Archive of Our Own

Bakugou ran, as fast his little feet can take him. He passed through the wet, navy grass behind his neighborhood’s unguarded backyards and headed towards the small forest clearings. He was crying a moment before, his fists clenched as they rubbed harshly on the corners of his eyes, a red tint forming on his cheeks. He passed through trees and fern bushes, footfalls trampled on dry, mucked leaves. As he neared closer, Bakugou’s gaze narrowed upon an isolated tree, located on top of a slanted hill.

A looming tree flourished in height; its branches curved like a warm embrace, green autumn leaves falling carelessly from the wind. Bakugou huffed a breath, letting his temper tantrum melt away. He spotted a familiar shade of green underneath the looming tree, causing him to grin knowingly as he ran again.

Midoriya Izuku, his friend of four years, was facing the opposite direction. His green curls bounced along the busy breeze, some leaves gathering on top of his head. He was sitting on one of the overgrown roots of the looming tree. Bakugou tiptoed, footsteps as quiet as a mouse, he would have gladly surprise his friend from behind when he saw Midoriya’s shoulders trembling, his whimpering cries filling up the vacant tune of the forest.

Confused, and a little sore from being left behind earlier before, Bakugou stomped his foot on the ground. Midoriya jolted, his cries waning as he voiced out a ‘Kacchan’ from his quivering lips.

“Oi,” Bakugou said. “Why you sad?”

Midoriya didn’t answer, his bright green eyes sparkling in tears when he bore his gaze unto his. Bakugou narrowed his amber eyes and pouted, not liking his question being ignored. He pointed a finger at Midoriya and bared his teeth like an angry pup. If Midoriya wouldn’t answer him then he had to ask something else.

“Where did you go? Auntie Inko took you home early and told me you was sleeping. We were not done playing yet!”

Bakugou frowned when Midoriya turned away. Before he could yell at his friend again, Midoriya sad a quiet ‘Sorry’ and wiped his damped cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt. “I… don’t wanna play anymore.”

“Hah?” Bakugou responded. “But we just started!”

“I’m… tired, really tired, K-Kacchan.”

“I don’t believe you,” Bakugou glared. They were at his home an hour ago. Roughhousing as per usual. It didn’t make sense how easily exhausted Midoriya was right now. “If you tired then why you here?”

Bakugou saw Midoriya’s eyes widened from what he said. Those large, doe eyes, glancing around his surroundings like a confused, petrified prey, who was backed into a corner. Bakugou clenched his jaw, feeling irritated at the noticeable lie Midoriya sprouted.

“I knew it!” Bakugou yelled.

“But Kacchan, I—”  

“Whatever, I don’t care what ya’ say,” Bakugou said decisively despite of the ache in his heart. “Let’s go back and play already. I wanna play more explosions!”

Bakugou raised his hand to grab Midoriya’s coiled palm, but the small child evaded his grasp, the back of his ankles stumbling on a thick root. He fell on his back and elbows, dirt and leaves flocked over his clothes from the sudden fall. Bakugou stared wide-eyed at Midoriya, in shocked of his friend’s sudden burst.

“No!” Midoriya said. “I don’t wanna play.”

Temper rose on Bakugou’s senses. He scowled and walked hastily to his fallen friend, his brows creased in obvious anger.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

Midoriya shook his head, deciding to answer Bakugou with another tearful session, dirty hands curled as he fruitlessly tried to wipe away the timbering drops that were damping his freckled cheeks. Bakugou clicked his tongue testily. What has got into him? Sure, Midoriya would sob like the crybaby that he was, but not to the point where he wouldn’t even talk to him.

Bakugou looked at Midoriya, a scowl still perfectly placed on his face. He looked around, unsure what to do. He took a deep breath and decided, unwillingly, to hear what his friend had to say. Bakugou crouched beside the crying Midoriya and pouted, murmuring as he said, “Why are you crying?”

Midoriya lowered his hands, his cries waning. “It… hurts.”

“Hurts?” Bakugou asked.

Those trembling fingers pointed at his hands.

“Kacchan’s quirk is mean…”

Bakugou slowly looked at his hands, then back at Midoriya. His eyes lowered around his friend’s pale skin, covered by his damped sleeves. There was a patch of darken areas on Midoriya’s right hand and some, near his neck. He gritted his teeth, guilt pooling in his stomach. He did remember doing that, but it had happened accidentally, from around the time they were at his house, where his quirk had first manifested without warning.

“It’s not mean…” Bakugou mumbled, looking away as he stood up. Midoriya had already stopped crying, but there was still fear in the back of those eyes. Bakugou rubbed the back of his head, deciding once more to be the adult, in this situation. “I’m… sorry.”

Midoriya stared at him, eyes blinking in disbelief. Bakugou frowned, focusing his gaze somewhere else to hide his embarrassment. His friend’s shuddering lips formed into a smile, something Bakugou was accustomed to. Midoriya rose up from the ground, happy that Bakugou had listened to him.

“It’s alright, Kacchan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou said dismissively. “So… are we gon’a go back, or what?”

Midoriya shook his head.

“But I wanna use my quirk,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“Can’t we play something else, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked pleadingly, green eyes mixed in rosy hue from the afternoon’s sunny glaze.

“Ugh, fine.”

It wasn’t uncommon for them to stroll the forest. They had found this— as Midoriya dubbed it— sacred place, way before they had entered pre-school. The forest had small riverbanks and miniature caves with wide, grassy meadows and scattered flowerbeds. They would often explore these areas and play without a moment’s hesitation; jumping on pile of leaves or looking for bugs in mossy rocks or fern bushes. 

As time passed by, the scarlet sky began to turn blue; the sun settling down for another tomorrow. They walked back to their favorite spot to catch their breaths. Midoriya sat down with his knees hoisted to his chest while Bakugou laid down on the ground, letting the cool ground relax his tired limbs. They moved their gaze at the moving clouds above, laughing and giggling as they point at odd-looking ones.

Days always ended like this for them, being together side by side, waiting for the scarlet-colored sky to subside completely. It gave Bakugou a sense of calmness, and to be honest—possessiveness too. This was his and Midoriya’s place— a secret base—where times are wasted, and promises are scared.

“Hey, Kacchan?”

“What,” he responded, slowly resting his eyes for a moment.

“Will I… ever get my quirk?”

Bakugou opened his eyes. He sat up and glanced at Midoriya’s form, the latter’s gaze focused on the trees beyond their slanted hill. He would’ve quickly answered ‘No,’ but it felt wrong to do so. Bakugou was never one to lie. He couldn’t exactly tell Midoriya that he can’t, but he also couldn’t tell him he can. He had only received his quirk today, and while he was in pre-school, he had all the chance learn about his quirk.

“I don’t know,” Bakugou answered hastily.

It was a safe and simple answer, but it wasn’t the right response Midoriya was looking for. His friend continued look at the trees, no quivering sobs and shaky breaths coming from those usually trembling lips. Bakugou stared, both baffled and glad that his friend took his answer well.

“I wanna be a hero.”

Bakugou’s ears perked at Midoriya’s mumbled response.

“I… wanna be like All Might,” from there, he can hear those shaky words form in the back of his friend’s throat, but it didn’t turn into bellowed cries. Midoriya continued as Bakugou listened. “I wanna be like Kacchan, too.”

Silence took over when Bakugou couldn’t make out a reply. He began to think, thoughts and questions swirling inside his tiny head. What was he supposed to do? His friend had already accepted he was… powerless, or normal. He was sure Midoriya already knew what word amongst those, but he didn’t dare ask, fearing his friend would cry into bitter tears again. He let his mind wander once more, until an idea lighted up, causing him to stand up abruptly, starling Midoriya at his side.

Bakugou glanced around, lips forming into a triumphant grin when he spotted a rock near their tree. He picked it up and placed it on the tree bark. Midoriya stayed quiet to his side, eyeing him curiously at his antics. Bakugou carved two letters on the bark, his initials B.K. He looked at his work with pride and glanced at Midoriya, walking over to his confused friend.

“Here,” Bakugou offered the rock. “We’re gon’a make a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou said. “If you can’t become a hero. I’ll become one for the two of us while you stay by my side!”

“Eh? But, Kacchan!” Midoriya protested. “You can’t do that.”

Bakugo frowned, stomping his foot on the ground, “don’t tell me what’ta do,” he growled. “It’s because you’re helpless and clumsy that you have to stay with me.”

“But—”

“No buts!” Bakugou said. “Now, come on. Carve your name already.”

Midoriya looked at the rock on Bakugou’s palm. He had a troubled expression on his face, eyes darting back and forth from his hands to his. The freckled child shook his head no. “I don’t think… I can.”

“What?” Bakugou asked, puzzled. “Why?”

“I…” Midoriya gazed hardened. “I can’t, Kacchan,” he clasped his hands tightly together, placing them on his chest. “I just… can’t.”

Bakugou stared at him dumbfounded. He can feel his temper rising again. How dare he? Here he was trying to make him feel better but instead, he declined him with such a pleading look on his uneasy face. Bakugou growled, fingers closing tightly on the rock, feeling the rock’s edges pierced on his palms. “Fine! I’ll do it myself.” He carved Midoriya’s initials below his, lines skewered badly from anger.

“Done,” he threw the rock over the edge of the hill. He was still annoyed from earlier, but it slowly died down when Midoriya’s eyes settled on his, gaze brimming with uncertainty. Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling fed up. He walked in front of Midoriya and stared intensely, causing the latter to cower slightly from the attention. Bakugou scoffed and placed his right hand on his chest, telling Midoriya to do the same.

“You start,” Bakugou ordered.

“B—”

“What did I tell you?”

Midoriya clamped his mouth shut, trying to look to away but Bakugou stomped on the ground, telling him to say his promise. Those pouting lips began to move, Midoriya’s voice hushed and strangely pained, “I… I promise to stay by your side.”

Grinning, Bakugou puffed out his chest and said enthusiastically, “and I promise to become the greatest hero. Even greater than All Might!”

“That could take long, Kacchan,” Midoriya wondered out loud, letting out a yelp when Bakugou growled at him.

“Shut up, you saying I can’t?”

“No Kacchan! I meant—”

“I’ll show you!” Bakugou interrupted grumpily, “just wait, I’ll be the best damn Hero in—” Before Bakugou could finished, a loud ‘Katsuki’ came from the forest entrance. They turned their heads, seeing a mop of ash-blonde hair peeking through the tall grass. The same voice continued to yell over the deafening silence.

“Ma’s here,” Bakugou said with a frown. “I gotta go now.”

He patted the dust and dirt of his clothes, waving a goodbye to Midoriya. He was about to walk away when his hearing picked up Midoriya’s voice again. Bakugou stopped on his tracks and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Are you… gonna come back?”

Bakugou looked at cluelessly, eyes squinting. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’ll come back, dummy. Just be here tomorrow!” Without sparring another look, he ran out of the forest, footfalls echoing.

Midoriya looked onwards until Bakugou’s form disappeared from the tall grass. He closed his eyes and breathed, letting his murmured words be carried by the passing wind, hoping Bakugou can still hear it.

“I’ll always be here, Kacchan.”

Pre-school had just ended yesterday.

Bakugou walked amongst his new friends—or followers, if he was being honest— over to the playground. They talked and played there from morning til’ noon, quirks blazing in mischievous and boastful ways, their laughter bouncing off along the neighborhood. They walked passed numerous homes, carefully passing his household to head over to the metal fences of the now guarded forest entrance. Bakugou rolled his eyes, smiling smugly at the effortless attempt of boarding up the entrance.

“Hey, uh… Bakugou,” his classmate said. “What’re we doing here?”

“Yeah,” the other classmate added. “Looks kind of dangerous.”

Bakugou shook his head, glaring eyes glancing testily over his shoulder. His two classmates immediately closed their mouths. Bakugou bared his teeth and yelled them to scram and leave him be. When he couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, he turned his gaze back to the entrance. He carefully walked to the fences and grasped one of the clipped metal, raising it to crawl through. He dusted off the dirt on his elbows and knees and continued onwards.

The looming tree, with its broken branches and autumn colored leaves, showed in sight once more as he walked closer. The tree was beginning to look old, its barks fallen off at parts and branches starting to lose its colorful leaves. He feared when winter comes next month, the tree couldn’t stay strong from the harsh wind and snow.

Bakugou grasped his bug net tightly, placing it on his shoulder. His eyes settled on a figure underneath the looming tree, their body turned towards the tree’s barks.

Midoriya Izuku, his friend of six years, had a grave look on his freckled cheeks. He was clutching a dry, tattered leave while staring at the leafless branches. Bakugou moved closer, footsteps audible. The movements caused Midoriya to glaze his look over him, the grave expression disappearing quickly.

“Kacchan,” Midoriya greeted cheerfully, like the expression a moment ago wasn’t startling. “What’ya got there?”

“A bug net,” he replied. “Come on. I’m not wasting my time.”

They hiked again, easily finding the forest clearings. The flowerbeds laid withered everywhere but still had its faint, colorful charm. They ran and ran, hands raised with a bug net on grasp and voices filling the meadow’s space. It wasn’t soon that they felt their limbs shaking in exhaustion once more. Bakugou decided they should head back to their tree.

He started to walk ahead, only to stop in his steps when he heard Midoriya’s huffs for air. He glanced confusingly over his shoulder and saw the look of pure fatigue plastered on Midoriya’s face. Bakugou slowed his paced grudgingly, letting Midoriya catch up.

“What’s wrong?”

At first, Midoriya could only answer between gasps and harsh breathing but he forced those lips to move. His faint smile on pale skin making Bakugou wary.

“S-Sorry, Kacchan,” Midoriya said. “It’s nothing. I just need to… rest.”

Bakugou frowned. This had been happening for quite a while now and to be honest, he was starting to get annoyed. His foot tapping intolerantly on the ground, waiting for his friend to even up their pace. When the latter finally reached him, Bakugou started to walk again, a little faster because of his impatience. This time, he didn’t lessen his pace, ignoring the tired voice behind him until they reached their looming tree.

Midoriya had quickly sat on the ground, back leaning against the bare part of the tree. Bakugou stood beside him, arms crossed on his chest.

“Are you now, going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“I… well,” Midoriya murmured, focusing his gaze back to the tattered leave.

“Oi!” Bakugou growled, stomping his foot on the ground. “Look at me when I talk to you!”

Midoriya squeaked, voice agitated as he tried to respond, “I-I’m sorry. I… I’m just, tired, okay?”

“Seriously?” Bakugou asked, bewildered. “You’ve been saying that for years. Are you telling you can’t keep up anymore?”

“Wha— no, Kacchan!” Midoriya argued. “I just… I get tired easily!”

“Uh-huh,” Bakugou scoffed. “If you’re that easily tired then go home, you idiot.”

“No!” Midoriya stood up, using the tree as support. “Let’s go to the riverbank. I promised you, I can keep up, alright?”

“Sure, you can,” Bakugou replied sarcastically. “Do you see yourself? You look paler than usual.”

“I’m fine, Kacchan! Please, let’s just spent time together for once—”

“No,” Bakugou grounded, voice strict and loud. “You’re. Not. Fine.” When he thinks about it, even Midoriya’s usually bright eyes were beginning to dim. It made him worry but at the same time irritated that Midoriya was being stubborn about it.

“If you’re not going home, then I will,” Bakugou retorted. I should’ve known he’d waste my time, Bakugou thought, clutching the net tightly. He turned around and began to walk, foot stomping roughly on the forest floors. His jaw clenched tightly when he disregarded Midoriya’s please to make stay. He had no reason for him stay today. They can hang out some other time, maybe after he was done with Primary School, or even yet, Middle School.

He had a promise to uphold, after all.

“Kacchan!”

Bakugou halted with a scowl. He was about to yell when a cold chill caressed the back of his right shoulder. He flinched, grasping the cool area. He turned around and faced Midoriya’s wounded expression, his friend lurched over with his hands on his knees while he took deep breaths. Bakugou bit the inside of his cheek, dwindling the guilt that was starting pile up in his conscience.

“What,” he barked.

“I…” Midoroya gasped. “I have… something to tell you.”

Bakugou stared, brows creased in between. He continued to clutch the cold area on his shoulder, wondering where the chill came from. “Go on,” Bakugou said, “I’m waiting.”

“Please,” Midoriya said. “D-Don’t hate me when I tell you.”

“Just say it, already.”

Midoriya’s expression turned back to the same look he was wearing before he arrived. He placed his hands around him in comfort, like he was preparing for the worst. Bakugou narrowed his eyes, confused but attentive, waiting for Midoriya to say whatever he had in mind.

It was the first day of Primary School. Winter had passed, and Spring had begun.

Classes started as it was and ended just as so on a sunny afternoon. Bakugou walked along the halls, hands grasping on his backpack’s traps. His friends tagged along behind him, chatting about playing in the arcade since it was Friday today. He focused his slant eyes towards the entrance, hurriedly walking out his school.

It had been months since he last visited the looming tree. He can still perfectly remember the loathing he felt on that day. Those shocked, green eyes brimmed with big, fat, tears. His screams of outburst fixed on the one person who caused it. 

Midoriya Izuku, his friend— no, not anymore—of six years, had broken their promise.

“Hey!” His classmate yelled, interrupting his thoughts, he had a finger pointed on a house they were passing by. The house had its potted plants lay withered below the front windows, dust amassed on the glass. The door had been boarded shut with a notice letter pinned on.

It looked as pathetic as the one who used live there.

“Isn’t that Midoriya’s home?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember him!” His friend said. “His name was Izuku, wasn’t he?”

“No, it wasn’t.” The other kid laughed. “His name was Deku!”

“It’s because he was quirkless, right?” his friend said, laughing in mirth. “Can’t believe he was friends with you, Bakugou.”

“Yeah,” the other sneered. “You even nicknamed him that and still you two were friends? I can imagine the front you have to put up with him to—”

Boom!

The two kids staggered back, limbs tangled on each other as they tripped to the ground.

“Shut up, shut up. Stop saying his name!” Bakugou shouted, smoke and fiery participles discharging on his palm. He bore a sharp, frustrated, glare. Teeth grinded tightly with his shoulders hunched menacingly. There was nothing, but dreadful hate pooled inside those amber eyes.

“Sorry!” his friend said, still cowering on the ground.

Bakugou scoffed angrily, closing his burnt palm and hiding it in his pockets. “Good, because if I hear his name again—” he trailed off with a snarl, causing the two to sit upright and continue apologizing to him. Bakugou frowned petulantly, feet heading to the playground. Here he was, trying to forget that quirkless, cowardly, helpless runt but those two had to open their blabbermouths.

Evening came, and dinner was served.

Bakugou had just finish brushing his teeth. He walked off the small plastic stool and headed towards his parent’s bedroom, feet shuffling from tiredness and sleep. He had never liked being tucked in by his parents—fearing as his status as an independent kid will get ruined—but at this moment, where he felt his small heart twinge after hearing that name, Bakugou had no choice but to seek comfort.

Nearing his parent’s bedroom, his body collided on his Dad’s knees, a surprised expression settled behind his Dad’s framed-glasses. He heard his old man mutter an apology, feeling the man’s calloused hand nestled on his spiky hair. 

“A-Ah, Katsuki. I’m so, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” his Dad said, offering a smile. “Do you need something?”

Bakugou nodded reluctantly. He turned his gaze elsewhere and raised his arms, tinged of pink blossoming on his cheeks. “Can you… tuck me to bed?” he grumbled.

“Oh?” His dad picked him up with a gentle hold. “Its been a while since you asked,” he chuckled.

Bakugou glared, wriggling his body from his Dad’s hold. He whacked his tiny hand on his old man’s cheek, mad that he was being teased.

“Ack! Sorry, sorry,” his Dad said with another smile. “Gimme a moment. I have to talk with your Mother downstairs, okay?”

Bakugou would had protested, but he remember he wasn’t a spoiled brat anymore. He was placed back on the carpeted floor. His dad patted his head once more before heading downstairs. Crossing his arms grumpily, Bakugou walked over the staircase, impatience causing his feet to venture downstairs. When he reached the hallway headed towards the living room, he heard his parents hushed voices.

He peeked from the corners of the wall.

There was only one light lit up in the room. It was next to the telephone stand, where his parents were standing, backs turned to him. Bakugou can barely see their expressions from where he was. His dad had one arm sprawled on his Mom’s shoulder, while the latter had a tight grip on the phone, with her other hand grasped on his Dad’s hand.

Not liking being kept in the dark, Bakugou slowly crept closer, hiding behind the sofa. From there, he learned who his Mom was talking to. It was his Aunt, Midoriya Inko.

Bakugou’s brows creased in apprehension. Of course, they would keep in touch. She was one of his Dad’s closest friend. She also had been Bakugou’s temporary sitter when his parents left for business trips. He liked her, to be honest, especially her home-cooked meals, but she was also the Mother of a certain someone and for that, he’d rather avoid and forget Aunt Inko, too.

“The heck are you doing, you brat?”

Bakugou yelped, his shoulder grasped firmly by his Mom’s hand. He was spun around, meeting his Mom’s tight smile as she crouched down to his level. She never had that air of assurance, but she did give off a sense of foreboding. Good thing Bakugou wasn’t afraid of that. He returned the same gesture, fingers clutched on his Mom’s hand, forcibly trying to remove it.

“Who taught you to eavesdrops, huh?”

“Hey now, that’s enough you two,” his Dad scolded.

His head was patted gently like before while his Mom retracted her hold on his shoulder. She stood erect with her hands on her hips. Bakugou huffed, and looked away, arms crossed over his chest with his head held high.

“I thought you were waiting upstairs, Katsuki?” his Dad asked.

“You took too long,” he murmured stubbornly.

His Mom tilt her head to the side and asked what Bakgou was talking about. Bakugou quickly switched his gaze to his Dad’s, shaking his head not to tell her. Unfortunately, he disobeyed, smiling when he told her. His ears felt hot when he heard his Mom laugh, her face morphed into an actual smile for once.

“Seriously? Oh, this is too precious.”

Bakugou was suddenly picked up, causing to flail slightly. He wanted to whine but he lacked the energy to do so, feeling his eyelids drop slowly each time his Mom walked up the staircase, his Dad following suit. He heard his bedroom door being opened, and felt the softness of his mattress touch his back. A warm blanket was tucked nicely on his chest, causing him to nudge his cheek to its cotton folds.

“Wished we could take a picture,” he heard his Mom said, the mattress dipping from her weight.

“We could, but he’d hate us for it.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, telling them to be quiet. His response caused a round of hushed chuckles from his parents. He felt the weight leaved his mattress, a pair of soft lips kissed on his forehead. He heard the switch of his night light turned off, followed by shuffle of footsteps heading towards his bedroom door.

“Goodnight and sleep tight, Katsuki.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be visiting someone. You better not make a fussed when I wake you up, okay? Night, honey.”

The door closed shut, leaving a curious, yet sleepy Bakugou on the comfort of his bed.

Everything was bright.

Too bright for his eyes.

The hallway walls were white, and so were the dull, tiled floors. The doors were made of sturdy wood, but looked like cell doors. People wore white long jackets, the hems reaching their knees. They had one hand clutched on a grey plate, and black, plastic ornaments hanged around their necks. Bakugou felt himself cower from his unknown surroundings, his hands each clutching unto his parent’s like a safeguard.

He already knew why they were here, his Mom mentioning about going to see someone close to him. But, he doesn’t know who. For all he knows, it could be just a distant relative, but his Dad was carrying an All Might stuff toy, while his Mom held a group of purple iris flowers in her unused hand.  Bakugou suddenly felt dread itching in his senses.

As they wandered off the second floor, they finally reached a door labelled 015. His Dad let go of his hand, offering a comforting smile when Bakugou’s face scrunched into uncertainness. The old man raised his knuckles against the door, two loud thuds rebounding on the door. A couple of shuffled footsteps followed, then the rustling of the door knob as it twisted opened.

Nowonder it felt weird coming here.

Standing through the door was none other than Midoriya Inko. She looked tired, skin pale and eyes drained of her usual fiber. Her hair was in a frazzled mess, clothes wrinkled probably from sleeping on uneven spaces. When they settled on each other’s gaze, Aunt Inko’s eyes lit up immediately, her lips began to quiver, relieve tears bearing down her round cheeks.

His Mom was the first to greet Aunt Inko, arms raised to hug her. The latter returned the gesture, letting loose sobs move pass her lips. Bakugou looked at them baffled, wondering what the heck was happening. He tugged on his Dad’s fingers, demanding for an explanation. His Dad didn’t give a proper reply, only pushing him through the door when his Mom and Aunt Inko moved out of the doorway to talk outside.

Bakugou was once again, surrounded in white, but this time, colorful portraits were hanged inside the room. There was only one window, and a armchair placed beside it. There was also a side drawer with a transparent vase placed on top of it. Bakugou eyes wandered, until it was fixed on a row of hanged curtains, cascaded into a long circle.

Ever the curious, Bakugou walked over the curtains and raised his hand, fingers touching the fabric. He was about to pull it away when the top of his hand was covered by a large hand. His dad wore a forced smile on his face, something Bakugou wasn’t accustomed to. His hands were gently pulled from the curtains, his Dad herding him over to the armchair.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. I know you’re worried, but you have to wait for your Aunt Inko, okay?”

“Okay,” Bakugou replied unsurely.

What was he supposed to be worried about?

Looking for answers, Bakugou got up from the chair when his Dad left him. He hovered to the door, listening outside. He can still hear his parents and Aunt Inko’s voice talking. Deciding now was the time, he walked over to the sea of curtains and stood in front of it, one arm dangling to his side while the other tugged on the fabric again.

Bakugou glanced back to the door, then to back to his occupied hand. He frowned in thought, contemplating not to, but there was a strange sensation pulling him behind those set of curtains and he couldn’t help but indulged. Grasping it tightly, he flung fabric to the side, the sound of metal rods and metal rings grazing each other, filling the silence inside the room.

His eyes instantly settled on numerous machines, then to the poles placed beside it. There were packs of fluids inside plastic bags, tubes attached to it. It led to the white bed, of white sheets, above a white hospital gown, covering pale, freckled skin—

Bakugou staggered back, tripping on his behind, eyes broadening in shock as he placed his gaze on a mop of curly, wild, green hair.

Midoriya Izuku, a former friend—or best friend—of six, impossible, years, was lying on a hospital bed, with his eyes closed shut, mask on and breathing slowly.

Bakugou pulled his hands off the curtains like he had been burnt, dropping the figurine on the tiled floor. He can hear voices coming from the other side of the wall, the knob opening hurriedly. There were hands clutched unto his arms, but he elbowed their attempts, allowing time for himself to push off from the floor. His knees buckled but he forced himself to stand.

Everything felt difficult. His chest would heave every time he breathes. Eyesight cloudy, every time he blinks. He can feel his cheeks dampening, feel weight on his shoulders but most of all, he can only feel that one, certain emotion, something that hadn’t disappeared, even after months has passed.

Hate. Hate. Hate.

Bakugou scowled and bit his lips. He couldn’t shout, he couldn’t cry. He was surrounded by troubled looks, with only words of comforts coming from their mouths. He shook his head, and placed his hands on his ears. He didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to understand. For him, it was still fresh. For him…

Goodbyes can last for a lifetime.

“Hey. Hey, Bakugou!”

Bakugou stirred, but he didn’t move from the desk. He had his arms sprawled around his head, blocking the sunshine passing through the window. He can a hand nudging on his shoulder, causing him to bare his teeth.

“You sure he won’t beat the shit out of us if we woke him?”

“Nah, probably not.”

“That’s really not reassuring.”

“Goddamn it, shut the fuck up,” Bakugou growled, a little muffled. He grabbed the offending hand, and griped it tightly, hot burst of flames coming from his palms. He felt the hand he was holding hardened in his grasps. He scowled, letting the hand go as he slowly, and reluctantly opened his gaze, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

Kaminari and Kirishima hovered to his side, giving him the look.

“What,” Bakugou said. “What the hell do you, two, want?”

They shared each other a look, which made Bakugou’s already blazed temper, heightened.

“We thought you’d… you know,” Kirishima trailed off, hand touching his temple. “Hang out with us?”

“Why?” He deadpanned.

“Because Class have just ended, man.” Kaminari replied. “Almost everyone’s gone home.”

Bakugou blinked. How long was he asleep? He looked around the classroom, devoid of its rowdy classmates and their incessant chatter. There were still a few more people sitting on their desks, either tidying their things or waiting for somebody. Bakugou closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before getting up from his chair, and grabbing his back.

“So…” Kirishima started.

“So, what?” Bakugou retorted, securing his bag on his shoulder.

“You coming or…?”

Bakugou looked at him, then to Kaminari. He sighed, with a creased between his brows. He shook his head and placed one hand on Kirishima’s shoulder.

“No,” he said. “Not today.”

Bakugou hastily jogged to the door, opening it quickly. He was about to walk through when he bumped unto his classmate’s side. He huffed a breath, glancing over his shoulder to glare.

“Watch it,” Bakugou snapped.

“Pretty sure I was looking at where I was going.”

“Can it, crowface,” Bakugou replied, disappearing from the door, “I don’t have time for your shit.”

 The door was left open. Kirishima hovered to his classmate’s side, clasping one reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry bout’ that, Shinsou,” Kirishima said. “He’s feeling a little sour from earlier.”

“I figured as much.”

Bakugou looked up, eyes wandering around the metal fences. A lot of time had passed. His days in U.A. had been both thrilling and problematic. He was already in his first year and within a few more years, he’d finally become a full-fledged hero.

Just as he promised.

Walking further to the metal fences, he spotted the clipped path he used to crawl to. Its small now, enveloped with grapevines and withered leaves. He moved his gaze elsewhere and looked up, noticing the barbs wires from before had been removed. A small smirk formed at the corner of his lips.

He threw his bag over the side, then looked behind. With no one around, he began to climb the high fence, and jumped to the other side, his shoes crumbled in dirt with the hem of his pants soaked from the unkept, wet patches of what he remembers, were the vacant forest.

Tidying himself, he grabbed his bag and continued venturing in the forest. It wasn’t long before he spotted the familiar tree, planted on a slanted hill. He raised his arm, covering his gaze from the sunny rays and continued onwards. The front of his shoes bumped unto overgrown roots, dead and withered on the colorless ground of the meadows. The looming tree had lost most of its branches; leafless and barks bare.

Bakugou stood in front of the tree and slowly placed his fingertips, tracing the tree’s wood.

He stopped when he felt the familiar carvings of his, well… their initials. The dark colors had turned into dull grey, wood filled with holes with termites slowly eating its skin. He withdrew his hand. He hadn’t notice it until now but, it seemed that no matter how harsh and unforgiving the days were, the tree stood strong in its place, unyielding and steadfast.

Bakugou closed his eyes. He still had one place left to visit and he hoped, when he finally kept their promise...

...He’d be there, with his genuine smile, and bright green eyes.