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Izuku Midoryia walked briskly down the school halls, anxious to get to his destination. He had already talked to his mother the day before, explaining himself to her as pertinent as he could while still being brief. It’s not like it’s irregular for him to stay after school anyways, what with practice and everything. The school staff had been kind enough to inform Coach Yagi for him, there had been a whole press conference and everything with the Principal, Vice Principal, his home room teacher Mr. Aizawa even, and lastly Izuku sitting at the end of the oblong table as the guest of honor.
Yeah, more like criminal on trial.
That ordeal had been excruciating and embarrassing, and if Izuku had to be honest, tedious and unnecessary. Perhaps even a little delusionally grandeur.
But he was the one who had to tell his mother. She didn’t seem upset, just… disappointed maybe? And that was the worst part about his whole ordeal. He disappointed his mother.
Really , everyone is just over reacting. The whole thing is completely unfair!
Izuku shoved his frustration down as he reached the room he was looking for. No point in trying to fight it now. It’ll only be for one week after all. Just gotta grin and bear it. He opens the door to the detention room and shuffles in awkwardly. This place is totally foreign to him. Unmarked by bad behavior for three solid years up until this point, he never had any reason to come to this side of the woods and his imagination got the better of him. He’d been expecting peeling paint and busted lights, marked up desks and crooked chairs, kids standing and yelling and throwing crumpled paper balls, teachers pulling and swatting at the ruckus like police in a riot. To his shock, and maybe a little disillusionment, the room is absolutely ordinary. There are only two other kids in the room and they’re both sitting in their seats on opposite sides of the room. There’s one teacher who he doesn’t recognize at the front of the notably clean and unbroken classroom. Evidently the teacher recognizes him though as he steps up to the desk with his pink slip.
“Izuku Midoryia? What is UA’s best jabber doing here?” Right, he must have seen one of my matches , Izuku concludes. At this point who hasn’t. His reputation on the boxing team has gotten him his fair share of popularity throughout the school. It’s about as equally a blessing as it is a curse. So he feels only slightly guilty for not recognizing the teacher back.
He’s quick to glance at the name plate as he places his slip on the desk and pushes it towards the rather large older man. “Uh, Principal Nezu’s orders, Mr. Kan.” Christ, he hopes his easy smile he fixes on his face doesn’t look as fake as he sounds. “Absence recovery days.”
There's a look of immediate realization and understanding that sets into Mr. Kan’s face, like he’s suddenly figured out something obvious. Izuku’s smile tightens. “Ah I see, of course! Go on and take your seat then, son. And if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!” Biting the inside of his cheek, he turns on his heel and quickly takes a seat in the back of the class.
Maybe this will be harder than he originally thought.
Once sitting, Izuku immediately pulls out his school work and begins to go over his notes. He’s pretty sure there’s going to be a test soon, and even though he’s already studied it couldn’t hurt to go over the material one more time. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyways. There’s a noise at the front of the class, the door opening and somebody walking in, but Izuku’s focus is already deep into his notebook. Mr. Aizawa always throws curve balls at his class when it comes to his tests. Passing always feels like running down a passageway with the walls closing behind you; you passed, but you’re left out of breath and mentally and physically destroyed afterwards.
Suddenly a voice way too close asks, “So what are you in for?”
Izuku shrieks and nearly topples out of his seat.
There’s now another student sitting to his right and he looks wildly amused by Izuku’s disheveled state. Izuku glances at the front of the class where it looks like Mr. Kan has begun to doze off. He straightens himself out in his seat and clears his throat before answering. “Um, aren’t you supposed to not ask that or something?”
The other kids snorts at this. “In prison, maybe. You watch too many movies. Unless…” he trails off while looking Izuku up and down, scrutiny blazing in his red eyes.
“U-unless what? Stop that.” Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“This your first time?”
Shit, is it that obvious?
“No!” he replies a little too quickly. “I mean, why is that the conclusion you reached while eyeing me up?” And just to be cheeky he adds “Creep.”
The kid rolls his eyes, but he looks more amused than before. “Settle down there, jailbait. You just don’t look the type to be a regular here. Sure you’ve got some muscle on you, but you look too much like a damn nerd with your face shoved in your books like that.”
Izuku’s face flames up. What’s this guy’s problem? Aren’t you supposed to sit in silence in detention? But then again, how would he know? He hates that this stranger is reading him so easily. “That’s very judgmental and close minded of you to assume. I’ll have you know, I’ve been here my fair share of times for disorderly conduct.”
So now we’re lying to the total stranger to make ourself out to be a delinquent.
Izuku doesn't know why or where it came from, but if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s for the entire student body to treat him as though the world would suddenly stop turning if Izuku Midoryia stepped out of line.
And besides. He feels oddly challenged by this boy sitting beside him. Innocently albeit, but challenged nonetheless.
The blonde boy must feel the same, because he’s got this wicked grin on his face now and there’s this almost animalistic fire in his eyes. Izuku wonders offhandedly if he’s made a mistake before his seatmate counters. “Is that so,” he drawls out. “Disorderly conduct, huh? Got anything specific there, nerd?”
Izuku doesn’t miss a beat. “I broke into the chemistry supply closet.”
To his surprise, the other kid is laughing now. He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over his desk. “Oh shit! Oh fuck! ” he wheezes out. “Oh my god, you really are a nerd! God, that’s too perfect! Did you try to cook meth there too, ay Breaking Bad!” He’s almost in tears as another fit of laughter busts out.
Izuku wants to be mad or at least annoyed, his mouth pulled tightly in a thin line, but in truth he’s holding in his own laughter. The other kid’s laugh is nice and pleasant sounding, not too loud or over the top. It’s genuine and that makes it contagious. He swallows down his own amusement before asking, “Okay, Mr. Know It All, what are you in for then?”
The blonde pulls himself upright in his seat again and gives Izuku a sideways innocent grin that sends shivers down his spine. Somehow he looks way more menacing smiling sweetly. “Punched a kid in the nuts twelve times.”
Izuku chokes on air. Sputtering, he gets out, “Y-you did what?!”
The blonde shrugs nonchalauntly as he repeats himself. “Punched a kid in the-”
“No, no, I got it the first time! Just… why? ”
The kid turns his full body in his seat to face Izuku. He looks pointedly more on edge now. “Okay, so get this. We got this project, right? Make a machine using multiple simple machines to do something basic like draw a circle or feed some fish or whatever. It’s full on Tom and Jerry, over the top contraptions being built for something stupidly simple to do in the first place, but again, whatever . Laziness is the key to ingenuity.”
The kid is really getting riled up as he tells his story. He gestures with his hands a lot as he speaks, something Izuku can’t help but find enduring. He hangs on to every word as he listens. “Anyways, so the rules are pretty simple, incorporate at least three simple machines in our final contraption and have it complete the task it’s built to do. Easy shit, right?” Izuku nods quickly, encouraging him to go on. “So it’s a partner project and my partner does all of nothing besides deciding that our hunk of shit’s purpose for existing is to water flowers. Whatever! I don’t care what it does! Hell, I don’t even care that she didn’t even do anything after that! It’s an easy project; I come up with a design by the end of class and have it built in one day. It’s got a pulley system, a working lever, an inclined plane or wedge or whatever the fuck. I even threw in some fire into our design just to be extra.”
Izuku can’t stop grinning as he listens. The kid is so passionate about his story. There’s an edge in his voice clearly from pent up emotions. Izuku meanwhile is maddeningly curious as to how this will all tie back to punching another kid in the balls twelve times.
“So we’re presenting, right? Everyone's got their own hunks of shits set up and I got ours ready. We run our machine and it works perfectly because I made it so of course it does.” Izuku resists the twitching urge to roll his eyes. “But the fucking bucket of water is empty so the flowers don’t get watered. I go fill it with water and come back, run it again, and wouldn’t you fucking know it, it fucking still works and this time the water comes out and the stupid fake ass flowers are watered. Whoopty fucking doo.” The kid slams his palm down on his desk, causing the teacher up at the front to stir and Izuku to involuntarily straighten up.
“But that crusty ass bitch of a teacher decides to dock us points for it ‘not working the first time’”. He puts air quotes around the ‘not working’ part. “To which I’m like; The FUCK you mean it didn’t work? It did work, there just wasn’t any water in the goddamn bucket the first time. That’s like if I built a robot or something and tried to make it move with a remote and it didn’t move and I realized, oh hey oops! I forgot to put batteries into the remote! Here let me fix that real quick. And then the robot moves and I get docked points because I forgot to put the batteries in. Like??” He gestures wildly around the air like he’s swatting violently at something with both arms. “I still made a fully functioning robot! It’s not like it was broken before I put the stupid batteries in! It didn’t suddenly magically start working properly because I tweaked it’s design, I just put in some fucking batteries! ”
Izuku covers his mouth to hide his widening smile. He thinks his metaphor is a little strange, but he gets it. “That,” he hesitates, thinking of how exactly he should phrase his next words. “That’s kind of bullshit.”
“No, it’s not kind of bullshit, you damn nerd! It’s a whole factory of bullshit! Churning out bullshit day in and day out! You get paid extra for working the night shift of manufacturing grade A bullshit and then they take a pay cut from you for forgetting the fucking betteries God damn it! ”
A laugh finally burst out of Izuku’s chest. His eyes widen as he covers his mouth with both hands, looking like he’s been caught doing something he’s not suppose to. The kid only stares blankly back at him. Another laugh escapes him and suddenly it’s his turn to double over. He snorts with how hard he’s laughing but he doesn’t care because it feels good to laugh. He wipes a tear from his eye, and catches a peek over at the other kid who’s only grinning. Not animalistic or threatening or challenging. He’s just grinning.
“S-so,” Izuku breathes in deeply to quell the remaining bubbles of laughter in his chest. “So what about the kid? The one you punched?”
The kid lights up. “Oh shit! Forgot about that. So I basically say all that to the teacher, calling bullshit on being docked, and this kid butts into my conversation. Says I should just shut up and take the loss.”
Izuku whinces. “Oh noooo…”
“Oh yeah!” The sharp predatory edges are back in his grin. “Me being me, already fired up, I do what comes natural to me.”
“...And that's punch him in the nuts twelve times?”
“Exactly.”
Izuku scratches at the back of his neck, perplexed. “Well, I can’t say you don’t care about your academics, but I mean… surely there was a better solution to your predicament?”
He shrugs. “Probably. But that’s not how my anger works.”
“Hmm. I guess at least you’re aware of your, er, issue. So that’s good.”
The other boys’ face is relaxed back into a neutral expression. He’s looking at him with that same intense scrutiny again. Izuku gives a lopsided smile, unsure of what to say now. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to say anything, as the other speaks first. “Are you going to tell me what you’re really in for now or what?”
Izuku flinches, knowing full well he can’t lie now. His shoulders sag and he releases a sigh. “Don’t laugh, okay?’
“No promises.”
“I’m in here for attendance recovery.”
To his credit, he doesn’t laugh. He just slams his forehead down onto his desk and throws his arms over his head. Though covered, Izuku still manages to see him shake his head before he sits back up. “Oh, yeah ,” he says sarcastically. “That’s some hardcore shit right there. Real disorderly . Although, I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you for a class skipper.”
“I didn’t skip class,” Izuku says flatly.
The other boy squints at him. “What do you mean?”
“I’m on the schools boxing team. Sometimes I can go a little overboard and I injure myself a lot. Even though doctors excuses are counted as excused absences, there’s only so many days I can miss before I have to make the time back.” He ends his words with a shrug, hoping he won’t have to explain anymore than that. It is what it is. No amount of coddling or scolding or worrying can make him stop.
He likes being on the team, he really does. But the atmosphere around it, the proud teachers and distantly awed peers who treat him like an unapproachable celebrity. The exasperated doctors and concerned trainers. And most of all, his biggest fan, his number one supporter and yet strongest advocate for early retirement, his mother.
The atmosphere can be even more suffocating then having his face completely swollen, nose broken and lips split, coppery blood in his teeth.
The other kid doesn’t ask anything. Instead he’s nodding approvingly, like he gets it all even without Izuku ever having to explain a word. If Izuku didn’t know any better he’d say he looked impressed. “Boxing, huh? So that’s what you do with all those muscles you got.”
Izuku’s face heats up again. “Yeah, well,” he scratches at his neck more, “it’s a pretty good stress reliever. You should try it out. Maybe it’ll, um, help with your anger?”
“You know something, nerd? I might take you up on that offer.” And then he asks “What’s your name anyways?”
He doesn’t know my name. He doesn’t know who I am.
It had been obvious that the two were strangers to each other, but it wasn’t until that moment that it fully dawned on Izuku that this boy was completely unaware of who he was. He had no preconceived notions of who he was suppose to be, how he was suppose to act. There isn’t The Perfect Student role he must fulfill for him. He could be anybody he wanted. He could make mistakes. He could cuss. He could go to detention and this boy wouldn’t think of him any less. He could breathe.
“Izuku,” he says softly. He hopes he’s never heard the name before in his life. “Izuku Midoryia. What’s, uh your name?”
The blonde boy smiles like he heard an inside joke and snickers quietly to himself.
“What?” Izuku asks, feeling suddenly subconscious.
“Nothing. Just thought of something funny. My name is Katsuki Bakugou.”
Katsuki. Katsuki. Katsuki.
Izuku can’t stop repeating the name over and over in his head. It’s powerful and intimidating and super cool. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous.
“So, Katsuki,” it’s even better saying it out loud. “How long they got you in for?” he asks with a slimey accent, keeping up the prison motif.
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “Locked up in the slammer for two weeks. You?”
“One with good behavior,” Izuku giggles.
“Shame. It’ll probably get boring around here without someone to pick on.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage. Oh! Maybe I can visit you! You know, we can talk on the phone through a pane of glass. You put your hand dramatically on the window as I hang up and walk away.”
This time they laugh together. “Okay,” Katsuki says, “now I know you watch way too many movies.”