido and Kaminari became her personal cheerleaders, which Bakugou despised but everyone else found hilarious. Jirou once fell asleep on her lap when a particularly tense point in the game dragged on past their usual hour. Sometimes Iida looks over their shoulders, mouth twisting and fingers twiddling like he wants to say something, give them advice about what moves to do next, but Uraraka stops him before he can say anything.

Bakugou wins the first game. And the second. But Momo wins the third. Now their sessions stretch out even longer, and the fiery glint of competitiveness in Bakugou’s eyes grows brighter and more focused.

They don’t talk much when they play. Momo doesn’t know what she would even say if they did. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t still intimidated by Bakugou - but who wasn’t? Someone as confident and strong as he was, overpowering the likes of Todoroki...Momo could only hope she wouldn’t disappear in his shadow.

“Check,” Momo says, moving her queen opposite Bakugou’s king.

Bakugou grimaces, glaring at the board like it personally offended him. She’s thankful his quirk is confined to his hands: if he could make explosions with his eyes, the board would be in flames.

After a few seconds of debating, Bakugou moves his king over a square.

Momo anticipated this, so she knows what she needs to do next. But what if that isn’t the right move? Maybe it would be better if she went about this a different way. Let’s see, if she moves this piece instead, that could lead to a quicker victory. But only if Bakugou made the choices she thought he would make. But would he know she was thinking that he would make those choices, and change his course? What if -

“Hey. Your move.”

Momo purses her lips at Bakugou’s impatience. “I’m thinking,” she says.

“No shit,” Bakugou retorts. “Think faster.”

Momo rolls her eyes, trying to brush off his attitude. It wasn’t easy; this wasn’t the first time he urged her to go faster either, and she doubted it would be the last.

She glances at the board again. “Sorry,” she says, trying to flip through simulations as fast as she can. Maybe she should stick with her original move after all, but perhaps -  

Bakugou slams his hands against the table, making the board quake. Momo jumps back. “You just need to trust yourself, dumbass,” Bakugou growls. “Stop fucking second guessing yourself.”

Momo is reminded of the end of term test, when she and Todoroki were paired up against Aizawa-sensei. Awed by Todoroki’s quick thinking and control of the situation, she remembers unquestionably following his lead - even though she had an idea of her own. She knows she always compares herself to Todoroki, and she’s tried to stop herself from doing that lately, but ever since the sports festival, she’s realized her classmates are even more amazing than she initially surmised. It’s not only Todoroki’s who’s more skilled than her - she’s competing against people who are more determined, more qualified -

I’m telling you you were more qualified than me!

Todoroki’s words ring in the back of her mind, reminding her that they had prevailed that time, through the plan she came up with. 

Bakugou’s right. She needs to have more confidence in her own abilities.

She sticks with her initial plan and moves her queen.

“Finally,” Bakugou mutters, already making his move. This time, Momo doesn’t let herself hesitate before countering back.

Immediately she regrets her move, but she holds her tongue, not wanting to test Bakugou’s patience. She’s a little more cautious the rest of the game, and Bakugou grits his teeth a little harder.

Momo wonders why Bakugou cares so much that she’s hesitating. At first she thinks it’s because he’s impatient. But then she remembers the sports festival, and how angry he’d been at Todoroki, even though he won. This was another layer of the Bakugou matroyshka: the desire to win fully and completely, to have no room for doubt that he was the stronger competitor. She doesn’t know anyone else, besides Midoriya, maybe, who would be so incensed by that. Where did that anger stem from? Was it because he was afraid of not being taken seriously? Did he think that those who didn’t give it their all against him thought he was weak?

Did Bakugou think she wasn’t giving it her all?

Wasn’t he right?

The myriad of thoughts spinning around her head distract her from the game in front of her. She takes even longer to make her moves, agonizing over each mistake she makes. Doubt seeps through the cracks in her confidence, causing frustration to trickle down to her fingertips. She falls into the exact trap Bakugou told her to avoid.

The game ends in a stalemate. Unsatisfied with the result, Bakugou demands they start another.

“In the morning,” Momo sighs.

Bakugou grunts in affirmation. “And this time, stop fucking hesitating.”

“So. Have you dethroned the king yet?” Jirou asks her during class.

“Once,” Momo says. “But that might have been a fluke…”

“It couldn’t have been,” Jirou tells her. “Bakugou would never let you win by accident.”

Momo smiles and thanks Jiro for the reassurance, but in the back of her mind she wonders if that’s really true.

The next night, Bakugou’s patience withers faster than a flower in the desert heat.

“What. The. Fuck. Did I tell you last time?” he hisses when her fingers hover a bit too long over the board.

Momo bites back a wince. “I know you said not to hesitate, but I need time to think my moves through. I can’t - I’m not good at making snap decisions like you or Todoroki…”

“The shit are you talking about?” he demands.

Of course he doesn’t understand. How could someone who casually declared they would win the sports festival understand what it was like to doubt your own abilities? Bakugou Katsuki is the last person who could understand her fears, yet she finds herself opening up to him anyway.

“I’m always second guessing myself!” she bursts. “I can’t trust myself to make the right decisions, not when I’m competing with people like you.”

These are feelings she’s carried with herself for a long time but has never voiced before. Speaking them lifts a weight off her chest, but it also gives them more power over her. She’s thankful that everyone else has gone upstairs, so only Bakugou’s ears and the empty air of the common area are privy to her secret.

“I’m not - I wasn’t strong enough at the sports festival, and I’m not strong enough now,” Momo admits. “People like you and, and Todoroki, and Midoriya and Uraraka - ”

“Don’t compare me to those dipshits!”

“ - you know what you’re capable of, you know what you’re doing. Everyone trusts you to succeed. Why should I even try if I know I’m going to lose to people like you?”

Bakugou stares at her, brows knitted in confusion. “The fuck are you saying? You got into U.A. on recommendation. You made it to the top sixteen in the sports festival. You beat Aizawa in the end of term exam. You - you made than damn tracker and fucking came to rescue me! After all that, you think you’re weak?!”

Does she think that? Momo doesn’t think she’s weak, per se, but she can’t compare to the others -

“Stop underestimating yourself!” he yells. Momo grips the sides of the chessboard to brace herself against his shouts. “You think I would waste my time playing against some dumb bitch?”

She winces. “I - I don’t know - ”

“No, of course I fucking wouldn’t!” Bakugou shoves a finger in her face. His blazing red eyes bare holes into her soul. “You’re smart, and if you stopped fucking comparing yourself to everyone else, you could actually focus on getting stronger!”

Her grip tightens around the edges of the board. The words hit her like a bullet, fast and unexpected and painful, because she knows they’re true, she knows they’re true but she doesn’t want to hear it from him.

“How could you know what it’s like?!” she shouts. “You can’t understand the fear of being shone up by someone else - ”

The board explodes beneath her fingertips. A giant cloud of smoke instantly envelopes the room in a grimy darkness, clogging Momo’s lungs and stinging her eyes. Something’s ringing; she doesn’t know if it’s her ears or the fire alarm.

She accidentally breathes in a puff of smoke and keels over, breaking into a coughing fit. Bakugou had finally lost his temper. What had Momo said to finally cause him to snap?

The smoke begins to clear. The first thing Momo sees is the chessboard. Both the board and the pieces are blown to bits, charred wooden scraps scattered over the table and floor, flakes of paint peppering the room. Flickers of flame, still determined to burn, dot the table. Her eyes water; all her hard work, destroyed in seconds.

She looks up and sees Bakugou, thrown back into his seat by the force of his explosion.

His eyes are blown wide. He looks just as shocked as her, but his shock is mixed with something else. Is it fear? Regret? Whatever it is, it doesn’t match up with what he just did. It doesn’t match up with Momo’s idea of who Bakugou Katsuki is. Did he do that on purpose? Was it an accident?

He leaps up, takes one look at Momo, one look at the board, and flees upstairs, not uttering a single word.

The moment Bakugou is gone the room breaks into chaos. Nearly all of class 1-A comes flooding down the stairs. It’s all a blur - Jirou is immediately at her side, Todoroki puts out the remaining fire, Shoji reaches up and turns the fire alarm off, Tsuyu opens a window. Kirishima and Kaminari go back up after Bakugou. After checking to make sure Momo is okay, Ashido and Uraraka follow them.

Momo waves them off, tells them not to worry. The smoke clears from the room, slowly dissipating out through the window, and Momo sits in the same place, staring at the broken board and the blackened pieces.

The stinging in her eyes causes them to well up. That’s what’s causing the tears to drip down her face - or so she tells herself. Not because she was forced to confront her emotions. Not because she still doubted herself, even now.

The ruined board looks back at her. She sits there for a long time, until everyone else has gone upstairs.

She debates on whether to create a new one, but decides it isn’t worth the effort.

That night, tossing and turning in her bed, Momo gives herself time to calm down and reflect on their conversation. After the shouting fest with Bakugou and a good cry, Momo finds herself feeling better than she has in a long time. She’s able to reflect on their conversation - if she can call it that - with a clear head.

In some twisted way, knowing that Bakugou thought she was a worthy opponent is extremely validating, almost as much as when Todoroki told her he voted for her for class president. 

Even after what he did, Bakugou’s right. She should have more confidence. She knows she should.

And even if it came from him...perhaps her anger was misplaced. Just before Bakugou had blown up the chess set, Mom had accused him of not being able to understand what it was like to not feel good enough. But maybe she was wrong about that. Looking back at Bakugou’s history at U.A. - from his frustration with Todoroki at the sports festival to his initial reaction when Midoriya beat him during their first training exercise - his fear of not being able to live up to the standards he’s set for himself makes sense. She thinks she understands him a little better now. The next layer of the Bakugou matroyshka - a fear, not so different from her own, of falling behind people he was able to best before. 

Momo can’t find it in herself to be angry at Bakugou. She doesn’t think he meant to blow up the chess set – he just let his emotions get the better of him. That's something she can sympathize with.

It’s comforting to know that the people she’s measuring herself up against are just a human as her.  

The next morning, Momo gets up early to make herself some tea. This early, the muted glow of the rising sun colors the kitchen sepia. Momo brings her tea into the common area, and stops in her tracks.

On the table is a brand new chess set. Beautiful marble pieces in deep blue and ivory glint under the fluorescent living room lights.

She knows this is Bakugou's way of saying sorry. Looks like she has uncovered another layer of the Bakugou matroyshka - small and fragile, buried underneath layers of ego and spite and fear that kept it hidden well.

Bakugou could make the effort to make up for his mistakes and move on. Momo wonders if she can do the same.

She spends the rest of the day thinking about the chess set. She watches Bakugou out of the corner of her eye, but Bakugou doesn’t look at her once. She didn’t expect him to. But she wished she knew what he was thinking.

As she sits in her room that afternoon, thoughts of the brand new chess set sitting right beneath her distract her from her studies.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at her door.

“It’s me.”

Momo recognizes Todoroki’s voice and lets him in. He stands awkwardly by her door while she leans on the edge of her bed.

Todoroki looks for a place to sit, and ends up standing by her door. She didn’t know how small the rooms would be when she chose to bring her bed here, so there's not a lot of room.

“You play chess with Bakugou.”

Momo looks away. She knew Todoroki could be a bit dense, but surely he couldn’t have forgotten about last night already. “Not any more,” she murmurs.

Todoroki leans against the door. “When we were kids, you talked about playing chess.”

“You remember that?” Momo asks. She’s surprised – it was a long time ago.

“I remember how you grew bored of shogi after I kept losing to you.”

Momo smiles at the memory. Those days feel like they were in another lifetime. “You should have put up more of a fight,” she says.

Todoroki just smiles. “It’s nice you found a worthy opponent,” he says.

Momo looks down. “I don’t think we’ll play anymore.”

“So that’s it?” he asks. “You’re giving up?”

“What?”

“If you’re not playing against him anymore, doesn’t that mean you’ve given up?”

Momo doesn’t respond. She’s still working through her feelings, and even with the peace offering of the marble chess set waiting below, she’s not sure if she's ready to approach Bakugou yet. 

But Momo knows Todoroki means more than giving up on the game. If she did nothing now, she was giving up on Bakugou, and she was giving up on herself. Giving up now meant there would be no chance to grow stronger. If she kept herself from playing just because she feared the outcome, she would stay stagnant. The same mental wall would keep blocking her like it always has.

If you stopped fucking comparing yourself to everyone else, you could actually focus on getting stronger!

Bakugou was right. He might be an unstable asshole, but in one way, they were both the same: they both wanted to get stronger.

She looks back to Todoroki, who waits patiently for an answer.

“No,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she is. “No, this isn’t over yet.”

That night, Bakugou sits in his usual chair, face buried behind a book. She pretends not to notice him peak over the cover as she sits down across from him.

“I-I’m not going to play nice with you any more,” Momo says. “You better watch your back this time…because I’m not going to let you win anymore.”

Bakugou slams his book closed and grins. “I fucking hope not.”

She pushes a pawn forward two spaces. And they begin again.

Chapter Text

“Someone!”

The voice is so faint, Shoji thinks he might have imagined it. He raises an ear up higher, just in case. Rain drops patter against his raised arm and against the shell of his ear, the roar of rushing water accompanying the pounding as sheets of rain batter against the sides of high-rise buildings.

“Someone - save me!”

It’s there alright, amid the howling winds and torrid rain: a cry for help.

“Bakugou,” Shoji says. He points to the office building across the street. A flood surges down the street between them like powerful river, a moat barring them from the castle before them. “There’s someone in there.”

Bakugou looks toward the building and snarls. Rain soaks his clothes, plastering his hair against his head even tighter than when Best Jeanist got his hands on it. One of his wrist bracers had been crushed by flying debris, and he only had two grenades left around his belt. His gloves had soaked through, and his explosions were much less intense than they usually were. It had take him ten minutes to work through the last building to get to the office worker trapped inside. From what he’s seen of his abilities before, Shoji is sure Bakugou should have been able to do it in seconds. 

Bakugou rolls his shoulders and wipes the rain off his forehead. “Then we better hurry up and get them before this storm gets any worse.”

Nature is unlike any villain Shoji has ever faced. Relentless winds tear through the streets, knocking over trees and sending cars sliding across the flooded roads, howling loud enough to drown out the emergency sirens. A thick grey mass of rain pours down in sheets so heavy, even Shoji’s visibility is limited. A mix of rain and ocean water surges down the streets, the flood reaching up to their knees. Cold envelopes him like a second skin, slowing his movements, causing his teeth to chatter.

Nothing in their training could have prepared them for this. But when the tsunami struck, every hero - including those with only a provisional license - immediately lept into action. He and Bakugou were assigned to follow up the pro-hero crew that evacuated civilians from the main street of the sea-side city, looking for stragglers left behind. So far, they’d found four people in the last three hours and had taken them to the evacuation zone at the far end of the street. Shoji’s limbs are exhausted, and they still have several blocks to go. But first, they need to help this civilian.

“Are you still able to fight?” Shoji asks Bakugou.

“What the fuck? Of course I am!” he shouts. Shoji has to place an ear right next to him to hear him; even Bakugou’s voice is almost lost in the noise. He raises his hand up. Sparks dance across his palms, bright spots in the overwhelming grey.

Shoji knows he’s lying. Between the cold and the wetness, Bakugou can’t form as much sweat as usual. It's slowing him down, making him weaker. 

Shoji looks to the raging water stream of water blocking their way to the building. “I’ll carry you across the street.”

Bakugou snarls. “I don’t need your goddam help!”

“You’ll be more useful if you’re dry!” Shoji shouts back. 

Bakugou regards him for a moment, considering his options. Shoji knows Bakugou doesn’t like getting help from others. He’d made that apparent many times before. The instant before he’d been captured by villains during the school trip, Shoji had heard Bakugou tell Midoriya to stay away. His stubbornness reached so far as to put his own life at risk.

But this time it wasn’t about him - there was someone else who needed their help. They need to work together to protect whoever’s up there, Bakugou’s pride be damned.

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou relents. “Make it quick.”

Shoji bends down and allows Bakugou to climb onto his back. Grumbling, Bakugou grabs onto his shoulders. Then Shoji closes his arms above his head like he had in the cavalry battle, shielding Bakugou from the storm.

“What the fuck!” Bakugou starts scrambling around on his back, trying to get him to open up his arms.

Shoji turns one of his arms near Bakugou into a mouth. “I’m keeping you dry and warm. Trying to help you sweat.”

“I don’t need you to - ”

“Just let me help, Bakugou!”

The struggles die down, and Bakugou goes still. Bakugo's stubborn, but he's not stupid. "If it’ll get you to shut up," he grumbles.

Shoji morphs the mouth into a hand and gives him a thumbs up.

Hefting Bakugou a little higher on his shoulders, Shoji starts trudging across the channel.

Water laps at his calves, growing higher and licking his thighs. His legs tremble, but he keeps going, muscles screaming in protest.

Finally he reaches the edge of the building, and hunkers down beneath a fallen awning. The waterline reaches his waist. He hopes Bakugou avoided getting wet.

The fallen awning blocks the entrance to the building. “Hang on.” Shoji secures Bakugou tighter to his back and begins climbing up the side of the building.

“Hey - wait - ”

“You shouldn’t waste your sweat when you don’t need to.”

He runs one ear along the side of the building as he climbs. The sounds get louder as he gets closer.

“Someone help me! Please!”

Here. They stop in front of a window. Through it, Shoji sees a little girl.

He tries opening the window, but his hands keep slipping on the latch. Bakugou climbs onto his shoulders. “Let me,” he says.

As Bakugou readies his fist, Shoji motions with a hand for the girl to back up.

Bakugou blasts through the window. Shards of glass rain down inside the building. The explosion is stronger than the last few had been, but nothing compared to Bakugou’s usual power.

With the window knocked out, they haul themselves inside the building. The girl stares up at them in awe. “Are you guys heroes?” she asks.

Bakugou smirks. “Of course we fucking are.”

Shoji slaps Bakugou’s arm. “Language,” he mutters in his ear. Bakugou swats his arm away.

Shoji bends down in front of her and holds out a hand. “We’re going to get you to safety, alright?”

She places her tiny palm in his, sniffling. “M’kay.” He hauls her up onto his back and starts for the window.

He stops in his tracks. One of his ears picks up a rumbling sound, like rushing water. Shoji sticks his arm out through the broken window, looking down the street.

Bakugou punches his shoulder. “What the crap are you waiting for?”

Shoji gulps. The rumbling is getting louder. At the shoreline, the water is beginning to rise. “There’s another wave coming.”

Bakugou pushes in front of him and leans out the window. “Shit.”

Shoji doesn’t even scold him this time. If the wave keeps surging thing strong in this direction, it will hit the evacuation zone and drown all the civilians gathered at the other end of the street.

Bakugou turns back to him. “Take her and get out of here. I’m gonna stop that wave.”

His eyes widen. “How - ”

Bakugou grins, fire in his eyes brighter and more dangerous than his explosions. “I’m gonna knock this building down.”

Shoji glances out again down the street. The wave gets higher and higher, closer and closer. The roar of water gets louder and louder. This can’t be the work of nature alone; there has to be a villain behind this, right?

“It’s too risky,” Shoji tells him. “You need to get to safety.”

“Then I’ll take the fucking risk!” Bakugou shouts. “You’re not going to save anyone if you don’t take risks!”

Memories of the Kamino incident hit him like a slap. How he advocated for leaving Bakugou’s fate to the pro-heroes, too afraid to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. But the truth was, the only reason Bakugou was here now was because Midoriya and company took a risk to get him back.

The girl taps his shoulder. “Are we gonna be okay, mister hero?” she whispers.

Bakugou’s right. If they don’t at least try to stop it, dozens of civilians would pay the price. It may be risk, but it was a risk they should take. Shoji wishes he would have had the guts to step up last time, but this is his chance to learn from that mistake. 

“Wait,” Shoji says. “I can help. Give me one of your grenades.”

Bakugou looks at him in surprise. The wave creeps closer. 

“Quickly!”

He rips the grenade from his belt and tosses it Shoji’s way. “Bottom of the building,” he instructs. “Northwest corner. Make sure it breaks the steel frame.”

Shoji gives him a nod, and Bakugou leaps out the window. A flash brighter than lightning accompanies a loud bang as Bakugou begins to tear down the building.

This is insane, Shoji thinks, gripping the grenade firmly in his hand. He barrels out the window, climbing down as fast as he can without trying to jostle the little girl on his back. She screams when another blast goes off. The building groans, and the roaring of water gets louder.

He jumps to the ground with a splash. Looking down the street, can clearly see the wave rising in the distance. The weight of the girl on his back heightens his nerves. His heart pounds loudly in his chest; if they don’t pull this off quickly, all of them will drown.

But if they don’t even try, hundreds of civilians down the street will pay the price.

This better work.

“This is going to be loud, but it will help us stay safe, okay?” he tells the girl.

“...m’kay.”

Shoji shields the girl on his back, pulls the pin on the grenade, and hurls it at the corner of the building.

BOOM!

Concrete crumbles under the strength of the blast, revealing the building's frame, now snapped in half. Shoji leaps out of the way as a large chunk falls into the flood. He begins climbing the building next to him, trying to get him and the girl out of the path of the wave.

He reaches the top of the building right as a final blast sounds. Bakugou flies out of the building onto the roof behind it. His belt is empty. He must have used up all the sweat in wrist bracer on the rest of the explosions, so he must have only the sweat on his hands left to fight. The building still stands - on thin chicken legs - but it still stands. And the wave is getting closer.

Bakugou whips around and looks at him. Shoji knows they’re both thinking the same thing - the building needs a final push. And Shoji knows Bakugou can’t do it on his own.

He places the girl on the ground. He pats her head, hair already damp from the rain. “Um - stay here,” he says. He hated to leave the girl to fend for herself, but if this failed, they were all dead. “Don’t move. It will be okay.”

She looks up at him with wide eyes. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He leaps down to join Bakugou on the other building. “I need you to throw me,” he demands.

Shoji was thinking along the same lines. He hefts him up, willing the rest of his strength into his arms.

The wave roads down the street, knocking down trees and sending cars flying. A monster unlike any Shoji has ever seen before. It’ll be here in seconds.

Shoji throws Bakugou with all his might at the building before them. With a battle cry that sounds above the rain, he slams his palms against the building, causing an explosion brighter than lightning. With a cry of defeat, the building shrugs forward, tipping over and falling, falling, until it hits the ground with a smash that shakes the earth.

Not a second later an ocean splashes up against the side of the collapsed building. An arc of water surges up twenty meters into the air, crashing on the other side of the building and causing the flood to rise a few feet. Bakugou disappears among the spray.

The building becomes the perfect damn. Thin streams of water seep through the cracks in its windows, but it’s nothing compared to what could have happened if the building weren’t there.

But where is Bakugou? Just this time, did he risk too much? Shoji climbs back onto the building with a heavy heart. Shoji admires Bakugou for his tenacity and for his strength in times of adversity. That he’d be defeated by the hand of a nature was unthinkable. That he’d be defeated at all was unthinkable. It can’t be true - he must have escaped somehow.

He reaches the roof and finds the girl perched on the edge of the roof. He walks up beside her, cautious not to surprise her. “We should get you to the evacuation zone,” he says.

He reaches for her hand, but she doesn’t budge. She simply tugs his arm and points to the collapsed building below. “Look,” she says.

He follows her gaze, and breathes a sigh of relief. This time, the risk had been worth it.  

There, far below, Bakugou stands on the building, completely soaked, fist raised in victory.

Chapter Text

Sero isn’t bothered when Kayama-sensei assigns Bakugou as his partner for a project. Actually, he’s kind of glad. Bakugou is one of his friends, and it doesn’t hurt that in terms of academics, Bakugou is third in their class - definitely the kind of person he wants on his team.

Bakugou doesn’t seem the feel the same. In fact, Sero’s pretty sure he hates group projects. The way he furiously muttered, “I hate group projects,” when Kayama-sensei announced the project kind of gave it away.

They had met at the library after school to talk about the project. Sero already had ideas for topics - the project was a five minute presentation on the societal changes between the second and third quirk generations - but Bakugou shut him down before he could offer a suggestion.

“I’ll have this done by the deadline,” Bakugou says. “So you can leave now.”

Sero pauses from pulling his notebook out of his backpack. “Wait. What?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “What the fuck do you think? I’m going to do it myself, obviously.”

Sero is suddenly having second thoughts about having Bakugou as a partner. He knows Bakugou doesn't work well with others, but this seems excessive. “Dude. Hero work is all about collaboration.”

“This isn’t fucking hero work, is it? I can do this better by myself,” Bakugou says. “I’ll put together the presentation. And present it. You can stand there and...change the slides or something.”

Sero isn’t one to get in the way. When the top students like Bakugou or Todoroki or Midoriya went head on in a fight, Sero was more than happy to let them take the lead. He couldn't do anything when villains attacked during the school trip. He hadn't done anything to help Bakugou when he was captured. Even at the sports festival, Sero had let Bakugou make all their decisions, only chipping in when he was needed to pull Bakugou back onto their shoulders.

But in the end, everything had worked itself out, without Sero's active participation. He wasn't needed. 

Hero work was one thing - unpredictable, dangerous, and best left to the strongest players. But this was classwork. And Sero felt guilty putting this whole project on Bakugou.

“I can’t just do nothing, man, I want to contribute something,” he says.

Bakugou slams his hands on the table. “I told you, I’ll do it.”

Sero doesn’t even flinch. He’s not intimidated by Bakugou’s aggressive tendencies. “I feel kind of useless, though,” he complains.

“I don’t give a shit,” Bakugou says. “I will do this and I will get us a perfect score, can’t you be satisfied with that?”

Sero bets this was how group projects were for Bakugou in middle school. He would be the super bossy one who took control of the project, and the everyone else would just be happy they could slack off. And hey, Sero was man enough to admit he was sometimes that guy. But that was before - now he’s at U.A. He has to get serious and earn his own grades. “Not if I don’t deserve it,” Sero tells him.

Bakugou groans, reaching into his backpack. “If I give you something to do, will you shut up?”

Sero smirks. “For 8000 dollars, I will stop.”

“The shit does that mean?”

“Just...give me something to do.”

He waits patiently while Bakugou pulls a paper out and shoves it at him. It’s the list of sample topics Kayama-sensei gave them. “Pick one.”

Sero glances at the list. Most of the topics seemed pretty boring, and Sero doesn’t even know what most of them are. But he notices that some of them are circled - maybe the ones Bakugou was considering? He picks the most interesting one of those. “How about Quirk Marriages?”

“Fine.” Bakugou snatches the paper back, and starts packing it into his bag. “There. You contributed.”

Just like that, his satisfaction disappears. Poof. Like Thirteen sucked it up and it disappeared into nothing. “Wait - that’s it?”

“Duh, that’s it,” Bakugou says, throwing on his backpack. “I can handle the rest, Soy Sauce Face.”

Sero rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Look, I know you think I’m stupid - and hey, I might be, in comparison to you - but that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.” Even as the words leave Sero's mouth, he doesn't quite believe them. Was he useful during the end of term exam? Was he useful during the USJ attack?

“How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick fucking skull?” Bakugou says at a near shout. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help!”

By the time the librarian comes to quiet them down with her voice silencing quirk, Bakugou’s long gone, leaving Sero alone, no closer to being useful than before.

To group: bakugou’s harem

snape (snail tape)
do u guys ever feel useless

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
Yes
Wait bro are you feeling useless
Because even though youre entitled to your feelings
And I get how easy it is to feel like that

its always wednesday
did someone call you useless????

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
But i think youre really valuable!!!

its always wednesday
tell me who
ill fite them

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
Ashido why must we resort to violence

lightnin mcmeme
bro ur lyin if u thikn u wouldnt fight an army for seros honor

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
…
True

snape (snail tape)
i have...the graetest frends

lightnin mcmeme
we kno

its always wednesday
obvi

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
But hey bro are you doing okay?

snape (snail tape)
yeah
its just
u guys have done so much cool shit this year
and i have not
and i kinda feel like
guilty about it?
but also like...whatever
bc u all can do anything w/o me  

lightnin mcmeme
mkay 1st thing: u couldve sent that as 1 text

snape (snail tape)
why?
does
this
annoy
you?

lightnin mcmeme
bruh

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
Sero Hanta listen to me right now you are a very valuable human and a great asset to this class. Just because you havent had the chance shown your strengths like everyone else doesnt mean you dont have them or arent useful

its always wednesday
what he said!
u did amaaaaaazing in the sports festival!

lightnin mcmeme
and u passed the hero license exam which even splodey didnt pass

its always wednesday
and ur definitely the best at mobility
we wouldnt have stood a chance in the cavalry battle w/o u!

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
Youre like the tape that holds us together

lightnin mcmeme
ur *literaly* the tape that holds us together

its always wednesday
plus u came up w all our screen names !!
which are cool af!!!!

snape (snail tape)
thenks guys
that means a lot
im feeling a lot better now

reeeeeed riot. *yum*
Yay!

its always wednesday
yay!!!!!!

lightnin mcmeme
glad ur feelin better dude!! but also
y did u write thanks like that

snape (snail tape)
why did u just double text like that

lightnin mcmeme
....touche

Sero is used to taking the sidelines, but this time will be different. Energized by the support from his friends, Sero vows to prove to Bakugou - and himself - that he’s useful.

He tries to do a bit of research for the project on his own. There’s an article on some online magazine that gives a general history of quirk marriages, from the first quirk marriage to the protests against them. Proud of his find, and much more informed than before, Sero pulls out his phone.

snape (snail tape)
hey. found a cool article bout qrk marriage
[link]

The Boy Who Cussed
I read that shit already

Shit. Of course he had. It was practically the first thing that popped up when he searched  “quirk marriage.”

Sero tries to think of something to say back that won’t make him seem stupid when he sees that Bakugou’s typing something else.

The Boy Who Cussed
But if you actually want to be useful
Find out the causes leading up to the first quirk marriage protest

Never before has Sero been so excited to do school work. (He probably never would be again.) But getting Bakugou to trust part of their workload to him feels like a victory.

snape (snail tape)
yeah np!

When Sero explains to their friends how their project is coming, Ashido claps him on the back. “You like, out-stubborned Bakuboy, which is basically unheard of,” she says. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Cellophane!”

Sero preens at her praise. He didn’t think of himself as a stubborn guy, but he was persistent when he needed to be.

That wasn’t entirely true, though. Ever since he told his friends how he was feeling on the group chat, he’d been thinking about his place at U.A. Mostly, how he wasn’t persistent about pursuing a place in the spotlight next to U.A.’s strongest. He had shrugged off his loss at the sports festival. He was the only one who failed the end of term test whose team had beat their hero opponent. He was content to sit back while his friends stormed on ahead of him, blaming his poor results on his less-powerful quirk rather than his relaxed attitude.

That wasn’t any different than sitting back and letting Bakugou do all this work on their project. Sure, he felt useless, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. If he really wanted to do better for himself, he’d have to make a bigger effort. Ashido called him stubborn, but a truly stubborn person wouldn’t be content with second place.

snape (snail tape)
dude u should come to my dorm
we can work on the project together

From The Boy Who Cussed
no

snape (snail tape)
come on man
itll be fun

The Boy Who Cussed
This isn’t supposed to be fun, assfuck

snape (snail tape)
we can MAKE it fun

The Boy Who Cussed
NO

snape (snail tape)
what do you have against fun
bakugou do u even know what fun is

The Boy Who Cussed
OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT FUN IS FUCKTRUCK
STOP TEXTING ME IM WORKING

snape (snail tape)
r u allergic to fun
ill stop if u come over

Bakugou doesn’t reply. Sero hears stomping. Suddenly his door slams open.

Bakugou is absolutely fuming. Smoke is literally coming from his palms. Sero silently counts this as another victory.

He storms into Sero’s room, slamming the door behind him and dropping his stuff on the ground. “I hope you’re fucking happy,” he growls.

“I’m positively joyous.”

Sero looks over the back of his chair, watching Bakugou work.

“So. How’s it coming?” Sero asks. “Were the sources I found useful?”

Without looking up, Bakugou lists off his evaluation. “The first source wasn’t credible. You can’t just cite some rando’s blog.” Sero’s heart plummets. “The second one would have been good - but it was the wrong time period. The third was beyond biased.” He pauses before continuing on. “The last one was...suitable.”

Sero gulps. Next to his past few victories, this is definitely a loss. He’s only proven Bakugou right by giving him these shitty sources.

This is why he usually let the others take the spotlight - they knew what they were doing. They were smart, they were reliable. Maybe Bakugou was right. Maybe he could do this better alone. Maybe Sero really was useless.

“Why the fuck do you want to help so bad anyway?” Bakugou speaks so quietly, Sero almost doesn’t hear him. He’s not even sure if he was supposed to hear him.

Sero decides to answer his question anyway.

“I don’t want to mooch off your work. I want to earn my own grade - it’s not fair to either of us if I don’t do any work,” he explains. “It’s like when you’re fighting, and someone doesn’t even try to fight against you. Even if you win, it doesn’t feel like a win, you know?”

Bakugou looks back at him with a near unreadable expression on his face. Sero isn’t sure whether he’s hit a nerve or struck a chord in him. Maybe both.

Suddenly Bakugou gets up and shoves his papers into his bag. Sero leans back in his chair and holds back a sigh. Fuck. I went to far. Now he’d be back at square one.

“I’m going to send you a list of sources.”

Sero looks up. Bakugou’s still standing by the open door.

“Take notes on them, then give them to me,” he demands.

Sero lights up. “Yeah, sure!”

Bakugou leaves, but Sero’s feeling more confident than before. He just needs to be stubborn like Bakugou. He’ll kept trying until he gets this right.

They meet in the library next week.

Bakugou is, to put it lightly, frustrated.

Sero thought the project was going well. Bakugou actually read over his notes and constructed a summary from it. They had the slides planned out and everything - but Bakugou still wasn’t satisfied.

“This isn’t good enough!” Bakugou says, throwing down his notes. “This is just generic, dumb facts. If we want to beat everyone else we need to do more.”

“I don’t think this is about beating the others.” Sero didn’t miss how he said “we” this time, instead of “I.” Another victory.

Bakugou ignores him. “We need to make a claim. Show how quirk marriage had a lasting effect.”

“It’s not like quirk marriage is dead,” Sero comments. Bakugou looks at him weird, so he tries to explain himself. “You say it like it’s a thing of the past, but people still do it, even if it’s not super common. My neighbor is the result of a quirk marriage. And she’s not even like, thirty.”

Bakugou’s eyes go wide, and his lips twitch. “That’s perfect,” Bakugou says, nearly jumping out of his seat. “Get an interview with her. We can put a video on the slides.”

Sero grins. “I can ask, sure!”

Bakugou leans back in his chair, kicking his legs up on the desk. “Top that, Ponytail girl.”

snape (snail tape)
is this u?
[link]

The Boy Who Cussed
THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOESD TO MEAN FUCKFACE??!!!

A few days later, they sit in front of Bakugou’s laptop, looking at the draft of their final presentation.

At the moment, the slides have a black backdrop with bright orange text in some hardcore font that’s incredibly hard to read. Sero notes that the colors match his costume. Each slide looks the same - blocks of information in bullet points, too hard to read.  

“Hey, Bakugou do you take constructive criticism?” Sero asks.

"No."

"It fucking sucks."

Bakugou swivels around in his seat, snarling. “The fuck do mean? It looks fucking cool.”

Considering Bakugou’s parents worked in the fashion industry, Sero would have thought Bakugou would have an eye for design. These slides proved that assumption wrong. “Yeah, maybe, but like...could we make it readable?”

Bakugou narrows his eyes. “You don’t think it’s readable?” he asks accusingly.

Sero throws up his arms. “I’m just calling it as I see it, dude.” Knowing that this is an area where Bakugou falls short, Sero makes this an opportunity for himself. He’s not an artist by any means, but he’s sure he can do better than this. “How about you can write the presentation, and I’ll design the slides.”

Bakugou glares at him for a moment, no doubt questioning whether he can trust Sero with this task.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Sero reassures him. “I promise I’ll put a lot of effort into it - and you can look over it when I’m done, so you can make sure it’s up to your standards.”

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou relents.

Sero is more than satisfied with the end result. One - because it was a bombass presentation, two - because Bakugou couldn’t have done this without Sero’s help, and three - because they got full marks from Kayama-sensei. She even complimented them on the sleek design of their presentation.

“Put it here, Bakugou!” Sero holds up his hand.

With a grin closer to a smirk, Bakugou slams his palm against Sero’s. His high five is just as explosive as his...well, explosions. That’s going to leave a mark.

Shaking out his wrist, Sero says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. But Sero's silently proud of Bakugou for giving up some of his agency. He knows Bakugou likes to do things himself, and he bets Bakugou had just as hard a time sharing group work as Sero had trying to feel useful.

“You should have shown what you’re capable of earlier, Soy Sauce Face,” Bakugou says. “What the fuck have you been holding back for?”

Sero can hear Kirishima’s voice in his head saying So manly!

Bakugou’s words hit Sero like a punch. In middle school, Sero was described as plain. Plain face, plain clothes, plain personality. He thought going to U.A. would change all of that, and it did, at first. But Sero saw himself quickly falling behind ever since the sports festival. Against Bakugou and Kaminari’s flashy quirks or Ashido’s magnetic personality or Kirishima’s sheer resilience, Sero was once again the plain person in the pack. The useless one.

Sero is beginning to realize that this is his own fault. He can see how hard his classmates work - he just needs to up his game.

Bakugou’s right - what is he holding back for? He’s capable of so much more if he doesn’t play follower to the leaders of the pack. Sero can keep up with them - this project proved it.

“I’m not holding back,” Sero tells him. “I’m just warming up!”

Bakugou smirks. “Better catch up quick.”

“Trust me, I’m just getting started.”

Chapter Text

He's lying in the dark, alone. He hears something stir behind him, a presence that sends prickles down his neck. He tries to pick himself up, but his arms are pinned to the ground; he can’t move a single muscle, trapped by the weight of his own costume.

He can sense the presence getting closer. He wills his arms to move, even a single finger, but he’s paralyzed.

Warm breath puffs across his face. A rough tongue scrapes his cheek, rigid surface tearing through his skin. He can’t flinch, he can’t force himself away, he can’t fight back.

Even if you could fight back, what’s the point? You’re not a real hero, Tenya. You’ll never be a real hero.

The voice dances off the tip of the tongue that violated his face. He can’t even open his mouth to protest. His helmet holds his jaw shut, the pressure of living up to his brother’s heroism fixing him in place.

He can’t move. He can’t move he can’t move he can’t -

Iida wakes with a start. He sits up, panting.

Stumbling out of bed, he heads for the light switch. The lights flicker on, revealing his room, looking just as it always does, not a single pair of glasses out of place. With a shaking hand, he clutches at his shirt. It’s damp with sweat.

Breathe in, breathe out.  

He grabs a pair of the glasses from his shelf and shoves them on his face. He glances at the clock.

3:39 A.M.

It would be wise to go back to sleep. Growing students need a proper eight hours of sleep to maintain top-notch form!

He glances at his bed, at the covers bunched up and tangled in a pile in the middle. As tired as he is, Iida isn’t eager to lay back down and invite another nightmare to visit him. 

Instead, he heads downstairs. Staying hydrated is also important!  

Iida makes his way to the kitchen. He prepares himself a glass of orange juice. The first sip feels heavenly running down his throat.  

This isn't the first time Iida has had a nightmare like this. Even months after the incident with Stain, at the start of second term, these types of nightmares plagued him from time to time. Sometimes it was about being paralyzed, like tonight, and sometimes it was about something else. Logically, he knows his nightmares are a natural reaction to the trauma he faced, and are not a sign of weakness, but he still feels shame in them. He’d tried talking to Midoriya and Todoroki about them, but he wasn’t about to wake them up in the middle of the night just to talk about his problems. Problems that a true hero should have gotten over by now.

You’re weak. You and your brother are weak.

Iida’s clutches his heard as the words echo through his skull. His muscles clench up. Stain’s actions and words humiliated him long after the villain was locked behind bars.

Orange juice in hand, Iida takes a lap around the kitchen. He just has to keep moving, and prove to himself he still has full control over his body, that he’s not weak, that Stain is wrong.

He steps into the common room and jumps - he’s not the only one here.

Sitting on a cushioned chair in the far corner is Bakugou. His legs are curled up to his chest, and his chin rests on his knees. At the low table in front of him lies the chess set he and Yaoyorozu play on every night, pieces spread out and frozen mid-game. Bakugou stares unsteadily at some point just above the chess set, his eyes nearly as red as Aizawa-sensei’s.

Iida was aware that Bakugou was a night owl, but this was absurd. Was Bakugou really staying up this late? Or did he get up in the middle of the night like Iida had?

Iida points his arm in Bakugou’s direction. “What are you doing up? It is important to get a proper eight hours of sleep each night!”

Bakugo looks over and finally acknowledges him. He looks him up and down with a lazy glare. “What the fuck are you doing up, then?”

“I...was simply getting a glass of orange juice.” Iida holds up his glass proudly. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn't the entire truth. “Heroes must stay hydrated!”

“Then take your juice and fuck off.”

Though the language he used to convey his point was vulgar, Iida agreed with his sentiment. Even if he didn’t want to go back to bed, Iida had no desire to sit down here with Bakugou.

“You should get to bed as well,” he tells Bakugou, gesturing toward the stairs.

Bakugou doesn’t answer him, so Iida takes his leave. He heads back to his room, juice in hand, left with questions about that odd encounter.

Limbs pinned to the ground by an invisible force. He tries to lift his leg – his foot – his toe – but the ground holds his body close like the embrace of a possessive lover.

He watches because that’s the only thing he can do.

Three dark figures clash together, a katana glinting in the moonlight as it slices through the air, too close to the other figures for comfort. Yells echo through the alleyway, bouncing off the walls and absorbed by his ears where they bounces around in his head.

Iida – let’s go! Midoriya shouts.

I can’t move…I can’t…

The large figure pounces on Midoriya, a blade slicing across his leg.

No!

Todoroki comes up from behind, flames spouting from his left side, lighting up the alleyway to reveal a thick, purpled tongue licking chapped lips.

Stain’s blade slices into Todoroki’s arm.

NO!

Todokori and Midoriya’s screams are swallowed up by the darkness, and Iida is powerless to help them. He can’t move he can’t move he can’t move…

Though Iida cares deeply about all of his classmates, he is not particularly fond of Bakugou. He made being class president a challenging job; though Iida appreciates the learning experience, handling Bakugou could be rather exhausting. Iida admires his skill, but he reckons Bakugou could learn proper manners and respect.

So when he runs into Bakugou in the middle of the night a second time, Iida isn’t quite sure how to react.

“I see that...you are here again,” Iida notes.

Bakugou sits in the same chair as last time, in the same position, too. He glances at Iida. “The fuck do you want?”

“Nothing," Iida says, waving his hands back and form. "Nothing at all.”

He thinks of what he told Midoriya, about opening up to your friends. He knew Bakugou wasn’t exactly a friend, but he was his classmate, and a fellow hero in training.

He lingers in front of Bakugou for another moment before decisively sitting down across from him. He places his juice on a coaster next to the chess set. He takes a deep breath, and sets his hands on his knees. “Actually, I...have been having nightmares as of late.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen minutely. “Congratulations fucktruck.”

“And I need someone to listen, so - ”

“Wait a fucking minutes, I didn’t - ”

“ - since you are here, I might as well tell you.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything. Iida’s not sure if he’s simply shocked or he truly wants to listen, but he takes this chance to keep talking.

“I am sure you are aware of the incident with the….with the H-hero Killer S-stain,” he says, voice shaking slightly. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Todoroki-san, Midoriya-san, and I ran into him before Endeavor captured him. I cannot tell you every detail. However, during that incident...I was paralyzed by Stain’s quirk.”

He glances up. Bakugou doesn’t appear to be listening, but he hasn’t told him to stop either, so Iida goes on.

“I am loathe to admit this, but it was a quite…terrifying. Before Endeavor arrived, Midoriya-san and Todoroki-san were fighting him off, in my place. I was the reason we got involved, and my friends ended up getting hurt because of me. And I could not even fight back. I had to lie there and watch, unable to do anything…”

Iida takes a sip of his juice. He holds onto the glass like a lifeline, letting condensation drip over his hands. “In my nightmares, I am always paralyzed. I cannot do anything, I have no control over the situation, and that is much more terrifying than fighting and failing. I know it is not real, but in the dream it is highly realistic and - ”

“You got out of the paralyzed state, right?”

Taken off guard by Bakugou’s interjection, Iida glances up at him curiously. He still has that tired, almost calm look to him.

“Yes…? It was after some time - ”

“That just means you need to be ready,” Bakugou tells him. “It’s just because of Stain’s quirk, so you know you won’t be paralyzed like that forever. All that matters is that you’re ready to fight as soon as you can.”

Iida analyses his words and admits that makes a lot of sense, contextually. He hopes he can remember that the next time he has a nightmare.

“Thank you for listening, Bakugou-san. I appreciate your - ”

“Just fuck off already.”

Iida smiles. There was no venom behind Bakugou’s words.

Iida heads back to bed, feeling a little bit better. It’s not something he can quantify, but he can tell something’s different when he lies back down for the night and doesn’t hesitate before turning off the light.

These late night conversations - or perhaps early morning is the more correct term - begin to occur on a semi-regular basis. Every time, Bakugou says, “I’m not your fucking counselor,” but every time, he sits there and listens, offering advice if he has any. By no means have Iida’s fears disappeared, but he finds his nightmares more manageable than before.

It is a strange relationship. In the day, Iida will usher Bakugou into line, while at night, Iida spills his deepest fears to him.

But the more he talks to Bakugou, the more Iida worries about him. He dances around the question of why Bakugou is even awake at all, not wanting to scare him off or disturb him, but Iida is genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. The bags under Bakugou’s eyes are becoming more prominent these days, and he seems less focused than before, so much so that he failed his hero license exam.

Was it because of Kamino Ward? Had being captured by villains taken more of a toll on Bakugou than he let show during the daytime?

One night, Iida had simply said, “If you ever want to talk about what keeps you up - ”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou hissed. There was a fire in his eyes as bright as his explosions, emotion that he never normally showed during their sessions. “There’s nothing keeping me up! I stay up late because I want to, so just - I don’t need your fucking pity!”

“I meant no offense!” Iida told him, waving his arms apologetically. “It was only an offer. You are free to take it or refuse it.”

“You can take your offer and shove it right next to the stick up your ass!” Bakugou snarled. He lept out of his chair and stormed up the stairs. It was the first time Bakugou went up to his room before Iida had.

The common area felt lifeless without the exploding hero. The chair where Bakugou sat had a permanent indent from Bakugou sitting on it.

By this point, Iida had considered informing an adult several times. Each time he had decided not to, because he was afraid Bakugou wouldn’t take kindly to help, and because Iida wasn’t sure if Bakugou considered their talks confidential and didn’t want anyone else to know about them.

Next time I’ll tell someone, he says to himself. Next time.

There’s a figure in the alleyway that Iida doesn’t recognize. He can’t make out any details amid the black aura that swirls around it in a violent rage. The figure marches forward with a purpose, teeth bared and eyes blazing.

I won’t forgive you, it shouts. I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you…!

The raw malice in the voice sends shivers down his spine. The figure steps closer and closer but Iida can’t move back. He can’t even close his eyes.

Light from the moon spills onto silver armor. The figure steps fully into the light.

It’s himself.

Being taken in by the hatred before you and trying to fulfill your own desires – that is the furthest from what a hero should be, Stain’s voice proclaims in the background.

It’s himself, but it’s not himself. This is a being that’s fueled by hatred and anger, a being that’s out of control.

Tenya...why did you try and avenge me, Tenya…

His brother’s voice bounces off invisible walls, echoing into the darkness. The being doesn’t listen. It bares its teeth and roars about revenge.

He’s mine! I’ll get him…I’ll kill him!

The real Iida shrinks in on himself. He knows what happens next, he knows that this being will cause his friends to get hurt, he tries to say something but his shouts are drowned out by the unintelligible screams of the other Iida.

What have I become…?

This is a nightmare Iida hasn’t had in awhile. In the month after the Stain incident, it had thankfully only plagued his sleep a few times. Thankfully, because it was the most terrifying nightmare of all.

Iida almost doesn’t go downstairs. But his throat is dry and he desperately needs a distraction.

He gets his regular glass of orange juice and sits in front of Bakugou.

Iida takes a shaky breath in, and lets it out. He’s talked about this before, with Midoriya and Todoroki, but never when he felt this vulnerable. It was months since the incident, why is he still bothered by it? The shame at feeling the way he feels almost overwhelms him and sends him running back upstairs with his tail between his legs.

“What is it this time?” Bakugou asks.

“I am afraid of my own hatred,” Iida blurts. And just like that, the words come spilling out. “When Stain nearly killed my brother, I…I lost control. My hatred blinded me to my selfishness and irrationality. Looking back is scary because when I look back I do not see me. I see a child lost in their anger. A child who wields power but does not know what to do with it, who cannot follow the rules and only cares for himself.”

Iida flexes the fingers of his left hand; he’s long used to the strain and delay whenever he moves it. The price he paid for losing himself.

“I – I am supposed to be disciplined and organized and level-headed but in that moment, when I saw Stain…I lost all of that. I was not me. Knowing that that happened, that it could happen again…it is terrifying. People got hurt because of my selfishness and anger. Because I was weak.”

He takes a moment to look up at Bakugou. His usual look of contemplation is twisted by something else Iida can’t place. He doesn’t think it’s anger – is it pain?

Iida waves his hands. “I apologize if this is causing you distress – ”

“I’m fine!” Bakugou shouts, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s fine. I’m not distressed, Four Eyes, so chill the fuck out.”

Iida points at him firmly. “As long as you are positive.”

“I’m as positive as a fucking proton, alright?” Bakugou says. He leans back into his seat and clenches his thumb and finger over the bridge of his nose. “Look. Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak?”

Iida frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re a control freak,” Bakugou says. “And I don’t just mean you’re bossy – which you are – I mean you always have to have complete control over everything in your life at every fucking moment. That’s why you wanted to be class president, and why you’re scared shitless of being paralyzed. You need to chill the fuck out. What’s wrong with letting your control go once in a while?”

Iida rises to his feet. “Just because you have no control over your emotions does not mean you can tell others to do the same!”

Bakugou leaps up, mirroring him. “The shit do you mean?!”

“I am saying you have a record for letting your emotions get the best of you,” Iida asserts. “Whenever it comes to Midoriya, you have no control over your actions. From the very start, we lost the battle training simulation because of your impulsiveness. I am unsure as to why I am even talking to you about this.”

“Fuck you!” Bakugou snarls. “Fuck you. I’ve listened to your problems every fucking week and been your fucking therapist. Now you don’t want me to listen? Fuck off.”

Iida presses himself into the back of the couch, stunned by Bakugou’s words and the weight of truth they hold.

“I am sorry. You are right,” Iida admits. Bakugou may be everything Iida said he was, but he was also the one that Iida put this on, that he chose to go to. This isn't the time to complain.

Bakugou collapses back into his chair. “Look. Things will happened that you never expected to happen, that you never wanted to happen and it will fucking suck and your emotions will get the better of you. But it doesn’t fucking matter as long as you pick yourself back up. You’re not weak for losing control. You’re weak for expecting to have it all the time.”

Iida looks at him curiously. Iida didn’t expect Bakugou to spout something insightful like that so quickly after their argument, let alone something insightful at all.

It may be insightful, but Iida doesn’t fully agree with him.

“Is there something wrong with wanting to be in control?” Iida asks.

“Did you even listen?” Bakugou says, rolling his eyes. “It’s only wrong if you try and control a situation you have no control over. You’ll just make yourself angry. Just let it happen. You’re not a bad person for messing up once.”

Iida has no clue what to say to that. So he stands up, whispers a quick thanks to Bakugou, and stumbles up to stairs.

Iida sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He’s not sure what to think about Bakugou’s words. He needs time to analyze them carefully. He hopes thinking about that will keep the nightmares away.

But wouldn’t doing that be doing exactly as Bakugou said? Trying to control a situation he has no control over?

So instead of distracting himself, Iida lets the reality of the nightmare wash over him. The fear, and emptiness, the shame floods his senses and pushes him just past his tipping point, and he starts to cry.

He lets the tears flow. He throws off his glasses and grabs his pillow, hugging it close to his chest for comfort because his dream was scary and he’s so confused and he just wants to get some rest but he can’t go to sleep now. He sobs loudly, hoping he doesn’t wake Kaminari or Ojiro. He thinks of the stresses of his current internship, he thinks of his brother and the name he left Iida to live up to, and he thinks of Stain and his declaration that Iida wasn’t fit to be a hero, he thinks of himself losing control and he remembers how he gained it back.

He doesn’t know how long he cries for, but eventually the tears subside and silence takes over.

He better understands what Todoroki had said the other day about heroes needing to cry, too. Though he still feels the pressure of all of his stresses and fears, his burden feels lighter than before. It feels manageable. It feels like he’s in control.

He decides that tomorrow, he’ll thank Bakugou. Even if he didn’t completely agree with his words, it was because of Bakugou he’s feeling lighter than he has in ages.

When Iida comes down the next night, Bakugo is asleep on his chair.

He pours himself a glass of orange juice and sits across from Bakugou. He smiles to himself, glad that Bakugou’s getting much needed rest.

Then Bakugou starts twitching. His eyes screw shut, brows furrowing deeper than they do when he’s awake. His lip twitches, and he curls in on himself.

Iida watches as he begins tossing and turning around in his chair, unsure if he should wake him up. Iida puts his orange juice down and takes a step toward the thrashing boy.

He hovers over him, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Baku - ”

Bakugou’s eyes fly open. His eyes burn bright, not with anger but with fear. Iida freezes on the spot. Lips jittering, mumbling spills from his mouth, much like Midoriya’s, but much more unsettling.

“I was supposed to be the best, so why...why was it me...why was I the reason...it’s my fault...I wasn’t good enough...not the best…”

Bakugou’s hands dig into the chair, no doubt leaving burn marks if the small streams of smoke trailing up from his hands are anything to go by.

He gestures for Bakugou to calm down, telling him a soothing voice, “Bakugou...it is okay, it was just a dream.”

Bakugou continues mumbling to himself, panting heavily, suffering from the aftermath of a too-realistic dream. “If I had taken fucking Deku’s fucking hand…none of this would have happened. All Might wouldn’t have lost his power. If it hadn’t been fucking Deku…I could have done it if it wasn’t him…but it was and I didn’t take it and its my fault…”

It occurs to Iida in that moment that he has been using Bakugou. The real reason he didn’t inform anyone about Bakugou’s condition was because he was afraid to lose the person who he’s been relying on to listen to him.

A wave of guilt crashes over him, as strong as it had been after the incident with Stain. Clearly Bakugou needs help, he’s needed help for a while, yet Iida had stood aside and let his mental state come to this.

He thinks of Bakugou’s words and understands them a little better now, considering who they were coming from. Iida and Bakugou were two opposite ends of a spectrum – one a complete control-freak, the other completely out of control. Perhaps there’s a balance in the middle. As a hero, he has a duty to help Bakugou find it, and put Bakugou’s needs above his own.

“Bakugou – ”

“Fuck off!” Bakugou shouts, kicking out at Iida. “Fuck off, fuck off…”

Iida backs off, keeping his hands up as he slowly sits in his regular place across from Bakugou. “It is alright Bakugou, you are awake now. Would you like a glass of water?”

Bakugou’s pants begin to slow, and he finally focuses on Iida. The fear in his eyes begins to subside, slowly being replaced by anger.

“Bakugou?”

Bakugou explodes out of his seat, racing up the stairs at an incredible speed. Iida considers going after him, but decides against it. Bakugou obviously doesn’t want to talk to him right now. What he needs – and what Iida probably needs, too – is professional help.

Iida is slammed against the wall on the backside of the U.A. building. He grunts upon the powerful impact. “What the fuck did you tell Aizawa?” Bakugou spits in his face.

This wasn’t how he expected his lunch break to go, but he isn’t surprised, either. Of course Bakugou would be angry that Iida’s confession to Aizawa-sensei resulted in both of them getting extra sessions with the resident therapist.

Still, being at Bakugou’s mercy was slightly concerning, considering he hardly had any. “I simply relayed what has happened during our nighttime conversations – ”

“Why?!” Bakugou shouts, eyes blazing. “He’s got me in fucking therapy like I’m some crazy nutjob!”

“I am attempting to help you,” Iida says calmly.

“I don’t want your fucking help!”

Iida notices the tears welling up and beginning to leak out of the corners of Bakugou’s eyes.

“Bakugou. Listen to me,” Iida says. “You told me it is okay to lose control sometimes.”

“No shit.”

“It is okay to take control too. You do not have to let your emotions take the wheel. You can do something about it.”

Bakugou’s eyes grow wide, and he releases his grip on his blazer and takes a step back.

“…fuck off,” he mumbles, wiping his face with his sleeve. He stalks away, hands shoved low in the pockets of his slacks, shoulders hunched over.

Iida straights his blazer and tie, checking himself over for burn marks. He doubts he’ll ever see Bakugou in the common room at 3 A.M. ever again. But that’s a good thing – for the both of them.

Chapter Text

Massive beams of light cut through the midnight sky, flashing against a towering office building. The roar of sirens drowns out the commotion of the crowd, gathered around the base of the building like suds in a drain. Police weave in and out of the crowd, trying and failing to control them. Media agents swarm around the building like bees, trying to get closer to where Best Jeanist leads a team of the prefecture’s best heroes. He carefully dictates his plan for infiltration, and the heroes feel his words weigh heavily on their shoulders, knowing the lives of civilians are on the line. Somewhere, deep in the building, a group of villains waits patiently. Will the ransom be paid? Or will there be a fight tonight? The moon smiles down knowingly, an omnipotent spectator to hostage crisis...

At least, that’s how Aoyama imagines it. Looking around at the darkened walls surrounding him, ears straining to hear the cheers of the crowd, he sighs dramatically. There’s no flashing of cameras, no awe-struck crowd, no villain attacks here at the southern exit. Nothing exciting at all. Just dark concrete blocks and darkened windows and an unforgiving midnight chill. 

Boom!

“This is bullshit!”

Concrete explodes off the wall where Bakugou had punched it. Aoyama sympathizes with his frustration. When the interns were called to action to help with the hostage crisis, Aoyama was just as excited as the others to take down a gang of villains, to save lives. But Best Jeanist had other plans for him. He and Bakugou were told to watch over the southern exit of the building to ensure no villains escaped. Though a part of Aoyama yearns to be in the spotlight and join in on the action, another part of him is happy that capable heroes are handling this crisis.

Alas, he was stuck on watch duty with Class 2-A’s very own Bakugou Katsuki, who seemed much more furious than the situation called for.

“Why the fuck am I stuck here while fucking Kirishima and the rest of those idiots get a piece of the action?” Bakugou roars, throwing another fist against the wall. “Jeanist knows what I’m capable of, why’d that old fart put me on watch dog duty?”

Aoyama smirks, stroking his chin. “Hmm, jealous of your friends~?”

Bakugou whips toward him, mouth curved in a furious snarl. Aoyama fights the urge to jump back.

“They’re not my friends!” he shouts. “I don’t need fucking friends!”

This is far from the first time Bakugou has insisted he doesn't have friends. Aoyama doesn’t believe him. It was impossible to miss how Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido followed Bakugou around like puppies. Not to mention, most of the class would follow him into battle without hesitation, himself included. (Perhaps he might hesitate a little bit...this was, after all, Bakugou Katsuki.)

If Aoyama were the jealous type, he’d be dripping with envy for what Bakugou had. But Aoyama isn’t the jealous type, of course. Such uncouth tendencies were inappropriate for a gentleman.

Aoyama rubs his chin, continuing to observe Bakugou from a safe distance as he punches the wall again and again, murmuring curses at Best Jeanist.

Bakugou said he didn’t “need” friends. Aoyama understands that sentiment. After all, when everyone in Class 1-A formed their cliques, Aoyama was perfectly fine without one. He tells himself often that all he needs is himself, since he’s perfect, after all.

Friends might be nice, though. He had a lot of friends in middle school, back when everyone had admired his quirk. After coming to U.A....everything was different. All of his classmates had amazingly cool quirks, and they knew how to use them, too. His own quirk didn’t seem so cool in comparison...even though he knew this was untrue! After all, his quirk was the most sparkly. The problem was no one liked sparkly quirks anymore.

Oh well. There was no accounting for bad taste.  

“I don’t think your friends would like it if they heard you say that,” Aoyama notes.

Bakugou whips around. “What the fuck did you s - ”

Click.

They spin towards the door. Without a single creak, it slowly swings open, revealing a villain standing in the doorway, a hostage in front of them. The villain, a tall woman with a long chin and long, bone white hair, presses her palm against the hostage’s neck. A piece of bone protrudes from her palm and grazes the tip of his throat. A bead of blood slides down his neck.

“If either of you move a hair, I’ll slash this man’s throat wide open,” the villain says. “Hands up. Slowly.”

Raising his hands - slowly - Aoyama recalls the information Best Jeanist’s sidekicks had gathered about the group of villains that had infiltrated the office building. One of them was an escaped convict who could shoot arrows of bone out of her palm. Villain name: Artemis. This must be her.  

Aoyama struggles not to start shaking. It was indeed true he wanted to be part of the spotlight, but alas, he still gets frightened when facing villains. 

He looks into the eyes of the hostage. The man is sweating very ungracefully, his eyes full of fear. With the villain’s palm at his neck, there’s not much he can do. He may be afraid, but this man was even more afraid. Aoyama has to do something, he has to stall, or fight, or something - he can't let another person be kidnapped because he was too afraid. 

He hears a huff of breath from beside him. Bakugou is practically fuming at the ears. Aoyama knows he’s itching for a fight, a fight he could probably win. But even Bakugou knows he can’t put the hostage’s life at risk. He’s just waiting for the right opportunity.

Aoyama can give him that opportunity.

As the villain creeps out the door, hostage held firm, Aoyama waits for her to cross paths with his palm.

Now.

Aoyama fires a laser from his palm. It hits the villain’s hand instantly.

“Youch!” Her hand recoils in pain, giving Bakugou the initiative to attack.

BOOM! A cloud of smoke erupts around them, concealing them from the villain. Aoyama makes a note to thank the support department for the new upgrades to his costume that allow him to shoot lasers from his palms as well as his knees.

Under the cover of the smokescreen, Aoyama points his palm toward the sky and fires -

Pain erupts in his right shoulder. Aoyama keels over. Merde. Firing his laser had given away his position, making him the perfect target for Artemis.

His left hand reaches up for his shoulder and wraps around a thin beam of bone. The slightest tug sends a ripple of fiery pain down his arm, and his hand recoils. It comes away bloody.

Aoyama grits and his teeth and hefts himself to his feet, determined to ignore the pain. Did the others see his signal before it was cut short? His laser had only flashed for an instant, nearly impossible for anyone to see. It wouldn't be enough to pinpoint their location.

He can fire again, and risk giving away his position, or he can join the fight.

Dark figures dart in and out of the smoke, which grows thinner by the moment. He hears a yell to the left of him, followed by an explosion.

“Shit - there’s another one!” comes Bakugou’s shout. Eyes tearing up from the smoke, he blinks rapidly. Two - no, three - figures battle just a few feet away from him. Another boom, and a low voice cries out in pain.

Aoyama gulps. Even the villain had friends, it seemed.

Counting on Bakugou to hold them off a little longer, Aoyama searches blindly through the smoke until he finds the hostage. The man is frozen in fear, glossy eyes trained on Bakugou’s fight.

Aoyama grabs his arm and hauls him to his feet. “Run to the front of the building. They’ll help you,” he says.

After a moment, the light seems to come back to the hostage’s eyes, and he makes a run for the front. Bien, at least the hostage is -

An elbow slams into his back, knocking him to the ground. He yelps as the arrow is pushed deeper into his arm. He nearly blacks out from the pain.

Not a second passes when he’s yanked up off the ground by his arm, bringing him face to face with Artemis’s friend.

“Nice going, kid,” says the man. Burns scald the side of his face. Bakugou must have got to him, but it hadn’t been enough to slow him down. “You’ll have to be our hostage now.”

The smoke is completely clear now. He dangles from the man’s grip, arm crying out in pain. Or maybe that’s just him crying.

A few feet away, he sees Artemis slamming Bakugou against the wall, his arms twisted uncomfortably behind him so his palms face his back. He’s covered in blood - it runs down his arms like sleeves, dying the orange highlights of his costume red. There’s a bone sticking out of his side.

Artemis pushes forward, so his cheek scrapes the wall. “Don’t even think about moving,” she hisses into his ear.

The villain drops him, and Aoyama hits the floor. His stomach surges and his vision swims, but he forces himself up anyway. Have to...call for...help...

A kick to his side nearly knocks him over. “Get on your knees, and raise your hands up.”

Aoyama grins, and slowly raises his hands.

Artemis whips around, eyes wide. “No - put his hands down!” she demands. Before Aoyama can fire his palm lasers, the other villain yanks his hands down and restrains them behind his back.

Artemis snarls at him. “I’m not falling for that one twice.”

Aoyama smiles. “Of course not, madame.”

Artemis narrows her eyes in suspicion, and Aoyama seizes his chance. He tilts his hips up and fires his navel laser, temporarily blinding her. Artemis blinks. Bakugou takes advantage of her surprise to slip out of her grip. He flips her over and reverses their positions.

“Bet you thought...you got the best of me...bitch,” Bakugou grumbles as he pushes her against the wall, her cheek scraping against the concrete. Her side is decorated in burns, her mess of white hair spotted with red. 

The other villain lunges toward him. Aoyama points his laser at the ground and launches himself a few feet away. Arm shaking, Aoyama raises his left hand into the sky and fires a final call for help. Neon purple light clears a path through the night sky, touching the stars.

He’s safe, now. The others will see his signal, and they’ll come and save them, like they always do.  

His leg gives out from underneath him as the villain tackles him to the ground. His head smacks against the ground with a crack. The villain looms over him, horrid breath leaking out of his grin. Aoyama squeezes his eyes shut and braces his arms over his head, prepared for the worst, when the the world erupts in a fiery explosion. The villain flies off of him. He’s knocked straight into a brick wall and passes out.

There, to his left, stands Bakugou. Behind him lies Artemis in a heap of blood and ash. He lowers his hand, chest heaving, blood still gushing from the bone sticking out of his stomach. Dark smears outline his sweat-shining face. A fire shines in his eyes. He looks like a hero.

Aoyama picks himself up, using the wall for support to make his way over to Bakugou. The other heroes will be here soon. A good thing, too, because they're at their limit.  

Bakugou pants heavily, his gaze not entirely focused.

“Nice job, Baku - ”

Bakugou slumps to the ground, and passes out cold.

Merde. His wounds must have been too much for him.

Something stirs behind him. Aoyama whips around. Artemis rises up, bloody and burned from her fight with Bakugou, but somehow still conscious.

“I knew I got the best of you, child,” she says, pointing her palm at Bakugou.

Aoyama raises a shaking hand toward Artemis. His stomach threatens to blow, but Aoyama doesn’t care if he throws up now.

The moment the bone leaves her palm, a blur of red flies on top of Bakugou. Artemis’ arrow glances off of Kirishima harmlessly.

He watches as a troupe of heros runs into the back alley, quickly subduing Artemis. His friends finally here to help, Aoyama allows himself to keel over, puking his guts out in peace with the knowledge that his friends had the situation under control.

When Bakugou’s squad comes to visit him in the hospital, Aoyama isn’t surprised.

“What are you fucks doing here?” Bakugou barks.

“We’re just so happy to see you’re okay!” Ashido shouts.

“I was so scared when I saw you lying on the ground there,” Kirishima says.

“Yeah, he saved your life by jumping in front of you dude!” Sero yells.

Aoyama watches from his bed across the room as they dote on him, showering him in tears and teasing him mercilessly. Red-faced Bakugou tries to get them to back down and leave, but his efforts are in vain. Actually, Aoyama doesn’t think he’s trying that hard at all. His red cheeks aren’t from exasperation, but from embarrassment. Maybe even happiness. Though he’s not positive that Bakugou’s familiar with the feeling.

It’s curious. Bakugou so adamantly refused he had friends, yet that’s exactly how their classmates treated him - like a friend. They’re like secret friends, friends Bakugou didn’t even know he had.

“Hey. Twinkly pants.”

So lost in his own thoughts, Aoyama nearly missed when Bakugou addressed him.

When he looks over, Bakugou nods. Just nods - a gentleman’s thank you.

Aoyama grins and salutes him with a wink. He glances at Bakugou’s squad, who chatter over one of the gifts beside Bakugou’s bed. He raises an eyebrow. “Not your friends?” he asks.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but there’s no venom behind it. Aoyama giggles, knowing his point had been made.

Bakugou’s squad captures his attention again, and they go back to laughing and doting, leaving Aoyama to sit silently in his bed.

In middle school, he would have had a crowd surrounding him, praising him for his bravery and asking after his health. Now he's alone, like he has been since he started at U.A.

Would his middle school friends have come to him in his time of need, though? The moment he shined his laser into the sky, he knew he was safe, because he knew his classmates would come after him. He’d never have trusted his friends in middle school to have his back. He trusted class 1-A instinctively. They’d saved him and Bakugou, just like he knew they would.

But that was when he was in danger. Now it was over, and they probably had their own matters to attend to. That was it, of course. They were colleagues, and colleagues were meant to keep professional relationships. Not that he needed anyone to visit him anyway, a gentleman needs only himself -

“AOYAMAAAAA!”

In an instant, three figure run up to his side and someone throws their arms around his neck, bringing him into a crushing hug. He squeaks in pain and they let go. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Uraraka says. There, standing on either side of her, are Tsuyu, Tokoyami, and Ojiro.

Warmth blooms in Aoyama’s chest, and it’s not from pain.

“Oh my god, we were so scared when we heard the news!” Uraraka practically shouts. “That was incredible what you did with Bakugou, but that was so dangerous! You handled it really well but I’m sorry you still got hurt.”

“What she means to say is we’re glad you’re okay,” Tsuyu says.

Aoyama smiles. “Thank you, ladies. And gentlemen.”

“So what even happened? Aizawa-sensei wouldn’t give us all the details,” Ojiro asks.

He considers brushing off his request to maintain his aura of mysteriousness, but Aoyama is an excellent storyteller and it’d be a shame to put his talents to waste. He jumps into the tale of his daring fight, and they listen with wide eyes as he describes the terrifying villain Artemis and her face off against Bakugou. He has to admit, the attention is nice. 

“It’s lucky Kirishima and the others were there,” Tsuyu says. “You’re lucky to have strong friends like them.”

It hits him like a bitter gulp of tea. Friend. She said friend. Did the others consider them friends? He hadn’t realized. Maybe, just like Bakugou, Aoyama has secret friends, too.

“Most certainly,” Aoyama says, looking from Bakugou’s bed to his own, each surrounded by friends. “I am very lucky, indeed.”

Chapter Text

It’s two thirty in the morning, and Aizawa is tired. Aizawa is always tired, but given that it is two thirty in the morning, he’s more tired than usual. Exhaustion is giving him delusions, which must be why the person sitting before him looks more like a sad, crumpled napkin than Bakugou Katsuki.

Bakugou hunches over himself, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, bottom lip jutting out in an angry pout. The right side of his hair is nearly flattened against his skull and tinged with black. His broad shoulders, which he normally uses to look imposing and emphasize his strength, make him look smaller as he bows over. He stares at the stapler on Aizawa’s desk without his usual fury, like the whiff of smoke from a candle just put out.

I should expel him for this.

“I should expel you for this,” Aizawa says.

His student says nothing.

A few years ago, even last year, Aizawa wouldn’t have hesitated to expel him. Not only did Bakugou break into Gamma Gym at midnight (Aizawa suspected this wasn’t the first time that had happened), but he blew half the place up. Breaking curfew, sneaking into school grounds, vandalizing school property - each one was reason enough for expulsion in Aizawa’s book.

But something changed this year, between him and his students. Ms. Joke had noticed it, as had the other U.A. teachers. Aizawa always brushed off their comments, ignoring their teasing about his change of heart. The reason he hadn’t expelled anyone this year (yet) was simple: no one deserved to be expelled.

He glances at Bakugou. Bakugou still refuses to look at him. Aizawa can see the bags under his eyes.

That isn’t the complete truth though, is it?

Aizawa sighs. “...but I’m not going to.”

Bakugou’s gaze flickers up. But no show of emotion.

Why hadn’t he expelled anyone this year? Perhaps it was a test of his own worth. If he was to be a truly talented teacher, he should be able to teach anyone. Perhaps it was because, after seeing them hold their own against the villains at USJ, trying and nearly failing to protect them, he became invested in their development.

Perhaps, like his coworkers claimed, it was because he had grown soft, because he had grown fond for his kids. Aizawa admitted their claims aren’t completely unfounded. They had been through a lot together; logically, he had developed a deeper bond with them than his usual class of students. A bond that wasn’t quite affection, but something akin to it.

“Are you gonna punish me or what?” Bakugou grunts.

Heh. No way he had grown affectionate for this little punk.

“Why did you feel the need to practice in the middle of the night?” Aizawa asks.

“...I was working on a new ultimate move.”

How predictable. Already at the top of the class, yet still terrified of falling behind.

“Why?”

Bakugou fidgets. “I’m not going to let them take me so easily next time.”

Bakugou’s words pulls strings within him. Not because Bakugou fears the League of Villains will go after him again, nor because he was right to have that fear. As one of the top students at U.A, who had already been targeted, Bakugou was a key piece in the battle with the League of Villains. No - Aizawa worries because he knows if the villains got Bakugou again, they wouldn’t take him alive. They would kill him.

More than anything, Aizawa wishes he could say “There will be no next time.” But that was a lie, and Bakugou would know that it was a lie.

“You didn’t get abducted because you weren’t strong enough,” Aizawa says. “The failure is on the part of the teachers…of me.”

Another failure of his was failing to realize how much the Kamino incident was affecting Bakugou. All Might had expressed concern for Bakugou that Aizawa hadn’t taken seriously enough. And now Bakugou was so paranoid about becoming strong enough that he was sneaking out past curfew and blowing up gyms.

Aizawa wouldn’t call Bakugou a rule-follower, but he certainly isn’t a rule-breaker. This is unusual behavior for him. Though he has faith his student will get through his internal turmoil, Bakugou is still just a hormonal fifteen year old kid - he needs guidance.

“I’m sorry I failed you,” Aizawa says. “But my failure is no excuse for you to behave recklessly.”

“I wasn’t being reck - ”

“Bakugou. You can’t pull these kind of stunts. It’s against the rules. It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be developing new moves without teacher supervision.”

Bakugou crosses his arms. “Tch.”

This kid. Aizawa’s life would be so much easier if he just expelled him.

“Look at me.”

Bakugou’s eyes stayed glued on the stapler.

“Bakugou. Look me in the eye.”

His lip twitches, but he finally looks up. Aizawa theorizes he doesn’t like to make eye contact with him because he fears Aizawa will take away his quirk. But this time, Aizawa doesn’t activate his quirk. Bakugou must realize this because his shoulders, which had risen with tension, slowly drop.

“I know you want to be number one,” Aizawa says. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how hard you’ve been working to do that.”

When that reporter had accused Bakugou of being so easily swayed into villainy, Aizawa had snapped. Normally so in control of his outward appearance to the public, his brain lost control of his mouth and his thoughts were let loose. He truly believed everything he said, about Bakugou having the ideals to become a great hero. He didn’t realize how much that question had irritated him until he rewatched the press conference. How dare he accuse his students of succumbing to villainy. How could they not see the talent and promise they had?

Aizawa admits that Bakugou’s debut at the sports festival had been...troubling, but the Bakugou who sat in front of him was not the same Bakugou who had to be chained down when receiving his medal at the sports festival.

“You’ve changed. You’ve grown. And you’re still growing. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Tch. What’s that supposed to - ”

“Let us help you,” Aizawa interrupts. “Your peers, your teachers. That’s why you’re here. U.A. is the best, and that means you get the best hero education out there. So let us help you.”

Bakugou sits there in silence for a moment. Aizawa wishes he had a quirk that let him read minds, to know what he was thinking.

Bakugou sneers. “...whatever. Can I leave now?”

He nods. “Go get some sleep.”

Bakugou launches out of the chair and heads for the door.

Aizawa grins. “You’ll need it tomorrow when you clean the teacher’s lounge.”

Bakugou whips around. “WHAT?!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of that punishment you were so eager for.”

It was nice, having the teacher’s lounge so clean.

He sits between Midnight and Present Mic, catching a breath after a full day of teaching.

“I almost hope Bakugou messes something up again,” Midnight says. “He’s an excellent maid.”

Present Mic nods. “That kid never half-asses ANYTHING.”

“Ha! I don’t think he knows how to do anything at less than one hundred percent,” Midnight says.

“Yo Eraser, I heard you got Bakugou to let you help him?”

Aizawa nods. It took some convincing - or rather, demanding - but he convinced Bakugou to let him help. His new move was nearly perfected.

Someone walks into the lounge. Speak of the devil.

“Hey,” Bakugou says. Though his shoulders are slightly hunched, he no longer looks like a crumpled napkin.

“What?”

Bakugou’s face scrunches up. “Can I...May I use the gym to practice after dinner.”

It looks like it physically pains him to ask. How amusing.

“No,” Aizawa says.

“Wait - what?!”

“You’ve already exerted yourself too much today. Practicing is important, but you’re only going to exhaust yourself if you don’t stop and rest.”

Aizawa is sure Bakugou’s going to blow up at him. He looks him right in the eye, just in case. Didn’t want any damage to the teacher’s lounge now that it was so nice. But he doesn’t activate his quirk yet, wanting to give Bakugou a chance to show restraint.

Bakugou glares at him, eyebrows slowly coming down into a V. But then he releases a quick breath. “Fine,” he squeaks out before stomping away, leaving a trail of smoke from his fists.

Teaching is exhausting, and teaching Bakugou is a whole new level of exhausting. The kid’s competing superiority and inferiority complexes are more unstable than the nitroglycerin in his palms.

Yet there is something rewarding about seeing him grow. Strategizing how best to teach a bullheaded kid like him is a rewarding challenge. Aizawa owes it to him to help him become a truly admirable hero.

But the road getting there will be...rough, to say the least. But Aizawa is okay with that. He's already eternally exhausted, anyway.

Chapter Text

Number Three Hero Miruko’s three U.A. interns stand at attention in the middle of her office. Miruko’s office is unlike any other hero office Tsuyu’s seen, in that it’s less of an office and more of a garden, with grassy floors, a high-vaulted ceiling painted robin’s egg blue, an obstacle course, and a dozen raised carrot beds. Tsuyu finds it a pleasant space, although she thinks it would be even better with the addition of a pond. Bodies of water are calming, and right now Tsuyu would appreciate anything that would slow her racing heart.

Miruko paces in front of them, large feet padding through the grass. She stops and points to Tsuyu’s left, at Kodai Yui from class 2-B. Kodai’s shoulders tense.

“Rule!” Miruko shouts. “You have been doing an excellent job.”

Kodai lets out a sigh of relief.

“But!”

Her shoulders tense up again.

“You keep coming into work tired,” Miruko continues, ears swiveled out. “You’re overextending your quirk use. Be smarter about saving your energy for when you need it most.”

Kodai bows. “Yes sensei!”

Miruko continues pacing.

“Bakugou!” She points to Tsuyu’s left, at Bakugou Katsuki, who looks unphased.

“You’re strong on the battlefield. But off the battlefield - ” she grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eye, “ - you’re weak.” Bakugou’s lip twitches. “Be more compassionate.”

Miruko releases her grip on him and continues pacing. Tsuyu doesn’t know why. It’s obvious she’s next. “Froppy!”

Miruko takes a step towards her and bends down, so their eyes meet. “You need to learn to be more flexible.”

Tsuyu puts a finger to her chin and waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn't.

“That’s all!” Miruko says. “Week one’s performance review is over.” She breaks out into a big smile. It’s truly a wonderful smile, Tsuyu thinks. A hero’s smile - the kind of smile that you can't help but smile at in response. “I didn’t have much to say because you guys have done so well.”

The three of them bow deeply and say, “Thank you Miruko-sensei!”

Miruko pats them each and on the head and laughs. “Alrighty then, head on home, kids.”

The three of them head down a few floors to the locker rooms to change out of their hero outfits and grab their belongings. Kodai loops the straps of her nice leather satchel over her shoulders, while Bakugou stuffs his hero costume into his. While she waits for him, Tsuyu pulls out her phone. She has two texts - from Miruko. 

Miruko-sensei ／(=⌒×⌒=)＼:
Come back up. There’s something I want to talk to you about.

Miruko-sensei ／(=⌒×⌒=)＼:
Don’t tell the others.

Strange.

“Bakugou, Kodai,” she says, slipping her phone into her pocket. “I have a few questions for Miruko-sensei. You can head back without me.”

“Tch.” Bakugou slams his locker closed. “I wasn’t gonna wait for you.”

Kodai grins. “Thanks for letting us know. We’ll see you back at the dorms!” 

Odd, Tsuyu thinks. Is she really going right back to school this time? In the last week since the start of their work study internship, Kodai hasn’t once accompanied them back to U.A. at the end of the day. Tsuyu is sure to invite her every time, but Kodai always has an excuse, whether it’s to go shopping, or visit her aunt, or babysit her cousin, or catch a movie with friends from middle school. Tsuyu is convinced she's making it up. She wonders what secret Kodai’s really hiding. Maybe it’s a secret lover, from a rival school? Kodai seems like the type to keep her love life to herself. How romantic!

Tsuyu hops back up to Miruko’s office, where the hero is sitting on the edge of one of the planters, munching on a carrot, deep in thought. Tsuyu sits down beside her.

Crunch. Miruko shoves the rest off the carrot into her mouth, stem and all.

“Froppy. I need you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s about Rule,” she says. “She’s hiding something from me. I want to know what.”

Tsuyu raises her brows. “You want me to spy on her?”

“We both know she’s not going where she says she’s going after work.” Tsuyu’s surprised: she didn’t realize Miruko was paying so much attention. That’s the Number Three Hero, though. Always ahead of the game. “I’m worried about her. I don’t want any of my interns getting into trouble.”

Tsuyu definitely has qualms with spying on a classmate, a coworker. A friend, maybe? Tsuyu doesn't think they're friends quite yet. If she spies on her, though, they might never become friends.

But Miruko’s asking her to do this. And Tsuyu would be lying if she said she doesn’t want to know what Kodai is up to.

“Hey.” Miruko stands up and faces Tsuyu. “I know it might be uncomfortable. And it would be extra work. But I trust you with this.”

Tsuyu taps her fingers together. She wonders if this is a test, if Miruko’s asking her to prove herself. Be flexible. Does this have something to do with Miruko’s feedback from earlier? “Alright.” 

“You can start by following her after patrol, tomorrow,” Miruko says. She smiles and ruffles Tsuyu’s hair. “Thank you, Tsuyu.”

Tsuyu matches her grin. “Of course.”

Tsuyu spends the train ride home regretting not asking Miruko what she meant by “be flexible.” Tsuyu likes Miruko a lot. She was excited when Miruko scouted her out; not only is Miruko the Number Three hero, but Tsuyu has never had a mentor with an animal-mutant type quirk like hers before. Learning from her has been incredible; she’s building up strength, especially in her legs, that she never knew she had before.

But sometimes her mentor is hard to read. Like Bakugou, she speaks better with her actions than her words.

Tsuyu doesn’t think she means physically flexible. As a frog, she’s pretty limber, isn’t she? So it must be metaphorical - but Tsuyu isn’t good with metaphors. Flexible about what? Her battle strategies? Her teamwork, or communication skills? The direction of her patrol routes? 

Whatever it is, Tsuyu hopes she can figure it out by the end of their internship and make Miruko proud. 

Next evening’s patrol starts out a quiet one. No major villain attacks, or minor villain attacks, no purse snatchers or jaywalkers. Not even an old lady to help across the street.

And it would have been quiet - if Bakugou would stop complaining.

“....doesn’t think I’m compassionate...what the fuck, I’m compassionate as hell!” 

Tsuyu knows Bakugou can be crude and sometimes a little airheaded when it comes to matters of social civility, but this level of obliviousness is a lot, even coming from him. “No you’re not,” she says.

Bakugou raises his fist and glares at her. “Say that again and I’ll kill you.”

A gentle laugh comes from behind them. “Case and point,” Kodai says. 

Bakugou whips around to direct his fury at her. “Hah?”

Kodai jogs ahead of them, nuts and bolts clinking around in her shoulder pouch, and hits the button for the walkway. The sun is just beginning its descent, casting long shadows of tall buildings across the roads. Everyone’s just gotten home from work, so aside from a few stragglers, the streets are mostly empty. 

On the other side of the street is a little girl walking with an older couple, probably her grandparents, crying. Her grandparents are trying to cheer her up, but big Ghibli tears continue to flow from the girl’s buglike, compound eyes. Kodai plucks a small dandelion growing through a crack in the concrete and uses her quirk, Size, to grow it to the size of a baseball. 

The walk sign turns green. “Instead of listening to what Tsuyu had to say, you dismissed her and threatened to kill her,” Kodai says. As they pass by the family, she hands the giant dandelion to the little girl, who gasps in delight. 

Once they’ve reached the other side of the street, she mutters, “Usually that would be called a ‘criminal threat.’” 

From across the street, they hear the little girl shout, “Thank you hero Onee-san!”

Kodai looks over her shoulder and calls, “Stay safe out there!”

A block goes by. Tsuyu is just setting into the nice silence when Bakugou asks, “What the fuck was that?”

“That was called being compassionate,” Tsuyu says. “Making an effort to care for others who are in need.”

“Compassion isn’t confined to the battlefield,” Kodai says. “In fact,” her voice drops an octave, “when the battle is over...that’s when it’s needed the most.”

For the rest of the patrol, Bakugou doesn’t say a word. It's a nice change of pace.

Patrol ends without anything else interesting happening. After giving Kodai the obligatory offer to head back to campus together - to which she says she actually promised to help her cousin with her algebra homework, and runs on ahead of them - Tsuyu begins to head out with Bakugou. 

Tsuyu stops right at the doors to the hero agency and tells Bakugou she forgot she had some shopping to do, so he can go on without her.

“ ’s the second day in a row you’re ditching me.”

Tsuyu tilts her head. She’s not sure what he means by that. Is he mad? “Oh, I’m sorry - ”

“I don’t fucking care!” Bakugou interjects. He throws his backpack over his shoulder and treks on ahead. “See you to-fucking-morrow.”

“Bye.” 

She watches Bakugou round the corner before hurrying back inside and changing into her hero costume. She rummages through her bag to pull out the tracker she had Momo make for her yesterday. The other part of it, creating the homing signal, should be at the bottom of Kodai’s bag, where Tsuyu had hidden it before their patrol. 

Sure enough, the dot indicating Kodai’s position is on the move, crossing from the downtown area to the poor district of the city. Tsuyu tucks the device into a pocket of her utility belt and hops out the window.

She jumps gracefully from building to building, putting as much power into her legs as possible, like Miruko has taught her. Kodai winds through numerous side streets and alleyways, all the way to the heart of the slums. She seriously doubts that this is where Kodai’s cousin lives - if Tsuyu had to guess from her neatly ironed uniform and expensive bookbag, Kodai’s family is somewhat wealthy. Maybe their families don’t get along well? Then why would Kodai be helping her cousin in the first place?

By the time Tsuyu catches up to Kodai, the sky is a deep, dark blue. To the west, the horizon etched in white from the last light of the day. It provides just enough light to see where Kodai's finally stopped. The neighborhood isn’t so much a neighborhood as it is a dozen crimped metal sheets smushed together to form a few buildings. Telephone wires stretch like spiders above squat buildings mottled with water stains, rusted awnings, and blue tarpaulins. Old bikes litter the dry, cracked asphalt. White shirts with yellow armpit stains and plaid dresses with holes in them hang from balconies barely large enough to stand on.

Kodai stands in the shadow of the buildings, on the only patch of green grass visible from this high up. 

She’s not going into any buildings. There’s no algebra in sight. Most tellingly, Kodai is wearing her hero costume. The tip of the metal crest on her helmet glints in the fading light.

It seems that Miruko was right - she’s up to something.

Half a dozen dogs start barking. A few run up to Kodai and start licking her. Slowly, people stream out of their apartments and tents and crowd around Kodai.

“Rule is here!”

“Rule!”

“She’s back!”

Kodai smiles at all the people that come to see her. Just like Miruko, her smile is infectious. The people around her smile, too. The streetlights - at least the ones that still work - turn on, illuminating Kodai in a fluorescent glow. She looks like a hero, Tsuyu thinks. 

Someone hands her a plastic bag. Tsuyu can’t see what it is, but Kodai rips open the bag, digs her hand in and scoops out a handful of something brown. She places it on the ground and touches her fingers together. Immediately, the small handful grows into a giant pile of round, brown rocks. The dogs rush over, tails wagging. A few of the adults hammer at the rocks with big books and odd tools, and flakes of brown start to chip away. The dogs slurp up the bits in a happy, drooling mess. Oh, it’s dog food. 

Each person begins to hand Kodai something - an older woman hands her a container of pills, a young mother hands her a loaf of bread, a man hands her a near-empty tube of toothpaste, a child hands her a tiny action figure. Kodai makes everything bigger, and the people come away smiling. 

Someone tries to hand her coins. Kodai laughs and turns them away. Tsuyu wonders if they were offering her payment or if they wanted her to make the money bigger, which doesn’t sound very helpful. Big coins didn’t mean they were worth more. In fact, they might not be worth anything then, considering - 

Pfftt ^pop _pop

Tsuyu twists around, hands up, ready to defend herself. The popping sound came from behind her. She doesn’t see anyone on the roof with her: only a few vents - one on the left, the other on the right - and a door rising up from the middle. A few dirty buckets and cardboard boxes are strewn along the edges of the building, but it’s hard to make out anything in the darkness. 

A slight scraping sound comes from behind the left vent. 

That’s when the smell hits her skin. Smoke. Smoke from an explosion. A type of explosion Tsuyu is very familiar with. 

“...Bakugou?”

Another bang, followed by a bucket rolling out from behind the vent. 

Tsuyu walks over to the vent. There is Bakugou, crouched behind it, in his full hero costume, scowl on his lips. 

Tsuyu cocks her head and puts a finger to her chin. “Why are you here?”

“You’re not supposed to know I’m here,” he says. 

“That’s what I surmised. From your attempt at sneaking.”

Bakugou jumps up. “Attempt?!”

“I found you quite easily. You’re not very stealthy.”

Bakugou growls. 

“So why are you here?”

Bakugou glares at her for a moment. She finds it a little funny that Bakugou still tries to scare her with his glares; she’s never found them that intimidating. She just blinks at him and waits. 

“That rabbit asked me to follow you,” he relents. “She said you were looking after Kodai.”

Tsuyu can’t help but deflate a little. Even with her mixed feelings about Miruko’s request, she had taken pride in the fact that Miruko had asked her, no one else. Evidently that was not the case. I trust you with this. Was that really true? Then why had she sent Bakugou to spy on her? She can’t help but think that Miruko doesn’t trust her after all. 

Bakugou walks over to the edge of the roof and peers down at the scene below. “So what’s up with Nuts and Bolts?”

Tsuyu shakes her head. She still has a job to do; she can worry about personal matters later. She joins Bakugou, watching Kodai enlarge a blanket for a family with six kids. “I think she’s using her quirk illegally.”

“Huh.”

They watch her for a few minutes. A half dozen rice cakes, a jar of soap, a clothing line. She shrinks parts of an adult’s bike strategically and hands it off to one of the children. After than one, she sits down and rubs her head. She must be exhausted by now, still using her quirk after a full day of training and patrol. 

The unregulated use of quirks is illegal. The unregulated use of quirks in interference with trade and economics is highly illegal - she knows that from what Momo’s told her. But that’s exactly what Kodai is doing: using her quirk to giantize disadvantaged peoples’ belongings, so they would last longer, and wouldn’t have to buy new things so quickly. 

“ ’s charity work,” Bakugou summarizes.

Tsuyu nods. “Illegal charity work.”

Tsuyu and Bakugou walk back to the hero agency in relative silence. They’re both deep in thought. Tsuyu’s at a loss for what to do. On one hand, what Kodai is doing is clearly illegal. If the police found out what she was doing, they would arrest her. And anyone who sees illegal activity is obligated to report it. Not reporting it is the same as hiding it, which is the same as being an accomplice…

But on the other hand, Kodai is doing a good thing. She’s helping the poor, in a way heroes rarely help them. Using her quirk in a way Tsuyu, or Bakugou, or most heroes could never hope to. She can’t help but recall what Kodai said earlier that day: Compassion isn’t confined to the battlefield. In fact, when the battle is over...that’s when it’s needed the most.

Tsuyu’s also thinking about what Bakugou’s thinking. Will he turn her in? Tell Miruko the truth about what Kodai's doing? Bakugou’s a total rule follower - but only when it suits him. Is this one of those times? Or will Bakugou stay true to the laws of this world?

They stop outside the agency doors and look up at the tall, pristine windows leading to the top floor, where the lights are still on. Miruko must be waiting for them. “What do we tell her?”

Bakugou thinks for a moment. “Nothing,” he says. “For now. We should...we need to collect more information.”

Tsuyu lets out the breath she was holding. “Right.” Bakugou’s decision takes some weight off her shoulders. The'll wait - that gives them more time to think and figure out what the heroic thing to do is.

Miruko’s bunnies ⌒( •ㅅ• )⌒:

Kodai-chan:
could we meet before we head to miruko’s?

Me:
sure :(¦)

Bakugou-chan:
What the fuck for?

Kodai-chan:
i’ll tell you when we meet

Nine o’clock is when they need to be at Miruko’s agency to start suiting up. It’s eight right now. The morning air is still crisp with last night’s dew. Tsuyu rolls up her sleeves; she loves the sensation of misty air on her skin. It makes her feel at home.

Kodai stands with her head high, stance firm, but she won’t look directly at them. Tsuyu can sense she’s nervous. 

“Spit it out, Bolts,” Bakugou says. “We’ll miss the train if you take too long to open your fucking mouth.” 

She takes a deep breath, then lets it out. 

“I know you guys saw me yesterday.”

Tsuyu’s eyebrows raise. “You saw us?”  She grimaces; apparently Bakugou isn’t the only one who needs to work on their stealthiness. 

“It’s hard to miss a frog and a guy with that ridiculous mask stomping around a rooftop.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Bakugou retorts. “It’s cool as hell.”

“It also makes you easy to spot.” 

“Tch.”

Kodai reaches into her bag. “Plus, I found this.” She holds up the circular tracking device.

Tsuyu melts. “Oh…” Just seeing it makes her feel ten times more guilty. Tailing her was bad enough, but the invasive equipment...that feels extra dirty. 

Kodai tosses it to the ground and crushes it with her foot. “I’ll get straight to the point. Why were you guys following me?”

Tsuyu glances at Bakugou. He looks back at her. They both seem to have the same question in mind: should they tell her the truth? That Miruko was the one who them to spy on her?

“Who’s not opening their mouth now?” Kodai says. “Spit it out.”

“We wanted to know where you were going all the time,” Tsuyu says. Technically, it’s not a lie. “Your excuses weren’t very convincing.”

Kodai’s face flushes pink. “Oh.”

“You really think we were gonna buy you ditching us every fucking day?” Bakugou adds. “Hell no. We knew you were up to something fishy. Just wanted to know what it was.”

“Okay.” Kodai tucks her hair behind her ears, flushed red from the morning chill. “So now that you know, will you drop it?”

Tsuyu looks to her feet. Bakugou throws his head to the side and looks at the sky. Kodai must know they can’t just drop it. They’re heroes in training; they have more of a duty than anyone to uphold the laws. 

“Look.” Kodai grabs them both by the tie and pulls them in close, until they’re all nearly nose to nose. “I know you think it’s wrong. But those people...if they can eat, if they can get their medicine, then they don’t have to steal. And if they don’t have to steal, then they don’t have to become villains.”

Kodai releases their ties and pushes them back. She hoists her bag over her shoulder and heads for the front gates. 

“That’s less work for us, right?” she calls. 

Bakugou’s face is as red as Kirishima’s hair and his snarl matches that of a wild dog. Tsuyu thinks his head might explode instead of his hands. He wrenches his tie back into place and mutters to himself. “Goddamn bitch how dare she fucking touch me…gonna explode her fucking face off if she tries that shit again...”

“Let’s get going!” Kodai shouts. “We don’t want to miss our train, right?”

Tsuyu would argue that technically, she never told Kodai they would drop it. So it’s not dishonest to follow her again.

Guilt churns in her gut anyways. 

This time, since they don’t have a tracker, she and Bakugou tail her from the moment she leaves the agency that evening. Discretion, they agree, is key. Instead of their costumes, they don their school uniforms. (And a few parts of their costumes: Tsuyu takes her goggles and utility belt. Bakugou takes his string of mini grenades. They have different priorities.) They have a general idea of where she’s heading, so even though they’re not positive she’s going to the exact same neighborhood as last time, they can afford to hang back a bit. 

Without his costume, Bakugou is leagues less noticeable and intimidating. Even without them, his general angry demeanor alone would usually make him stand out, but right now he doesn’t look that angry. His brows aren’t furrowed, and his jaw isn’t clenched tight. He’s exchanged his laser-like glare for a thousand yard stare. If Tsuyu had to name it, she’d call this look..contemplative.

“Are you thinking about what Kodai told us this morning?” she asks. 

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t actually deign to answer.

They’re getting closer to the slums, so they switch from main streets to side streets. Kodai is several blocks ahead, still heading in the same direction as yesterday. 

Instead of pressing Bakugou on the issue of Kodai, she asks another question that’s been on her mind since internships started. 

“Why did you choose Miruko for work study?”

“Simple,” Bakugou says. “Endeavor ain’t taking interns this session. The rabbit was the next highest ranked hero to give me an offer.”

“Oh,” Tsuyu says. That answer is very straightforward - very Bakugou. “Why do you think Miruko asked for you?”

Bakugou shrugs. “I’m the best.”

Another very Bakugou-like answer. “I think it’s because you are both very alike.” 

Bakugou raises a brow. 

“You’re both physically strong, that’s true. But you also both have strong personalities. A loud conviction that you’ll win shines through you. You’re very charismatic, Bakugou, when you try to be. Miruko knows how to use her attitude in a heroic way - and I think she wants to teach that to you.”

Bakugou doesn’t have an answer for that. He just gazes ahead. Contemplating. 

This time, they pick a different rooftop. Ideally, they would get closer, to hear what kind of conversations Kodai’s having with these citizens. Tsuyu wishes Jirou or Tooru were here, but they have their own internships to worry about. Plus she wouldn’t want to drag them into this mess. Spying on a classmate isn’t fun. 

Kodai carries out the same ritual as last time. She stands in the one green patch, the dogs start barking, and people file out of their homes. Tonight, there’s even more people; they come pouring in from other neighborhoods. They seem to have established a rule among themselves: everyone gets to bring Kodai one item a night to giantize or shrink. 

“What’s that?” Bakugou points to someone in line, carrying something big and white. Tsuyu turns her goggles on them, thankful that Hatsume upgraded them to have nightvision.

“It’s a cake.”

“A cake?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the man with the cake presents it to Kodai. He gestures to an older man standing off to the side. The older man is pushed by the crowd up to where Kodai and the cake man are. Kodai shakes his hand and takes the cake. She places it on the ground a few feet away from them, then gestures for people to move out of the way. She taps her fingers together. The cake grows and grows until it’s almost as tall as her and several meters wide. The pastry is truly giant, taking up nearly half of the courtyard. From up here, it looks like a blinding patch of snow in the middle of a nighttime desert. 

The whole neighbor cheers and begins to sing happy birthday.

This is a kind of joy Tsuyu doesn’t often see as a hero. So far she’s been content just knowing that she’s helped save lives - and if that’s all she ever did, she would still be content - but seeing this, she remembers why she wants to save lives. She wants to be as important to a community as Kodai is to this one. She wants to bring people joy. 

There’s no such thing as bad joy, is there? Joy that doesn’t harm anyone? 

What’s the point of quirks if they can’t be used to help people?

“Oi, froggy.”

“I told you you can call me Tsuyu.”

“Just look.”

Two figures are rounding the corner one street over. They’re dressed in flashy colors and have a sort of swagger to the way they walk. It appears to be a hero patrol. And they’re pointing at Kodai’s neighborhood. 

“I think they see the cake,” Tsuyu says. She looks to Bakugou. “That’s not good.”

Bakugou looks at the patrol, and then at Kodai, then back at the patrol.

He strips off his U.A. blazer and shirt and throws it on the ground, clad in just his tank top. Then he grabs Tsuyu’s goggles off of her head. “I’m borrowing this. Get them to clear out. I’ll buy you time.”

“Bakugou - wait - ”

“Are you gonna do it or not?” Bakugou asks, pulling the goggles over his head. 

Is hiding Kodai’s misdeeds a heroic action? Evidently Bakugou thinks so.

And honestly? So does Tsuyu.

She nods. “Of course I am.”

Bakugou grins wide. He grins at her in a way that says, I’ll get us through this. Just watch me . And Tsuyu smiles back - because Bakugou’s smile is a little infectious, too. Maybe he really is learning from Miruko. 

And with that, he hurdles himself off the edge of the roof.

Tsuyu runs after him. She watches him land gracefully on the ground, cushioned by a few small explosions. 

“Hey idiots!” he yells at the hero patrol. Immediately he has their attention. “Stain’s memory lives on! You guys are all fakes!”

The moment the heroes begin heading toward him, Tsuyu leaps to the other side of the rooftop and begins scaling down the side. She pushes her way through the crowd surrounding Kodai until she locks eyes with her classmate.

The people’s hero looks at her in shock. “Froppy - what’re you doing here?”

“You all need to clear out!” she yells as quietly as she can, turning in a circle to address as many people as she can. “There’s a hero patrol right around the corner. If they find you all here - ” she points at Kodai, “ - they’ll take her away.”

Kodai’s eyes widen in understanding. “Listen to Froppy!” she calls. “Everyone, go back to your homes! Take all your belongings!”

Immediately, the crowd disperses. It’s clear these people trust Kodai, and want her to stay safe. Watching them hurry to follow Kodai’s orders makes Tsuyu’s heart ache, but in a good way. 

“We need to get rid of this cake,” Tsuyu says.

Kodai nods. She touches the cake again and touches her fingers together. It shrinks until it’s only the size of a mushroom. Kodai picks it up and hands it to the elderly man who’s birthday it is, who’s still standing there in shock. “Please go inside, sir. I promise when this is over I’ll buy you a new cake.” 

He nods and waddles away, guided by one of the other residents. “Thank you, Rule…”

Tsuyu grabs Kodai’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before Kodai can respond, Tsuyu hears the pounding of footsteps against concrete coming from up ahead. Tsuyu leaps up and onto the side of the nearest apartment building, thrusts her tongue out, wraps it around Kodai’s waist, and flings her up to the top of the roof.

It’s not a moment too soon. The hero patrol duo rushes into the middle of the courtyard. Tsuyu camouflages herself against the building. 

They look around. “Where the hell did that brat go?”

“God, we lost him!” the other shouts. “If I ever see that kid again I’m gonna - I’m gonna - give him a harsh talking to!”

“You tell’em, buddy…”

They sniff around a bit - one of them, who has an extremely long nose, really does sniff - and ask a few of the residents if they’ve seen anything unusual, to which they all say they haven’t. Eventually, the patrol moves on.

Tsuyu swears she feels the neighborhood let out a collective breath. 

She climbs up the side of the building and onto the roof, where Kodai sits with her legs crossed. She looks up when Tsuyu joins her. 

“Sorry about throwing you up here,” Tsuyu says. “Are you hurt at all?”

Kodai shakes her head. 

Tsuyu cocks her head and crouches next to Kodai. “Are you all right?” 

Kodai smiles at her, but Tsuyu doesn’t think it’s a real smile. “You guys were following me again.”

Her stomach drops. A guilty pulse thrums through her. 

“Yeah, we were,” comes a voice from behind her. 

Tsuyu looks around - Bakugou, still in just a tank top, carrying his blazer and her goggles. He trudges over to them and drops Tsuyu’s goggles into her lap. “Good think we were, too.”

Kodai looks down at her feet. “Yeah. Thank you.”

She picks herself up and dusts off her knees, which are covered in dirt and dust from the unkempt rooftop. She runs her hands along her shoulder straps and bites her lip. “Are you going to tell?” Kodai says. It's hard to see in the poor lighting, but Tsuyu swears her eyes look misty.

Bakugou scoffs. “What, after all of that?” 

She lets out a little laugh. “I don’t know...maybe you just wanted to be the ones to turn me in.”

“Turn you in for what?” Bakugou barks. “I didn’t see you doing anything wrong.”

Tsuyu nods. “You were doing your hero duty and saving people.”

Kodai looks at her, as if asking if that’s really true. Tsuyu lets their eye contact speak for her. 

This time when Kodai smiles, it’s genuine. And all of Tsuyu's discomfort evaporates. “I know,” Kodai says. “I know...”

“So. What do you have to tell me?”

Tsuyu stands next to Bakugou in the middle of Miruko’s office, feeling the fear that prey feel when they’re in the middle of an open field. Miruko stands before them, ears raised to attention. 

Bakugou speaks first. “She’s going where she says she’s fucking going.”

“Kodai has a thriving social life,” Tsuyu puts in.

Miruko looks at them for a long moment. Tsuyu can’t read her. She counts the seconds that go by as Miruko looks between them, waiting for one to crack.

Then she smiles. “Very good. Thank you both. You’re dismissed.”

For the rest of their time as Miruko’s interns, Kodai continues going to the neighborhood, and surrounding neighborhoods, every day. Tsuyu and Bakugou may or may not accompany her to keep watch for hero patrols and cops. They may or may not gain some fans. Tsuyu may or may not point out one of the little boys wearing two oranges sashes over his shirt to form an X. She may or may not get a glimpse of Bakugou’s furious blush before he hides his face behind his mask.

The rest of her time with Miruko is uneventful. Well, anything is uneventful compared to last year’s shenanigans. She does learn a lot from the Rabbit Hero, though. On her last day, she’s sure to thank her profusely. 

“You did good kid,” Miruko tells her, patting her on the head. “Now, I know you wanna ask me something.”

How does she know? Maybe this is the intuition of a hero. Tsuyu fiddles her fingers for a moment before working up the courage to ask, “For that assignment...why did you send Bakugou, too?”

Miruko nods, as if this is what she expected Tsuyu to ask. “Just extra insurance, kiddo,” Miruko says. “Plus, thought you could learn something from each other.”

Tsuyu cocks her head, and connects the dots. “Is Bakugou...flexible?”

“HAH!” Miruko laughs. “That kid’s about as pliable as a steel beam.” Miruko looks over where Bakugou furiously watering carrots. “But even steel beams have their melting points.”

Tsuyu nods. That sounds wise. She isn’t quite sure what Miruko means, but Tsuyu thinks she can draw her own conclusions. 

The teachers catch on, eventually. Or the cops, or a hero patrol. The point is someone noticed, and disciplinary action was taken.

Kodai hadn’t told Tsuyu or Bakugou, but Tsuyu learns, after everything comes out, that she continued to sneak off campus to feed the neighborhood even after their internship was over. 

This was always going to be the outcome, wasn’t it? Even though Bakugou and Tsuyu kept quiet. It was only a matter of time. 

Kodai is confined to campus. If Miruko hadn’t fought on her behalf, she might have been expelled, or even arrested. Her punishment is simply that she isn’t allowed to leave U.A. without adult supervision, and if she’s caught using her quirk for ‘non-heroic deeds’ again, she could face prison time. 

Everyone knows that her deeds were always heroic. The truth is that bad people aren’t the only type of villains in this world. Those people were also battling a villain - just not one heroes could beat in a fight.

The more she thinks about it, the stronger and deeper Tsuyu’s suspicion grows: that Miruko had wanted Tsuyu and Bakugou to follow Kodai so they could keep her out of trouble.  

Tsuyu’s hovering by one of the couches in the common room, not quite paying attention as Ashido and Tooru debate over who the most attractive person in class 2-B is (“It’s obviously Kuroiro,” Ashido says. “What do you mean obviously ?” Tooru retorts. “Have you seen Kendo’s adorable face?”), thinking about Kodai, and about what it means to use your quirk to help people. Would this world be better if most people were allowed to use their quirks for good? Where could the line be drawn? Would it then be moral to force someone with a beneficial quirk like Momo’s to provide public goods? It gets even more complicated the more quirks you consider, like water generating quirks, or - 

“What’re you standing around for?”

Tsuyu’s drawn out of her thoughts by the sharp voice. Bakugou is holding a tray with a bowl full of something steaming. From the scrumptious smell steeping through her skin she guesses it’s oden. “Are you gonna come with me to 2-B’s dorms or what?”

Tsuyu smiles. She’s almost mad she didn’t think to visit Kodai sooner. Although she doubts she could have made her food as delicious as what Bakugou's holding. “That’s a great idea.”

“Good.” She hears him mutter: “...Don’t want to be a fucking creep going to a girl’s room by myself...”

As they walk to class 2-B’s dorm, they pass by their old 1-A dorm. A wave of nostalgia washes over her. So much happened last year to change them as a class and to change each one of them as an individual. Kodai has certainly grown in confidence; she was so shy last year, Tsuyu didn’t even know who she was.  Tsuyu doesn’t think her first year self would even recognize the Bakugou that’s walking alongside her now, bringing warm food to a friend going through a rough patch. And Tsuyu’s changed as well. 

She’s become more flexible. 

The urge to say something that she’s held with her a long time bubbles up and out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry."

Bakugou stops and looks at her funny. “The hell are you apologizing for?”

“That time, last year,” she says. “I didn’t...I didn’t try to save you.”

Bakugou goes quiet. Ambient night sounds - crickets chirping, wind through the tree - feel louder than ever. “I didn’t need you to save me."

“I know. But...I should have. I wasn’t being flexible in my compassion.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen. He looks to the side, thumbs rubbing against the side of the tray. “Don’t - you don’t have to...whatever. Just - just forget about it.”

“I’m not going to. It’ll remind me, the next time I’m faced with that situation, what a hero should do. ” 

What is a hero? Someone who shows compassion to people, no matter what that law says.

Bakugou grunts in what she thinks is agreement. “Yeah. Now let’s deliver Nuts and Bolts some fucking soup.”

“I know you know her name is Kodai.”

“Fuck off.”