Chapter Text
Kirishima already knew something was off.
He didn't have a real sixth sense for danger — if he did, though, he'd be a shoo-in for rescue missions in hero work. But he didn't need one to tell when bad omens were brewing, and fast.
In the span of a day, he ran out of his hair gel supply, broke two toothbrushes trying to brush his teeth once, tripped taking off his crocs, tore the sleeves of his hero costume and cracked one of the shoulder-gears, and the person before him in line got the last of Lunch Rush's premium wagyu beef rice special.
On top of all that, he got a splinter in his foot, too.
"Buddy, not gonna lie," Kaminari spun around on the computer chair in Sero's room. "You're straight up cursed."
"My aunt knows like three exorcists. Plus a couple clairvoyants here and there," Sero said, examining the heel of Kirishima's foot, peeking over his toes at him lying on his hammock. "I could just get you a rabbit's foot though."
"Thanks, but no thanks." Kirishima sat up and hugged his leg to his chest, rubbing the heel of his foot in a sheepish smile. "It's just one of those days, y'know? I should be fine tomorrow."
"Should be, but will you?" Kaminari stretched out his legs, wiggling his toes while he pulled the back of the computer chair like he was taming an unruly steed. "I'd invest in some good luck charms now if I were you."
"Slightly unrelated, but I got an extra dream-catcher or two lying in my drawer." Sero stood up from crouching, tossing the splinter in the bin as he did. "Might help you with a good night's sleep? That and I feel bad they're pretty much collecting dust in there."
Kirishima rested his chin on his knee. Tilted his head as he rubbed his toes idly. Glanced at Kaminari's stern pout, and puffed out a smile.
"You know what? Why not."
So, in an effort to guarantee a good night's sleep, Kirishima hung a dream-catcher above his bed, where he could see it hanging while he dozed off. And when he did fall asleep, all he remembered was a healthy tiredness in his bones seeping away, as he drifted off into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Then, the next morning, he found him.
Or, rather, he found himself, lying next to his punching bag.
Kirishima was sure he was sitting on his own bed, gaping. But this person had his hair, body, and face. His clothes were a little off, the boots and one glove on his left arm a bit heavy-handed for his taste. But from the little scar above his eyelid, reversed from when he saw himself in the mirror, there was no denying it.
Kirishima was looking at a clone of himself.
"...What...?"
The other Kirishima groaned, and Kirishima jolted. Watched as the clone mumbled to himself in his sleep, rolled, and bumped his head against the bottom of his drawers.
Then they shot up in a panicked snort, making Kirishima flinch before mumbling:
"Katsuki—?"
Kirishima blinked.
It had to be a dream. But also it couldn't be.
Wiping the drool from his mouth, the clone turned around. Then they spotted him on the bed, and confusion wiped the frown clean off their face. Kirishima swallowed.
"Uh..." Kirishima looked over himself carefully, not daring to look away. He put on a tight smile, even offered a wave. "'Sup."
His clone squinted. Looked down at themselves, patting down his torso, checking his legs were present.
"...What is this place?" Their hands stilled on their legs. They looked back up. "Where have you taken me?"
"...Take you?" Kirishima blinked again. He was doing that a lot this morning. "I didn't — "
"Katsuki..." Their eyes flashed at the name, pupils sharpening to slashes. "What have you done with him?" They rose their feet, bracing to leap on a dime, their teeth bared in a growl. "Where is he?"
"W-Whoa, hey, easy!" Kirishima put his hands up, a sweat on his brow, arms ready to harden. "I haven't done anything to him! He's..."
His voice trailed off. The clone crouched lower, a hand braced at their side. Flashing the glint of a dagger.
"Where. Is he?"
It took a breath. A breath, but it was enough. Kirishima knew when he was being threatened. His face fell stern, and his voice hardened:
"I'm not telling you anything unless you calm down."
"Calm down? After you took me away from him?" The clone didn't relax an inch with their scoff. Kirishima held their glare. "You might be good at magic, but stealing my face won't fool me, demon."
Shock broke through Kirishima's expression, his nose scrunching. "Demon—?"
"I'm a man of my word. You tell me where he is and I won't destroy all your nice decorations by shifting before you can blink."
Before Kirishima could even open his mouth, the clone's skin rippled over with what looked like freak rashes. A flash of bloody, hideous hives, before red, jagged scales ripped out from their skin. Their pupils shrunk to slits, like a jaguar on a hunt, and his grin turned ghoulish in a way that made Kirishima feel, for a heartbeat, very, very small.
"Don't think I won't."
Horns began to sprout from the spikes on his hair, his arms growing with inhuman, stony scales breaking the skin where his joints were. His eyes grew beadier, feral as Kirishima's widened, and his clone ate up his fear with a grin.
Kirishima grit his teeth, his heart pounding.
"Break this room and you'll hurt him too!"
In an instant, the clone stopped. Their cold anger thawed to surprise, their human skin sliding back. Kirishima let out a breath, and sucked another one in. His hands were still up, ready to harden.
"...You're lying." The clone snarled again, hackles raised. "I know when Katsuki's close. I can sense it. He's nowhere near here."
The door banged with three knocks, and the clone jolted, whipping their head to the noise. Kirishima's shoulders dropped in relief, and a wry grin crept onto his face.
"Wanna bet?"
"Shitty Hair!"
Bakugou burst into the room like a hulking bull, sending the door swinging into the wall with a slam. His hair was matted on the side he slept on, his shirt creased and half-tucked in his sweatpants from being thrown on not a minute ago.
The clone gasped, lighting up like the stars were in their eyes.
"Why the fuck are you making so much goddamn noise in the mor—?!" He blinked. Then squinted. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"I should be asking you that, Katsuki!" The clone laughed. "But I'm so glad to see you're safe!"
"Katsu — " Bakugou spluttered, flustered when he flared up again. "What the hell? You tryna distract me?!"
"Not right now I'm not," they teased, their eyes twinkling. "Unless you want me to later."
Bakugou choked. "What?"
"Don't worry, it won't take long! We just gotta deal with this tricky demon first!"
"The fuck — a demon? And we?"
"Not — Not that I am one," Kirishima cleared his throat from the bed. "But Bakugou, I'm right here, man."
Bakugou whipped his head aside to see Kirishima, sitting on his bed with his hands up, in his pyjamas and looking a little worse for wear for the morning. Then he looked to the Kirishima dressed strangely and looking back up at him, cheeks flushed with an unbridled joy he'd never seen before. Like they had meat for dinner then dessert.
Bakugou blinked, completely blank-faced. Looked between the two Kirishimas once more.
"...Fucking hell." He lined an arm up to each of them, explosions crackling along his palms. "You got five seconds to convince me not to blast the living shit outta one of you, starting now."
The clone's grin slid off their lips, the light from their eyes fading to hurt. "Katsuki...?"
"Dude, seriously?!" Kirishima yelled, irritated. "Since when do I wear clothes like that?!"
"Hell if I know, your dress sense is beyond me." Bakugou shrugged before aiming both hands at the Kirishima on the floor. "But you fucked up the moment I walked in, saying my first name."
"But, we — that's what I call you. Your given name, and you by mine, I —" The clone searched over Bakugou face, finding nothing but mistrust. "Katsuki, I'm oath-bound to you," they tried weakly. "We're bonded."
Kirishima's and Bakugou's brows shot sky-high, faces flooding with colour.
"Bonded?!" Kirishima squawked.
"I'd ask if you have any last words if you weren't so full o' shit," Bakugou muttered between grit teeth, pink sprayed across his cheeks as he locked his arms.
Kirishima noticed, though, how the angry, dangerous clone he saw waking up was gone. Kneeling on the floor was a shell of them. Wearier, sadder, and utterly lost gazing at Bakugou past his glowing palms. The clone's arms fell to their sides, and tears pooled in the corner of their eyes.
"Katsuki..." Their lip trembled as they shook his head. A desperation seized their throat, made their voice tug at Kirishima's heart. "Katsuki, I don't wanna fight you."
"Well that's too fucking bad, then, isn't it," Bakugou scoffed, though no smile found his face when he primed his sparking palms. He only scowled harder. "Die!!"
Kirishima knew that Bakugou wouldn't have blasted his clone lethally. There were too many questions that needed answers, and this lookalike had them. He had no doubt Bakugou would knock him out and they would be able to question him later, maybe get the help of a teacher like Aizawa so they could get to the bottom of this faster.
But he saw the strain on Bakugou's face. And then he saw his clone — the fight drained from their body, and their eyes going chillingly dull.
When Bakugou's palms landed home, they exploded squarely onto Kirishima's arms.
They were hardened and smoking, brought up in a cross. The clone found himself blinking at Kirishima's back.
"...What're you doing, Kirishima?" Bakugou narrowed his eyes.
Kirishima faced him head-on, determined. "He said he doesn't wanna fight you."
"Like that fake wasn't threatening you a fuckin' minute ago?" he sneered. "Don't even try to lie. I saw how your hands were up."
The clone curled in on themselves further, wincing. Kirishima pursed his lip.
"He threatened me because he wanted to see you. Now he's seen you," he reasoned, his voice staying measured. Bakugou kept eyeing him, still sceptical. "Look, he's not about to get violent now. Shouji sleeps like a rock, but if you blow him up more people will be coming, which is the last thing we need at the moment."
"What, so we keep quiet about a fuckin' intruder lookalike in your room?" Bakugou snarled, his palms still up. "The fact he's even here at all is a goddamn threat. I'm not keeping him a dirty little secret for you."
"We're not gonna keep him secret, we just don't need an ambush right now," Kirishima reasoned. "Look, if he acts up, breaks stuff, I'll give you full right of way to go to town on him. I'll even join you too, just..." Kirishima glanced behind him, at his clone, who looked barely responsive to the conversation. "Just lemme talk to him first."
He chewed his lip before he looked back, catching Bakugou looking at his clone. Then back up at Kirishima. Lips mashed together, visibly struggling. All the while, Kirishima kept meeting his eye, his gaze straight and true.
Finally, Bakugou heaved a sigh, and put his arms down.
"Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. He kept his eye on the clone as Kirishima put down his arms, relaxing. "But don't think I wanna play 21 questions with him like you do. If he tries shit then he's a dead man walking."
"I know you got my back," Kirishima said. He touched Bakugou's elbow briefly and gave a warm smile. "Thanks for trusting me."
Bakugou looked aside with a grunt, and Kirishima could only chuckle. Stepping back, he turned around to the clone, on their knees with their eyes downcast.
Kirishima squatted, silent as the clone realised his presence, face slack with confusion as they looked up in a daze. Pushing away the feeling of seeing himself, as if he were looking at a video of himself but not really, Kirishima put on his best, most reassuring smile.
"So," he grinned at his other self, feeling Bakugou come up beside him, "how's about we start with names?"