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For the first time in God knows how long, Bakugou Katsuki has finally mustered the willpower to stand in front of the bathroom mirror and intently gaze at his reflection. With eyes darting erratically from one corner of his face to another, the reflection staring back almost looked unrecognizable to him.
Long gone was the burning intensity that used to surround his crimson irises which sent people scurrying away even before he breathed a word. Bakugou’s crown of blonde spikes has outgrown abundantly ever since he made the vow to himself that he would not cut a single strand until graduation day, a vow born out of that emotion-laden confrontation he himself initiated with Midoriya Izuku back in his first year in UA. He is certain now more than ever how that night at Ground Beta would have ended up with more than just bruised limbs and swollen faces between him and Deku had All Might not intervened. It has been two years since but the words that the great hero left them with still ring crystal clear in his brain as if the hero himself is speaking to him at the moment: “If you two can recognize each other and honestly raise each other up, you can become the best heroes who both win and rescue.”
Katsuki’s eyes continue to scan his face on the mirror, taking notice for the first time the hint of crow’s feet that was beginning to form around his eyes, as he thoughtfully recalls how he trudged his way back to his dorm room that night, slamming the door in retreat as he seethed in frustration at himself more than anything else. Back then, he questioned All Might’s words. 15 year-old Bakugo Katsuki could not understand why he should acknowledge the one person who has always looked down on him and made him doubt the strength that other people put him in a pedestal for. Deku. Whose spirits alone were almost unjustifiably formidable as the weapons wielded by ancient blacksmiths. Deku. The one person whose presence made him feel vulnerable no matter how high the walls he surrounded himself with. Deku. The one person who persistently trailed behind him, who Katsuki never imagined would be able to catch up to him in this universe or any other existing parallel ones. Deku. The one person who had all the reasons in the world to run ahead and leave Katsuki behind when he wanted to but instead is still running alongside him because he chose to.
He watches himself as tears threatened to spill at the memory of how that realization made his younger self almost double over as though All Might punched him again in the gut with full force. The realization that Deku was more than just what he forced himself to construe him to be. For years, it had worked for Bakugou to suppress these thoughts and emotions to a dark corner of his subconscious that having to ruminate about them in a span of an evening forcefully pushed his pent-up bubble of mixed frustration, anger, fear, and confusion to expand in hyper speed and before he knew it, he was burying his face in the pillows and his screams tore through like the voices of a thousand tortured banshees. Katsuki was not aware of how the anguish he nurtured over the years like a second self made a home out of his insides and has grown too large for his body to contain, causing his chest to erupt until his body was racking from the sobs that were uncontrollably escaping from him. The tears did not stop flowing even when he felt a crushing pain in his chest with each labored breath. If he had not fallen asleep first from exhaustion, Katsuki knew he would have blown off either his bed or probably the wall that separated his room from Kirishima’s. How much pride did he possess back then for him to think…
Katsuki inhales sharply, closing his eyes as he takes a step back from the mirror, deliberately stopping his train of thought and instead initiating a breathing exercise to slow down his mind. He counts from one to ten, and ever so slowly, he opens his eyes and stares at the man whose face he is beginning to be well acquainted with. With unfaltering attention, Katsuki watches as the reflection mimics his movements; both of them running their fingers through their golden waterfall of a hair, smoothing out the tangles that formed during sleep.
Ever since his last session in therapy ended a little over a year ago, Katsuki has adamantly avoided looking at his reflection longer than necessary lest the red-eyed beast he used to himself as awakens and takes over him again and magnanimously tramples on everything he had worked so arduously to rebuild over the past two years. This particular morning is the longest he can remember having to see his face in a long, long time, but he can feel no beast stirring. There had never been a beast, he knows that now. There was only an overly glorified child, whose ego flourished faster than his own body and infiltrated his young mind and twisted the way he viewed himself and his place in the world, perceiving people with quirks not as powerful as his to be beneath him. Not without help, that child inside somehow found a way to fight the demons he has grown comfortable living with, bringing Katsuki to where he is now. Katsuki no longer sees himself as a half-stranger. He knows he has come a long way and this is him now…
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Katsuki’s reverie is interrupted by a loud knocking on the door followed by his mother calling out for him in a slightly alarmed tone.
“Katsuki! Do I have to fish you out of the tub? How long are you going to stay in there? Don’t you dare drown on your graduation day!”
Some things do never change, Katsuki thinks, and they are the better that way. His mom’s ramblings make him smile, but he answers back.
“I’m not taking a bath yet and Mitsuki, your son knows how to swim. I’ll be out in a while,” Katsuki half shouts as he hastily gathers his hair in a loose pony tail.
For a short period of time, while Katsuki was still in therapy, he tried calling his parents ‘okaasan’ and ‘otoosan’ but on the third day, Mitsuki just snapped during dinner, slammed her palms on the table and said in a quiet voice, “That’s it. I’m not having this anymore. Just call me Mitsuki and call him Masaru, we’ll still love you. Always have, always will. I’m not saying that again. You can see how your father is openly cringing being called ‘otoosan’, don’t deny it, Masaru”, she added when he saw the man about to protest. Katsuki was mildly surprised but appreciated his mom’s straightforwardness. It felt too forced to call his parents with honorifics anyway.
He opens the door and his mother is standing there with a hand on her hip. Katsuki has grown so much he is now almost a head taller than her.
“I’ll just be heading somewhere for a while. I’ll be back around noon to prepare for the ceremony later,” Katsuki informs his mom.
Mitsuki smirks and slightly raises an eyebrow. “And that somewhere would be the Midoriya’s residence I assume?”
Katsuki’s ears turn a light shade of pink as he avoids the knowing look his mother is giving him, unnecessarily scratching the nape of his neck just to do something with his hand.
“Well… yeah. I, uh. We agreed to, uh, see each other and uh…”
“Stop stammering you dimwit! Your man is waiting for you. Get going!” Mitsuki tells him as she grabs a shirt from the back of the bathroom door and shoves it for Katsuki to wear. Katsuki pulls the shirt down and successfully sticks his head out of the neckline as he is being pushed to the genkan.
Mitsuki leans against the wall and with a fond look on her still youthful face, she says, “Katsuki, you know Masaru and I love you, right?”
This catches Katsuki off guard, making him stop for a second as he is tying his shoelaces. He does not show Mitsuki the smile plastered on his face upon hearing the question. Damnit, he curses inwardly. He has been smiling a lot today and he has not even been awake for more than a couple of hours.
“I thought I remember you saying you’ll never say that again. Turning back on your word, Mituski?” Katsuki throws back at her as he stands up, brushing off invisible lint on his shirt. Before Mitsuki comes up with a comeback, he adds, “But yeah, I do.”
He leans down and plants a kiss gentle kiss on top of her head. The gesture surprises Mitsuki and before she knows it, Katsuki is already running out the door and is left with the fading echo of his “Ittekimasu!”
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hands buried deep inside his jean pockets, Katsuki walks briskly down the street, only mildly aware of the breeze cooling the exposed skin of his face and arms. As though having a mind of their own, Katsuki’s legs carried him along the streets of his childhood, knowing which turns to take the same way he knows the answer to one plus one is two.
On his way, Katsuki passes by the playground where he and Deku used to spend afternoons playing heroes fighting imaginary villains, which after today’s formalities will soon be the game they will be playing for the rest of their lives, and anything around them can be put at stake. Katsuki wonders how Deku must be feeling; he is not just another graduating hero after all. He is about to officially commence his hero career as All Might’s successor, the next symbol of peace in the eyes of the citizens and the next prize trophy in the eyes of the members of the League of Villains. Katsuki shakes his head, as if to physically rid his head of these thoughts, silently making a reminder not to get ahead of himself. Not to get ahead of Deku. First things first, anyway. Graduation.
After a couple of minutes more of walking up and down roads too early to be littered with people, Katsuki finds himself climbing the stairs to the third floor of the building where the Midoriyas live. Taking the steps two at a time, Katsuki reaches the floor in no time and rings the doorbell to the Midoriya household. It is Inko who opens the door.
“Oh, Katsuki-kun, good morning! Izuku mentioned that you’ll be coming today. Come inside,” Inko steps aside and makes way for Katsuki, and closes the door behind them. Katsuki is taking off his shoes when he hears hurrying steps towards him and Inko-san and then the sound of Deku’s voice floating in their direction. “Mooom, is it Kacchan?” Deku appears from around the corner in a shirt that says “shirt” and an All Might shorts. This dork, Katsuki thinks to himself. Deku’s emerald eyes meet Katsuki’s ruby ones. Deku’s face breaks into a smile that is too wide for his face, looking like a tiny diamond held up under the sun, the shine of his million facets almost blinding. “Kacchan, come on. Let’s go to my room.” Katsuki nods at Inko-san before following Deku inside.
Going through the motions of a fast-paced life where almost everything can change in the blink of an eye, Katsuki can say that Deku’s room seems to be one of the few things that remain in a state of constancy. The same old posters of All Might decorates the wall above his bed frame and figurines of various sizes are lined up neatly on a wall cabinet on another side of the room. Deku’s desk is still partially littered with academic books and his hero analysis notebooks as though tomorrow is another school day. The only thing Katsuki notices is different is the photos; they have grown in number throughout their time in high school that they can all barely fit on the corkboard. Katsuki can remember it having only a photo of Deku and Inko-san from when Deku got his first All Might figurine and the other a photo of Deku’s and Kacchan’s first day in kindergarten school.
Katsuki scans the photographs with a wistful expression; there’s one of Uraraka in a pink and yellow two-piece swimsuit being carried by a bored Todoroki and an awkward-stiff Iida on their crisscrossed arms, another one with Todoroki effortlessly carrying a flustered Iida in bridal style during the cultural festival, a photo of Kaminari, Mina, Kirishima, Sero posing with prayer hands surrounding a confused Deku. On the bottom of the corkboard, Katsuki notes a commonality among the photos: they are all of him and Deku together. Katsuki hopes Deku does not hear the noise he makes when he swallows the lump stuck in his throat. He recognizes one with him and Deku in their hero uniforms, way back when he still found smiling to be a tedious activity so a scowl clouds his face in contrast with Deku whose face was all laugh lines and sunshine. Next to it is of him and Deku at his favorite ramen house, their first dinner out together which took Katsuki weeks before he was finally able to ask Deku without his palms sweating at an abnormal rate and endangering the people in proximity. He reaches out for the photo and gently tugs it out of the board and brings it closer to his face, looking out for any details he may have missed before.
Unbeknownst to Katsuki, Deku has come up to stand by his side, mirroring the earnest expression on Katsuki’s face as they are both flooded with memories of the said ramen night.
“It’s still the best night of my life, you know,” Deku says, his voice lower than his normal register.
Katsuki responds without looking up from the photo.
“Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? A recency effect of some sort? Shouldn’t that night All Might granted you One for All be the best?”
Katsuki hears the smile in Deku’s voice when he answers. “First of all, Kacchan, I write hero analyses. Accuracy is my expertise. Second, that dinner’s not the most recent we had. Lastly, technically, it was not yet night when All Might gave me One for All. So there.”
Even before Katsuki blurts out his next question, Deku is already ahead and answers him. “It’s simply because it’s the night I got you back in my life, Kacchan.”
Katsuki turns to face Deku but his forest eyes are fixated on the photo on Katsuki’s hand. “I mean, you have always been there, physically, but that’s about it. When you asked me if we could go to this place, it was only after we got back to our dorm and I was finally alone in my room that I realized I have been waiting for something like that to happen and it finally did. That night set things in motion for us, Kacchan, that’s why it’s the best night of my life.”
Katsuki does not say anything in return. There’s no need anyway. He just watches as Deku takes the photo from him and gently grazes his thumb on their images. With closed eyes, Deku touches his lips on the photo and tacks it back on its place the corkboard.
Deku’s voice quivers ever so slightly when he speaks. “Now, come on. Let’s already get to the reason you came here today before I flood this room with tears, and you know as well as I do that that is not impossible.”
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For the second time today, Katsuki finds himself seated in front of another bathroom mirror, having to stare at himself again. Deku has removed the string that held his hair up when he arrived and Katsuki’s hair is now flowing elegantly, rivalling Rapunzel’s. Katsuki absentmindedly runs his fingers through the golden locks until Deku appears from behind with a pair of shears.
“Are you totally sure about this Kacchan? I mean, you – “ Deku asks but Katsuki interrupts him before he continues. He does not want to have second thoughts about something he has already decided on.
“Yes, Deku. I am sure. Let’s get on with this.”
They make eye contact through their reflected versions on the mirror. Deku cannot say that doing this for Katsuki does not make him anxious; his hands are trembling somewhat. Katsuki could have asked Kirishima who probably has better knowledge of haircuts than Deku does, or even Kaminari who has never had a bad hair day in his life, but it is him who Katsuki approached and Deku could not just opt not to be a part of something Katsuki considers as taking a huge leap out of his comfort zone.
Deku silently takes a deep breath, but the rise and fall of his chest does not escape Katsuki’s eyes.
“Deku.”
“Hmm, Kacchan?”
“You know I trust you on this, right?”
Katsuki’s words are enough to bring forth this certain kind of glint that makes Deku’s eyes shine with determination. Deku snips the air with the shears to warm up the screw that seemed to have tightened over months of unuse. Careful not to get the blades too close to Katsuki’s neck, Deku starts combing Katsuki’s hair until no stray locks are left in front. Before Deku takes the first snip of his hair, Katsuki cuts him off with a “Deku, wait!” and quickly reaches for the freckled boy’s hand, which the other willingly offers, and tilts his neck until his cheek is cradled in Deku’s calloused palm. Katsuki closes his eyes.
“I trust you, Deku. With this. More than just this. With my life and so much more.”
It takes everything for Deku not to break down then and there. His fingers tighten against Katsuki’s angular jawline, smoothing a rough patch of skin. Hesitantly, he pulls his hand and starts getting the work done.
Grasping Katsuki’s hair by the nape of his neck with his free hand, Deku struggles a little bit as he let the scissors follow an imaginary line and starts to cut just above where his fist holds Katsuki’s hair. It helps that the blonde is steadying his head.
Not another word is spoken between the two until Deku finishes shaving off the last bits remaining on the sides. Feeling satisfied with the result, Deku sets the shears on the counter and steps back to inspect his work. Katsuki, sensing the absence of the snip snip snip, languidly opens one eye after the other, uncertain what to expect. Huh, is all Katsuki can muster internally at the moment. It’s Deku who blurts out the obvious.
“Kacchan, you look like your old self.” Deku’s arms are crossed against his chest, with his chin on one hand, as if in deep contemplation.
Deku’s words throws Katsuki’s heartbeat off its rhythm. If he is going to be entirely honest with himself now, Katsuki admits that that scares him. The mere thought of being associated with who he used to be and the things and words he did and said, Katsuki wants none of it anymore.
“This is the only thing from my old self I will ever bring back.”
Katsuki does not realize he says those words out loud until Deku encloses him in a tight embrace from behind, with the other’s head buried in his hair of dandelion fields. Katsuki grasps Deku’s hands sloppily with his own and rests his head on Deku’s arms, peppering his scars with soft kisses.
“Thank you, Deku.” Katsuki whispers against Deku’s arm. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
Deku’s voice is raspy when he answers. “There’s more you that have done for me, Kacchan and there is more that is waiting for the both of us out there.”
Katsuki releases a breath he did not realize he has been holding.
"I cannot wait to fight alongside you as the other half of the Wonder Duo, Deku."
"So do I, Ground Zero. So do I.”