Chapter Text
“We really have a long way to go, don’t we?” Shitty Hair spoke, looking to Katsuki as they, along with Half and Half, Tape Face, and Dumbass stood outside of the USJ. A villain attack had just taken place, “I’m really glad everyone’s okay, though! There were so many villains, and we all got split up.”
“Where did you end up?” Dumbass asked Shitty Hair.
“I was with Bakugou, in the Collapse Zone,” Shitty Hair answered gesturing with his thumb to the spiky blond next to him, who seemed to be elsewhere in thought, “He was pretty incredible back there, taking down villains left and right, it was really cool!”
“Who knew that crap-steeped-in-sewage could play as part of a team!” Dumbass joked.
“You wanna fight or something, Dumbass?!” Katsuki snapped, his attention turning to Dumbass, fist held up in anger, “I’ll kill you, asshole!”
“Come on, guys, we should be basking in the glory of taking down some villains! Everyone’s gonna be okay, we all kicked butt, can we just get a long for a few minutes?” Shitty Hair chimed in, waving his hands at the two of them.
Katsuki let out an irritated huff before looking away, leaving it be, and Dumbass sighed. The group went back to comparing what they’d done during the attack, exchanging experiences; Tape Face had been near the entrance the whole time, he had been part of the group that helped Iida leave the USJ to alert the teachers, and helped carry Thirteen to safety, Dumbass had taken out a group of villains with his Electrification quirk, short circuiting himself in the process, Todoroki had frozen an entire group of villains on his own, Shitty Hair and himself had worked together to overcome another group of villains, before meeting with Todoroki to offer support to All Might. Deku had been there, too.
He had no interest in the conversation taking place, all he could think about was how close to dying he came; if not for All Might’s speed, throwing him to the side the way he did, he’d have been smashed to a pulp by that Nomu thing. What they had witnessed in the USJ that day, that was the world of pro heroes, the level everyone in their class was trying to get to. Shitty Hair was right, they still had a long way to go. Still, they had fared particularly well, being of use to All Might for a short while. Having gotten over Dumbass insulting him for the second time that day, his mind went back to replaying what had happened in the USJ, and thinking about the person he had ended up alone with: Shitty Hair.
Shitty Hair was tough, there was no doubt about that in his mind. A quirk like that was impressive to him, even if it otherwise lacked the typical flashiness of pro heroes. The guy was a bit too nice, but he was strong, and useful. They fought well together, that much was already clear. He still couldn’t for the life of him remember the guy’s name, opting to call him Shitty Hair, but he was someone he could see on a level playing field with himself. Something that, until he’d entered UA, had never happened. His heart was still a bit bruised after losing to Deku during their first training exercise of the school year, seeing that he was not, in fact, the strongest person there. Half and Half was the strongest of the class, and it made him feel weak. Even so, wasn’t going to let that do anything other than fuel his need to rise to the top. He’d take Deku down, and he’d knock that Half and Half bastard down a peg while he was at it. Shitty Hair, though, he wasn’t someone that needed to be knocked down.
Eventually everyone was taken back to the main campus, to change out of their hero suits and into their uniforms. No one was seriously injured, other than their teachers. He respected his classmates, even if he didn’t like or care about any of them. Seeing how much of a difference there was between himself and the level of the Number One Hero, All Might, only strengthened his resolve. He would be that powerful someday, he would become the next Number One Hero. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on his current level, he was going to advance at UA, he was going to become the best of the best. It wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity; his entire life had been built up around the idea of being like All Might, surpassing All Might, and he was going to make it a reality.
The bus ride back from USJ was full of chatter, none of which he participated in. He sat quietly as others recounted to the rest of the class what they’d done during the villain attack, how many villains they had taken out, how concerned they had been about their fellow classmates. He sat quietly and looked out the window. The truth was, he was actually a very quiet person; for as obnoxiously loud and violent as he could be, he was usually silent, or at least spoke at a reasonable volume and somewhat calmly. He didn’t talk to other people, he had no interest in it. He was there to learn, to achieve his goals, not to make friends. And he didn’t really think he needed any, either.
Shitty Hair recounted again to some of their peers what had happened when the two of them were placed into the Collapse Zone together, combatting low-ranking members of the League of Villains, a seemingly cobbled-together force of cronies that were just idiots with no idea how to be good, let alone bad. And all those villains had been taken out by one pro and twenty kids, how absolutely fucking pathetic. Shitty Hair gave him quite a bit of praise as he recounted the incident to everyone else, praise he felt he rightly deserved but needed not make any comment on. His mind was, again, elsewhere.
The one with all those hands, he had been using video game terminology. What an ass. Thinking of trying to kill All Might as a game was where that idiot had gone wrong, anyone stupid enough to feel that way was clearly not going to accomplish their goals. Still, All Might had taken an incredible hit for him; sure, it was All Might’s job as both a hero and a teacher, but he should have seen it. He should have seen that thing coming, should have been able to move.
But he couldn’t.
No one left school until late in the afternoon, the sun was already beginning to set by the time they were allowed to leave, police taking statements on their combat with the villains and making sure they really were alright. It was irritating, he hated it. He’d already gone through something like that before, with the Sludge Villain, but at least this time there was no media involved. Not focused on him, anyway.
The sky was a creamsicle orange as he walked towards the station nearest the school, a pattern of light cumulus clouds adorning the expanse of sky visible to him as he walked. He’d been the first of his classmates to leave, not bothering to linger once he was cleared to leave. Everyone else seemed interested in continuing to talk about it with each other, he didn’t care. It was over, they had to keep moving forward. Leaving school that day felt like a massive weight off of him, like he could leave what had almost happened to him behind on the campus. He wasn’t dead, he was fine, All Might would be fine too they said, the villains were taken care of for the time being, they caught that Nomu thing.
As he walked, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, a text from his mother: come straight home, please. He’d already been planning to. The view leaving school in the afternoon was pretty damn spectacular, the sky was often clear, or relatively so, the light reflected nicely off of the tall buildings in the area, especially the main buildings on campus, there were healthy trees lining the streets, well-kept sidewalks, neatly painted roads, and most importantly to him, it was quiet. Not just in the sense that there wasn’t a lot of street noise, but there wasn’t a whole lot going on visually that deviated from the norm on a day-to-day basis: the trees stayed the same, the sidewalks stayed the same, other than students commuting from the school to the nearby station, there weren’t really people out and about, the sky was never the same but always kept its same hues. Walking to the train station was calming for him, it gave him time to think about things, or to veg out and not think of things.
For all the commotion of the day, the walk home was calm; the occasional set of kids his age walking past as he neared the station, a shopping district along the way, someone walking their dog, a gaggle of girls talking loudly enough that even with his earbuds in and music turned up a fair bit, he could still hear them. They looked at ease. He wondered if they would be at ease if they had been at the USJ that afternoon. Maybe, maybe not. He came to a stop, confronted by an illuminated red sign in front of a large crosswalk, cars whizzing past on the main road in front of the station. Had he already arrived? He didn’t remember walking that far, maybe he’d done too much thinking. The sign changed, lighting up a green figure walking, and he stepped out onto the crosswalk, looking ahead at the entrance to the station: Musutafu.
The station was a hub, including a total of ten train lines if you counted the shinkansen as well as local metro lines, and as such was constantly busy. At that time of day, people were coming into the neighborhood to return home, or heading to their own homes from the station, like he was. He was sure his parents knew about what had happened that day, there was no other reason for his mother to be summoning him home right away if that were the case. She’d probably lecture him about putting himself where he didn’t belong, if she knew about All Might saving him from that shredded, ugly Nomu. He lazily swept his wallet over the reader at the gate as he passed through, a satisfying chirp coming from the machine as the gate doors sprung open before him. The only person he knew who lived near him was Deku, and Deku wasn’t there that day.
Where did Shitty Hair live? Sometimes they headed to the station at the same time, but he was the first one to disappear into the crowd, not sticking around to chat on the times that Shitty Hair came with him to the station. It didn’t matter, not really.
The sky continued to change colors, turning from that creamy orange color into a lighter, almost lavender color with streaks of orange clouds in it. As he disembarked the train, an announcement played over the station’s speakers: train departing, please stand back. More people got off the train at that stop than got on, and he chose to take the stairs due to the volume of noisy people taking the escalator that afternoon. The orange streaks began to fade from the sky as he exited the station and made his way towards home. About halfway there, at 6:00pm, a familiar tune began to play, signaling all the children in the neighborhood to return to their families for the night. Why did they do that? Why had they picked that particular song? He didn’t know, but it had always been like that, for as long as he could remember.
As he kicked his shoes off at the genkan and stepped inside the house, he wondered if everyone else was home yet. Did they have long commutes? His wasn’t particularly long, forty five minutes each way if he missed the first train to or from school and counting the walk from home and school to the stations, though he never missed the first train; thirty minutes, then. Deku’s commute was just a bit longer, he lived ten minutes away. Shitty Hair sounded like he was from further away, just by the way he talked. Tokyo? Chiba, maybe? Damn, that was a hell of a train ride, one that necessitated the shinkansen.
“I’m home!” He shouted into the house, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and sending it flying into the couch.
“Welcome home!” Both of his parents called from inside the kitchen as he walked to it.
As he entered, he saw his father sitting in a chair on the side of the table closest to the appliances, where his mother stood over the stove finishing up some tonkotsu ramen. He could smell the spices in the air, knowing that she’d gone out of her way to make it extra spicy for him. Was something important happening? Usually he fended for himself when he came home, this was unusual. He took his usual seat, sitting across from his father, leaving the head of the table open for his mother.
“Tell me what happened at school.” His mother said, grabbing two bowls of ramen and bringing them to the table; one for him, one for his father.
“Some shitty villains tried to kill All Might, and everyone stopped them.” He responded flatly, grabbing his chopsticks.
“I heard you and another kid took down at least four villains on your own,” His father remarked, looking across the table at him, “Teamwork is unlike you.”
“I’m plenty able to work in a team!” He snapped, taking a large quantity of noodles with his chopsticks, “Besides, I didn’t need his help, and he didn’t need mine.”
“You sure about that? The teamwork part, I mean.” His father responded, chuckling as he looked over to the head of the table as his wife sat down, “Either way, we’re glad you came home safe. Right, Dear?”
“Yep! Glad our little hellion made it home in one piece.” His mother agreed, snickering when he shot her a dirty look. “I know you’re a tough kid, but after what happened before, we still worry—”
“You don’t need to worry about a damn thing, Baba.” He hissed, beginning to eat. He paused after a moment and looked back at her, “I’m fine, I kicked ass back there. If you had seen it, you wouldn’t be worried at all. They were small fry, bottom feeders, you could probably kick their asses if you wanted to.”
That wasn’t an insult to her, his mom had a wicked slap that he frequently found himself on the receiving end of if he talked back a bit too harshly. Still, they really weren’t anything to be worried about… Not the ones he fought in the Collapse Zone, anyway. Hopefully no one had told her about the Nomu, she would have flipped if she knew about that.
“Well, if they weren’t carted off the jail already for trying to kick yours, I just might want to.” She joked, sighing contentedly and beginning to eat as well. After a few minutes, she spoke again, “Are you friends with the other person you were with?”
“No, I don’t have friends at school.” He answered, looking down at his ramen; that was the truth, Deku definitely wasn’t his friend, and while he could see himself being fine with Shitty Hair, they weren’t friends. They barely knew each other.
“What’s his quirk?” His father asked.
“He can harden his skin, it gets incredibly tough and sharp, he usually slashes things with his forearm and hands.” He answered, “Why do you care, anyway?”
“Just curious about your classmates is all.” His father replied, smiling softly, “Seems like you two would make a good team, though.”
Why did they keep talking about that? Enough was enough. If they asked more about that day, he’d stay quiet and keep eating. And fortunately, as he did, they didn’t ask any more questions, not about Shitty Hair, anyway.
Despite having been attacked by villains that day, everyone was still expected to do their homework, so after dinner was done and he’d washed the dishes, he trudged upstairs with his bag and fell down onto his bed, pulling out that night’s assignments. Aizawa was still in the hospital when he left campus, he was sure that Aizawa was still there, given how bad the injuries he’d sustained were according to some of their classmates on the bus. Thirteen had been messed up badly, too. He settled on starting with English, since Present Mic was completely healthy and would undoubtedly yell at anyone who didn’t do the homework. It was the most painful of all the assignments they’d received that day, at least for him, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
Shitty Hair thought he was always angry, too, but his opinion had changed, hadn’t it? He’d said so himself, have you always been this calm? Why did he care what anyone thought, anyway? It didn’t matter, as long as he rose to the top. Which was exactly what he was going to do… Starting with this shitty English assignment on how to properly use transitive verbs.
Maybe that was the beginning… Or, maybe not.