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Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki, age 4

"What do you mean he doesn't have a fucking quirk?" Mitsuki yells, tightening her grip on Katsuki's arm. He wants to tell her that it hurts, but that would be a lie. He can't feel anything at all. He's numb.

"Mrs. Bakugou, it's more common than you'd think," the doctor explains hurriedly, pointing out the x-ray of the toe. "You see, the extra joint-"

"Did I fucking ask about his feet?" Mitsuki asks, glaring daggers at the man. "I want to know what our options are."

"Um, your son is perfectly healthy, Mrs. Bakugou. He can go on to live a normal life-"

"Bull. Shit. I'm not letting my son stay in the five percent of losers without quirks. His life will be ruined." She leans out in her chair, locking eyes with the doctor. "How do I get my son a quirk?"

"Mrs. Bakugou-"

"I know it's possible. There's no way that nobody on the fucking planet found a way to bring them back. Money isn't an issue. Just tell me where I have to go." 

Katsuki is only partly following the conversation. He's still in shock, but it's being rapidly replaced with confusion. Buying a quirk? How do you do that?

For a while, the doctor is silent, fidgeting with the ends of his glasses. Mitsuki doesn't move, doesn't ease her grip on her son's arm. Katsuki just wants to go home and eat some ice cream, get out of the public so he can cry because Mom always said that crying is weak. 

Finally, the man speaks again, in a much lower tone of voice. "There's no natural way for Katsuki to get a quirk," he says, scribbling something on a notepad and ripping the sheet off. "But if you're really willing to do whatever it takes for him to have a quirk, then go to this address."

Mitsuki doesn't even look at the paper before shoving it in her pocket.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she says brightly, all notes of hostility gone from her voice. "Come on, Katsuki, let's go get you a quirk!"

The doctor watches them leave with a sigh. He hopes that Mitsuki will think twice before going through with it, but the sinking feeling in his stomach says otherwise. 

-

On the ride to the address on the paper, Mitsuki is nothing but smiles. 

"Katsuki, you lucked out," she says, waving the paper in the air. "Most kids born without quirks are stuck being losers for the rest of their lives. You, on the other hand, are gonna get one that's so powerful, it'll knock all of the natural quirks away."

"Really?" Katsuki asks, staring down at his hands. "Better than all of them?" 

"For sure. After all, I'll pay whatever money is necessary to make sure of it."

Katsuki isn't stupid. He knows about the older kids in his school without quirks, the ones destined to be cashiers or garbage men or other jobs that didn't need any special skills. He never thought he would be one of them, and hearing it just now scared him more than he'll ever admit. But if his mom says that he'll have a powerful quirk, then she's probably right. His mom is right about a lot of things.

"Now me and Izuku will be able to go to UA together!" he exclaims. His mom smiles at him in the rear-view mirror. 

"Hopefully he'll have just as strong of a quirk as you will," she says, pulling up at the front of a boarded up building. She looks down at the paper in her hand, then back up to the building. "This seems to be the place. Come on, Katsuki, hold my hand."

Katsuki follows his mom to the door, shifting from foot to foot. His mom hesitates, then knocks four times in rapid succession. "This is what the paper says," she mutters under her breath. "If it gets us killed then I'm suing his ass."

The door opens, and before her stands another person in a lab coat, much more intimidating than Katsuki's regular doctor. She's at least six feet tall with thick glasses, and her bright pink hair is sticking out all over the place. There might be dried blood on her coat. Katsuki doesn't want to look too hard at it.

"Ah, you must be the boy that Watanabe called me about! I'm Hatsume Asami," she says, beckoning them in. She's all smiles, but to Katsuki it looks like when his mom is meeting up with clients she doesn't like. There's a little bit of edge behind her eyes. As soon as they step in, she slams the door shut, bolting it a couple of times. 

The inside of the building is much cleaner than the outside, looking something like the hospitals Katsuki sees on TV. There's a bed in the middle, covered in a thin white sheet, and Katsuki wonders if she lives here. 

"Now, Mrs. Bakugou, may I call you Mitsuki? Mitsuki, I hear you're willing to spend quite a lot of money on Katsuki here to get him a powerful quirk. Is that right?" Her eyes gleam in the dim fluorescent lights. 

"Certainly," Mitsuki replies confidently. "I don't want my son to be a cripple for his whole life. However much it costs, I'll pay it."

Cripple? Is that what people without quirks are?

"How much do you know about the procedure?" Asami asks.

"Nothing at all. Can you please explain it to me?" Mitsuki can be polite when she wants something. And there is nothing she wants more right now than for her son to get a quirk.

"Of course. First I would like you to fill out a few forms, though. All about your quirk, your husband's quirk, and some confidentiality contracts. We don't want this technology to be made public, right? It would cause an uproar." 

"I completely agree," Mitsuki says, accepting the pile of paperwork and starting to work on it.

In the meantime, Katsuki wanders around the lab, looking in cabinets and drawers. It's all medical tools, drills and shots and tubes. He also sees a cabinet of chemicals next to a cabinet of what looks like...

"Mom!" he shouts, running over to her in a panic. "This lady has a shelf of body parts! I think she's a murderer!" He doesn't bother keeping his voice down, panting hard. Beside him, his mom stares at him, confused, and Asami starts laughing.

"Oh Mitsuki, your son is quite something," she says, wiping a tear from her eye. "He's probably talking about the prostheses I keep here."

"Proseethees?" Katsuki asks, suspicious immediately.

"Fake body parts," his mom whispers, and Katsuki nods, although he doesn't truly believe it until Asami takes a hand down to show him.

"Wow, it really looks realistic," Mitsuki comments, flexing one of the fingers.

"All the best for my clients," Asami says pridefully. "You can't tell that the parts are fake at all unless you see them separate."

When she's finished with the paperwork, Asami looks through the sheets, writing down notes on a medical pad. 

"Based on what you wrote," she says, capping her pen, "I think Katsuki would do nicely with an explosion quirk. They'll come from his hands, very powerful and nitroglycerin fueled. Plus, it fits perfectly with your quirk." 

"I love it," Mitsuki says. "Now how does the operation work?"

"It's very simple. I cut off Katsuki's hands and replace them with quirk-compliant prostheses." She waves the hand in the air for good measure, ignoring the way that Mitsuki and Katsuki gape at her.

All is silent for a second. Then Katsuki starts screeching.

"Mom, I don't want her to cut off my hands! Don't let her cut off my hands!" he pleads, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't even want a quirk, I like not having a quirk-"

"Shut up," his mom says, her face stormy. "I'm not letting you live like a cripple." She turns her attention to Asami, crossing her arms. "Will the prostheses work just as well as normal hands?"

"With proper care, yes," Asami assures her. They both speak over Katsuki's screaming with ease. "If you choose to go through with the operation, I will give you the full care guide along with enough nitroglycerin to last you for a year. Then you will have to supply your own, but it's not expensive and easy to replace. He'll be the most powerful kid in his class."

Mitsuki goes silent again, staring at the prosthesis. "How much will it cost?"

"It's a one time cost of 21,979,100 yen apiece, so 43,958,200 yen," she responds calmly. Mitsuki doesn't even blink at the huge price tag. "That includes upgrades for whenever they get small on him, which will be about once every two years until he stops growing. They also come with a lifetime warranty, although my babies are very sturdy. Waterproof, fireproof, explosion proof of course. Made of a titanium alloy, they're-"

"We'll do it." Mitsuki's face didn't change expression, and she took out her checkbook, scribbling in the blanks. "Give him the operation."

"Oh, wonderful," Asami said, taking the slip of paper from her and sticking it in her coat pocket. "It'll take a few hours, will you be alright waiting here?"

"I'll do what I must."

Katsuki stares at both of them, then begins yelling louder. "No! Not my hands! Get the fuck away from my hands! Mom, help!" Mitsuki winces, not meeting his eyes.

"Mitsuki, can you please carry him to the bed? I want to begin quickly," Asami says, and Mitsuki lifts the thrashing boy up with the practiced air of someone who has done so multiple times before. Katsuki screams until his lungs hurt, screams until he can't breathe, screams until he feels a prick in his arm and suddenly he can't yell anymore. He can barely stay awake. 

"I just gave him a sedative," Asami says to Mitsuki, and it sounds like she's worlds away. Then she's addressing Katsuki, and he puts all of his focus into trying to hear her. "When you wake up, you'll be the coolest kid on the block."

"I don't want to be the coolest kid," Katsuki sniffs. "I just want my hands." But he isn't sure if he even says the words out loud, and by the time Asami goes to check on him again, he's already unconscious.

Chapter Text

When Katsuki wakes up, the first thing he does is look to his hands.

He's still a little groggy from the anesthetic, and he sits up slowly, squinting in the light. He's surprised to see that his hands are still very much attached to his arms, and he turns to his mom in relief that all of this was some sort of weird joke.

"Mom, look!" he says, almost laughing with the surprise of all of it. "My hands!"

"Yes, sweetie, aren't they nice?" his mom says, putting down her magazine and walking over to him. "And they come with a quirk. They're ten times better than your old hands, right?"

"But these are my old hands..." Katsuki says, scowling. "See?"

"He's still in shock," Asami whispers, putting a hand on Mitsuki's shoulder. "Give him a few seconds to look them over."

Not getting any response from his mom, Katsuki turns his attention to his hands, making sure the weird doctor lady didn't do anything to them. They seem normal, maybe a little stiff, but that's when he notices a button on the side of his wrist. Not wanting to talk to the doctor lady - and still a little pissed that his mom brought him here in the first place - Katsuki pressed the button experimentally.

Immediately, his hand fell off, plopping itself next to him on the bed. Katsuki stares at it for five seconds before screeching, falling off the bed in the process. He can't even look at his arm; he's sure he will throw up if he does.

"MOM!!!!" He's crying now, he can't control himself. Some awful combination of terrified, dizzy, exhausted, and altogether depressed has overcome him. He just wants this day to be over with. First he got the news that he doesn't have a quirk, and now his hands are falling off. 

His mom rushes over, but instead of going to comfort him right away, she first stops to pick up the hand he dropped. Only then does she approach him, holding the hand out for him to take. He jumps away, wanting comfort but also to be far away from her. He wants his dad. 

"Sweetheart, I'm just going to attach your hand back, okay?" she says, taking a step towards him. He leaps back again, wiping his dripping face on his sleeve.

"I don't want that hand, I want my hand," he says firmly with a sniff, as if she doesn't understand. "Bring me my hand."

"Your hand is already gone," Asami says candidly. "Went in the ice bucket as soon as I removed it. Even if I did attach it back now, it would only be dead weight. You wouldn't be able to use it or feel with it at all."

While Katsuki's attention is on the doctor, Mitsuki takes the opportunity to bridge the gap between them, grabbing his stump of an arm. With a practiced twist, she reattaches the prosthesis, hardening her grip while Katsuki tries to wriggle away.

"All better. See, Katsuki? It's just like your old hand, except better," she says with a smile. Katsuki doesn't think there's anything worth smiling about, and he goes back to staring at his hands with a deep scowl.

"If it's just like m' old hands, why'd you hafta change them?" he mumbles, trying to hold back the prick of tears forming again in his eyes. Crying isn't gonna fix anything, stupid. Keep your tears to yourself.

"These come with a quirk!" Mitsuki says. "Here, want to see how they work? It's really cool, Mrs. Hatsume already showed me how they work."

Katsuki lets himself be led to the bed again, where Asami hands him a piece of paper. The words are tiny, and he can't really read them through his tears anyway, but his mom takes it from him and starts to read out loud. 

"'How to activate your quirk. Step one, flip the switch on the bottom that opens up the nitroglycerin pores." She turns back to Katsuki, holding out a hand. "Here, lend me your hand for a second."

"If you want it so bad, you c'n take it," Katsuki mutters, but gives her his hand anyway. She feels around for the switch, finally locating it on the back of his hand. Immediately, the twisted smell of caramel and something sharp fills the air. 

"Step two, flex your fingers back as hard as you can," she reads. "Step three, straighten fingers. Okay Katsuki, you know what to do?" 

"I guess." He stares at his palms, still coming to terms with the fact that they aren't his palms. "Right now?"

"It would be best for you to practice in a controlled environment," Asami supplies. "Here, let's go to the next room over. I don't want you to destroy anything by mistake."

The way she describes his quirk - not his, he reminds himself - makes it sounds dangerous. The weird smell coming from his hands isn't helping either, making him light-headed and a little nauseated. Still, he goes to the other room because that's where his mom is going, and the only thing scarier than being here is being here alone.

When they reach the other room, barren besides for a single table near the back, Mitsuki gives him a thumbs up.

"Try it out, Katsuki!" she says, excited enough for the both of them. He takes a second to remember the steps, takes a deep breath, and lets his fingers loose.

Immediately, a large explosion shoots from each hand, sending him stumbling backwards and coughing. Mitsuki starts clapping, while Asumi writes rapidly. 

"They're working perfectly, although you might want to tone them down a little," she says, chewing on her pen. "Try flexing a little lighter, just to make a small explosion."

Katsuki complies, creating a series of smaller blasts that still manage to throw him off balance. Now it's fully sinking in that these aren't really hands, but small cannons that his mom forced on him. A tiny part of him is marveling at how cool his new quirk is, but that voice is overpowered by the one that desperately wants to go home to his own bed.

"Excellent! Now I just need to go over the care instructions with you and your mom, give you your nitroglycerin, and you're all set." They follow her back to the main room, Katsuki playing with the edges of his fingers, and she gives Mitsuki a thick packet of instructions.

"Everything you need to know is in there," she continues, "But I'll say it now to save you some reading."

She reviews how to clean them, how to refill them. She reminds Katsuki that he needs to take them off at night, and always turn them off before he does. She demonstrates how to put them on using his knees, and he forces himself to watch, even though the sight of his handless arm is enough to make him gag. 

"Okay," Katsuki whispers. He doesn't have any tears left; his eyes are as empty as the rest of him. He goes through the motions in a haze, not looking at his mom. He won't forget that she's the one who did all of this, even if Asami is the one who physically did the operation. His mom paid her to cut off his hands. It's unforgivable.

When the tutorial session is over, Asami gives Mitsuki her card.

"Any questions, comments, concerns, feel free to call me," she says with a smile. "I'm sure Katsuki will adjust wonderfully to these."

"Thank you for everything," Mitsuki says, matching grin on her face. "Katsuki, say thank you to the nice doctor."

Katsuki can't bring himself to utter the words. He'll throw up if he does, he'll physically vomit all over the expensive hands his mom just bought. Instead, he stares up at Asami with what he hopes is a neutral expression, and bows his head. Hopefully his mom won't get mad at him for it.

As they're driving home, Mitsuki says, "Oh, I almost forgot! You can't tell Dad about this, you hear?"

"What? Why not?" Katsuki asks. "Doesn't he know about this?" 

"No, I didn't ask," she replies smoothly. "I'm sure he would be fine with it, but just in case, it's best to keep quiet. We don't want him to be scared or anything, right?"

He had thought he was out of tears, but new ones spring to his eyes now. Am I a monster now? Will dad not love me anymore if he finds out? He resolves to keep his mouth shut, to his dad and to everyone. He can't let anyone think of him as a monster, even if it's his mom's fault for making him one.

When they get home, Mitsuki calls his school, brightly telling them that Katsuki will be taking the next two weeks off. 

"Yeah, I don't even know how he got mono," she says, leaning against the wall. "What can you do? Plenty of bed rest for him. Yes, thank you for your concern. He'll be back as soon as he's well."

She then calls her work, repeating the same lie and adding that she has to stay home to take care of him. "Take it out of my sick days, Ichika. My son is my priority right now. I can't leave him home alone in this hard time. Thank you, bye."

She finally calls Katsuki's dad, and that's when he decides to go to his room, not wanting to be around for this particular lie. Even through the walls, he can hear her loud and clear. "Yeah, his quirk just appeared today! Right on time for the doctor's appointment, can you believe it? He's in his room now, but you can talk to him about it later. Okay, love you too, bye."

Katsuki hears footsteps outside his door, and he hides under his covers, pretending to be asleep. That doesn't stop his mom from walking in, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"Katsuki, I know you're not sleeping," she says with a sigh. After a minute, he emerges from his blanket, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" he says. "Wanna cut off my legs next?"

"Jesus, Katsuki, don't sass me. I did this for you!" she says, voice rising. "You were on the path to living life as a nobody. Is that what you wanted? Now you can go on and be a hero like you always dreamed. You know there aren't any quirkless heroes, honey. This was all for your dream, and I wish you would appreciate that."

He absorbs this, eyebrows furrowed, then looks at her for the first time in hours. "You didn't ask me what I wanted," he says accusingly. "You coulda asked."

"I'm your mother. It's my job to do what I think is right for you."

Even to Katsuki's four year old mind this doesn't seem right, but he's too worn out to argue it any further. Not today, at least. "Why aren't I going to school tomorrow?" he asks instead.

"We're going to take the next two weeks for you to learn how to use your quirk!" his mom says, like it's an adventure. "Aren't you excited? It's like a random vacation from all of your work."

"I like school," Katsuki says under his breath, but either his mom doesn't hear or she pretends not to. 

"Your dad is going to be home soon. Want to help me make dinner?" she asks, and he says yes, but only because he needs a distraction. He'll go crazy if he's forced to think about this any longer.

His dad comes home right when the soup is ready, and Katsuki's mom sets up the bowls and spoons, relieving Katsuki of the responsibility.

"Be good," she whispers simply, and Katsuki hears her hidden message loud and clear. Keep your mouth shut. 

Dinner is cheery, forcefully so on Mitsuki's part. Maseru seems to be the only one genuinely enjoying it.

"So I hear you got your quirk," he says to Katsuki with a giant grin. "You'll be a great hero now." 

Katsuki immediately finds himself running from the table, unable to face that smile any longer. "Oh, he's just worn out from today," he hears his mom explain with a laugh. "It was a big day for all of us."

"I'm sure it was," his dad replies, and they continue dinner without him. Katsuki tells himself that he doesn't care and focuses on filling in his All Might coloring book, which he had been saving for a rainy day. The sky outside was clear, but in Katsuki's mind, it was storming.

It's easy to pretend that the operation didn't happen when he doesn't focus on it. The button is hidden under a flap, the switch too, so he can't see a difference if he tries. Even the split between his real wrist and his prosthesis is invisible, carefully sealed to fool the naked eye. I can live with this. It's like having normal hands.

The problem only arises when it's time for him to go to sleep. 

"Okay Katsuki, time to take them off," she whispers, making sure that Maseru can't hear. "I'll help you the first few times, and after that you'll get used to doing it yourself."

"Please," Katsuki begs, sitting on his hands. "Let me sleep with them. I don't want to see them not there when I wake up."

"You know we can't do that. What if you press the button by mistake in your sleep? Your whole bed will catch on fire," she chides. "And we don't want them to be crushed or bent by mistake. You'll get used to it, don't worry."

"I don't want to get used to it." Katsuki knows his voice is raising, he's aware that he's on the path to shouting, but he doesn't care. "Stay away from my ha-"

He's cut off my a hand firmly pressed to his mouth. "Listen, brat," Mitsuki growls, "we all have to get used to things. There are people out there who don't have any hands, fake or real, so be grateful. Now are you going to take them off yourself, or will I have to force them off?" 

Katsuki doesn't know if he's ever cried more in his life. He takes them off himself, using his knees for the second one just like he practiced. Mitsuki moves them to his bedside table, carefully hiding them behind some books. 

"Good night, Katsuki," she says, heels clacking as she leaves his room. Katsuki reaches to pull the covers over himself, but stops when he realizes that he can't physically do so anymore. Holding back a whimper, he wiggles himself under the blanket, pushing his pillow with his stumps. It's easier in the dark, when he can't see them for himself, but he can still feel them there.

"This is a good thing," he whispers to himself. "You're gonna be the number one hero like All Might." But as hard as he thinks it, he can't truly believe it.

Chapter Text

Katsuki doesn’t go to school for the next two weeks. Instead, he goes through something his mom calls “training,” but he grows to think of as “adapting to what was just thrown on him.”

Every day, he wakes up to eat breakfast with his mom and dad. They wave to his dad as he leaves to work, then wait for his car to leave the driveway. Only once he’s out of sight do the two of them start their walk to the park.

To the average passerby, it probably seems like a heartwarming scene. Mitsuki teaches Katsuki how to regulate his explosions, from tiny crackles of light to larger than life blasts that leave the air hot for minutes afterwards.

”Remember, Katsuki, you just got this quirk,” she says at some point. “You aren’t supposed to be able to do more than crackles at first.” She makes him a calendar, years long, of how fast he can progress with his quirk. Katsuki takes one look at it and sticks out his tongue. If he’s stuck with this quirk, he should at least be able to be the most powerful one in school.

Out in the park, they mostly practice regulation. It’s inside the house that they do most of their work, the cleaning and upkeeping of the prostheses, the filling and refilling of the fuel tank. The fuel is nitroglycerin mixed with something else, so he doesn’t need to add fuel often, but his mom makes him practice anyway, over and over until he can do the move in his sleep.

He doesn’t need his mom around anymore to take them off at night. Which is just as well, because she doesn’t stick around anymore anyway.

Before he knows it, his mom is walking him to the school bus, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He rubs it away, though not while she’s looking.

“How do I make sure no one notices?” he asks, just before the doors open. “What if they ask questions?”

”They shouldn’t,” his mom says confidently. “But you know who nobody questions?”

”Who?”

”The one on top. As soon as they see your quirk, people will try and be your friend. Let them. The more people beneath you, the less people to doubt you. But never let them too close.”

”What about Izuku?” he has to ask, even if he knows that his mom doesn’t like him mentioning the green haired boy.

”If he has a strong enough quirk, he’ll be right up there with you.”

The doors close before Katsuki can say anything to that, and he watches his mom out the bus window. She doesn’t look like she has a care in the world. Katsuki wishes he could say the same.

When he gets to school, he’s surrounded by people asking where he was. He tries to remember the lie his mom told his teacher.

”I was sick,” he finally settles on. “But I’m better now, and look at my quirk!”

He’s surrounded by kids with either no quirk at all, or useless one like extendable eyeballs. His flashy quirk crowns him in front of them, raises him above the rest. And he lets their awe drown out the tiny voice inside of his head saying it’s not yours, none of it is real.

Izuku is wowed by it too, asking a billion questions. Katsuki knows that he’s only doing it because he’s excited, but it still itches at him, to the point that he finally snaps.

”It’s just a quirk, okay?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “I don’t know everything about it, it’s a part of me. You’ll get it when you have your own.”

But, as he soon finds out, Izuku will never get it.

”Yeah, I heard from another mom,” Mitsuki says loftily when Katsuki reports the news to her. “It’s a real shame.”

”But can’t you just give him a quirk?” Katsuki asks, pointing to his own hands. In his mind, the operation went from something scarring to a necessary evil. “I don’t want him to be a cripple forever.”

“Katsuki, the operation was very expensive. I can’t just give it out to every cripple on the planet,” Mitsuki snaps. She frowns, adding, “Besides, Inko would never go through with it. She’s too soft, one of those people not willing to do whatever it takes for her kid. I pity those fuckers.”

And just like that, in Katsuki’s mind, Izuku went from an equal to something pitiable.

The questions only get more frequent from there. It’s like ever since Izuku found out that he would never get his own quirk, he decided to live through Katsuki’s quirk, and that only makes him clingier. Katsuki, by contrast, finds himself enjoying Izuku’s company less and less.

”Wow Kacchan, that was a really big explosion!” Izuku exclaims when Katsuki blasts away a branch in their path. “How did you make it so big? Did you have to do special training on the weekends to make it stronger?”

They’re not the only ones walking on that path. There are a couple of lackeys too, people who Katsuki wouldn’t be able to name to save his life. There are always a couple of them sticking near Katsuki, and he basically ignores their existence unless he feels like showing off. At least they don’t ask dumb questions all the time.

”Yeah, what’s it to you?” Katsuki answers, his skin prickling. He can’t fight off the wave of paranoia, the voice telling him that Izuku notices too much, that he’ll surely notice one day how Katsuki’s reflexes are slower than they used to be, or how his hands never seem to get injured, never change at all.

”You’re just so cool!” Izuku says, unaffected, and Katsuki allows his hackles to lower. He doesn’t need to make a scene. Not this time.

”Cut him off,” his mom says immediately when he comes to her with his conundrum. He doesn’t talk to her much anymore, but he has no one else to ask about anything regarding his hands. “He’s intelligent, that Izuku. He’ll figure you out for sure, and that prickling feeling isn’t going to get any better even if he doesn’t. He’s just a cripple.”

”But he’s my only friend,” Katsuki argues immediately. “I don’t wanna stop talking to him.”

”That’s not true. What about that boy with wings you played with yesterday? Or the one with the enlarged head? Their quirks aren’t that powerful, not next to yours, but they’re strong enough to be your friends. And they’re dumb enough never to question you.”

Katsuki stomps out of the room, not wanting to listen to her anymore. But the problem nags at him all night, and when he takes his prostheses off (still in the dark, always when it’s too dark for him to see) it only grows louder in his mind.

He’ll rat you out for sure. He won’t understand. He likes you now, but nobody will like you if they find out the truth. He’ll ruin everything. The voice morphs into his mom’s, and he grasps at his ears, holding his head with his stumps. He cries at the impending loss of his only real friend, but he knows he has no other choice. It doesn’t make it any easier.

The next day, Katsuki ghosts Izuku entirely. He figures that if he doesn’t address him, then he’ll just leave him alone. But this only succeeds in confusing him.

”Katsuki! Wait up!” he shouts at lunch, and Katsuki only walks faster.

”He’s so weird,” the boy standing next to Katsuki whispers (maybe his friend? He has no idea). Katsuki bristles, prepared to fight this kid, but then remembers that he and Izuku aren’t friends anymore. He stays quiet, and it hurts like the first time he had to put his hands back on in the light of morning. It hurts like a pair of familiar hands holding him to the operating table, like a needle piercing his shoulder and the following darkness.

It hurts like unfamiliarity. Katsuki saves his tears for his bed once more.

The ignoring goes on for a whole week. Katsuki stays quiet as his “friends” mock the green haired boy for following them even as Katsuki doesn’t spare him a glance. Izuku never hesitates to stick with their group anyway, always calling for Katsuki’s attention with a clear voice.

Katsuki learns to swallow the bile that rises in his throat each time he does. After a while, the bile stops rising at all.

After that comes the teasing. Katsuki joins in on his followers’ taunting of Izuku, preying on his quirklessness, his small stature, his weakness. He draws the line at the fact that he doesn’t have a dad, just because he refuses to let that tiny bit of humanity go.

And yet, Izuku never leaves. His smile grows smaller and smaller, but he tags along just as he always did.

It’s soon apparent that he’ll have to do more than just taunt him. At this rate, Katsuki doesn’t know if he’ll be able to go to school, knowing that Izuku will be there, an observing shadow among his “friends”.

So on a bright Monday morning, Katsuki lets all of his frustration out on Izuku. It’s almost revolting how good it feels to let loose on someone, even a person as small and weak as Izuku.

”Why are you still following me, useless cripple?” he spits, turning around to face Izuku head on. They’re standing on the top of a hill, right next to the river. In another life, it was Katsuki’s and Izuku’s favorite place to sit and talk.

His followers watch with bated breath, not knowing how to respond. They’ve never seen his side of Katsuki, the one overflowing with anger. The one that grows louder and louder inside of him with every day of being surrounded by fakes and bullies. But after a second, they start to cheer him on. They’re all worthless, every last one of them, and Katsuki is now securing his rank as the most worthless one of all. He spits on the ground to try and get the bitter taste out of his mouth. It doesn’t work.

”What do you mean?” Izuku asks, the sacrificial lamb to Katsuki’s inauguration. What goes up must come down, and as one friend climbs the hierarchy, the other is squashed beneath his boot.

”I haven’t been nice to you in weeks. Can’t you see that I don’t like you?” Katsuki shouts. His face is steaming with anger that is directed at everyone but the boy in front of him. He disgusts himself. 

“But...” Izuku doesn’t know how to dispute that statement. Nothing but hope kept him there thus far, and Katsuki is cutting it with a pair of rusty scissors.

”But nothing. Leave me alone.” This is the only genuine part of Katsuki’s whole tirade. It would be so much easier if Izuku would leave on his own accord. He could be angry, he could be fuming, but it was so much worse to see the light leave his eyes.

”I don’t want to.” Why does he care so much? Why can’t he leave me with the fakes here and find a better friend?

“Oh you don’t want to? Well then—“ Katsuki can’t finish his sentence, since that second he slips, sending him over the edge of the hill and into the rushing water below.

Liquid pours into his nose and mouth, choking him for a second before he has the strength to push his head to air. He rubs his eyes with his hand, then realizes something awful: his hand isn’t there.

Using his one remaining prosthesis and fueled by desperation, Katsuki retrieves his hand from the river bed, practically hyperventilating. He can see all of his phonies standing at the top of the hill, none of them moving to help, and he’s relieved that they’re all such awful people that they wouldn’t move a muscle. But where is Izuku—

“Are you okay?”

Katsuki spins around, falling back into the water in surprise. Izuku is standing right in front of him, hand outstretched to help him up. Except one of Katsuki’s hands is a stump, and the other is holding a very incriminating prosthesis.

Katsuki doesn’t take a second to react. His rage is real this time, bursting out of him like a hulking dragon.

”Leave me alone, cripple!” he yells, loud enough to be heard all the way up the hill. He kicks at Izuku, keeping his hands firmly under water. “You’re just a useless cripple. A Deku, that’s what you are. Get the message!”

He’s glad he’s soaking wet, so the tears streaming down his face just look like normal water. He hardens his voice, glaring daggers at the boy who used to be his best friend.

And finally, Izuku gets the message. His tears are larger than life, filling his big green eyes.

”Okay,” he sniffs, backing up and running away. Katsuki makes sure that he isn’t looking, then fixes his hand. All back to normal, except it isn’t. Not at all.

Izuku avoids his group like the plague after that. He sits alone at lunch, talks to no one in class. He gets picked on both by people in Katsuki’s group and out of it, because loners are easy to target.

Katsuki himself is sometimes the giver of this hell, as when his followers are picking on Izuku, they always look to him to give the finishing blow. As much as he hates it, he never hesitates for a second. He’s the one who brought this on him, and now he will have to reap what he sowed.

“You did what you had to do, Katsuki,” his mom says one day, and Katsuki nods.

”Okay, mom,” he responds, taking a bite of his snack. It’s the last time he’ll call her Mom in a very long time.

Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki, age 14

Katsuki is in his third year of middle school, and he can't graduate soon enough.

The sight of Deku alone is always enough to put Katsuki on edge, but he can't show it. He can't let the all consuming rage fucking obliterate him, because that's not a normal teenage thing to do. He learned that early on; other kids always said they were angry all the time, but he's the only one who actually is constantly filled with an anger that threatens to choke him. Every day is another one where his temper is tested, where he has to fight not to reveal himself as a hulking dragon among a group of normal teenagers. Every day he grows more and more unstable, and it's fucking exhausting to keep himself under control.

So when the teacher announces that Deku of all people is thinking of applying to UA, it's almost enough to push him over the edge.

Katsuki's goal has always been going to UA. Besides for the fact that it's the best hero high school in the country, it's also where All Might went. And Endeavor. And most of the top ten heroes on the list, as well as countless other pros. If Katsuki can make it there, he knows that no one will be able to deny him the title of a hero, even with his... oddities. 

The televised sports festival is also a great opportunity to show off. No other school has the same star power as UA, even Shiketsu, which technically is just as good. If he wins the sports festival, he'll be set for life.

He knows he can get in. He's been studying for months for the entrance exam, training every day in the park by himself. Everything he does is to give him an edge at that school. Getting in isn't an option.

On top of all of the academics, he was also really hoping to get away from all of the losers of his middle school. They're idiots, incompetent, and the fact that they don't realize this only makes them more idiotic. Katsuki hates them almost as much as he hates Deku, although not in the same way. At least Deku is aware of his own worthlessness; these guys think they shit diamonds.

But now that there's a possibility of Deku being at UA, he suddenly wishes he'd written another high school on his list of choices.

The white noise of dread in his mind is broken by the laughter of the entire class. 

"Midoriya? He can't get in without a quirk," one kid chuckles, leering at him. "Isn't that illegal or something?"

"Um, they got rid of that rule," Deku says, but it's so quietly he might as well be talking to himself.

"There's no way you'll pass the entrance exam," another kid snorts. "You can't study for those things."

Katsuki takes a deep breath, holds for seven seconds, and releases it for eight. Deku can't get into UA without a quirk. Don't be a dumbass. He can't follow you there, no matter how hard he tries.

He knows the class is waiting for him to say something, since he's the ringleader of the "Fuck Deku" committee. He makes sure his voice is just the right amount of angry mixed with cocky before saying, "You think a quirkless wannabe reject like you can compete with the likes of me? You'll die in the entrance exams."

Deku shakes under the force of his voice, punctuated by a couple of small explosions. Katsuki doesn't take any joy in it, although he tries to make it look like he does. He's only doing what needs to be done for him to succeed. He's no sadist.

The teacher gains control of the class, and they finish the lesson with little fanfare. Once the bell rings, Katsuki's followers start heading out the door. Katsuki is about to follow them, but he catches a glimpse of Deku out of the corner of his eye. He's scrolling through his phone, mumbling like always.

"Man, the flight from this morning is all over the news. Better write some notes down before I forget anything." Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out his notebook, and suddenly Katsuki finds himself striding over to his seat, thinly veiled rage on his features.

He wishes he could go one fucking day without seeing Deku's shitty notebook.

It's a disgrace, really. An entire notebook dedicated to analyzing pro heroes and finding their weaknesses and flaws. Doesn't he have anything better to do than fucking over-analyze? People should be entitled to their privacy without creepy fanboys watching their every move, waiting for a mistake.

(Katsuki knows in his heart that that isn't what Deku's trying to do, but panic still claws at his throat whenever he sees him scribbling at full speed, mumbling to himself.)

It's his greatest pleasure to throw the notebook out whenever he can. He's doing the heroes a favor, really. And that's what he's about to do now. 

"Hey, we're not done here," he says, plucking the notebook from his hands. It takes all of his strength not to rip it into shreds, but his suppresses the beastly urge. Instead, he studies the cover with a quiet rage. Number thirteen, huh. That's thirteen too many.

"Whatcha got there, his diary?" he hears a voice behind him taunt, and he almost groans out loud. His followers are like leeches, sticking to him wherever he goes. Their cruelty disgusts him because it's without cause, without any purpose other than cruelty. Even his old hag only does what she thinks is the right thing to do, however corrupt it may be. These roaches taunt for a sick thrill, and it's pathetic.

No matter his thoughts about them, Katsuki is obligated to stick with them until the end of the year for the sake of his reputation, so he has to put on a show. He wants to blow the notebook to kingdom come, but since he's not allowed to pull off big explosions in school, he sends up a couple of blasts. Just enough to send a message. And when it's scorched, he throws it out the window.

"If you really want a quirk, why don't you hope for a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof?" He knows Deku would never kill himself - bastard is too determined to stick around and be annoying forever - and somehow that makes him angrier. He exits the room, two followers in tow, and doesn't spare the cripple a glance. 

When he's out of Deku's range, he feels a weight slide off his shoulders. He's feeling good enough to listen to his followers' request to go to karaoke, although not good enough to say yes. He declines brusquely, saying he has a class at the gym. He's even being truthful about it.

The weightlifting class lasts an hour, and then Katsuki works by himself for another hour. He has his headphones in so he doesn't have to interact with the other gym rats, and the place is almost cleared out. Things are looking up for once in his fucking life. 

Then he makes the mistake of walking home. He's made the trip dozens of times, the path engraved in his mind. He can make the trip with his eyes closed, if he wants. It's only once he stops to throw a bottle of what looks like cola out that the trouble that always finds him shows up, this time in the form of a sludge villain. One moment he's standing normally, staring at the goop oozing out of the bottle, and the next moment he's submerged in the goo.

It smells like blood. It looks like tar, even has the same consistency, but the smell is unmistakably human. It shifts around him, binding his limbs, covering his mouth. He's able to breathe through his nose, but he almost doesn't want to, the stench is so thick. It reminds him of the one and only time his mom ever slapped him in the face hard enough to give him a nosebleed. He would retch if his mouth was able to open.

The fumes almost put him in a daze, but he's aware that if he doesn't act quick, he'll probably die. The pros around him can't do shit, watching him being held hostage. He would laugh at their bewildered faces if he wasn't so sure that his expression matched their own. 

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he starts releasing nitroglycerin blasts as strongly as he can. He can't tell where the villain's face is, but he aims his explosions in the direction of the voice he hears taunting the heroes. 

"You picked the wrong guy to mess with!" he yells, somehow breaking his mouth free. He has to distract the guy long enough to get himself free, or at least find someone strong enough to actually do shit. "I'll send you back to whatever sewer you crawled out of!"

The villain laughs at this, tightening its grip so Katsuki can't do more than pant and send more blasts. "I really hit the jackpot with this one, huh? With this quirk under my control, I'll be able to take down All Might for sure."

Great planning, dumbass. But you'll have to pry my hands off of my body to do that, and you wouldn't be able to do that anyway. Do you even have arms under all that goo? Katsuki almost laughs at that thought, which only goes to show how close to passing out he is. One shake of his hand and he knows he's running low on fuel, and his aching lungs tell him he's running low on oxygen. Every breath hurts like a bitch. It's the smoke, the tar, the blood, the familiar bile in his throat that stings going up just as much as it does being swallowed back down. 

He wonders if anyone will find out the truth about him after he dies. He wonders if his mom'll regret wasting the money on him. 

Then suddenly, he sees a flash of green in the crowd. Great, even fucking Deku is here to watch me die. He'll make me a nice little passage in his notebook under his martyrs section. Hell, I'm not even a martyr. I'm just a jackass who never got to actually prove himself. Another useless roach.

The next thing he knows, Deku is running towards him like a maniac, desperation in his eyes that must mirror Katsuki's own. He wants to tell him not to bother, just to let him die, but he's too weak to say anything more that "Deku."

He can't do more than watch as the idiot throws his bag at the sludge monster (What the fuck is he thinking?) and then starts digging at the sludge monster's side, trying to free him from his choke-hold. At least now he can breathe well enough to talk.

"What the hell are you doing?" he wheezes, holding back a heave. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know!" Izuku shouts, and yes, he's Izuku now. Just for this moment, for this one instance, Katsuki can allow himself to look at his childhood friend instead of the one person who could bring about his downfall. "I saw you being taken and I couldn't let you die!"

You're too good for this world, Izuku. That's why I can't be friends with you. Oh why didn't you just let me die like anyone else in the fucking world would? I'll be back to hating you the second I'm free again, and you're fully aware of this. I even hate you now, for seeing me this weak, for putting yourself out when I would never, for no reason that you're aware of.

Why are you so fucking heroic?

The sludge monster regains its senses quickly, slapping Izuku to the side with a flick of the wrist (which it may or may not have). It returns its attention to Katsuki, and the slime is reaffixed to his face, choking him once more. He blasts until nothing more than smoke exits his pores. Out of fuel, it seems. What perfect fucking timing. He can't do more than stare at the features of his killer, stare at the audience of useless cripples and more useless pros, and hope they don't check his corpse when he's gone.

Then in a flash, he's released. All Might is larger than life, larger than Katsuki could've ever imagined, and he vaporizes the villain with a single punch. They'll be scraping bits of it off the sidewalk and buildings for weeks. He's saying something too, but Katsuki's ears are ringing. Must still have slime in them or some shit.

He stumbles over to a piece of rubble, resting his shaking legs. Then he starts throwing up probably everything he's ever eaten, along with some black sludge that still smells like blood, overpowering everything else. He's hunched over in his seat, all the strength to sit up gone. His hands are dirty, so he'll definitely have to get them cleaned when he gets home, but he registers this in a foggy daze. Everything is removed from him, from the crowds of people wanting to know his name to All Might himself, asking if he's alright. Even when the useless pros come to congratulate him on his bravery and marvel at his quirk, he can't do more than stare at his legs and bite his lip. He wants to go home and bury himself under his blanket and wait for his feelings to come back. 

Instead, he decides to find Deku and tell him how he feels. The moment they shared when Katsuki was inches from death was too personal, nothing he ever wants to happen again. For all the work he put in distancing himself from him, Izuku always finds a way to emerge at the worst of times.

He finds him walking home, bag slung over his shoulder. He looks like he's been crying, which is dumb because Katsuki should be the one crying. Once he finds his feelings, he'll definitely cry. He just needs to find where he's buried them.

He rails on him a little. He doesn't even know what he says, his mind is so detached from his body. He can barely hear his own voice shouting nonsense at Deku, who looks far too used to it. 

"Don't look down on me!" he registers himself saying, and then stalks away. He can't hear Deku's response, but he's sure it's something resigned. An "Ok, Kacchan," or "Whatever you say, Kacchan." Izuku is back where he belongs, unattainable in the furthest reaches of Katsuki's mind.

When he gets home, he takes a shower, and he barely registers his mom's yell of "Took you long enough, brat." It's when he starts spacing out in the shower, brush frozen in his hair, that he comes to the obvious conclusion. I'm in fucking shock. This fucking sucks.

He has to put effort into actually cleaning himself, using his special brush and washcloth with the strap for his stump. The slime sticks to a point where he considers trying to burn it off, before remembering that while his hands are burn proof, the rest of him is very much not. It takes a lot of scrubbing, but he finally reaches a point where he doesn't make himself retch. His skin is rubbed raw, pink and irritated, but he just dresses himself in silence. He leaves his hands in the sink, avoiding eye contact with them. If he can have a moment to forget about the whole situation, he'll take it.

He hears when his mom finds them, as she immediately yells about it. "Katsuki, did you drag your hands in the fucking mud? They smell like shit!" He doesn't respond, which must actually concern her, because she walks into his room without knocking. "Get up, it's barely six."

"The hands need to be washed, hag. They're also out of fuel." His voice doesn't belong to him, it belongs to someone in a different life. "Don't ask, you'll read about it in the papers or some shit." 

His mom starts questioning him about it, but he shuts off his mind like he does his emotions. It's not like he can hear her very well anyway. He doesn't know if he falls asleep or not, but he closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, his mom is gone. In her place lies a pair of gleaming hands. It's only then that Katsuki's tear ducts open, and his eyes drip for no reason other than he's still alive.

He can't bury the sob rising in his throat, not while it's fighting to escape, so he presses a pillow to his face to try and stifle it. But almost immediately, more bile comes to replace it, and he throws the pillow across the room in a fit of panic. He's panting, he can't breathe, he's back with the slime monster and he has himself wrapped around his nose and mouth and-

His dad bursts in, and it's fortunate that he took the time to put his hands on before having his meltdown. A hug would be fatal right now, too constricting, but he lets him put a hand on his shoulder and rub his back. His tissue box is empty before he can process that he's ripping them out by the handful.

"Katsuki, what's wrong?" his dad asks in his soft tone, the one that Mitsuki always calls weak. Katsuki can't bring himself to do more than shake his head, not meeting his dad's eyes. He can be as sarcastic as he wants to his mom without blinking an eye, but so much as a syllable to his dad is impossible.

It could be minutes later, it could be hours, but Katsuki shoves himself away from his dad, sitting on his carpet.

"I need space," he says quietly, and his dad nods immediately. He knows Katsuki's moods almost as well as he knows his own.

"Ok," he says simply. "Let me know if you want me to come back." Katsuki nods, and Maseru shuts the door behind him.

Why am I so fucking messed up? The slime monster is fucking dead, and I didn't even pass out. Why is it still hard to breathe? I need to go to the gym and punch some shit. That'll make me feel better. Maybe go for a run around the park. Why am I still not fucking moving?

Regardless of his racing thoughts, he can't bring himself to do more than drag himself to bed. I'll do it in the fucking morning. I have time tonight. 

He doesn't leave his bed the next day. His mom doesn't bug him about it, so she probably read the news. She just walks in his room to bring him food, taking the dirty plates out with her. The silence is a nice change. 

He keeps his hands on at night. Even with the residual whiff of blood he gets from them every so often, they're still the only comfort object he has left.

The next day he gets himself out of bed, but can't bring himself to leave the house. He has to acclimate to his new sensitivity. His hearing is damaged, hopefully not permanently, and it leaves everything around him feeling foggy. He can't wear anything with a collar without feeling like he has to rip it off, so he sticks to loose t-shirts. He sleeps without a blanket too, after almost crying out in his sleep. His headaches come and go, but with a handful of pain killers he's good to go. 

He vehemently declines his father's offer of a therapist. There's a limit to how low he'll sink.

When he finally returns to school, everyone is buzzing about his attack, but he ignores them all. He doesn't even have the patience for his followers anymore, which is either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it. He sneaks glances at Deku every so often, since somehow he seems even more determined to be a hero now, but doesn't say a word to him. For all intents and purposes, he's a rock now.

As time passes, he settles back into his old routine, however strained he may be. He talks to the followers, and occasionally goes wherever they drag him to. He trains in the park, the gym, and studies his ass off when he's not doing that. He pushes himself so hard in his work that he almost forgets his trauma. Then his shirt is too tight on his neck and suddenly he's back in the square, surrounded by slime. 

If he can go through this much and still make it to UA, he won't let anyone stop him. Nothing more than death itself can get him now.

Chapter Text

Graduation comes in like a bull at Katsuki's heels, only he's relieved it's finally catching him. It was so difficult to focus on his regular assignments when he already had one foot out of his middle school door and one stepping into UA (not that he would ever slack off; he would die before he let some dumb reading assignment hold him back).

"Katsuki, are you almost ready?" his dad calls from the hallway, and Katsuki pauses in his grapple with his gown before shouting back.

"Hold on a second, I'm fucking changing!"

The gown provides its own unique set of limitations, as he has to position it just so to keep it from pulling at his neck. Already he had to get one two sizes too big so it wouldn't constrict him. The whole damn uniform was one big fabric trap, and he felt his neck heating up just thinking about the tent surrounding him.

Still, this is the last time he would have to interact with any of his middle school losers. He isn't going to let their last impression of him be him grappling with a polyester robe.

His parents are already dressed for the ceremony and ready to go when he emerges, holding his stupid tasseled hat in his hands. They get to wear whatever they want, so they chose to dress in upscale clothes that they designed. He can see his mom wrinkle her nose at the tasteless bag he's wearing, but this is one thing she can't control. 

In the car ride, he reads and rereads his valedictorian speech over and over again. It was a tough choice between him and Deku - they were both the only semi-intelligent people in their whole fucking school - but since Deku sucks at speaking in front of crowds, the responsibility fell on Katsuki.

Not to worry, he is perfectly prepared. As long as he avoids the eyes of Deku, his principal, his teacher, his parents, and most of his graduating class.

Once they arrive, he hands his parents their tickets and jumps out of the car, not eager to join the crowd but less eager to spend more time in a trapped moving box with his mom. He gives himself a few inches of space between him, Bando Chiyo, and Azuma Kana. Whenever one of them inches too close, he pushes them back to their original position. Not hard enough to actually hurt them, but firm enough so they know that he won't hesitate to make a scene. Katsuki's reputation is well known throughout the grade, and they don't make the mistake more than once. 

Even with his small bubble of air, the body heat rising in waves is enough that he digs his toes in his boots, breathing in hard through his nose. He chews on a mint from his pocket, one of the tactics he uses to keep himself grounded. If he crunches hard enough, he almost doesn't have to hear Bando's excessively loud breathing beside him. Do you need an inhaler? Are both of your nostrils completely stuffed? Why the hell are you breathing like a sixty year old bulldog?

Then someone is announcing his name to the crowd, and he practically sprints from the line of students to the stage, unbothered by the hundreds of eyes now on him. He never had problems when people paid attention to him. It was only once they weren't looking that his troubles started.

"Welcome teachers, parents, students, and other guests, to the graduation of this year's class of 2065," he starts, not trying to sound interested in the least. His dad basically wrote the whole thing, being the token nice one in their family, and he knows it will be all vanilla happy bullshit.

He thanks his teachers for everything they've done for him, even though he knows he would have been perfectly fine without any of them. They were also complicit in most of the bullying that happened during the year, and didn't do much to stop any of it besides make one speech about being nice to others. Sure, Katsuki was the one who did most of the bullying, but didn't they care at all?

He thanks his principal, who he hasn't seen since his first year orientation when he first entered middle school. He probably does something, but to Katsuki's knowledge, he's just as useless. He's the one hiring all of this dumbass teachers, after all.

Finally, Katsuki thanks the parents that showed up, the ones who probably either hate his guts or think he's some sort of angel, depending on whose parents they are. He sneaks a peek at his dad during this section, who gives him a big thumbs up, and carefully avoids his mom's gaze. He doesn't need any rage right about now. Just some cool detachment will suffice. 

Then he slips up. His last line is simply, "To my fellow graduates, we made it. Congratulations," and he rehearsed it enough times at home that he could say it with his eyes closed. In fact, he probably should have, because on the first syllable, he meets Deku's eyes in the front row. 

He freezes, staring into the perpetual deer-in-headlights eyes of the green haired boy. He's wearing the same cap and gown, probably smaller since he's tiny, and his hands are bunched into fists as he grips the material. He looks almost bored with Katsuki's words, as if he knows they're all fake. And that pisses him off more than anything he had to experience all day.

Katsuki goes off script with his last line, throwing his papers behind him. "To my fellow graduates: I'm glad to be the head of this hell hole. If I see any of you again, it'll be too soon."

He stomps off stage, not picking up his phony speech, and returns to his spot between Azuma and Bondo like nothing happened. He would gladly stomp out of the whole place, but he needs that diploma to fully be out of this hell. He glares at Azuma, daring her to say something.

"Alright then," his principal says, visibly uncomfortable. "How about we get on with the diplomas, shall we?" He starts calling names quickly, probably wanting to get rid of Katsuki as soon as possible. The feeling is mutual, dickwad. Katsuki receives his diploma with his head up high, sparing the principal a single, dead eyed glance, before wandering back off stage. 

The rest of the ceremony zooms by in Katsuki's mind. There are refreshments out for the parents and students, but he knows the food at home is ten times better, and is determined to get out as quick as possible.

"You don't have to make small talk with every damn parent in here," he whispers angrily to his mom, who won't even look at him.

"After that fucking spectacle, I need to preserve our family's image somehow," she whispers back, somehow still smiling at another mom across the room. "You made a mess of yourself up there. I hope you're satisfied by whatever you were trying to accomplish."

"I wasn't trying to accomplish anything, hag," he stage-whispers, voice rising, but she walks away before he can tell her that it was all Deku's fault. 

Screw her. I don't need her anyway. Dad will give me a ride home if I ask, so I just need to find him. Suddenly, there's a hand on his shoulder, and he instinctively grabs it, twisting it around. 

"Hey, watch it, Bakugou!" one of his extras laughs, and he relinquishes his grip on it, though his scowl only deepens. They're like bloodhounds, always able to find me no matter how much I don't want to see them.

"Do you need something?" he asked, not masking his callous tone. After his "scene" on the stage he figures he doesn't need to act cheery.

"We're having a graduation party tonight, and we wanted to invite you," another extra says.

"Can't make it, I'm busy," Katsuki says unapologetically. "UA entrance exams and all."

"Come on, dude, you've been studying for months," the first one wheedles. "You can take one night off for our last night together."

Katsuki lets himself bask in the warmth of those words - "last night together," what a beautiful phrase - before repeating his answer. "Nope. Busy."

"Actually, Katsuki's not busy at all." He stiffens under the new hand on his shoulder, even though he knows exactly who it is. Hell, it's because he knows who it is that he stiffens in the first place.

"Lay off me, hag," he spits, stepping away from her nails digging into his shoulder. She always chooses the absolute best times to show up.

"I'll send him over tonight, boys, just send him the address," she continues, pointedly ignoring her son. "You know how he gets."

The extras nod like they understand - assholes - and Mitsuki drags him away from the action.

"Tonight, you are going to that party. You will put up with them for one more night, just so people don't think you're a psychopath, and then you can kiss them all goodbye," she hisses, her hand back in its vice-like grip on his shoulder. He steps away yet again, rubbing the sore area. 

"Don't touch me. You know I don't like it when you fucking touch me," he says, maybe a touch too frantic. He takes a few deep breaths, for his nerves rather than his anger. He's not ready to let go of the anger just yet. "I'm not going to this party just so you can get along with their stupid parents. Everyone should know that I'm a psychopath, and you too."

For a moment, it seems like she's going to lunge for him again, and he readies himself in a fighting stance. But she just shakes her head, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. 

"What'll it take for you to go to this party?" she asks, age seeping into her voice. 

This gives Katsuki pause. Bribery? That's new. He hasn't wanted much his whole life, besides real hands, so he doesn't even know what to ask for. 

"You'll owe me a favor," he decides, not wanting to waste the opportunity. "When I need it, I'll use it."

"Fair enough." She smooths her hair, huffing again. "Get the time and address from your 'friends' and we can leave."

Katsuki uses the time between getting home and going to the party to curse his mother in every way he can think of. Not out loud, of course, since she seems to be in a crappier mood than usual, but in his head works swimmingly. He watches a couple of videos on his phone, takes a nap, spruces up his hands, and then he's all set.

"Let's go!" he shouts, pulling his shoes on. "You're the one who wanted me to go to this dumb thing, right? Might as well be on time." If he got there early enough, he would be able to hide himself for the duration and encounter the minimum amount of people. Just according to keikaku. 

When he arrives at the venue, some dumb bowling alley that doubles as a club, he curses his mom one more time and barrels in. There are a few people there that he knows, and he nods in their direction before speeding to the bathroom. Now to just wait out the next two hours and be done with it all.

Unfortunately, his followers are smarter than he originally thought, and they seek him out right away, knocking on his stall door until he has to get out for the sake of his sanity. 

"Let's go, grandpa, party's out there," Eyeballs said, pushing him into the loud outdoors. Katsuki would easily blast him to smithereens - and enjoy it too - but there are too many people, and he can't jeopardize his chances of getting into UA. And a curse on you too, Eyeballs. You can rot in hell with my old lady for all I care.

With nothing better to do than sit and eat pretzels, Katsuki turns his attention to people-watching. They're all dancing in that awkward way that preteens do when they're trying to act like adults, shuffling around each other, and he can see their faces clearly under the disco ball (which is tacky as all hell). There's Eyeballs, the guy with the freakishly long neck, the one with a wooden clothespin for a face (did Katsuki sign up for gross mutant middle school by mistake?), the guy with steam for hands. All of the losers he knew for years. 

Except it must be the pretzels making him pay attention, because Katsuki notices one missing. 

It's not Deku, of course; that loser would never be invited to a graduation party unless it was required. No, it's another extra, the one with the wings. He remembers him clearly from when he used to follow him around in elementary school, but after that the memories fade away. 

"Yo," he says, tapping Clothespin on the shoulder. "Where the hell is the guy with wings? Does he even go to our school?"

He can't read his reaction - how the hell can you tell the emotions of a clothespin? - but he hears the hesitation in his voice loud and clear. "In a way, I guess he doesn't," he says. "He hasn't been here in a year."

"What the fuck does that mean, 'in a way'?" Katsuki has no idea why he's so worked up about this. 

"It means I have no idea where he is." Clothespin makes a quick getaway before Katsuki can ask him anything else, and he turns to the next guy in line. Great, the emo with hair in his face. Hate that guy.

"Hey, where's the guy with wings that used to go to our school?" Katsuki asks, tapping him on the shoulder. Emo Guy's reaction is much easier to read.

"He's not here anymore," he says, just as ominously. 

"Yeah, I got that. Where is he though?"

"Nobody knows, man. He's gone. Disappeared last year." Emo Guy disappears just as quickly as Clothespin, leaving Katsuki doubly confused and infuriated. For whatever reason, he's invested in this, and he won't go home without a straight answer.

Maybe it's because of how close he was to also "disappearing". Maybe he needs to know if this guy got caught up with his own villain, without a dumbass weakling to distract it.

"Eyeballs, tell me what happened to the guy with wings," he says shortly, finding Eyeballs talking to a girl with whirlpools for arms who definitely doesn't want anything to do with his stupid face. Katsuki can relate.

"Can it wait?" he whines, not taking his eyes off the girl. Katsuki has no clue what he's so enthralled with, but it can't be more important than a fucking missing person. 

"No. She will still be here after," he responds, nodding in the girl's direction. With a sigh, Eyeballs takes him to the side. 

"Tsubasa disappeared sometime in the middle of last year," he says slowly, like he's talking to a child. 

"Did anyone look for him? Did they make an announcement in class?" Katsuki practically demands. 

"Yeah, of course. The cops and his parents were looking for weeks, and Ishii-sensei made a whole speech about it." His wording isn't lost on Katsuki, who narrows his eyes at him.

"You said the cops and parents. What about you guys? What about his friends?"

"If you were his friend, why didn't you look for him?" Eyeballs counters, although his expression flickers between righteous and guilty. "We weren't that close with him anyway. How would we be able to find him?"

Katsuki feels something snap in his head. He didn't know the guy was gone, that's why he never looked, and he never pretended to be friends with him. Tsubasa, or whatever he said. But Eyeballs and the rest of those dipshits? They were actually friends with him and they knew he was missing. And this guy had the fucking audacity to say they couldn't do anything to help?

"Do you really wanna know why I didn't look?" Katsuki asks, stepping forward into his space. Eyeballs takes a small step back, eyes wide (and that's saying something for someone with eyes as long as arms). "I didn't look because I never gave a shit about any of you extras. You were always dead weight to me. I kept you around so I wouldn't have to look like a friendless psychopath, but since you guys are the real psychopaths, why should I have to hide how pissed I am?"

He isn't trying to conceal his anger anymore. He wants this motherfucker to know how he truly is before he kisses his ass goodbye. "If you disappeared, I wouldn't notice either because you're a tiny pile of crap. But if I was friends with someone, I would fucking look for them if they went missing because I'm not a psychopath. You have to be a real shitstain in a snowstorm not to try and find a missing person. Even I have that tiny bit of empathy in me. No matter how many incidents I cause, I'm still ten times the person you are."

He spits on the ground, right there in the bowling alley, and takes a big step back. He has an audience now, and none of it matters in the least. 

"I meant what I said in my speech," he announces, walking out the door with his arms out. "I can't fucking stand the lot of you. I hope I never see any of you again."

He waits for his dad a block away, using the time he has to remove every one of their contacts they added to his phone. He doesn't have social media, but he wishes he did so he could block them all in one dramatic move. He's so angry - for barely any reason, might he add - that he doesn't notice his dad pulling up until he honks his horn.

Maseru doesn't ask any questions on the ride back, and Katsuki wishes there were easier words to say than "thank you."

Thus, his short vacation before entrance exams is spent alone, and Katsuki can't be happier. He gets more work done without his phone blowing up every five seconds with messages from extras, and it feels like a weight rolled off his shoulders. 

At the same time, a different heaviness sinks into his bones. Every time he goes outside, or even looks out a window, he scans the skies for a familiar pair of red wings, and he's disappointed every time. What did you think, dumbass? That you were going to find him after a year just by looking up? You're wasting your fucking time. You didn't look for him when it mattered.

Still, it becomes a habit of his, to look for Tsubasa in places he knows he won't be. It's more than Eyeballs and his losers ever did, right? He lets himself forget about the bullying Tsubasa did, instead focusing on the fact that he was just another kid who got the rear end of life handed to him. Most people can't relate to the two of them, so allies are hard to come by.

And then the day of the entrance exams arrives, and Katsuki has more to worry about than a boy who can fly. He spares one more look up into the clouds and steps up to the shining gates of UA.

Chapter Text

The first thing Katsuki thinks as he approaches the gates is Ugh, Deku. Because of course the smaller boy is there, mumbling to himself and shaking with excitement, and of course he has to dampen Katsuki's in the process.

"Out of my way before I set you on fire," he says simply, because he's not up for any time of conversation with him, threat filled or otherwise. His mom had forced a scarf around his neck that morning - "They say that exposure therapy is the most effective way, Katsuki. You don't want to be afraid of scarves forever, do you?" - and now his whole body is twitchy with the urge to rip it off. Deku says something in his squeaky voice of his, and Katsuki keeps walking.

His hearing is still a little fuzzy, but he can't miss the whispers around him. "That's the guy who withstood the slime villain. His name's Bakugou, right?" one guy whispers, and the other one responds, "Yeah, he's the real deal."

The hag would jump for joy at that, but Katsuki just stiffens slightly and loosens the scarf to the point where it's almost falling off. Then he decides, screw it, he's not going to let this exposure therapy bullshit ruin his chances. He tosses it in the trash, leaving it in the past.

He doesn't like how he already has a reputation for something that probably scarred him for life, but as long as they think he's a badass instead of a PTSD-suffering fraud, then he thinks he can live with it. Besides, based on what he sees of their quirks, he'll never see either of them again.

One test between him and the only possibility for a good future (unless he wants to go all the way to Shiketsu, but he'd rather not). If what his mom and his brain always say is true, that his quirk is stronger than everyone else's, there should be nothing in his way. 

To be overconfident or underconfident, that is the question.

Registration is tedious, lots of waivers to sign, and Katsuki takes the time to read through all of the small print. They're not responsible if we're fucking crushed to death? What's next, funeral arrangements?

He's not nervous. He's sure the more he tells himself this, the truer it'll become. 

He barely makes it to orientation on time, so he has no time to change seats when he realizes he's sitting right next to Deku. Luckily, there's an annoying ass glasses head sitting in front of them who interrupts every five seconds, so he's more than occupied mentally destroying that guy instead. His hands stay shoved in his pockets, out of sight and mind.

The test is pretty basic. Destroy the robots, get points. Katsuki would destroy all of them in an instant just for the thrill of it, but he has to conserve fuel, so he makes a mental note only to go for the ones that are worth two or three points. 

They separate him and Deku - thank fuck - and he makes his way to battle center A alone. He stands a little apart from the crowd growing at the gate, observing them. Besides for being oddly colorful in hair and skin, there doesn't seem to be anything extraordinary about any of them. I'll crush em all.

"You're Bakugou Katsuki, right?" He flinches in surprise, turning around to see who the hell is talking to him. It's a girl with bright pink dreadlocks and yellow eyes that are currently sizing him up . Katsuki is struck with familiarity, but he has no idea how.

"Who wants to know?" he asks, taking a step back. Whoever she is, she has no concept of personal space.

"Hatsume Mei," she introduces herself. "You probably know my mom Asami, right? She got those pretty little hands of yours for you."

Her lips keep moving, but she's talking to herself for all intents and purposes. Katsuki's ears are ringing too loudly for him to hear her. His breath comes out in pants as he clenches his hands into fists, shoving them out of sight in vain. She knows she fucking knows she's gonna tell someone she's gonna rat me out she'll tell the principal she-

"Take a deep breath, Bakugou, I'm not gonna expose you," she says, slapping him on the arm to get his attention. He forces himself to meet her crosshaired eyes, even though he knows he looks like a startled animal. "I know what my mom does isn't really legal, so why would I tell anyone? That would be dumb of me."

Her logic is basic and selfish, but Katsuki understands basic and selfish better than anything, so his breathing slows back to semi-normal. She may be yelling the one thing he's terrified of people finding out, but at least she's conscious of it. 

"Why the fuck are you talking to me, then?" he asks, fury replacing the panic. "I would've been totally fine not knowing you exist."

"None taken, Bakugou," she says lightly. "I'm going for the support course, and I'm just as handy with tools as my mom is. Ha! Handy. Get it?"

"Your puns are physically painful."

"Anyhoo, if your hands get broken or something in the middle of the day, I'm letting you know that I'll be there to fix them. What did you think would happen if your prostheses broke in class?"

Katsuki doesn't want to admit that he never thought about it, so he doesn't. "Fucking bold of you to assume you'll get into UA."

"Right back at you, Blasty."

He takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face. "Why are you even here if you're going for the support course?" he asks. "This exam is for hero course people only. You'll probably do a shit job of fighting the robots."

"Regardless of my own personal ability," she says, unfazed, "I'm here to test out some of my babies on those giant robots. It's like a free test run!" 

Katsuki is starting to doubt how sane Hastume actually is, and is about to threaten her when he hears Present Mic's voice. "And go!" He runs off with the rest of them, leaving loony Hatsume in the dust. He doesn't think she'll be a problem to him in UA, but just in case, he files her away under Potential Threats in his mind.

The battle center is huge, and Katsuki is smacked in the face with how much money UA has to spend on useless things like entrance exams. He doesn't have time to look around at the mock city, however, because he has some robot ass to kick. 

As he targets and blows up hulking robots, he becomes more and more aware of his competition around him. He sees a girl with pink skin and hair melting a couple of them, leaping from robot to robot. Some bird brain is using his shadow to climb and attack them. Plant head is wrapping vines around their legs to knock them over.

Nothing as flashy as mine, he observes with a grin. This'll be easy.

At one point, he sees a robot fall to the ground without anyone attacking it, and it's only when he sees the wires sticking out the back, a pair of gloves still gripping them, that he realizes somebody took it apart from the panel. Somebody invisible, apparently.

"I studied the blueprints beforehand," she explains - or at least, he assumes it's her, since he can't see anyone else around. Not that he asked for an explanation, but she doesn't seem to notice. 

"That's fucking cheap," Katsuki says, running past her with a huff. 

"The whole exam is pretty cheap, only targeting the heroes who fight directly. You do what you can to get ahead." She doesn't sound guilty at all about her backhanded ways, and goes on to grab the panel of a second robot. "Besides, I need my quirk so they don't detect me, so it's not all cheating."

Katsuki is sorely reminded that his quirk - or rather, lack of it - is even less helpful in this test as her invisibility. Support items disqualify candidates from the hero course unless they correspond with the person's quirk - page 4 paragraph 9 of the waivers - and his hands are very much support items, so he's cheating even more than she is. He spits on the ground, blowing up the next robot with as much force as he can.

He's vaguely alarmed to see that the robot proceeds to crush somebody behind it, toppling over onto the shirtless figure. Katsuki doesn't have time to see if the guy is okay, but as he's running past it to take on the next bot, the guy bursts out of the metal figure like a parasite in Alien.

"Watch where you're shooting, man!" he calls, shaking himself off. Katsuki can see that his skin below his head is hard as a rock, flesh solidified into stone. "You coulda killed someone."

"That's what the fucking waivers are for," Katsuki shouts back, knocking out a three-pointer. "Read 'em next time."

"Doesn't mean you should try and kill people," the guy says, almost to himself. Then they both hear a shout, and he turns his head in its direction. "Gotta go save someone from a similar fate!"

"Save someone? This is a killing challenge, not a rescue one," Katsuki says, wrinkling his nose. "You're not gonna get any fucking brownie points for saving a weakling who thought they could get into UA without any fighting ability."

"I've only known you for a second and you're already the coldest person I know," the guy yells over his shoulder, already making his way towards the scream. "Do what you want, but I'm not letting someone get hurt so I could save a couple of points."

Katsuki lets the stranger go, a cold feeling growing in his stomach. He's surrounded by sentimental saps and cheats, and he doesn't know which is worse. He punches the next robot, not bothering with his quirk, and instantly regrets it when pain rushes through his arm. Great idea, dumbass. Bust your hand in the fucking entrance exam, then see what happens.

He doesn't see the invisible girl - ha - or the guy he almost crushed again, although he does see Hatsume for a moment, using some sort of weird glove to punch a bot's lights out. He walks faster, not wanting her to start yelling his most private secret again. 

He also sees someone more alarming, if that's possible, in a blond boy wearing a suit. With a single touch, he copies the quirk of a redheaded girl who can make her fists grow ten times in size, using his "new quirk" to bash a robot over the head.

"Thanks for the help, doll," he says, running off with his huge hands swinging. Katsuki has no idea how she reacts, because he's already running top speed in the opposite direction of the blond. 

Definitely a threat. I can't let him anywhere near me, possibly for the entirety of my time at UA. He's too fucking dangerous, and he doesn't even know it. He toys with the idea of knocking a robot onto him, but Present Mic definitely wouldn't like that. He'll have to play nice for now, and if Blondie knocks himself out somewhere in the process, it'll only be to Katsuki's benefit. 

By the end of the exam, he's sweating through his tank top, having lost his blazer somewhere in the beginning, and his legs are aching from running throughout the vast city. Even so, he's feeling confident that he managed to take out enough bots to pass. He avoids Hatsume again on his way out, making sure their paths don't cross. 

The written test is two hours long, in which he speeds through the test, circling bubbles and finally using his extensive studying for something useful. As UA is more focused on the practical exam for the hero course, the questions aren't exactly challenging for him, but he still checks his answers twice before handing his scantron in. If he didn't get into UA because of some careless math mistake, he would never recover.

"How do you think you did?" the hag asks as she drives him back, even though they both know there's only one acceptable answer.

"I definitely passed. It's just a matter of getting my acceptance letter now," Katsuki grunts. Mitsuki makes a sound of approval, and continues to drive in silence. She asks Katsuki about the scarf at some point, but he has no answer for her. 

"Must've gotten lost in the practical, right?" she asks, and he shrugs.

His parents take him out for dinner to celebrate, the spiciest curry place in the city, and in exchange he answers their questions about the test, his eyes trained on the bowl. He doesn't mention Hatsume, the boy made of rock, the invisible girl, or anything to do with Deku. Just generic questions about the written test and smashing robots and shit. He could do it in his sleep. 

The UA people work fast, and within a week he receives his answer to the question he's been asking all his life: Am I worthy of UA high school?

"Come, young Bakugou," All Might says on the screen, after recounting Katsuki's accomplishments in both the written and physical exam. "This is your hero academia."

Katsuki waits for the rush of joy to fill him, an overwhelming happiness unlike anything he's ever felt before. This is all he's ever wanted, right? Everything he's ever worked for was to receive this three minute long video clip.

But the only thing that fills him is relief, followed by disappointment that he can't feel the euphoria that countless people around the city are probably feeling at their acquisition of acceptance. It reminds him of the numbness he felt after the sludge villain attack, only with positive emotions instead of negative ones.

Maybe he just can't feel anything normal at all.

He sends the video to his parents so they can see it too, and climbs into his bed.

He'll have some time before school starts up again, but what will he do during it? He has nothing to work for anymore, nothing to prove until classes actually start. He won't slack in his training, but what about the rest of his time? 

"You wanna make yourself useful, brat?" his mom asks, a few days into his moping around the house. "How about you start cooking dinner for us? It'll save me some time, at least."

Katsuki hates how much he enjoys cooking, for the simple reason that his mom told him to do it. He can relax in the kitchen as much as he can in the weights room at the gym, and he takes on cooking dinner for the whole family every night.

In addition, he also learns how to play drums - some guy on YouTube said it helped him get his frustration out - and his dad is more than happy to let him indulge in these new hobbies. His mom is hesitant to let him distract himself from his training, but ultimately concedes when Maseru reminds her that he's already in UA.

"Just make sure you don't slack off," she says with a sniff. "You don't want to fall behind when you finally make it to class, right?"

"I won't slack off, hag," he responds, equally sniffy. Even if it didn't give him the everlasting elation he thought he would get, going to UA is still the top of his priority list, and being the number one hero is still his number one goal. Maybe then he'll finally be able to enjoy himself, and all the suffering will have been worth it.

Otherwise, why keep going at all?

Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki, age 15

His mom doesn't pack his lunch on his first day of UA. He doesn't expect her to - it's been years since she last did it, and he cooks better than her anyway - but some small part of him thought that now that he accomplished their goal - her goal - she might show her appreciation with a little bit of care.

He always expects too much of her. 

"Katsuki, are you ready?" his dad asks as Katsuki climbs into the passenger seat. He only sits in the front seat when he drives with his dad, although he would never say it out loud. Weakness in compassion and all that shit. 

"Obviously. I was ready before the entry exam," he says with a sniff. I spent too many hours training not to be. 

"That's what I thought you'd say," his dad says with a small laugh. "Just thought I should ask for the heck of it."

He doesn't ask his dad if he's taking off work to drive him, or whether he had to fight the hag for it. His dad isn't an idiot; he can see the animosity between Katsuki and Mitsuki, even if he just chalks it up to teenage hormones or some shit.

Katsuki doesn't know how someone like his dad could like someone like his mom at all. His main theories are that Maseru never saw that side of Mitsuki, and he's married to a lie. Either that or a weird version of Stockholm syndrome. Knowing their backstory - how the hag kept asking his dad out until he said yes - he wouldn't be surprised if it was something that demented. 

His dad doesn't hug him when they reach the school - he knows better than to try - but he does give Katsuki's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Kick some butt," he says, which is lame enough to make Katsuki roll his eyes, but sincere enough that he doesn't call him out on it.

"I will," he says simply, slinging his bag over one shoulder and stepping through the gates. 

He's slightly early, which is planned, since it gives him more time to scope out the place and his classmates. He places his stuff down at his seat, puts his feet up, and waits for something to happen. 

Lucky for his bored brain, he doesn't have to wait long. The dumbass blue haired guy from orientation walks in soon after him, spots his posture, and immediately goes off on him.

"Don't you think this is disrespectful to your upperclassmen and the people who made the desk?" the nerd says, and Katsuki feels his stomach fill up with something resembling satisfaction, even while being scolded. He had been worried - in the loosest sense of the word - about finding people in class to interact with. He couldn't afford to be a loner forever. But a worthy enemy was just as good, if not better, than a worthy ally.

The class is filling up now, but Katsuki isn't concerned about what they think of him yet. There's plenty of time for a first impression that will knock them on their asses.

"Nope," he says, savoring the syllable. "What middle school did you go to, you side character?" It's one of his favorite insults of choice because it's usually true; most people on the planet are just side characters in his development story. The class is full of them now, and he's pleased to see that Blond Suit Fucker isn't among them. Everything is playing out nicely for him.

While he waits for the blue nerd to stop sputtering, he checks out his competition. The pink girl with the acid is there, and he grimaces to see the invisible girl (or just her gloves). The shitty haired redhead is there too, already chatting with the other idiots around him. How charming. 

The buzzkill responds, but Katsuki forgets his answer a second later when the last person in their class walks in. Someone who he had hoped would move to a different country before the start of the semester. All eyes go straight to Deku, of course. 

The nerd is slightly stronger looking than he was during school, but he's still a tiny fucking twig. Katsuki curses under his breath as the blue nerd and the pink nerd crowd around him, asking him questions and blocking his way inside. Good. Maybe if they don't let him in then the doors will close and somehow, if gods really exist, he'll be stuck outside forever.

From the sludge incident all the way until the entrance exam, Katsuki had been nothing but peaches and cream to him. Sure, he didn't actually talk to him, but he felt that was the best justice he could do for him. They'd be even, Katsuki would leave to UA, and they'd never speak again.

Then he heard the news that Deku somehow duped the admissions people into letting him in, and the whole dream shattered. No matter how hard he tried to reconcile it in his mind, he couldn't imagine going on to crush everyone else and be the number one hero with Deku somehow following him, holding onto his coattails like he always did. It was fucking ridiculous how roachlike his resilience was.

"Inko doesn't have the money to bribe Izuku's way in," the hag had said when Katsuki relayed the story in a murderous rage. He didn't trust his dad to be on his side about this, the dumb happy go lucky fucker. The only person who could match his indignation was his other parent. "Maybe someone else gave him their points?"

"There's no way they'd let a quirkless loser into UA. It's a hero school, not a charity," Katsuki said with a huff. "Whatever, I'm over it. I'll crush him in a fucking instant."

He didn't tell his mom the other side of the story: how everyone from his group talked about the green haired kid who annihilated the zero pointer, then immediately got knocked out. There was no doubt in Katsuki's mind that they were talking about Deku; it was only a matter of how the hell he pulled it off. 

There's no way that fucker got the same operation, he reasoned with himself, twisting his fingers. Inko wouldn't do it. She's too nice. But no matter how he played it out in his head, he couldn't find a more rational excuse than that. He must've gotten the operation, either on his legs or arms, and didn't train enough to handle the prostheses. Katsuki had had eleven years now to deal with it; Deku could've had a month, tops.

I won't jump to conclusions, but I'll have my eyes on that fucker. And if we go head to head, we'll see which fraud wins out.

He has his rage to thank for the fact that he doesn't collapse into a nervous fit the second he sees him. His rage is his backbone, his support system, the familiarity that keeps him functioning in whatever new situation Fate chucks him into. If there's one thing he inherited from his old woman - besides flawless skin and blond hair - it's her ability to conjure rage from nothing. He tugs on his collar, suddenly too tight even without the tie.

Before he can either go off on Deku or the blue nerd again, their teacher makes his presence known from the floor. He looks like he lives in a gutter and never washed his hair in the however many years he was alive, but he's the real deal. UA doesn't hire any old hobo. Katsuki respects authority, even if it could use a shower.

"Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends." This man is suddenly Katsuki's favorite person. 

 He takes them outside to "test their limits," which is teacher speak for showing off to everyone else how much better you are. If there was ever something Katsuki was born to do, it's this. 

They change into their gym clothes, tacky red white and blue sweats, and line up. Katsuki is chosen to be the example by chance, and it's his best shot for a first impression that'll make them all shit themselves.

He pulls his fingers as far back as they'll go, opening for a huge explosion. Then he sends the ball sky high with a shout of "Die!" standing back to watch his handiwork play out. He shakes his hand out in front of him, grinning at the seven hundred meters on the screen in front of him. By the whispers around him, nobody missed his feat. The more people fear and admire me, the less they'll doubt me. 

The other challenges are easy too. He can just propel himself with his blasts for anything with speed or distance. The rest of the challenges like the grip strength and side stepping, he just uses his own strength for. He's no one trick pony like some of these fuckers. Invisible girl, for example. How the hell did she expect to get anywhere?

Deku fails as always, making Katsuki doubt his prosthesis theory even more. He wouldn't be flunking so bad with any of Asami's gadgets. No, must've been a fluke when he got in, or maybe Inko really did bribe them somehow. Whatever it is, he's relieved to see that all of his problems will be over soon.

Then comes the ball toss for everyone else. Katsuki watches impatiently as pink fucker uses her quirk to cheat, octopus fucker flings it to the moon with his gross tri-arms, and sparkly fucker... tries really hard. By the time Deku steps up, Katsuki is almost anxious in anticipation of his shitty throw.

And the throw is shitty. For all the buildup, his throw doesn't pass fifty meters. Katsuki almost snorts aloud, other people be damned. But Aizawa has to ruin it for him, hair standing up like in a wind storm and his scarf floating around him. Even before Deku starts his damn muttering, he knows something bad is about to happen.

"I erased your quirk," Aizawa says nonchalantly, like he didn't take ten years off of Katsuki's life with those words. He probably continues talking, but the white noise always in the background suddenly overtakes Katsuki's ears.

Breathe deep. Don't cause a scene. You can switch classes. You can avoid having him find out. Stop making a fist, Katsuki, your hand is smoking. Nobody is looking your way, you don't have to be paranoid right now. Just stay on his good side and there won't be any problems. 

Of course, Katsuki forgets all of this a second later when Deku fucking launches the ball in the air, landing it just slightly farther than he did. All logistics aside, it makes no sense. If it's not a fluke, then how the hell is Deku doing anything?

"I'll kill you," he growls, launching himself at the boy, but he feels Aizawa's eyes on him a second later. He stops the explosions as soon as he can, but it's too late: the capture scarf is holding him back, and Aizawa is analyzing him like a difficult math equation.

"See me after class, Bakugou," he says simply, freeing the boy a second later. He doesn't have to worry about Katsuki attacking Deku anymore; he's so shaken by the implication of his words that he can't even bring himself to speak, let alone attack anyone. Everyone else probably thinks he's going to be reprimanded for his rash behavior, but Katsuki knows better. Not even a day into his UA career and he already fucked it up.

He forces himself to keep his mind on Deku for the rest of the class. It's not a fun challenge anymore, it's the last feast before his execution. He has too much to think about, so he focuses on the pebble in the road that suddenly became a boulder, since it's the easiest to explain. He has so many negative emotions piling up, he feels exhausted just keeping an angry face.

He doesn’t even remember that the worst person is supposed to be kicked out until Aizawa already crushes that dream. Logical ruse his ass. That guy’s probably just soft for Deku like every other person on the fucking planet. 

”Midoriya, you go to Recovery girl. Bakugou, come with me. The rest of you can go to your regular classes.” Aizawa’s words leave no room for argument; Katsuki follows him inside, the eyes of the other kids burning into his back.

Neither of them say a word until they reach the teacher’s lounge, where Aizawa shuts the door behind them.

”Use your quirk,” he says, almost like a command. Katsuki knows exactly what he’s trying to prove, but he’s useless to fight against it. He starts up a couple of explosions, stopping as soon as Aizawa flashes his red eyes at him.

”Nice try,” his teacher says humorlessly. “I’ve already established that my quirk doesn’t work on you. The only question is why.”

His open ended statement is intended to make Katsuki talk, but he’s not saying a fucking word. The cat is asking the mouse to jump right into its mouth. Katsuki isn’t going to be vermin today.

”Alright,” Aizawa says, unperturbed. “If you won’t talk, maybe I should call your moth—“

”Don’t.” The word escapes Katsuki’s mouth before he can stop it. “I’ll tell you. Just don’t kick me out of here.”

”We’ll see how this conversation goes.” Judging by his attitude, Aizawa is suspicious of him. Maybe thinks he’s a spy, or a weird mutant or something. He’s got no evidence that something illegal happened. I might not be kicked out after all.

”I’m waiting.”

Katsuki looks towards the door, then back again at Aizawa to make sure the coast is clear. Only then does he finally whisper what he’s been holding in for eleven years.

”They’re fake. My hands are fake.”

”Prove it.”

Aizawa doesn’t even flinch, so neither does Katsuki. With a practiced twist of his wrist, he removes his prosthesis, tossing it over to the man. Aizawa looks it over, bends the fingers, examines the button.

”I lost my hands when I was little in a freak accident, so my mom got these made,” he lies easily, crossing his arms. “The other one’s fake too but it’s hell to put them both on without any hands, so I’d prefer not to.” His tone screams annoyance, contempt, but it’s all in purpose. Anything to hide the hesitance in his words.

”I see.” Aizawa hands him back his prosthesis and waits for him to reattach it. “Were the admissions aware of this?”

”They didn’t ask, so I didn’t say anything,” he says shortly. “I still passed the entrance exam, right? So does it matter?”

”That’s up to Principal Nedzu to decide,” Aizawa decides, and rises to his feet. “Follow me again.”

The dread is more of a precaution now than anything to Katsuki. They can’t kick him out just for his prostheses, he’s pretty sure that’s illegal. Ableist and shit. 

Then again, UA can probably do whatever the hell they want.

Principal Nedzu surprises Katsuki, not just because he’s like two feet tall and a mouse. No, it’s more his friendly demeanor that itches at him. 

”Bakugou, so nice to meet you,” he chirps, motioning him to sit down. “What brings you here today? Would you like some tea?”

”No,” Katsuki replies brusquely. Nice people always have something to hide, that’s why he hates dealing with them. He looks to Aizawa to explain the situation.

”He’s quirkless. His abilities come from his prostheses,” he says with a hand on his hip. Katsuki winces; it’s been years since he was called quirkless, and it didn’t feel any better at 15 than 4. 

”Fascinating,” Nedzu says with a smile. “Katsuki, would you mind letting me examine one of your prostheses please?”

He doesn’t say anything, just slides one of them down the desk. Nedzu checks them like Aizawa did, except he looks interested rather than suspicious.

”I’ve never seen prostheses so well made,” he says, handing it back to Katsuki. “They must’ve been expensive.”

”That’s what the h- my mom always says,” Katsuki catches himself.  

“Principal Nedzu, we’re here to discuss how this affects Bakugou’s place in the hero course,” Aizawa says uncomfortably.

”I don’t see how it should affect him at all,” Nedzu replies with a blink. “He was our top scorer in the practical exam, and his academic exam was no worse.”

He turns to address Katsuki. “Will your prostheses hold you back?”

”Hell no,” Katsuki says immediately. “It never has before, and it never will.”

”Very well then. You have your first english now, right? You better get on that.” And with that, both he and Aizawa were excused from the office.

The silence returns, thicker than before, but Katsuki doesn’t care. If that was his first test of UA, then he just passed it. Worrying won’t help him anymore, it’ll just be wasted energy.

They stop outside of the classroom, and Aizawa stops him before he can enter.

”My job is to put the best heroes out on the line,” he says, like Katsuki asked about his job description. “If I see you unable to be one, I won’t hesitate to transfer you for your own safety.”

“I will be the number one hero,” Katsuki says, almost growling. Aizawa is really testing his decorum skills. “Then you’ll see.”

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow, Bakugou.”

It almost sounds like a threat, but he shouldn’t worry. Katsuki’s abilities never disappointed before, and they won’t start now.

Chapter Text

Katsuki comes to school the next day knowing what to expect.

He walks in early again, avoiding the blue nerd's eyes as he sits down. Aizawa's obviously looking for some reason to expel him now, so he'll have to be on his best behavior. No unnecessary arguments, no confrontations, and no Deku. 

Aizawa comes in late again, minus his sleeping bag this time. Katsuki avoids his eyes too, and in turn Aizawa keeps his red eyes away from him. The less interaction he has with that man's quirk, the better.

His other classes are easier for him. English is a bore, math is easy, science is whatever. It reminds him of middle school in a nostalgic way, behind surrounded by idiots and meatheads. He can already tell who got in on the practical exam alone and who's kissing the teacher's ass already (spoiler alert: it's the blue nerd).

Lunch poses a bit of an issue, as he's already established himself as the unstable hot head of their class, but he sits himself at the edge of Bird Brain and Octopus's table, and they either don't care enough to tell him to leave or they're too scared to. Either way, it's free real estate.

The real surprise of the day comes after lunch. His schedule says combat training, but there isn't any teacher listed. Maybe it's Aizawa, he thinks to himself with a scowl. That won't look really good for me. But it isn't until a minute later that their real teacher comes through the door. Or rather, bursts through it.

"I am... walking through the door like a normal person!" All Might shouts, approaching the podium in his Silver Age suit. Katsuki recognizes it well from the playing cards he used to trade as a kid. That's your favorite hero, Katsuki. You should be cheering like everyone else.

But the first thing that comes to his mind is, un-fucking-surprisingly, the sludge villain incident. He sees flashes of it: All Might splattering the villain to bits, Katsuki throwing up black, everyone asking if he's okay long after he isn't. He inhales deeply, the noise blocked out by the class's exclamations of awe. Then All Might starts to speak, and the class goes silent to listen. Katsuki does the same, gripping his collar with tight fingers.

"Today will be your first combat training!" he announces in a booming voice. Right, that's what he's here for. Katsuki feels his face shift into a tight grin, and his grip loosens. All of this other stuff is nice and good, but this is why he came to UA in the first place.

All Might tells them to change into their hero costumes and to meet him at Ground Beta. Katsuki grabs his case, running to the locker room to try it on for the first time.

It's exactly how he drew it, down to the fabric. Porous gloves so the blasts can come through them, while also protecting his prostheses. Two giant grenade storage tanks on his wrists to store extra fuel in case he needs to recharge. A utility belt with extra grenades for more storage. A sleeveless tank top with a low neckline, so he'll never feel like he's choking, and a metal guard around the back of his neck for extra protection.

And solid metal knee pads, so he can kill with his knees. He put those on as an afterthought, since they look fucking awesome and he can do what he wants. The head spikes were actually his parents' idea, them being fashion designers and all.

"Won't they catch in the wind?" he had asked, looking over their sketch.

"Not if you angle them the right way," his mom had said, circling them in bright red. "Plus, you can use them like throwing stars if you have to."

"I'm not going to fucking ninja school," he had muttered, but kept the design anyway in his final draft. It wasn't like she would hear about it.

Now gathered at Ground Beta, he quickly looks over his competitors' costumes. Blue nerd is wearing a suit of armor, somehow, and so is sparkly nerd. There are a couple of jumpsuits, which Katsuki's parents would absolutely gag at, and he's pretty sure the short purple perv is wearing a metal diaper. If he ever gets anywhere near the hero charts, Katsuki'll have to post a picture of this. For collective humanity's sake.

Deku is wearing an awful combination of a green jumpsuit - which obviously clashes with his hair - along with his clunky ass sneakers. And that's not even mentioning the giant rabbit mask-hat monstrosity he has on his head! Katsuki's eyes bleed just looking at it, but he can't look away, it's that awful.

He tears his attention to All Might, who stands in front of their group. He announces some sort of fighting challenge, an indoor one this time. Katsuki can't wait to smash some robots - it's surprisingly cathartic - but All Might crushes that dream by announcing that they'll be fighting in pairs, one against the other. Heroes versus villains.

If Katsuki's luck is as awful as it usually is, then he'll be paired up with Deku. Oddly enough, he only gets his second least favorite choice, which is the blue nerd. At this rate, Katsuki might actually have to learn his name, since obviously he'll be a thorn in his side for a while. 

This is my chance to prove that I'll be the best hero. Aizawa can watch me defeat those villains with my eyes closed, and then he'll be sorry he ever doubted-

"These two teams will be competing first!" All Might exclaims, pulling out a ball from each box with a letter on them. One white and one black. One hero and one villain. Team A and team D.

"Team A will be the heroes, and Team D will be the villains," he continues, as if it wasn't obvious based on the colors. "Everyone else, head to the monitor room!"

Katsuki can feel a sense of foreboding even before he turns around to see which unlucky fuckers he'll have to destroy. Deku and pink nerd stand across from them, looking terrified and excited at the same time.

Katsuki meets Deku's eyes, glaring at him from the side. It'll just take one blast to knock him out, even with his weird new quirk, and pink nerd looks even weaker than he is. As much as they're preparing for a big fight, Katsuki is ready to glide through it.

But then Deku does something new, something he's never done before. His hands close into fists, and he glares back. Katsuki doesn't think he's ever seen the wimp annoyed, let alone angry. 

Maybe this isn't really Deku. Maybe he was replaced with a twin brother or something, one that has a quirk, and all of this is to mess with me. Leave it to Deku to screw with my head on the second day of classes.

Or maybe he always had a quirk, and I was just too fucking stupid to notice. Maybe he was saving it this whole time to kick my ass and make an idiot out of me in front of everyone. In front of All Might. 

"Bakugou, did you hear the instructions?" An obnoxious gloved hand is waving in his face, and Katsuki blinks back to attention in annoyance. Deku and the pink nerd are gone, and blue nerd is the only one left. Fantastic. "We have to go inside the building and set up now. I think we should start planning-"

"What's there to plan?" Katsuki asks, leading the way to the building so that blue nerd can't see his face. "They try and get the bomb, we just destroy them. Pretty fucking simple."

"First off, your profanity has no place here," he harrumphs, which almost gets a smile out of Katsuki. "Second of all, hero work isn't all fighting hand to hand. You have to think ahead if you want to achieve anything and defeat the villains in the smartest way possible."

"It's a good thing we're the villains then, right?" Katsuki says, looking around the room. The paper mache bomb looks even dumber up close. "Hey, you were in the same group as Deku, right?"

"Um, yes," Iida says, looking affronted. "Why do you ask?"

"Does he have a quirk?"

Iida sniffs, like this is the dumbest question he can ask. "Of course. Did you not see his extraordinary feat of strength before? Besides, no quirkless person could get into UA." Katsuki is about to debate that point, but decides better of it. He doesn't need to be thought of as the defender of the quirkless here. It'll draw too much attention. 

Iida takes this as his cue to continue talking. "You seem to be a very angry person, but especially angry when it comes to Midoriya..." He probably says more - this damn nerd talks almost as much as Deku - but Katsuki is back in his own head, too far away to hear his words.

"Extraordinary feat of strength?" He has this asshole wrapped around his finger. It's only a matter of time before everyone else is fawning over him too. It doesn't matter if he tricked me all this time or he's somehow tricking them right now. My only hope to end whatever this is is to do what I do best: destroy his team so hard, nobody'll ever talk about him again without thinking of my power. 

"...so that's why we should be thinking this over," Katsuki hears Iida conclude. He sighs, long and hard.

"You want a plan? Here's the plan. I find them. I crush them. You stay here and defend this piece of shit. Got it?" And while Iida is spluttering about teamwork and thinking and shit, Katsuki makes a break for the stairwell. 

He goes down a floor or two, then waits around a corner to listen for the "heroes's" arrival. His hearing is still shit, but Deku's dumb boots clatter on the tile floor anyway. When they're about to reach him, he launches himself out, blasting at the place where their heads used to be. He barely gets them, but at least scorches half of Deku's dumb mask. 

"Come on, Deku, don't dodge," he growls. Use your shiny new quirk on me, useless. "I'll end this fight before it even starts."

He goes for a right hook, palms sparking, when he stops in place. Or rather, gets stopped in place. In the blink of an eye, he's thrown over Deku's shoulder, smacking to the ground behind him. The wind is completely knocked out of him, and he coughs, covering the motion with his hand. He knows that the other 16 losers are watching him closely. He can't look weak now.

"You always start with a right hook, Kacchan," Deku says, like his stalkerish tendencies are something to be proud of. "Don't you know how many times I've watched you do it? Don't you know how much analysis I do in my notebooks?"

Katsuki knows it's not a threat, this has nothing to do with his hands, but his chest tightens anyway. That damn fucking nerd! He really thinks he can psychoanalyze the shit out of me and win like that. I don't need to be a stalker to win this battle. My strength is enough. 

"Bakugou, what's happening?" he hears in his left ear, and he scowls. He forgot that the blue nerd made him put in the earpiece. 

"Shut up and defend," he snarls. "I have this." 

"But-" He hangs up before his yapping can distract him any more from the battle. Nerds talk and talk, but heroes act. 

He goes for a second blast, only for his foot to get caught in what feels like capture tape. He punches it and Deku away, landing a few feet away. He clenches his teeth, discreetly shaking his hands. He has enough fuel to keep going with the big blasts, but not for long.

Of course, right when he's about to try again, Deku makes a run for it like the coward that he is. Katsuki chases after him, shouting as he does. 

"Was it fun?" he yells, knowing that nobody can hear him but Deku and the nerd in his ear. "Tricking me all this time? Come and get me with your flashy new quirk, I can take it. I can beat you with or without it."

He blasts through room after room, his skin itching. Against any other person, Deku would be screwed. No matter how powerful everyone thinks he is, he's still a weakling. But because the gods - and probably All Might, if they're being honest - favors Deku instead of him, he got put against the one person he's been watching for years. Doesn't everyone see that he's be nothing without his stupid observations? The villains won't always be his childhood bullies, those idiots.

A Deku is someone useless, who can't do anything. That hasn't changed a bit.

Finally, he encounters him sitting on the floor, his dumb half mask somehow still attached to his face. 

"Why won't you use your quirk on me?" he asks, warming up his hands. "You think you're better than me even without it? Because then you're even more fucking delusional than I thought."

"I'm not scared of you, Kacchan," Deku says, but even Katsuki can see he's lying. He's shaking in his fucking boots, he's that scared. Time to show Aizawa that not expelling him was a mistake after all.

"You see these?" he asks, pointing to one of his gauntlets. "Filled with nitroglycerin from my sweat. The more I move, the more they fill up, and the bigger the blasts." A small lie, given that his nitroglycerin compound comes from a bottle, but it's all irrelevant. 

He pulled back the trigger, aiming it just to the left of Deku. It won't kill him, but it'll incapacitate him for sure. His mind is too dead set on the end goal to see anything standing in his way. "Last chance, Deku. Bring out your fancy quirk and stop me!"

He hears All Might yell something in his ear - he didn't even know All Might was there - but all of his focus is on Deku. "No? Alright then. Don't say I didn't warn you." He pulls out the pin, bracing himself for an explosion. And man, he is not disappointed.

A blast the size of a wall goes hurtling towards Deku, blowing a hole out of the office building wall. Katsuki can't see much through the smoke, but there's definitely a figure on the ground. Still moving, but barely. He strides over, kicking pieces of rubble to the side as he does. 

"I'll make you surrender even if you're at full strength," he sneers at the figure on the ground, shaking from the aftereffects of the blast. To think, anyone thought this Deku could be a hero. It makes him sick how much they pity the underdog, to the point of giving him false hope. If anything happens to Deku during this, it's on the teachers for thinking he could handle it.

Deku still hasn't said anything. "Hey, what's wrong?" he taunts. "I didn't hit you, so you can still move, right? Come and get me." He hears Iida say something in his ear, but he shuts it off swiftly. If some side character wants in on the big fight, he can deal with his own shit.

"What, still ignoring me?" he continues, edging closer. "How pathetic."

All Might's voice rings out again, interrupting their staredown. "Young Bakugou, if you use that attack again, I will have to end this match," he announces. "Destroying this compound is a bad move for both heroes and villains."

Great, the pros have decided to intervene once again in the nerd's favor. If they didn't want me to use my gauntlets, they shouldn't have approved them. At this point All Might could say that he's Deku's biological father and I wouldn't be surprised. 

Still, I can win a rigged match just as much as a normal one. I don't need my gauntlets, even if they are fucking sick. 

"Alright, we can fight with just fists," he shouts, charging at him with both hands sparking. Deku rises to his feet, clenching his fists. Oh, he finally wants to fight me? I won't give him the chance. With a graceful blast, he leaps over Deku's head, shooting him from behind while he's still choking on his dust.

"Look, Deku, the right swing you analyzed so well," he shouts, using his gauntlet to smash into Deku's arm, which he quickly grabs. He's not even using his explosions anymore; any old quirkless loser with hands could do this. 

"You're so far below me!" He swings him around, slamming him down like Deku did to him minutes prior. His stupid costume is in shreds, he's being destroyed, and yet...

"You still won't use your quirk, bastard? You think you're that much better?" The nerd is running, but Bakugou's chasing him at a steady pace. "Have you been underestimating me since we were kids? Give me a fucking answer!" 

"Of course not!" Deku finally yells. "You're so amazing, and that's why I want to beat you! I want to surpass you, you idiot!" His eyes are tearing up like they always do. Like they did when he was face to face with him during the sludge villain incident. Like they did when he was Izuku.

"Don't look at me like that, you damn nerd!" Katsuki yells. They run to each other at full speed, Katsuki's hands ready to blast and Deku's arm finally turning orange with the power of his quirk, like it did during the ball throwing challenge. This is what he has been waiting for the entire damn fight. This is why he keeps fighting. 

At the point of impact, he braces himself to finally feel Deku's power. But the moment never comes. His blast collides with Deku's face, and Deku's punch...

Well, Deku's punch goes upwards.

There's nothing he can do but watch as the ceiling blows, all the way up to where they kept the bomb. He hears Iida's shout of "The weapon!" both echoing down and through his ear. His hands are overheated, he knows this, but he still turns to Deku in a fuming rage.

"You were underestimating me again," he says, coughing from the dust trickling down. "That's why you kept this-"

"I wasn't planning on using it." Deku's voice is soft, yet determined. "Because my body can't handle it. This was all I could think of." When the smoke clears, Deku's very broken arm is visible to Katsuki, dark purple from fist to elbow. The only thing he can think of is what kind of a dumbass quirk is this? and How the hell did he beat me with it?

Then the timer is beeping, and he tears his eyes away from Deku, staring at the hole in the ceiling. It feels like there's a black hole in his chest, sucking all of the oxygen from the air. He told himself he would annihilate. He told everyone he would. And yet even though he's the one who looks barely scratched, while Deku looks seconds from passing out, he's the loser.

He doesn't remember the last time he was the loser in anything.

"The hero team wins!" someone shouts over the intercom, and that's when Deku falls to the ground, unconscious. For once, Katsuki can relate. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki stands in the same place, unmoving, while the robot stretcher carts Deku away. His feet feel cemented to the ground, like his failure rooted him to Ground Gamma for eternity. He doesn't know what blue nerd or pink nerd are doing, but his selfish mind erases them from existence. The only people left are him and Deku, conscious and unconscious.

Loser and winner. 

He knew what I was going to do before I even thought about it. If he was using his quirk the whole time-

No, he can't even think it. 

But if-

Not here, not now. Not when they're probably still watching him.

If his quirk didn't break his bones, he could've beaten me with it. Hand to hand. One on one. 

His next thought surprises him. I wonder if the old hag would rather have him as a son. Because what does he care about what the hag thinks? She can drool over Deku's fancy quirk all she wants, Katsuki doesn't give a shit. And yet his throat is still tightening, his eyes are still blinking rapidly. He's still gasping for breath, even though he doesn't feel like he's getting any oxygen. His vision is blurring-

A huge hand on his shoulder violently yanks him out of his thoughts. 

"Come back, young Bakugou. It's time to go over the results." He can't turn around and face All Might's trademark smile when he's seconds away from crumbling under his gaze. He's too out of it to even flinch away from his touch, too heavy on his shoulders. "Whether you win or lose..."

Katsuki's ears are buzzing too much for him to hear the rest of the loser speech. Because that's what it is, right? Nobody ever says that it doesn't matter if you win or lose to the winner. No, only the loser needs the "consolation" to keep fighting, or playing, or doing whatever it is that they apparently suck at. 

It gets worse from there.

Back in the monitor room, he can't meet any of their eyes. Shame, probably, or because they're definitely still red. He doesn't want their judgement, and they don't deserve to judge him anyway. He's getting enough judgement from their teachers, their criticism means shit to him.

And then what does All Might have the class do? He has them all participate in criticizing the three of them. He stands Katsuki in front of the class with Iida and the pink nerd - Deku is still in the infirmary - right on the public whipping post, and calls on the rest of them, one by one, to critique their performance. As if any of those dipshits could do better.

The blue nerd is spared from this, since apparently he was the "MVP". Katsuki personally thinks that an MVP should be somebody who didn't screw up the one job they were fucking given, but his opinions don't mean shit anymore. 

The ponytail nerd - and he means it literally this time, she's an actual fucking nerd - calls him out on his grudge and how he shouldn't have used a big explosion in an indoor fight. He was acting like a villain, asshole. Why should he give a shit about infrastructure?

Finally, he's let off the hook, and he stands in the back of the crowd as everyone gathers to watch the next match. Katsuki watches it in his lower periphery, his eyes obscured by his bangs. He wants to watch somebody else mess up. Maybe that'll satisfy the hole in his chest.

The next group does fail miserably, and he can't even enjoy it. Not when that half hot and half cold bastard beat both of them in a minute without even being in the same room as them. The two losers - one of which is the invisible cheater from the entrance exam, Katsuki takes slight pleasure in that - don't even get called out, since they technically made no mistakes. It was just that Icy Hot was too powerful.

Yeah, yeah, mutter excitedly all you want about him. He wouldn't have been able to pull that off against me, or anyone with shoes, really. Even fucking Deku-

And then his brain hiccups, and he remembers that he has no right to judge anyone after he was beaten so hard. Icy Hot would probably trap him in a block of ice the first second they met up, and then he would carry the bomb out with one finger. Octopus was no joke either, twice the size of Katsuki.

The rest of the matches were boring, boring, basic and unimaginative. There was no real combat, nothing flashy or particularly interesting. Nothing came even close to matching his fight against Deku. And judging by the whispers he hears around the room, their fight is still on everyone's minds. 

"-flashy, and deadly destructive-"

"-his arm, purple as Mineta's head-"

"-his eyes? Chilled me to the bone-"

"-hope I don't go against him-"

"-like a rabid dog, he was almost drooling-"

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, willing them all to shut up. He doesn't trust his voice to yell at them without cracking, and he doesn't want any more of their shitty attention. They can stare all they want, but they can't make him burst.

The class ends with a last "Great job!" from All Might, followed by him sprinting from the room to go check on Deku. Katsuki wishes he could do the same (leave, not see the green nerd again). Stuck in the same area as everyone else, sharing a changing room with them, he's never felt more ostracized. Usually he doesn't care what people think, but when eighteen kids are side-eyeing you and you can't even yell at them because then you might cry, it can make the most emotionally stable person titchy. 

And Katsuki is far from emotionally stable.

He keeps his breath even as the class migrates back to the classroom, now in their uniforms once again. He's on the brink of losing it, just outright bawling. It's the opposite of how he felt after the sludge villain incident; back then, he couldn't conjure a tear to save his life. Now it takes physical effort to keep his eyes dry. 

So now, in addition to the losers and worth nothings floating around his head, he also has crybaby and weakling. He's never felt more like Deku in his life, and he is so fucking relieved that he's not here to see him almost fall apart.

Their next class starts, and his head stays down on his paper the whole time. Deku still isn't back, their class slowly stops talking about the fight, and life goes on. Katsuki starts to think he might actually make it through the day. The last bell rings, and he starts packing up 

Then the unthinkable happens. Somebody approaches his desk, waits for him to look up, and then starts talking. He does a double take when he sees the two tone hair. Icy Hot apparently wants to assert his dominance while I'm weak. How fucking heroic. 

Instead of berating him like Iida would, he does something far, far worse: he starts giving constructive criticism.

"You should keep your hands further apart when you blast them both at the same time," he says, voice even in its monotone. "That way you'll have a better range."

"Why the fuck are you talking to me?" Katsuki hisses, his jaw as tense as the rest of him. He knows they're drawing attention - him and Icy Hot apart draw attention, much less together - and he's so close to getting out of this hell hole. 

Icy Hot looked unperturbed. "We're in the hero course," he explains, like that's an answer. "We should be working to improve ourselves. If you have anything to say about my quirk, that would be beneficial too."

And it's that line, Icy Hot asking for criticism he knows Katsuki doesn't have because his display was so goddamn perfect, that finally sets Katsuki off.

"I have nothing to say about your quirk, but your personality can use some fucking fixing," he spits, grabbing his bag and hauling ass out of there. "Fuck off." He runs down the hallway, only slowing by the stairs because running down the stairs is fucking stupid. Then it's out the front door before any more idiots can be idiots in his presence. He'll take the public bus home, he doesn't want to see anyone now. 

As if reading his mind and deciding to be a jackass anyway, he hears a voice shouting from behind him.

"Kacchan!"

He doesn't have to turn around to know who it is, thanks to the dumb nickname. He keeps walking, too proud to start running again. He has to hold onto the shred of dignity he has left. 

"Kacchan, wait! I have to tell you something." Like a dog, Katsuki obeys, even though he has no intention of hearing Deku out. Sit, Kacchan, stay Kacchan. Good boy, bad boy. Here's a treat. Welcome to fucking UA.

"What?" he asks, looking over his shoulder to get a look at him. He's still wearing his dumb hero jumpsuit, sans the mask, and his arm is in a sling. Guess quirk healing only goes to a certain extent, he thinks listlessly.

Deku starts rambling - how fucking in character - and it's all complete bullshit, about how he got his quirk from some secret person who he can't name and that's why he has a quirk now and how it's so top secret and he's not really used to it and that's why it broke his arm.

Katsuki doesn't realize he's shaking until he looks down at his hand and sees it trembling.

Okay, he can almost deal with the fact that Deku mysteriously got a quirk. It's hard to wrap his head around, but if he doesn't think about it too much, it doesn't bother him. But now the little shit has the audacity to run over to him, start spewing bullshit about it when he knows Katsuki is an inch away from snapping, and expect him to take it. It's almost as stupid as his cover story.

He doesn't even know how much he's gloating to someone who lost both of his hands, all to get a quirk that still couldn't cut it in the end. He has no idea what Deku had to give up to get his fancy new quirk, or if he had to do anything at all. It definitely wasn't as much as he had to sacrifice. 

"That's why I tried to fight you without it. But in the end, I had to rely on it." The trembling is turning to full on shuddering. He sees red, he sees white, he sees black spots in his vision. He sees a fuckton of green, and that's the biggest issue of the hour.

"That's why one day, I'm going to make this quirk my own. And then I'm going to beat you with my own power."

Katsuki goes stock still, all of the shaking gone in an instant. He's sure his eyes are as wide as Deku's, and the other boy looks like he regrets the word vomit that he just spewed.

Katsuki won't give him the chance to recant. 

"What are you saying?" he snarls, head down so his bangs cover his eyes again. They're welling up, so unfortunately quickly, and he knows he can't stop it now. "You come feed me some bullshit story about a 'borrowed' quirk, all to salt my wounds? I just-" He swallows hard. "I just lost, okay? That's fucking all.

"When I watched the ice guy, I thought to myself, 'I can't beat him.' And what fucking ponytail nerd said, about fighting big scale indoors, I ended up agreeing with!" he continues, sniffing hard. The era of Bakugou Katsuki is over. His tomb stone will read "Started from the top and worked his way down from there." 

But then he looks up at Deku, right in the eyes. He doesn't care about the tears as much as he wants him to see the venom in his eyes. The self pity part of him did its thing, and now the other part of him is waking up. The side that took him through years of training to get here. The part that got him out of bed days after the sludge villain attack. 

The part that wanted to be a hero, all those years ago. The part that still does, even under the new circumstances. Being number one might've been the hag's idea from the start, but now he's taking it for himself. 

"The same goes for me, Deku!" he finally shouts, making the other boy jump. "This is just my starting point. I'll be the number one here, and you're never beating me again." 

He doesn't have anything else to say to the nerd, and he storms off, wiping his eyes roughly on his sleeve. His hands are probably getting all snotty and stuff, so he'll have to clean them off at home. Not to mention how much fuel he burned in the fake battle today. The hag will probably yell at him about wasting, but he can handle her today. She's familiar stress, not like any of this new stuff.

Right at the gate, the cherry on his shit sundae shows up, clapping two large hands on his shoulders. 

"Young Bakugou!" All Might shouts, right next to his ears. Katsuki would twist away, but he can't move an inch. He doesn't even think All Might knows he's practically pinning him in place. He sweats a little as he struggles fruitlessly against All Might's grip, all while the man prattles on about how pride is important or some shit. The battle feels like it was hours ago. Katsuki doesn't have the energy to overthink his moves any more.

"Let go of me, All Might," he finally growls, sniffing once. In a normal state of mind he wouldn't dream of talking to All Might like that, but he's sweaty and shaky and teary and tired, oh so tired. "I can't walk like this." 

All Might releases him in a second, making him stumble a little. Only then can he turn his head, eyes still wet and drippy. "I will be the number one hero, and I will surpass you. I don't need your words for that."

"Uh, alright, young Bakugou," he hears All Might say cautiously, but he's already walking again. His back is hunched under the weight of his bag and nineteen kids in his class that he knows he has to beat. And twenty kids in the other hero course. And god knows how many in schools all over the country. UA is the best around, but Shiketsu is the best in its area too. 

So many people, all with real quirks. If there was ever a time for Katsuki to break, it's now.

But all he does is rub his hands together, huff, and look up where the closest bus station is. He'll have plenty of time to sink into a depressive funk later. For now, he needs to work on spacing his explosions more so they cover more area.

Fuck you, Icy Hot. You just wait until the sports festival. I'll make mincemeat out of you.

His hands tremble again, and he lets them.

Chapter Text

Katsuki hates the press.

He hates the idea of people paid to be snoops, making packets of paper divulging secrets that the reader "would never believe!" The colored ink on his mother's magazines always looks slimy, dirty little secrets spread in crisp type with eye catching titles. Why do they have to publish so often? Who cares about these celebrities' cheating scandals?

And most importantly, why the fuck are they bothering Katsuki right outside of the UA gates?

"Excuse me? Can you tell me about All Might?" the female reporter asks, shoving a mic under his face as he storms past her. She keeps pace with him even in heels, which is no small accomplishment, but he isn't feeling compassionate today. Not to her, anyway. She needs to get out of his face quickly before he melts that pretty little mic of hers. The crowd around her isn't helping, making Katsuki feel like he's being trapped against the wall.

And does she really want his answer about All Might? Tell you about All Might as a teacher? Of fucking course. He gives nice big speeches, but he's a hero first and a teacher second. If I wasn't so fucking critical of every person I meet, I probably wouldn't even realize he's a bad teacher because he's All Might, he can't be bad at anything. He picks favorites a lot, if you care about that, but nobody except for me seems to notice. They don't notice a lot of things about him, because he's All Might. Maybe I notice more because he doesn't seem to like me that much. But that shit doesn't matter, because just the sight of him is almost enough to give me a panic attack anyway.

Is that enough about All Might for you, scum of the earth reporter lady?

He doesn't say any of this, for multiple reasons. He'll be late to school, for one, and he knows exactly what the woman would do with his words. Twist them - not that they need much twisting, they're pretty twisted on their own - and publish the whole thing for everyone to see. Every All Might fan would come right at his throat, and every All Might enemy would target him too. He's not even that angry at All Might, not really. If he's being honest with himself, he could never be angry at All Might. He's too perfect, too much of a figure in his childhood even through a screen. He's All Might: indestructible and untouchable.

Not to mention that, contrary to all appearances, Katsuki doesn't like yelling at people. Not because they don't deserve it - most of them do - but because it leaves him in a worse mood than before. He had been having a pretty good morning before the reporters showed up; he had made himself pancakes and everything.

He's about to tell the lady in the least possible words to fuck off, but then her eyes widen. 

"Oh? You're the one who was caught by the sludge villain..." It's not a question, just a realization. Maybe she was one of the reporters who covered the incidents all those months ago. Maybe she's just a nosy fuck. Either way, Katsuki's not being paid to stay in her presence.

"Stop it," he simply says, eyebrows furrowed. She stares back at him, recorder outstretched. His hands twitch to grab it, it's so close. Luckily, he reaches the front gate before his hands can act on impulse - hey, prostheses have that problem too - and tell her what he really thinks of her profession.

Judging by the class's whispers, they were harassed by the same lady when they walked in. Except instead of sounding attacked, like Katsuki feels, they sound excited at the prospect of being quoted in a "big time news thing," as he overheard Sparky say enthusiastically. Bastards, all of them, and dumb ones too if they think this will mean anything for them.

Aizawa starts the class with, what a surprise, another critique of their work yesterday. Katsuki is numb to it now, he can accept his defeat. It helps that Aizawa at least acknowledges his abilities while he criticizes him. All Might can learn a little decorum from him, not that anyone would think that, seeing the two together. All Might looks like he was built in a factory; Aizawa-sensei looks like they picked him up from the street.

He also finally gives Deku the criticism he deserves, not that All Might would ever dare talk badly about his golden boy.

Katsuki expects him to continue talking about the whole class, but then he turns to other matters without so much as addressing even Pinky or Iida. So All Might likes everyone except for me, and Aizawa likes everyone except for me and Deku. I'm getting a real great fucking rep here.

Speaking of reps, Aizawa tells them that they have to choose a class rep. Sounds like administrative bullshit, but Katsuki has time to kill, and maybe this'll make everyone stop staring at him like he's a delinquent. So, when the time comes, he votes for himself like every other idiot in the class.

Except, apparently not every idiot in the class voted for themselves. The dumbest of the idiots, the supreme idiots above all idiocy, voted for Deku. What kind of thought process could that have been? 

Oh, remember that guy that got last place on the first day in those competitions? The guy who breaks his own bones every time he uses his quirk? The one with anxiety so bad he can barely talk to other people without stuttering? Yeah, we want him in charge of our whole class. Fucking idiots.

They elect Ponytail as the vice rep, which at least makes sense, because she has that stiff business rich person air to her. It might make her unlikable as all hell, but she'll do a half decent job with it. Not like Deku, who's currently burying his face in his hands like he always does. Regardless of whether he was elected as a joke or by some real dumbasses he calls friends, this smells like disaster.

Lunch rolls around without any other stupidity, thank god. Katsuki sits down with the emos again, unwraps his home lunch, and starts eating in silence. But silence, like all good things in Katsuki's life, doesn't stick around for long. 

"Bakugou! Come eat with me!" a pink haired girl - not the one from his class, the support course - says, pulling at his arm. Katsuki yanks his arm back before he even sees who it is. In truth, he doesn't recognize her for a second; his brain is wired to forget faces to leave room for more important stuff. But once he does, he jerks back even more.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks, not too loudly but enough that Bird Brain turns his head. Maybe if he acts confused enough, she'll leave him alone.

No such luck. "You know who I am," she says simply. "I can see when people lie. These eyes are good for some things." She points to her weird cross-haired eyes, winking at him. 

"Unless," she continues, sitting on the edge of his bench even though she is very much uninvited, "You'd rather me clarify how we know each other? Out loud? To the whole lunch room of your peers?"

This, Katsuki understands instantly. Blackmail of the lowest form is still blackmail.

"You're seriously gonna play it like that?" he asks, staring her right in the yellow eyes. "Threatening me in order to get me to sit with you?"

"Oh, so you do recognize me," she says in mock surprise. "I was getting worried there. And I'm not threatening you at all. Merely offering a refresher, something to help you remember who I am." She grins, as if this isn't a hostage situation and instead just a joking exchange between friends. Katsuki isn't amused.

"Is there a point of you being on the planet?" he asks seriously, then turns to face Bird Brain, who returns to his bowl of rice and seeds with a quick look away. Bird seed. Jesus fuck, Katsuki really has the weirdest classmates. Yeah, he had a few mutants back in his middle school, but they didn't act like it.

"Of course," Hatsume says. "I make my babies, and one day they'll make me rich and famous and I'll have the money to make even more of them!"

"Watch your phrasing," Katsuki snorts, then regrets it. He doesn't want any camaraderie of any sort with her. He looks at her empty arms, frowning. "Where's your lunch, anyway?"

"I don't eat here," she explains, adjusting her goggles on her head. "I eat in the support lab, so I'll have more time to work on my babies."

"Sounds nasty. Why the hell would I want to eat there?"

"Because then I can show you my super cool babies I've been working on," she says enthusiastically. Wow, Katsuki's fucking dream: to spend his lunch in a dark and greasy lab with a crazy girl who has blackmail material on him. He's about to tell her as such, but she continues. "Plus, it's not like you're doing anything better."

"I'm eating," he says sourly. "Why don't you show your 'babies'," his air quotes could cut glass, "to your classmates or some shit?" Never mind the fact that school has been going on for less than a week, so she shouldn't have anything to show regardless.

"They're sick of me," she says easily, small talk-like. "I make them uncomfortable because I'm too loud and I'm too invested in my work." She doesn't sound like she gives a single shit, and for the first time, Katsuki respects her just a little. He has his own demons clawing at his throat.

Too angry. Too violent. Too cutthroat. That's why your classmates are sick of you, right? 

"Alright, give me a sec," he sighs, and Hatsume's eyes light up. She's not that bad company, even if she causes his skin to prickle every time she hints to the information that shall not be said. She's smart enough not to give shit away accidentally, though, and there are worse people who could know. Any of the idiots in his class, for example.

He clears his bento in the trash, wraps it back up, and leaves the emo table without ceremony. Neither Octopus nor Bird Brain say anything, which is their strong suit, he supposes.

"Whatever you're showing me better be really fucking badass," he says as they walk through the halls. She just flashes him another wink, swipes her ID on the wall of the support lab, and lets them both in.

Katsuki's eyes travel throughout the room as he wanders to her station, taking in the large metal suits and contraptions.

"Badass, right?" she asks smugly.

"Not yours, though," he reminds her, and she huffs. She stands in front of a desk in the back, one littered with screws and hardware, and beams.

"Here's my stuff!" she proclaims, and he squints at her table.

"There's nothing there," he says, looking harder. Maybe she made some sort of really tiny support item?

"Whaddya mean? Of course there is," she says, picking up a wire attached to a something. "I'm halfway done with this baby right here."

"What does it do?" Katsuki asks, rubbing his hands together. 

"When it's done, it'll be a rescue item. You throw it at someone and it attaches to them, shooting a rope out too. I'm thinking it could be an advanced life preserver or something. What do you think?"

"It'll be more impressive when it's done," he says impassively. He pokes it with his index finger, and she takes this opportunity to grab one of his hands. He yanks it away - what the fuck is up with this girl and grabbing him? - but she just stares at it curiously.

"Speaking of babies, I never got to analyze yours," she says, reaching out a hand. "Can I see it please?" Her manners sound stilted, barely contained anticipation bleeding through. Katsuki takes a quick scan of the room - nobody else there, why would there be? - and ultimately detaches it, handing it over. 

"Be careful," he says huffily. "Costs more than your life."

"I know just how to fix it if it breaks," Hatsume says without looking at him. Her attention is on the prosthesis, and she examines it all, from the material masking as skin to the eject button. "I never saw this pair, but I've seen similar ones. Same functions, but different quirks."

"Like what?"

"All kinds of stuff." She starts counting off her fingers. "Wind blasting, water blasting, basically blasting anything because it's easy to set up. There was one pair that could cause earthquakes, those were pretty nice. Custom order and-"

"Hold on," Katsuki interrupts. "Why the fuck would your mom make those? You can't do any hero work by making earthquakes. It's asking for someone to become a villain."

"Hey." Her voice is sharp now, her easy smile gone. "There are no good or bad quirks. Yours is making explosions; how the hell is that heroic?" She doesn't wait for a response, not that he really has one. "It's what you do with it that makes a person a hero or a villain. If you haven't learned that yet in your hero studies, you hopefully will soon."

He's about to start saying something, not that he knows what to say to that, when suddenly he hears an alarm bell ring.

"What the fuck?" he says, turning to Hatsume to see if she knows what this is. She looks equally baffled, but rushes to seal the lab door. 

"Nobody less powerful than All Might can break through this," she assures him. "They make it more advanced every year."

"The voice is telling us to evacuate," Katsuki insists. He's no sucker for brownie points or anything, but when a giant ass alarm is ringing and a voice tells you to leave, you leave. 

"You're such a goodie two shoes," Hatsume sighs, but leads him to the side. "They have a special fire escape in here, in case something explodes."

"How often does that happen?"

"Just as much as you'd think." She gives his hand to reattach before they leave, and he seals it with a click. "All good?"

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

It's a false alarm, the adults assure them outside, but it isn't really. Someone did break through the gates, even if it wasn't a villain. Katsuki's not the only one who feels like beating up a reporter now.

How the fuck did she get in, though? None of the other students seem worried about it, much less Hatsume who barely cares about anything outside of her babies, so Katsuki doesn't speak up. He won't be the crybaby here, not if he can help it. No boy who cries wolf in sight.

Lunch is long over by the time it settles down, and he walks back in through the support lab side door with Hatsume.

"This was fun, let's do it again tomorrow," she says chirpily, unaffected by anything that just happened. He weighs it in his mind, but the pros of getting out of the crowded lunchroom outweigh the cons of becoming acquaintances with Hatsume. 

"You better have something real to show me, then," he taunts, and her smile turns beastly. The same smile Katsuki makes when he gets a challenge.

"I'll have the whole thing done by the end of today," she says, and just like that, her presence isn't so awful after all. The other idiots in the class might not get the willingness to do whatever it takes, but she seems to be the other type. The right type of UA asshole, in other words.

He walks in just as class starts, and nobody asks where he was. Good. Better that way.

All is well again, with the addition of Iida being made the class rep instead of Deku. The stick up his ass might actually be put to some good use. Katsuki's still feeling uneasy, though, which isn't an emotion he usually allows in his repertoire.

If a stupid reporter can get in, what else can?

Chapter Text

Katsuki's uneasiness stays with him throughout the bus ride to the USJ, although the headache it causes can easily be attributed to the fact that he's surrounded by dumbasses. Frog girl compares Deku's quirk to All Might's, which immediately puts him on edge. Then the same frog girl - who has even less of a filter than he does, fucking hell - says that because he's always angry, he won't be very popular as a pro.

I have seven billion more things to be angry about than you'll ever have to even fucking consider. You can get away with being an asswipe because you have an innocent looking face and you call yourself "honest." That's just an excuse to be an unapologetic asshole. When I call people out I don't hide behind the premise of "honesty" shit because I know that I'm not doing it to be honest. You could learn a little about being genuine, fucker. And the hero boards might look like a popularity contest, but you get popular by having real power. Charisma doesn't mean shit if you can't back it up by saving the day.

While he's railing at her and the electric fucker - who has a big vocabulary despite the fact that he's obviously a dumbass - the bus arrives at the USJ. There, they meet Thirteen, a hero Katuski's actually heard of. He doesn't need Deku's running commentary for it, thank you very much.

He - She? They? Whatever - goes on about how quirks can be used for good or evil, blah blah blah. Katsuki has no clue why he's giving them this speech, considering they're the hero course, not the fragile morality course. Coming to UA and ending up a villain would be difficult considering how much positivity and motivation they're surrounded with. He doubts the dumbasses around him ever had a villainous thought in their lives, and he sure as shit never did himself. 

It's odd that Thirteen is a rescue hero, in his opinion. Their quirk lets them suck up anything, and they uses it for rubble and natural disasters? Rescue heroes never sat right with Katsuki - they were the weak fuckers who couldn't stand their ground against a villain - and he's almost disappointed that Thirteen wastes their quirk like that. I'll be better. I won't waste a second of time with my quirk. My mom didn't get these so I could be a fucking fireman.

As if right on cue, as soon as they finishes their speech, the lights all burn out. Katsuki's sure it's a test, a villain attack drill, until he sees Aizawa's face. Completely pale and wide eyed. Whatever's going on, it's unplanned. Two surprises in one day? That's UA for you.

A portal opens in the middle of a fountain, and out steps an army of villains and monsters, mostly mutant types. They're all headed by a weirdo covered in hands, which makes him think he has a hand-related quirk. Maybe he can make hands out of thin air? Fucking creepy. Katsuki self consciously rubs his own together, wanting to hide them from view. Something about this guy makes him think that the hands covering his whole body, including his face, are real.

Aizawa-sensei commands them all to stay back, like he can take the entire army of over fifty villains by himself. Katsuki firmly believes that Thirteen should be sent to suck all of the villains up like a vacuum cleaner, but he's supposed to be on good behavior. For some reason he feels that his suggestion wouldn't be taken well. Rigid morals for all for that jazz.

"If the sensors aren't working, that means there's a villain with a quirk that can do that," Icy Hot says, and what a genius fucking observation. Katsuki now realizes why everyone thinks he's the second coming. He truly is the best thing since sliced fucking bread. "They obviously have a clear goal in mind by being here." Incredible observation, dipshit!

Aizawa starts beating the shit out of a group of the villains, and Thirteen tells the class to run for the exit and get help. Katsuki feels like a coward, but he can't just run in like a madman and start blasting them. For the time being, this is the best he can do.

Of course, the portal guy cuts them off before they can make it out. 

"We are the League of Villains," he starts saying, and here comes the villainous monologue. If Katsuki's blood wasn't pumping with adrenaline, he'd probably roll his eyes. They're being attacked by the world's most cliched villains on the planet.

What he says next, however, makes the whole lot of them freeze in place. "We invited ourselves here in order to have All Might, the Symbol of Peace, take his last breath."

Katsuki's mind goes spinning. These fuckers think they can beat All Might when they're getting destroyed by Aizawa-sensei? All Might isn't even here, what are they thinking? And what the hell could their plan even be to take him down?

"Is he not even here?" the portal guy asks, then brushes it aside. "There must have been some sort of change. Well, that is neither here nor there. This is the part I am meant to play." It's like listening to Shakespeare talk about murder.

He can't listen to the guy drone on any more. It's fucking stupid that no one did anything while the guy went on and on and Aizawa was kicking ass. Before he can even think about it, he's launching himself at the portal guy, hands outstretched and ready to blast. One look to his right shows that he wasn't the only one getting impatient. Shitty Hair's there too, arms crossed and hardened to points.

"Step aside!" Thirteen shouts, and Katsuki wants to ask when they became the authority again, but the portal guy interrupts yet again.

"My job is to scatter you and torture you to death," he rumbles, and the next thing Katsuki knows, he's being surrounded by the purple mist.

The next time he opens his eyes, he's in a building. Definitely still in the USJ, as he can see the rest of the place through a broken window, but completely out of the action. Pretty fucking inconvenient, but he'll make it work. It's no emergency.

"Hey, you're here too?" he hears Shitty Hair ask, and he turns to face him. "Great. Now we can beat these villains even faster." He points behind him, where a group of petty villains is growing closer to them. Katsuki lets his grin overtake his face. He had been wrong; they aren't removed from the action after all.

Shitty Hair is a surprisingly adept fighter, knocking armed villains down with a single sweep of his solid arm. Katsuki can't pay him much attention, since he's busy destroying his own villains, but he definitely could've been teleported with a worse person. Grape head, for one, or the invisible girl.

When they're all knocked out, Shitty Hair says that they should go save the others. Typically thick head, thinking of rescuing instead of actually attacking the villains causing all of this. We're all hero students, right? So let's not waste our fucking energy on people who should be able to save themselves, and instead end this bullshit attack.

"I'm gonna kill the warp gate guy," he says resolutely, holding up a smoking hand.

"You're really going to act childish now?" Shitty Hair says in shock. "His attacks are-"

"Shut up!" For a second, Katsuki forgot that he's surrounded by dumbasses. Fatal mistake. "That guy is the only way they're getting in and out. If we stop him, we can turn to everyone else and stop them from escaping." He catches a villain and blasts him unconscious without even looking. "If all of the villains are dumbasses like this, they should all be fine."

"Since when are you so calm and rational?" Since when does anyone care about when I'm calm and rational? Usually they only pay attention when I'm losing my fucking temper, as I will be if you keep asking stupid questions like this.

"I'm always calm and rational, you spiky haired idiot!"

"That's more like it."

Shitty Hair ends up coming with him back to the main battle, saying something about manliness and trust. Two things Katsuki isn't thinking about in the slightest. He just wants to beat the shit out of this guy and get it done with. Like a hero should.

Shitty Hair keeps the chatter to a minimum as they navigate out of the building, thank fuck. Katsuki's letting him come because he knows how to fight, but if he has to deal with his naive chipperness then he might explode. 

The scene doesn't look good. Portal guy is there, and hand guy, and one of the mutant monster things they brought with them. Whatever it is, it isn't human. And in it's grasp is...

"All Might," Shitty Hair says under his breath, eyes wide. Katsuki doesn't even know if he knows he said it out loud.

"Let's jump in," he says, and doesn't wait for a reply. He launches himself with his hands at the portal guy, right at his silver neck thing. If he doesn't want it to be seen, he shouldn't make it so shiny. He has to shove Deku out of the way to get to him, so he hopes nobody calls him out on it later on. They seem overly protective of anything to do with him.

Once he's pinned the guy to the ground, he indulges himself in a little monologue of his own. The adrenaline in his veins is rushing ten times quicker than it had with his fake battle with Deku. This one has real stakes, and he is fucking killing it.

"Don't move," he warns. "If I feel you moving suspiciously, I'll blow you to bits."

"That doesn't sound very heroic," he hears Shitty Hair call from beside him, and he resists the urge to give him the finger. The only difference between heroes and villains is that heroes beat up bad guys and bad guys beat up heroes. I'm not gonna spend my time defending every move I make when I'm just trying to do my fucking job. 

In a flash, he sees the monster - the Nomu - running at him. He's too fast to react to, he thinks in a split second. I'm done. But when he clears the dust from his eyes, he finds himself completely unharmed and out of the way.

"Kacchan! You dodged!" Deku gasps, and Katsuki scowls. Seems like the loser is just as confused as he is.

"No, shut up," he says, looking down to assess himself. Dusty, but untouched. 

"Then how..."

The four of them look over to see All Might standing where Katsuki did before, coughing into his arm. It doesn't look pretty.

The hand guy goes on a villainous rant, which All Might cuts off in favor of telling the four of them to stay back and then absolutely wrecking the Nomu. Like team-rocket-blasting-off-at-the-speed-of-light level wrecking. Katsuki isn't the only one staring on in awe, wanting more than anything to be on that level but knowing he has a ways to go to get there.

I'll be at that level one day. That's how I'll get to be the number one hero.

The hand guy looks pissed, which is fair since his plan went to shit. Katsuki expects him to run away now with his tail between his legs, but instead he decides to try attacking All Might again. Is this guy out of his mind? All Might will tear him to shreds.

But All Might doesn't move, even as the guy gets closer. Katsuki wants to yell, wants to tell him to just kill them already, but he's frozen. Not by any quirk, but by his own mind. He's paralyzed with fear and indecision.

Fear and indecision don't a good hero make, he thinks mirthlessly. And indeed, it's Deku of all people who launches himself right at the portal guy. It's completely in character for him, launching himself right at the fucking danger without any actual plan. The only way it would be more like him would be if he broke his bones.

Wait. He already did. Typical.

The rest of the pros arrive and the "League of Villains," or what's left of them, makes their getaway. Katsuki wrenches himself from his spot, ashamed of his own cowardice. He won't be paralyzed any longer.

"The fact that there are so many pros means that they didn't attack the whole school, just here," Icy Hot muses. Katsuki legitimately wants to know if he feels the need to explain every solitary detail about everything to everyone, or if that's a pleasure only he experiences. But he doesn't have the energy to snap at him, so he just stares at his feet and doesn't say a word. His legs feel shaky, like they can collapse. All of the previous adrenaline is gone.

Well this shit isn't good for my trauma.

Chapter Text

Katsuki is sure they won't have school for the next few days, at least.

People say he sucks at reading a room, but when he's surrounded by so many faces screaming I'm about to collapse and possibly shit myself, it's not hard to tell the overall mood. Frog Girl is trembling, and Pink Nerd's eyes are still streaming as they walk out of the USJ, escorted by a band of teacher heroes. Hell, most of the girls in the class are crying. The guys aren't doing much better, with only their fragile prides keeping them from bursting out sobbing too.

Except Icy Hot. Katsuki's sure he doesn't have any emotions at all except cool contempt.

Katsuki himself has an excuse for not being a ball of tears; as past trauma has shown, his form of coping is shutting down from the outside world and waiting for the big bad feelings to go away. He almost bumps into Shitty Hair in his stupor, and looks up to face him. He isn't smiling anymore. 

"Sorry man," he says, and Katsuki just grunts. Language is just out of reach for him now.

They send them home with apology letters to their parents. Apologies for putting their precious cargo in danger. Katsuki rips his to shreds as soon as he's out of the school gates, throwing the pieces into the trash. He knows his mom will make a huge fuss out of this, which would be normal parent procedure, except she would also probably take it out on him too. "Did you have to throw yourself into battle like that? Why couldn't you just stay to the side? You could've damaged your hands."

No, she doesn't need to know a thing. If she finds out, he'll deal with it then.

School is closed the next day, fucking obviously. Katsuki spends it alternating between working out and staring at the wall. He can still see the Nomu lunging at him when he closes his eyes, a second away from bashing his head in. If All Might wasn't there... if he didn't make it...

Shut the fuck up. You're alive. No matter how many times someone tries to kill you, you're still alive.

His mom does find out in the end, and she spends a good ten minutes hovering over him, inspecting him like a show dog even though he insists that he's fine, back the fuck off, hag. There's barely a scratch on him. Whatever's going on internally somehow escapes her notice.

That night, he waits for a notification from the school. An email or digital letter or whatever saying that for the sake of everyone involved, school would be cancelled for the next few days. It's been less than a month since school started, and already Katsuki is feeling wiped. Everyone else is probably feeling it even more, since it would be their first encounter with a villain. If Shitty Hair's any indication, they're all probably feeling like absolute shit.

But no notification arrives. Katsuki stays up until 9pm, then decides fuck it, he'll check again in the morning. And when he doesn't see anything in the morning, he almost rolls right back into bed. Apparently the UA gods decided they're all perfectly healthy enough to go right back into their studies after a relaxing day of rest.

After all, what's one villain attack and seeing your teacher getting the shit beaten out of him to a group of hero training students? It's probably part of their specialized training regimen or some shit. Katsuki doesn't know about anyone else, but he feels the opposite of refreshed and relaxed. If anything, the one day of rest only gave him time to himself to replay the events of the day prior over and over and over...

The train ride to school passes in a blur. If anyone's staring, Katsuki could care less.

He's not the first one in the room when he walks in. Blue nerd is already there, his head hunched over his desk. Katsuki can quite clearly see that he's staring at nothing. Like I said: absolute shit.

"Yo, you alive?" he asks, because if someone were to walk in and see the class rep looking about to die, they'd definitely blame it on Katsuki. That's just the kind of aura he gives off.

Iida lifts his head, looking almost alarmed when he realizes who asked. He looks around the room, and, upon finding nobody else there, turns back to Katsuki. "Yes, quite fine. Just resting."

"In class? You're always going on about-"

"I said, I'm quite fine. Thank you for asking." Katsuki backs off immediately, spotting the fire in Iida's eyes and the way his leg is trembling oh so slightly. He turns to his phone, and subsequently almost misses the next thing he says. "I need to be faster."

"What the fuck?" And before he can delve into that set of issues, their classmates start streaming in. Like a lightswitch going off, Iida transforms from whatever-the-fuck he was before back into their class rep. He stands in the front of the class, gripping the podium and griping at them all like usual as soon as the clock strikes.

If anyone else notices the way his shoulders shake as he makes his way to his seat, they don't mention it out loud.

It's no surprise that the real extras of the class appear to be fine, mostly focused on the media coverage of the whole thing. Invisible girl, all of the people who were removed from the action and didn't fight any villains at all. Even some of the ones who fought minor villains are crowing about being seen on the news, like that'll help them in any way in life. Katsuki's been on the news, and might he say, not a big fan.

He's more surprised to find Shitty Hair smiling again, apparently back to his normal self. Besides for the obvious eye bags, he looks just as excited as the rest of them about it. Deku and Icy Hot are quiet, but that's normal for them. It seems everyone is totally, completely, 100% fine.

Good calculations, UA. You really know your students. 

Then Aizawa walks in, and Katsuki's heart stops in his throat. He looks like utter shit. Or maybe he does under all of the bandages, the ones that cover every square inch of his body. He doesn't look like he should be alive, let alone up and walking in their class. 

"The UA sports festival is drawing near," he says, once they establish that he isn't about to keel over, and it takes Katsuki a second to remember what the sports festival even is. That's why you came to UA, right? The sports festival brings all sorts of opportunities for heroes in training. This is your chance. But amidst the cheering from his classmates, he only feels uneasy.

Jirou voices it for him. "Is it alright to have a sports festival right after a villain attack?" she asks, and the whole class pauses, like they completely forgot about the life-fucking event that just happened to them. 

"By having the festival, it shows that the UA crisis management system is as strong as a rock," Aizawa explains. Neither his face nor his voice show his own opinion on the matter. "Security will also be five times stronger than it usually is."

He goes on to talk about what a big deal the sports festival is, both to UA and Japan as a whole. Katsuki drones it all out, clicking his pencil and replacing the lead in a monotonous pattern. He knows exactly what the stakes are, but it all feels so trivial to him now. Maybe the importance will strike him later. For now... pencil lead.

The extras in the rest of the school finally decide to come ask what's up. He doesn't recognize any of them but they seem to have a ringleader anyway. Here to scout them out, assess their weaknesses, make an impression. Katsuki isn't the least bit impressed with their gall, even the purple fucker in the front. 

"I came with a declaration of war," he says, like he knows anything about real battle. Like he stared death in the face and decided it was too little of a challenge for him. As if he experienced even half of the shit Katsuki went through, hell, any of 1-A went through. A general studies bullshitter who couldn't make it the extra mile and is still licking his wounds a month later. He talks big, but he's just another useless hotshot wannabe who thinks that Katsuki is all hot air. 

Well, if the fucker makes it far enough to go head to head against him, Katsuki'll show him exactly how wrong he is. He'll bash his head open and let all of the bullshit spill out in front of the entire hero community. They'll finally get why the hell he's in the hero course. That'll make him understand.

For the first time in weeks, he feels his blood boiling with the amazing feeling of competition. Sure, whoever this fucker is is no match for him, but that doesn't mean he can't make a great fight out of it. He wants to play sacrificial lamb? Katsuki will fetch his cleaver and let it do what it must.

Some rando from class 1-B wants in on the action - classic 1-B, trying to grab whatever speck of attention they can - and Katsuki takes that as his cue to leave. Right when he's almost out the door, he hears a voice shout behind him.

"Bakugou, what are you going to do now? It's your fault everyone hates us." It's Shitty Hair. And he's never been more wrong.

They hate their class because they're the first, because they get the most attention. The general studies kids hate the hero course because they're better, and 1-B hates 1-A because 1-A was on the news. They're just as consumed with the useless news coverage as their class. Everyone blocking their door banded together to look like a bigger force, but they're infants compared to the league of villains.

Katsuki will steamroll them down if he has to.

"It doesn't matter," he says instead. "It doesn't matter as long as you rise to the top." Whatever bull they want to spew now, Katsuki isn't going to lend them an ear. He has training to do. 

He avoids Hatsume for a few days, just because her peppiness grates at him and he doesn't want to answer her dumb questions she undoubtedly has. But she seeks him out herself, finding him in an empty classroom. Just because he doesn't want to be around her doesn't mean he prefers the other bastards in their school.

"I heard about the USJ incident," she says, enunciating every syllable like he's hard of hearing. He doesn't say a word, but she troops on. "Can I check your hands? I can imagine them getting banged up in something like that and as your local mechanic-"

A shrug. Katsuki supposes it's a good idea to inspect them just in case. She looks around, shuts the classroom door, and looks them over with her goggles on. He stares down at his feet, arms outstretched so she can see better.

"You're avoiding me."

"I'm avoiding everyone I can. I'm stuck with my classmates, but I don't need to see anyone else," he huffs. He feels that he owes her an explanation, especially since she's helping him with his hands.

"You don't want to talk about the USJ incident." Wow, what an excellent observation.

"Fucking obviously."

"So then we won't. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I just have some amazing new babies and I want to show them off to someone." She's blunt - nothing new - but it's what he needs. He doesn't want to be coddled, but he doesn't want his mom's forceful "deal with the problem right when it slaps you in the face" attitude. He just wants a distraction, and Hatsume provides that.

In exchange, he gives her the attention she's lacking. From what he can gather, her mom's always busy at home, and she doesn't have any dad. Her classmates treat her like a bother, which Katsuki can definitely relate to. Except in his case, his classmates are also terrified of him. 

It helps that her "babies" are fucking sick. It's hard to focus on anything else when there's a tiny GPS powered robot passing you your lunch from across the room. And she doesn't talk about anything but her gadgets, never expecting him to respond but always open to asking questions.

"Thanks," he says at the end of lunch.

"Why?" she asks, genuinely puzzled, and they leave it at that.

The next two weeks pass in the blink of an eye. No more villain attacks, no more reporters. Blue nerd still stares at his desk every morning, almost like a meditation, but now he nods to Katsuki when he walks in. Like they're old war buddies or something. Katsuki doesn't like the haunted look in his eyes when he does, but he isn't about to tell the guy to stop. 

He never asked what "I need to be faster" means. He'd have to be a dumbass not to guess, and even more of a dumbass to make Iida explain it to him. That would be like those fucking reporters that asked him how it felt to be controlled by the slime monster a few days after it happened. Some things are better left unsaid. 

When they have off, Katsuki throws himself into his training. Hatsume helped him think of a few moves to do with his hands, and he expands on them, taking it out on a practice dummy his mom bought for him. Specially fireproof and everything. To show his gratitude, he stays out of her way for the entirety of the vacation. The only times they interact are at meals, and even then you can cut the silence with a knife. 

Just the way he likes it.

Then the actual day of the sports festival comes, and he feels like his bones are buzzing. Everyone around him seems to also be floating on a cocktail of nerves and adrenaline, so nobody's paying him any mind. When they call their class to come out in front of what looks like every hero ever, he isn't even nauseous by the attention. Instead, he's glowing.

There's no surprise when they call him to make the speech, just like there was no surprise when he was valedictorian in middle school. He's the top of the bunch, plain and simple. If they got any other extra to do it, they would just be lying.

He walks up to the microphone, in front of the entire school and hero community. He hears whispers around him, but he doesn't devote any energy to catching their words. They're literally below him now, since he's standing on a stage and all. They're all waiting to hear what garbage he's going to spew. They know him by reputation before he's ever seen them, and they're judging him so.

Well, they want a fight? He'll give them something to choke on.

"I'm gonna win," he says, and, looking right into their shocked faces, he means it. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki returns to the crowd amidst a sea of boos and angry looks, both from his classmates and the rest of the school. No doubt they all want to tear him limb from limb. But he's feeling wired, and he tunes them out easily. Their disdain only brings him higher; he wants them all to come at him with everything they have, and he wants to shut them down.

Not to say he did all of that just to spite them (although that is a very valid side point). He wants to assert his dominance right away. The sports festival's main purpose is to point out the best up and coming heroes in the country. He's not going to sneak his way to the top, he's going to openly declare that he belongs there.

Midnight - who is making their whole grade of fourteen and fifteen year olds extremely uncomfortable - explains the first task, which is an obstacle course. Katsuki looks around at whole lot of them and thinks this is gonna be a big fucking bull run. Then they're all off at once, and like always, he's proven right.

What's the point of forcing the general education kids to do this? he thinks as he launches himself above them. They're just gonna get trampled by everyone else. The day UA makes a responsible decision as educators, that'll be the day I bite my own fucking hands off. At this rate I'll roast the lot of them without even trying. 

Lucky for him, Icy Hot does the job of hurting the helpless for him by freezing them all to the ground in a single overly dramatic wave of his hand. Katsuki watches the ice creep up their legs, freezing them in place and probably giving them all frostbite in the process. Icy Hot doesn't even look backwards, that smug prick. He doesn't give a shit, so neither will Katsuki.

Surprise surprise, out from the crowd comes a nice group of class A kids. Icy Hot's leading for now, followed by Katsuki, Ponytail, Shitty Hair, and French Fuck. Most of their class joins them, though none of them are going to pass Icy Hot except for Katsuki himself if he can help it. He wants to see his bland face when he launches over him to the finish line.

Flying with his hands is one of his favorite things to do with them. The bumpiness used to get him nauseated, but he's used to it enough that it's background noise to him now. He's so focused on the back of Icy Hot's head that he almost crashes right into a giant robot.

Oh, these guys again? They're running out of ideas. I can knock a few of these out, though. 

He expects the other courses to be stunned by them, but he doesn't expect the hero course to stop and stare. They've done this before. But his class idles like sitting ducks as the robots draw closer, transfixed on their beady red displays. Damn idiots. Not even the high stakes can make them less dumbass-ful.

Icy Hot - or rather, just Icy, since he seems to be a one trick pony at this point - freezes the fuckers in their place before Katsuki can do anything. Then he gracefully ice skates away, unfreezing them as he does so they go crashing down on the group of idlers. And people say that I'm cutthroat. I hope they got that on camera.

More robots emerge from the dust. Katsuki doesn't waste his time to see who was unlucky enough to get caught in the rubble - in case the teachers forgot, that's their job - and starts launching himself over one of them. Tape Face and Bird Brain follow him, proving once again that 1-A has two communal brain cells and Icy Hot is currently hogging both of them.

He's more attentive this time, so he stops when he sees the giant fucking ravine up ahead. Even though he can launch right over it, his irrational monkey brain stops him right before it. 

"If you fall, you're out!" Present Mic announces over the loudspeaker. Yeah, no shit. If we fall we die. I'd like to see the gen ed kids try and get their way through this. I didn't know the "not responsible if we die" part applied to every fucking class in this school. How the hell is this place still running?

He quickly launches himself off the ground when he sees Icy Hot start sliding along one of the ropes, turning the whole thing to ice beneath his feet. Katsuki is getting really fucking sick of seeing the back of his candy cane head. 

The minefield brings him his chance to grab his lead. Icy Hot looks like an idiot trying to tiptoe around the ground. Katsuki blasts past him easily, and is rewarded by Present Mic announcing, "We have a new one in the lead!" Damn straight you do.

They're scuffling as they run, Katsuki trying to blast Icy Hot to kingdom come while the bastard tries to give him frostbite like he did with half the grade. Are my hands ice proof? Probably, knowing Asami, but I can't take that chance right in the beginning of this match. I'll have to keep them away from this grabby bastard and focus on being faster.

They both stop in place when they hear the mother of all explosions behind them. Typical of UA, to plant one giant mine somewhere to blow up an unsuspected gen ed kid. But rather than seeing bits of child meat flying everywhere, he looks up to find Deku of all people zooming past the two of them, holding onto a piece of shrapnel like a child clinging to a stuffed animal. 

"It seems he's taken the lead!" Present Mic shouts, and Katsuki kicks himself back into action. He resumes his flying, following the trail of purple smoke coming from ahead. He hears Icy Hot close behind him, running on his ice to prevent himself from blowing up.

They're almost on Deku's tail. His fluke wasn't good enough to get him all the way, and Katsuki is inching forward as Deku slows down. But then, right on the cusp of taking back the lead that he rightfully took in the first place...

Deku slams the piece of metal into the ground, right onto a land mine, and blows them all up in a fit of smoke. Katsuki coughs, trying to head forward even though his eyes are stinging and his lungs are burning. This shit better not be carcinogenic. 

But in the end, they aren't fast enough. Deku blows himself up to first place, and Icy Hot snags second, leaving Katsuki to grab a sour third. And who else matters but the top three?

Rather, who really matters other than number one? Third is basically forty second at this point. Every eye in the entire stadium is on the plain green one. There aren't any to spare for the explosive one who was so close yet so far.

Katsuki is heaving as he watches the rest of them file in. It feels like every breath rubs against his lungs like a cheese grater. He should be used to inhaling smoke, given his quirk, but he doesn't usually get a full mouthful of smoke and dust while he's already breathing heavily from exertion. Plus, the fact that everyone in the damn stadium saw him stuck in third only makes him breathe harder, which means his lungs get absolutely zested every second.

He's never related more to a lemon in his life.

While Midnight congratulates the winners and stands on her podium like a live ad for 18+ video games - the ones you "can't play with anyone else in the room" that appear in ads for pirated movies - Katsuki watches the two winners. Deku's crying of course, he could've known that without even looking. Icy Hot's standing with his normal boring face, but he's absolutely radiating annoyance. Literally radiating. The air around him, at least on his left, is practically steaming hot. Katsuki has no doubt that the other side of him is chilly as winter, and shifts subtly to that side. At least then he'll get a nice breeze.

The dumb wheel spins again, landing on a cavalry battle. Group activities, my specialty. Every group needs four people, one to sit on top and three to carry that person. Katsuki isn't going to carry anyone, thank you very much, and listens on as she explains something about headbands and point value and blah blah blah whatever. 

The last part catches his attention, though.

"Based on the results from the last match, every person has been assigned a point value, starting from five points for the bottom and counting up by five. And the point value for number one is... ten million points!"

That's what happens when you devote yourself to hero work instead of math, Katsuki thinks, but his mind is spinning. He doesn't need to do a damn thing. His own headband, if he keeps it and no one else's, is worth enough to take him to the next round. Whoever he teams up with will only add to that. And there's no way anyone'll be able to take it from him.

But he really fucking wants that ten million headband.

"It's a survival of the fittest, where the bottom can overthrow the top." Where number three can take number one. "Each team will have one headband totally the number of points they collectively have. The point is to protect your headband and steal other peoples'. Get as many points as you can! You have fifteen minutes to make your teams."

Katsuki doesn't bother looking in Deku's direction; he wants to steal the headband, not have it already. Besides, he's rather eat slugs than team up with Deku. Or Icy Hot, for that matter.

He turns to the group, now forced to actually see who made it. No class B fuckers, I won't stoop to that level. Or the purple gen ed kid, fucking obviously. Though it would be satisfying to kick him in the face. Guess I'm stuck picking people from my class-

"Bakugou, your entrance was hella cool!" He spins around to find Hatsume standing there, armed with a whole barrage of tech. 

"Oh, you made it?" he asks. "I didn't think you'd do this kind of thing."

"Of course I would! This is the perfect opportunity to show off my babies and get noticed! It's not always about the hero course, you know." Katsuki doesn't argue the obvious point, which is of course it is, since he finally has someone for his team. 

"Alright, you're on my team. We just need two other people." He scans the crowd, trying to remember who everyone is. "Any suggestions? They have to be from class A, since I pissed everyone else off."

"Don't be silly, you pissed everyone off," she says cheerfully. "It's your class, so you're better off picking someone than I am. Whoever they are, we can definitely utilize them somehow. Pick someone powerful."

They both turn back to the scoreboard. "How about him?" she asks, pointing to Icy Hot. Katsuki gags. "Okay, not him. What about that guy?" She points to Iida, and Katsuki doesn't automatically turn him down.

"He's friends with Deku, he'd never help us," he says. 

"Au contraire, mon frere. Look, he's just standing there. Go recruit him for the sake of our team! He came in sixth, after all."

Katsuki drags his heels as he approaches the blue nerd. He's used to people asking to join him, not the other way around. Indeed, there are a couple of people who try and ask to join while he walks, but he ignores them. One look tells him that they're not what he needs.

"Oy, blue nerd," he shouts, causing Iida to startle and almost drop his glasses. He actually knows his name, but he doesn't want him to feel special. Or maybe I should use his name so he joins? Blech, people pleasing is fucking exhausting. "Wanna join the winning team? We can use you."

Hatsume joins him, and the two of them watch Iida expectantly as he sputters.

"Well- Bakugou-" he starts, not knowing exactly what to say. "I was under the impression that you disliked me."

"I 'dislike' everyone, dipshit," Katsuki says, and damn, he's really failing right now. "You... aren't incapable. You can be useful. Join my team."

"Wow, you're good at this," Hatsume observes, and Katsuki resists the urge to glare at her. All of his focus is on Iida right now.

"I suppose... you are powerful," Iida concedes. "And I do want to win."

"That's the spirit! Come on, man, join our team," Hatsume says, taking over. "With your combined quirks and the awesomeness of my babies, we can crush everyone in our path!" 

Iida looks wearily between Katsuki and Hatsume. Then he looks back at Deku for some weird reason, and his resolve tightens. "I will do it. I will join your team."

"Hell yeah!" Hatsume cheers, and Katsuki's face relaxes. 

"We just need one more person, then we'll be solid." Katsuki looks around, noticing that over half of the people are already scouted. "Shit, we have to work quicker."

As if on cue, he hears a loud and obnoxious voice shout from behind him, "Todoroki already picked his team, so Bakugou, team up with me!" At least he's honest.

"Oh, it's you, Shitty Hair," Katsuki says, glad to see someone he vaguely knows. Here's someone he knows can be useful, even if it's just to smash people out of their way. The USJ battle proved that. 

"I'm Kirishima, and my hair's not that different from yours!" Shitty Hair argues, which is very besides the point as well as being totally false. His annoyance fades back into his normal grin. "You need a strong front horse that can withstand the force of your blasts. That'd be me."

He can hear Hatsume and Iida telling him to pick him, but he's not entirely convinced yet. "I need someone with guts."

"My quirk was made for this! I got you covered, man." He hardens his arm into a fist. "You're going for the ten million, right? Let's go get it."

That's all Katsuki needs to hear. "You're in," he says. "The four of us will crush the entire competition."

Hatsume's already interrogating Iida about his quick, pulling out gadgets and tinkering with them. Shitty Hair's watching her do so with a confused awe to him, asking for his own cool punching glove. Katsuki was confident before, but now, looking at his team, he's even more sure they'll get the ten million. 

Come at me with your best, Deku. It won't matter when I run you over. 

Chapter Text

While the rest of the teams are formed, Hatsume takes out her briefcase of gadgets and begins distributing them.

"Iida, I'll start with you," she says, pulling out a pair of metal leg guards. "We need your speed, and that comes from your engines. These babies will double their power."

Iida looks uncertain. "While I appreciate the thought-" he starts, and Hatsume cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

"No need to thank me. These babies will be able to break through anything, even ice." She sends a pointed look to Todoroki, who's mid-discussion with his team of ponytail girl, Sparky, and Tape Elbows. "You get it?"

"I suppose," Iida says, and starts fixing them to his engines. "If I must remove them, how do I do so?"

"There's a button on the top of each," she says, pointing them out. "Just push them and my babies will come right off." 

She turns to the group as a whole, looking a little apologetic. "According to the rules, I can only use up to two babies for this cavalry battle. Bakugou, do you want something for yourself?"

She takes out a pair of what look like individual lenses with straps. "I figured we would team up, so I brought these special. Explosion amplifiers. You just attach them to your palms and they triple the size of them."

Katsuki very much wants to find out how they work one day, but he shakes his head vehemently. "Nah, I want them to see how powerful my quirk is without them. That'll show them all."

She shrugs, putting them back in the case. "Your loss. So for our second baby, I think we should use this." She takes out an actual jet pack, strapping it on her back. "Bakugou, since you're the leader, you give me the cue and I'll use it. It should have enough juice to last for a while, but you know my babies."

"Always break at the worst fucking time?"

"Exactly."

Kirishima watches their conversation in puzzlement, stretching out his arms. "How do you two know each other?" he asks, looking from Hatsume's energetic demeanor to Katsuki's surly countenance. 

"We're friends!" Hatsume answers cheerily. Katsuki gives her a look, but eh, fuck it. It won't kill his classmates to know that he can be sociable sometimes. "We eat lunch together in the support lab and he tests out my babies sometimes.

Kirishima looks doubtful of Katsuki having friends, which, fair, but ultimately accepts it. "So that's where you go every lunch," he says thoughtfully. "I always thought you just went to the library to study or something. You seem like the type."

Katsuki doesn't know whether to ask what "the type" is or why Kirishima noticed he was missing at all. "Yeah," he simply says, then decides to check out the other teams. Deku is paired with the pink nerd - of course - along with bird brain and pink demon girl. Grape fucker is paired with Octopus and, surprisingly, frog girl. I would've thought no girl would want to get within ten feet of him, but maybe she's on his team so that she can beat him up later. I would go for it.

"Alright, we're going for the ten million," he says, addressing his team now. "We'll do whatever we fucking have to to knock it off Deku's head. If we have to take his head with us, we will."

"Dude, it's velcro," Kirishima says putting his hands up. "We could just... take it."

"Whatever we have to do," Katsuki repeats sternly, and he sighs. 

"Whatever we have to do, besides killing people," he says firmly, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, okay. Now help me up. I'm sitting up top." He doesn't like the feeling of having to balance on top of three other people, but having to carry someone else and be pressed against two other people... He's getting claustrophobic just thinking about it.

Besides, everyone focuses on the person up top. That's why he's so surprised to see Icy Hot standing at the base of his team, with Tape Elbows taking the top. Whatever his plan is, we'll crush it. And him. And Deku.

"Start!" Midnight announces, and right away Katsuki can see that everyone else has the same idea as him to charge at Deku. 

"Iida, go!" he shouts, wanting to get the lead, and Iida bursts through the crowd towards Deku, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Damn right you should be afraid. After that stunt you pulled in the first round, you deserve it.

But Deku has his own ideas, and his team skates away in a pool of acid that Iida stops just short of.

"It'll corrode my engines," he calls up to Katsuki. "What shall I do?"

"Hatsume, the jetpack." She turns it on, and they go shooting over the puddle, landing on the other side of Deku. Katsuki launches himself at the ten million headband, and is stopped in the air by Bird Brain's pet shadow. His team barely catches him as he falls, and they all berate him at once.

"Warn us next time," Kirishima complains, while Iida scolds him on "how very irresponsible that was, risking the whole team so thoughtlessly." Hatsume merely shakes her head, giving him a mild version of the finger.

"Ugh, fuck off," he groans, eyes still on the prize. "We can get it in a sec-"

He feels something pull at his head, and a second later, their score on the leaderboard goes down to zero. He doesn't have time to ask who the fuck could've done that, because that fucker stands right in front of him, sneering with his headband twirling around his finger.

Katsuki's blood runs cold. The blond fucker. From the entrance exam.

Quirk borrower.

"Move back," he commands his team, voice steely. "This fucker can borrow quirks."

They take a cautious step back, but class B fucker doesn't move any closer. Instead, he starts on a stupid monologue about how B class threw the first challenge so they could observe, yada yada yada. Katsuki takes the time to think over his options, even though he can feel himself trembling.

We should go for the ten million and avoid this fucker at all costs. It doesn't matter if he makes me look like a weakling now, because I can beat the shit out of him later. I have to control the anger now and save it for when I can break his face open in the one on ones. Or someone else will deal with him and he'll get knocked out anyway.

We need points to move on. We'll go for the ten million.

Then his attention is brought back to blond fucker, who's somehow still talking.

"But you're famous already, aren't you?" he says, pretending to ponder it. "You're the victim of the sludge villain attack. Maybe you can tell me later how it feels to be attacked by villains once a year, okay?"

And just like that, Katsuki's blood is boiling again. He can hear it rushing in his ears, rushing to his head in an exhilarating wave. Fuck that. I'm knocking this fucker out of the competition right now. I'll shut his stupid fucking mouth up permanently.

"Kirishima," he hears himself growl. "Change of plans. We go after that fucker." Kirishima looks up at him and gapes at his expression. Must be pretty damn scary. All the better.

His team can see him burning up, and so can blond fucker's.

"Monoma, don't provoke him," one of the people carrying him says. "That would make you the same as him."

"You're right," the slimy bastard says, throwing his hands out in front of him in an I-could-care-less fashion. "Besides, don't we always hear about heroes who are done in by villains seeking revenge?"

Katsuki's beyond words at the point. His vision is pinpointed on Monoma and Monoma alone, that smarmy bastard throwing around labels while acting like a B grade movie antagonist. Calling him a victim one second and a villain the next, like he can't decide which one will provoke more of a reaction so he's decided to go with both. He's not just a try hard wannabe like purple fucker from gen ed. He's enjoying his taunting, and that makes it all the worse.

"We have to attack from a distance, so he can't get our quirks," he tells his team. "Hatsume, if you can launch us above, I can grab his headbands without him getting me."

Hatsume stares at him questioningly. "Would him touching you be such a bad thing?" she asks. "Would he really get your quirk? Because if he couldn't, that could be an advantage to us."

To the casual observer, it would seem like she's questioning Monoma's quirk. But Katsuki knows damn well what she's really asking. Why don't you use your quirklessness to our advantage? Sure, Monoma will definitely know that something's up, but at least we can knock him off balance and take this.

It might be selfish of him not to do whatever it takes for his team to win, but it's also selfish of her to ask. He can't make a fuss over it now, but he'll confront her over it later, when there aren't two very confused 1-A classmates staring up at them.

"He would get my quirk," Katsuki says through clenched teeth. "I've seen him use his quirk before. It's tactile, so if he gets a hand on you, he has your quirk." He thinks about their strategy for a second. "Iida, I want you to take the front. Kirishima, switch spots with him."

"But why?" Kirishima asks. "Isn't it better to have the shield in the front?"

Iida answers for him. "Because if he steals my quirk, he will not be able to use it from his place in the top. Hatsume's quirk also will not be much use to him. If he gets ahold of your quirk, however, then he can defend against Bakugou's explosions."

"Right," Katuski says, more than a little impressed, even though his head is still pounding. "Now we attack. Hatsume, you know what to do."

Right when Hatsume's about to power on the jet pack, something sticky starts pooling by their feet. Katsuki wrinkles his nose at the gunk, looking up to find another 1-B group around them. 

"Bondo, here for a fight too?" Monoma asks, presumably to the guy whose face is dripping with glue. Katsuki will forever be mystified by the array of quirks they have at UA. If he was a kid being saved by that guy, he would probably have nightmares for years.

"Bakugou, it's hardening around us!" Kirishima calls up, and he curses under his breath. 

"See you around, Bakugou," Monoma shouts with a smile. "It's a shame that even with all of that tech, you still couldn't match against little old class 1-B."

Something clicks in Katsuki's brain. "Iida, disconnect the tech on your legs," he says, his mind moving a mile a minute. "Then you won't be stuck. The combined force of your engines with Hatsume's jetpack should get us out of here. I'll blast at the glue too, so it's more fragile."

Iida presses both buttons, stepping to the side of the gluey mess. "On your count, Hatsume."

"Three, two, one, now!" she shouts, turning on the jetpack. Iida's engines flare blue and he begins pulling as hard as he can. Katsuki blasts at the glue, shaking them a little more loose each time, until they burst from the mess, little bits of sealant flying everywhere. 

"Fucker's getting away," he says, panting a little and pointing at Monoma's retreating group. "We won't let him."

"My baby's basically out of fuel," Hatsume says sadly, pointing to the smoking pack on her back. "We used too much energy getting from that glue."

"Doesn't matter," Bakugou says vehemently. "We charge at the fucker, I'll blast him until his vision's smoked, and then we grab his headbands. Got it?"

"Alright, but no more launching yourself without telling us," Kirishima says. Katsuki's not planning on getting anywhere near Monoma's reach, but he nods anyway.

Iida speeds them forward, and they stop just behind Monoma's group.

"So persistent," he tuts, turning to face them. "Just as a person, not to mention a hero, it's-"

Katsuki doesn't let him finish, blasting a shot right in his face. Just as he expected, it releases a shit load of smoke. Try and dodge that, fucker.

But instead of building up in his face like he'd like, the smoke stops in front of Monoma. Almost like there's a wall protecting him.

"I'm not the only one with a quirk on this team," he says, pointing to the mass of solid air in front of him. "In class 1-B, we work as a team and know how to use each other's strengths. Nobody hogs the show like in your class."

"Bullshit," Bakugou growls, waving the smoke away. "Your whole class is attention seeking. Jealous little nobodies because boo hoo, we got fucking attacked and you guys didn't. Must be awful not to see your teacher get beaten up within an inch of his life."

Monoma scoffs, but doesn't say anything. He probably doesn't know all of the details about the USJ incident. Maybe they sugarcoated the details about how multiple times someone in his class - including himself! - almost bit the big one. Maybe they skipped over the fact that for a second it looked like All Might himself would lose, and all would be lost.

Maybe they spared 1-B those key details. Doesn't excuse the fact that Monoma is a giant dick. 

While he fixes his position back on their shoulders, Monoma reaches over and taps Hatsume on the shoulder.

"Your quirk’s not very useful," he sighs, shaking his head. "Thank you for letting me borrow it for a bit, though." He doesn't bother trying for Iida, so obviously he saw through their setup. And with Kirishima taking up the back, he has no access to him or his quirk. 

Fuck it all. I'll jump at him, that fucker will use his solid air quirk, and then I'll break through and get the headbands before Monoma can touch me.

"I'm going at him," he says, just loud enough for his team to hear. "Be ready to catch me."

He launches himself again, and as expected, the solid air catches him like solid rock. But it's smaller this time, just enough to catch his knees and leaving his torso exposed.

"You caught on quick how my quirk works," Monoma says with a nasty smile, "but you can't avoid it. You have a nice quirk, Bakugou. It's an honor to get to use it."

Katsuki can see the moment he tries to use it, because he sticks out his hand and... nothing happens. He only gets a second to be bewildered before Katsuki reaches over and grabs a fistful of headbands, launching himself off of the solid air and landing back on his team like nothing happened. 

"How did-" Monoma starts saying, but Katsuki sends another blast to shut him up. There will be ramifications, but he refuses to acknowledge them until at least the end of this challenge. 

"Time for the ten million?" Hatsume asks, and Katsuki shakes his head.

"I want an indisputable first place. We get our points back from him too, then we go for the ten million," he says, voice raspy from yelling. "I want him to be entirely destroyed."

Kirishima looks like he wants to argue this, but Iida says, "I understand. We should go as fast as possible, then." He's the furthest from actually getting Katsuki's motivation, but he knows better than to argue with him. After their failed team up from the hero vs. villain match, he's apparently learned how to work with him.

Fuck, at this rate Katsuki might actually tolerate him.

They're at Monoma's side in an instant, with Iida's engines taking them forward at full speed. Monoma turns around, surprised, and puts a wall of air of his own up. He must've borrowed his own teammate's quirk, thinking it would be enough of a defense. He thinks too little of Katsuki's team, and that makes a devil's smile spread across Katsuki's face.

"See you in hell, dipshit," he says, and shatters through the wall of air. He grabs the remaining headbands in a clenched fist and yanks them off, holding them out of reach of the surprised 1-B loser. "Ten million now. Iida, lead us there."

They arrive on the scene right on time to see a showdown between Icy Hot's team and Deku's. The other teams have already backed out, instead turning on each other for the meager remaining headbands. Katsuki's already in second, so he can't be bothered with them.

"Time's just about up," Present Mic announces, and it's like a freeze frame picture. Katsuki launches himself at Tape Elbows with nothing to lose. Deku lunges as well, and Tape Elbows shoots out out both elbows to trap them in place. Icy Hot has both arms out, frozen and heating, and Sparky is, well, sparking. Shadow pet hovers over all of it, ready to defend or attack. 

"Aaaaaaand times up!" Present Mic shouts, and Katsuki tumbles to the ground, covered in tape. Deku didn't fare any better, and Katsuki finally understands why Tape Elbows was on top. He can grab headbands and knock other people away while Icy Hot freezes them on the ground.

Still, the match is over. Katsuki moves on, and Deku does not. He might be on the ground, stuck picking tape off of himself with hissing yanks, and yeah, he didn't get the ten million, but he's still moving on. 

But shit, he really fucking wanted that ten million.

"We won," Hatsume reminds him, nudging his side with her foot while he bangs at the ground with his fists. "We move on."

"You wouldn't think it, looking at him," Kirishima says, standing beside her. "Or Iida, for that matter."

"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough," Iida says, bowing deeply to Katsuki.

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki says, finally, pulling himself to his feet. The tape is still attached to his arm, and he rips off the last stubborn bit, clenching his teeth. "Only I'm allowed to be pissed."

"That's one way to comfort someone," Kirishima whispers, and Hatsume laughs.

Present Mic announces the four teams to advance. First place to Icy Hot's team, of course, followed by Katsuki's team in second. He doesn't recognize the third team's leader, and looks to find Purple Fucker from gen ed. Well what do you know? Guess I'll be facing him after all. 

He's sure fourth place will be one of the 1-B groups, maybe even Monoma if he managed to get his hands on another headband. He's not ready to hear "Team Midoriya!" projected throughout the entire stadium. His hands close into fists, then open again. Clench, unclench. Count to ten and breathe, motherfucker. You'll be okay. 

Present Mic tells them to break for lunch, and he heads off to the lunchroom. His team follows for some reason, chattering about the next stage, but it's all white noise to him.

Deku. Icy Hot. Purple Fucker. I'll stop you all in place. And as for Monoma... that shit can wait. I have ass to kick, and not his. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki's coming from the bathroom when he sees someone grab Deku and pull him into a side hallway.

His first thought is probably just Pink Nerd going to confess or something. Everybody loves a powerful winner guy, even if he's usually a piece of wet paper towel. Two idiots deserve each other.

Then he hears Icy Hot's voice and his mind does a complete 180. Maybe Icy Hot is going to confess. It would be a good distraction tactic for sure. I'd never do it myself because I'm not fucking weak, but he could probably pull it off. 

It occurs to him that maybe Icy Hot pulled Deku aside to beat the shit out of him before the match, but he doesn't really believe it. Icy Hot is a weirdo recluse, but he's not someone to try and win back-handedly. Sure, it's because his ego's so fucking huge he probably doesn't think he needs it, but it's real all the same. 

I'm not eavesdropping, he tells himself as he stays flat against the wall to avoid being seen. Alright, maybe I am, but who gives a shit. If they wanna fuck around in a public place, they should expect to be overheard. Besides, if this is anything about the sports festival then it would be an unfair advantage if they knew it and I didn't.

"So what did you want to talk about?" That's Deku, sounding as scared and cowardly as always. Icy Hot wouldn't need to do anything except give him a mean look and he'd start bawling.

"You overwhelmed me. So much that I broke my own pledge." Icy Hot, speaking like a godforsaken cryptid. Like someone that went to sleep sometime in the mid-15th century and woke up in a ball of ice five minutes before applying to UA. "I felt a pressure coming from you. Nobody else felt it, but I did. I felt the same pressure from All Might's power."

He pauses, presumably to glare even more. What Katsuki wouldn't pay to see both of their faces. Already he's straining to hear their low tones, the ringing in his ears almost overpowering it.

"Are you All Might's secret love child or something?"

Katsuki almost reveals himself right there, because the amount of strength it takes not to crack up physically hurts his throat. Deku? All Might's secret love child? He fucking wishes. Maybe if his dad was All Might instead of some rando skulking off in America then he wouldn't be such a baby.

Deku, for the most part, sounds more confused than anything, but his voice shakes as he tries to convince Conspiracy Theorist #1 over here that he's not actually the son of the number one hero. Icy Hot, who might very well be a raving lunatic, doesn't sound like he buys it.

"You know why I'm asking, right?" he asks. "My father is Endeavor, the number two hero. And if you're connected in any way to the number one hero, then it's all the more reason to crush you."

Katsuki's surprised he didn't make the connection earlier. Fire power? Full of himself? Talks like a fucking monarch? Of course he's the son of a huge pro. He's probably skilled because he has a billion personal trainers in his house. 

Icy Hot continues on about his dad, how he's really powerful and wants to be even more powerful. Katsuki's starting to get tired of his listening in, plus Hatsume's probably already eaten his lunch, and decides to leave. But right when he takes a step, he hears something that freezes him in place.

"I didn't get my fire quirk from my father. It was made for me."

Katsuki clasps a hand to his mouth so that his gasp can't be heard by the two. He can't be talking about what I think he's talking about. There's no way he's the same as me. He's a fucking elite, he has the second most powerful pro on the planet as his dad. Aizawa didn't say a thing about it, either.

Deku sounds equally lost. "What do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever heard of quirk marriages?"

As Icy Hot goes on to explain something that sounds like a messed up fairy tale, Katsuki forces his breathing to slow. Alright, he was just talking about the fact that he was bred like a showdog. Still fucking messed up, but it's not the same as what I went through. We're not the same. He's his own brand of fucked up and that's fine. His mom and dad got together, had a kid who was half hot and half cold, and then-

"But I didn't inherit my dad's quirk. Only my mom's." 

Katsuki's hand returns to its place by his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I don't get it. How did you use your fire during the sports festival, then?" Deku asks, which blocks out the sound of Katsuki having a minor stroke. 

"It's not my fire." Icy Hot seems adamant about that, even when he's being vague as fuck. "My dad already had 3 kids, and none of them were as powerful as me when it came to ice. But he wanted one that had his quirk too, and he didn't want to wait another few years and try again. So he got a number from someone, took me to a warehouse, and then they..."

Icy Hot continues explaining, and Katsuki's vision goes black for a second. He blinks hard and the world returns, but he has to stabilize himself against the wall before he collapses. Shit. He's got the same- shit. Fuck. He's not quirkless but he had the same operation and he probably went to Asami too since she's the one who does it. Does he know about me too? Did Hatsume tell him? Does she know about him? How many people in this fucking school are the same? How many will I have to deal with?

Why are we all so fucking messed up?

His breathing turns manual as his hand presses harder to his mouth, forcing his lips against his teeth painfully. He bites his tongue with the same ferocity. Shut the fuck up, he wants to shout at Icy Hot. You're telling a huge fucking secret to a crybaby who can't keep his mouth shut. You're telling my fucking secret. If he knows one person had the operation, he could... he could find out about me too. 

"My mother was inconsolable she found out about the operation," he's still saying, despite Katsuki screaming telepathically at him. "She couldn't bear to see me with his quirk, especially since half of me already looks like him. 'I can't stand to see your left side anymore,' she yelled, right before throwing scalding water in my face."

Katsuki hears the words even before he says them. "She treated me like a monster."

Bile is rising in his throat. Even though he didn't eat much, he feels sick to his stomach. Bathroom. Now. But his feet are frozen to the ground, ears still straining to hear the remains of the conversation. Whether he likes it or not, he's in it until the end. 

"Keep your connection to All Might a secret," Icy Hot says, walking towards the other exit. "I will make it up there without the fraudulent quirk my father bought for me. I will rise to the top anyway, even with just my right side. " It sounds so painfully like Katsuki's own admission at the start of the sports festival. I'm gonna win. 

What he would do to reject his mother like that, telling her that for all the money she spent, he'll make it as the number one without any of her help. To be able to openly proclaim it like a goddamn superstar. But he doesn't have that luxury, because he doesn't have a real quirk to fall back on.

He's quirkless. The operation didn't change that, only hid it. And now, seeing someone else so openly dismiss it, he only feels the urge to hide it more. Fraudulent quirk. Fraudulent fucking quirk. Fraudulent.

That's me.

Fraudulent.

Deku - who Katsuki kind of forgot about during that whole mind fuck - decides it's time to speak. 

"I've always had help from people," he says, which is the understatement of the century. Everyone always roots for the underdog, after all. "I've only come this far because people helped me. I want to be like All Might. I want to be the strongest. And that might sound lame compared to your motivation, but..."

He clears his throat, continuing with steely resolve. "But I'm not gonna lose. For the sake of everyone who helped me, I'll win to repay them. Let me return your declaration of war with my own. I don't care about any quirk you have or don't have. I'm gonna beat you!"

Everyone's really taking a page from my book today, Katsuki thinks light-headedly. Deku didn't make that big of a deal about the whole "acquired quirk" thing, but no doubt there'll be a whole section of his notebook about it. Theories about how it works, who does it. Which heroes have it themselves.

Katsuki did enough thinking like that himself over the years, almost drove himself mad with it. But Deku, miracle-child-late-bloomer-suddenly-overpowered Deku, doesn't have that right. They're not his fucking hands.

He blinks and somehow finds himself back in the main arena area. His feet must've worked on autopilot. He takes in the scene around him hazily. The girls are dressed as cheerleaders. Tail guy and some B fucker are dropping out. Two other people took their place. The match-ups are in the brackets.

He shakes his head hard, forcing himself to focus on the screen and find his own name.

"Uraraka?" he says aloud, trying to remember who she is despite the feeling that he's floating above everything. He's pretty sure she's in his class, which is better than someone from class B because at least class A has dignity. And she's probably not that strong, judging by the fact that she left no trace in his mind. As much as Katsuki hates to think it, he'd prefer to go against the harder people later, once his mind is in it. Right now it feels like his head is filled with cotton candy, and there's a weird buzzing noise in his ears. 

"She's right there," Iida whispers, materializing beside him. He hadn't seen him since the cavalry battle, and he looks more tightly wound than ever. He points a finger to pink nerd - or Uraraka, apparently - and Katsuki nods.

"Huh," he says, then takes the time to find Iida's name. "You're against Hatsume? That'll be a fun match."

Iida stiffens. "We made an agreement. She only wants to demonstrate her gadgets, so if I agree to showcase a different piece of equipment, she agrees to allow me to win." He frowns, wiping his glasses. "I don't enjoy making such deals, especially since these trials are to determine our athletic prowess, but she insists upon it."

"Fucking mint," Katsuki says, because while he's trying his best not to be a piss off, he's feeling the aftereffects of the heart attack Icy Hot put him through. He needs a nap or something. "Better her than you."

"Are you still upset over the fact that we didn't get the ten million? You should not dwell on that, especially since we did get second," Iida says crossly, and since when could he read his emotions? Katsuki doesn't think his face looks any different than the usual grumpy, but obviously the blue nerd can see something there.

"Mmm," Katsuki hums, neither an affirmation nor a denial. Let everyone think he's still caught up on his missed victory. It already feels like it was days ago, rather than just an hour.

They have another half hour to digest and prepare for the one on one challenges, while the losers from before do some meaningless time filler challenges. Katsuki doesn't do any exercise, and not only because he doesn't want to be sore for his first match.

He finds a secluded hallway area, like the one where Icy Hot confronted Deku, and sits against the wall. He puts his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. It's all building up too fast: getting third, the quirk borrowing fucker being suspicious, all the shit with Icy Hot. Now's the last moment he wants to use his fucking quirk, but in twenty four minutes now, he'll have no choice. He'll use it to the full extent he can, he won't hold back a second, but the fire that was there before the sports festival is gone.

Fraudulent. 

Deku's up first, and it's not much of a show. First it really looks like the purple fucker will win, and what a way to lose, walking out on what looks like your own accord. But of course Deku's the exception for every quirk - probably because his own quirk is so fucking weird - and he snaps out of it, knocking the purple bastard out of the ring. Katsuki can't say he's happy about the outcome, but then, he wouldn't have been happy unless they both knocked each other out at the same time. At least the end was a decent fight (although with no combat training, it's a wonder the cloud head made it this far at all).

Icy Hot faces Tape Elbows and that at least wakes Katsuki up. The whole stadium instantly grows colder when his ice takes up the entirety of the rink. Katsuki's mood only sours. He really plans on taking it all without using his prosthesis. He's dedicated, even if he's an idiot.

Dunce Face's match against some plant rando is fast, which is the best compliment he can give a class B fucker. The opposite is true for Iida's match against Hatsume. He knew she was going to give it up once all of her gadgets are displayed properly, but he still can't help but think that she could've gotten far if she really tried. Not that she could've beaten him, obviously, but maybe made it up a tier or two.

Now that his panic's worn off, he's starting to get antsy, watching everyone else fight before him. There's another ridiculously long match before his, Kirishima and knockoff Kirishima because apparently the people who made the brackets have a sense of humor. Towards the end of it, he's escorted to the entrance of the arena to get into the mindset.

"Are you ready?" Midnight asks him and Uraraka. She nods enthusiastically, squeezing her hands together. "And you, Bakugou?"

Fake quirk. Bought. Monster. Fraudulent.

"Ready to destroy," he says, and they walk out into the arena.

Chapter Text

"The eighth and final battle in the first round of matches!" Present Mic announces as they reach the center. They stand on opposite sides of the center circle, facing each other. "He was kind of a hot shot in middle school, and just look at that determined face! From class 1-A, we have Bakugou Katsuki!"

That's one way to announce someone. Doesn't sound too fucking complimenting, but he's probably trying to be impartial or some shit. Not that anyone in UA is ever actually impartial.

As if to prove this point, Present Mic says, "Versus, the one I'm personally rooting for, also from class 1-A, Uraraka Ochaco!" The crowd goes wild, as if to agree with his favoritism. He doesn't even remember Uraraka from the first round, but somehow she's already the fan favorite.

So it's like that. Fucking figures.

"You're gravity girl, right?" he asks, staring her down. It isn't really a question as it is an intimidation tactic. "If you're gonna drop out, do it now. I want a good fucking fight here, and I'm not gonna hold back."

She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it. A second later, an airhorn rings, and the match officially starts.

Immediately she charges, hands out at her sides. "Giving up isn't an option for me!" she shouts, reaching out an arm. She'll try and touch me. If she can make me float, it's over for me.

I'm not gonna give her that chance.

He uses his right hook because it's how he always does it, and he knows it's effective. It sends Uraraka sprawling, and a cloud of smoke materializes in the air. Katsuki waves his hand around to clear the air. 

"If you weren't gonna give me a good fight, you should've left when you had the chance," he mutters.

She approaches again, and he blasts her down, only to find it's just her jacket. So she isn't an idiot. Dumb enough to fight me, but smart enough not to half ass it. She really thinks she can win. This earns her a tiny teaspoon amount of respect from him. People who take it easy or don't do their best don't deserve to try at all.

In a split second, she's right behind him, and he blasts her away yet again. It's becoming a pattern: she finds some way to charge head on, he bats her away like a fly swatter smacks a fly. She tumbles backwards, stopping herself with her hands before she goes out of bounds. Run, blast, run, blast. He's surprised that she's still going. Two teaspoons of respect, then.

"Looks like she isn't resting between attacks, the poor girl," Present Mic remarks over the loudspeaker, and Katsuki wishes he could shut him up until the end of the match. It's like having someone screaming in his ear when he's trying to focus on actually ending this match. You picked the wrong person to root for, Present Mic. 

The crowd is starting to get restless. 

"Shouldn't one of the teachers step in?" one person shouts.

"It's getting kinda rough," another adds. They come to see children battling it out in an arena and now they're complaining it's too rough? They don't know what they fucking want. This isn't something for the pacifists to watch.

"This is shameful," one particularly loud person shouts. "If you really want to be a hero, then stop being a bully. If you're so powerful, then send her out of bounds."

Katsuki isn't going to sink to his level and reply, but inside he's yelling right back. Another hero trying to protect a helpless victim. Except this one is in the hero course, and she's dishing shots of her own. Knocking her out of the arena in a second is like saying she's not worth my fucking time. I'm not Icy Hot; I wouldn't do that to someone.

The crowd starts booing, like they have that right, like they're the moral high ground protecting a helpless little kid. Even Present Mic says he sort of agrees with what they're saying, and Katsuki feels his shoulders rise to his neck. He wants to cover his ears and hum out their stupid words, or at least put in ear plugs so they can't distract him anymore.

Aizawa steps in before he can ask Midnight to knock them out.

"I'm addressing you, the man who has decided to speak up," he says, voice rumbling with something deeper than annoyance as he yanks the microphone from Present Mic. He's angry. "If you are a pro hero and you're talking seriously, I'd suggest you go home, hang up your cape, and start looking into another career. Because you don't know what you're talking about."

The crowd goes silent. Katsuki wishes he could see the guy's face now, but he's too focused on Uraraka in front of him, who makes another dive at him. He blasts her away, one ear tuned to hear what Aizawa's saying.

"Bakugou's fierceness is a sign of respect," he continues, sternly, scolding. "He acknowledges that she made it this far, and that's why he's putting everything into keeping her at bay."

She's not finished yet, you dumbasses in the audience. She's not dead yet. She's grimy, visibly tired, and he can hear her heavy breathing, but she's still standing in front of him which means the fight is still on.

"I think it's about time." He snaps his attention back to her, regarding her suspiciously. "Thank you, Bakugou, for keeping your eyes on me." She pushes her fingertips together, and he looks up in time to see a storm of rocks come tumbling down to him.

So this was the big plan. All that waiting for this. It reeks of Deku. He probably has a special notebook for making plans to get me. Fucking creep.

Still, he's not going to let a couple of rocks get in the way of his victory. That would be completely anticlimactic, and he's not giving his win up for anyone. As she dashes towards him, he watches her out of the corner of his eye, turns his palm upwards, and blasts full power. 

All of the rocks go hurtling away from the energy blast, and so does Uraraka. He stays standing, untouched by even a pebble, and she skids on the ground to a stop. 

"I knew you'd be doing something big," he says, kicking one of the stones away. "You're friends with that damn nerd, after all."

His arms, all the way up to his shoulders, feel sore with the kickback of the blast. His hands feel nothing, of course, but he'll definitely have to refill after this. That was too close.

Somehow, she rises to his feet, and he feels a real smile pass over his face. "Alright, time to get serious, Uraraka" he says. If she still wants to fight, he won't deny her that. Plus, using her actual name feels like the biggest honor he can give her.

He prepares his hands for another big blast, but Uraraka doesn't give him the chance. She takes a single step, stumbles, then falls to her knees. Katsuki skids to a stop a few feet away, hands still sparking.

"Uraraka is down!" Present Mic shouts, and Katsuki feels his smile morph into a grimace. All he can do is watch on, stunned, as Uraraka tries to drag herself across the arena towards him. The fight seems over to everyone else, but she didn't get the memo.

Adrenaline can only last so long, though, and Midnight announces the end of the match with her barely conscious. Katsuki looks on as they carry her out of the arena to the sounds of a cheering audience. Just goes to show that they love to designate an underdog and a villain for a minute, but when they actually open their fucking eyes, they're just here for a winner.

"Bakugou Katsuki advances to the second round!" After a fight like that, he can barely appreciate it.

As he walks through the hallway, he passes Deku, probably on his way to prepare for his own match. After the usual exchange - "What the hell are you doing here?" "Oh hi Kacchan," - he cuts to the chase.

"It was your idea, right?" he asks, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "The fucking rock shower. Only you would come up with something that annoying to-"

"You're wrong." Deku's face is dead serious. "She came up with that on her own. So if it gave you any trouble, that was all her."

He makes his way to his seat, passing a plethora of extras on the way.

"Hey Bakugou, playing the villain again?" Tape Elbows asks, like he wasn't knocked out with a single strike. Playing the victim again, asshat?

"You did make a pretty convincing bad guy," Frog Girl comments, as if anyone has ever asked for her opinion ever. And you make a pretty convincing pain in the ass. You don't have to say every thought that comes to your mind.

"Shut up, you extras, or else!" he chooses to shout, sitting as far from them as possible.

"For real, Bakugou," Sparky says. "I can't believe you'd aim such a powerful blast at a frail girl. I couldn't help but hold back against Shiozaki." Oh, was that the person who handed your ass to you in five seconds flat? Glad to know her name.

"Nothing frail about her," he replies honestly. In a shocking bit of irony, he and Deku seem to be the only people who remember that this is a hero training course, not a tea party. The teachers said to fight, and Katsuki complied. Nothing extra sadistic or cruel about that.

They watch the next match, Kirishima against second hand Kirishima. Kirishima wins, obviously, and Katsuki sits and waits in anticipation of the next match. Deku versus Icy Hot. Ninety nine percent sure I'm gonna fight whoever wins.

Thinking about Icy Hot reminds him of the hand thing, and he squints to focus on his left side. He's really going to try and win it all with his right? Fucking waste of time. 

The match is tilted right away. Icy Hot on offense, Deku breaking every finger in defense. 

"Oh shoot, I'm missing it," he hears Kirishima say beside him, and Katsuki gives him a passing glance before turning back to the match. "Guess I take down Blasty next."

"I'll kill you," Katsuki says without looking up. He won't be fake positive or fake supportive of anyone. It's not who he is. If he's going to destroy someone, at least they know in advance.

Kirishima laughs like he was joking. "Heh, you can try." He sits down on the armrest of one of the chairs. "But seriously, it's crazy how you and Todoroki both have big moves that blast up a whole stadium. Must be nice."

"Plus you don't have to pause between attacks," Tape Elbows butts in. Katsuki gives him a look out of the corner of his eye, scowling.

"It's not that easy, you idiot." At their confusion, he continues with his lesson in common sense. "Just like when you use muscles a lot you risk tearing them, quirks have a limit. They're part of our bodies too, fuckheads."

"You don't have to explain so rudely," Sparky mumbles, but turns back to the match. "I guess we see who's breaking all of their muscles now. Midoriya's hand is literally purple."

Indeed, Deku's whole hand is broken, each finger individually, and with one punch a second later, his whole other arm is purple too. Deku does more damage to himself than anyone else does, as usual. If I wanted to watch someone beat themselves up I'd watch a fucking identical twin boxing match.

It looks like Deku and Icy Hot are talking for a bit, which no one can hear, but then Deku raises his voice.

"You think you can win with just half your strength?" he shouts for the audience to hear, although his eyes are squarely on Icy Hot. "You haven't put a scratch on me yet. So come at me with all you got!"

What kind of Deku is this? The baby I bullied in middle school didn't provoke people to fight him. Maybe UA just had that effect on him. Whatever it is, Icy Hot'll hopefully beat the shit out of him soon so we can all stop watching this.

Icy Hot charges at him, but it isn't the same sprint as before. He's slower now. He used his quirk so much there's frost all over his body. Damn, I wish he had some sort of way to defrost himself quickly and efficiently with the tools he has on hand. Oh wait, he's just fucking stubborn. He can call the quirk fake all he wants, but I'll still use mine to kick his ass.

Deku fucking nails him in the stomach, and Katsuki's got no sympathy for him. Deku at least knows how to use his weird ass quirk. 

There's back and forth fighting as Deku slowly runs out of bones to break. Katsuki's waiting for Midnight or someone to step in, but they seem to be hesitating. Whatever. More show for the audience then, right?

More talking, more probably very intense conversation that Katsuki could definitely sleep through. But then Deku yells something that makes him open his eyes again.

"Stop screwing around! If you want to reject your father, fine, but you can't be the number one hero if you don't give it your all!" Damn straight. It has to be really extenuating circumstances for me to agree with the damn nerd. "That's why I'm gonna win this!"

He lands another blow and Icy Hot's flying backwards again. 

"I won't use my left side," he coughs, pushing himself to his feet. "I won't-"

"It's your quirk!" Deku screams. "Your quirk, not his, and it's real! Make it your own!"

It's like he uttered the magic words. Icy Hot's hand is instantly ablaze, and he's got a manic grin on his face as the ice melts off of him. The action after that is too hard to follow, not to mention there's dust flying in his eyes every couple of seconds, but by the end it's clear Icy Hot is the winner. Deku reaped what he sowed, it seems.

The next matches fly by compared to the last two. Katsuki doesn't ease up on Kirishima, and he finally breaks his rock hard form, knocking him out. Kirishima would've wanted nothing less than a full on match, and he lasts longer than Katsuki thought he would. In the end, though, Katsuki's making it all the way to the top.

Iida fights Icy Hot next, and it seems like he's back to being a coward and just using his ice. Katsuki half wants Iida to power kick him in the face just to teach him a lesson, but Icy Hot wins, just ice and all.

Last match before the finale. Katsuki takes on Tokoyami next, and he has his strategy within a minute. The light hurts his shadow. Tough fucking luck for him. A few flash grenades and the shadow is nothing more than a whisper. He moves on to face Icy Hot like he knew he would.

Before he can beat his ass, however, they have a short break to rest. Katsuki wants to refuel just in case, and makes his way to his private break room. I'll just go in, lock the door, and then-

When he opens the door, he finds someone else already in there.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks Icy Hot, who's already sitting at the table, his table. He freezes in place when he sees what's in front of him, not attached to his arm anymore. That fucking idiot.

He doesn't even try to hide it. Merely pulls it close to him, folds his stump arm under his regular one, and goes back to staring at the table like nothing happened. Does he not care if someone saw him? What if they kicked him out of the sports festival for it. Would he go in with one fucking hand and show the entire world his stump arm?

"You're in the wrong room," he says calmly. "This is waiting room 2."

"You're just gonna-" Katsuki doesn't know what to be angrier about, the fact that he was so careless as to leave the door unlocked when taking off his hand or the fact that he's acting like Katsuki's the unreasonable one in this scenario. Yeah I walked into the wrong room, but don't just give me that blank fucking look!

"I'm sorry if my hand alarmed you," he finally says. "Have you ever heard of quirk-"

"Nope, I'm not fuckin' dealing with this," Katsuki says, looking up at the ceiling. He was really about to give me the same spiel he gave Deku before. News flash, dumbass, I already heard it and it's not something that the son of the number two hero should be spreading around. He feels like the pissed off older brother trying to explain to a five year old why he shouldn't tell random people about their alcoholic father. Because you don't spread around that shit!

"I'm sure you're alarmed, but I have this pre-approved by the school board," Icy Hot continues in his dumb fucking monotone. "This isn't considered cheating or against the rules. If either of us win, it won't be invalidated. Besides, I do not plan on using it."

"That's not why I'm freaking out!" Katsuki practically shouts, wringing his hands together in annoyance. "Just- Fucking- Put your hand on at least, I can't look at you like this."

He waits impatiently while Icy Hot does so, looking around the hallway to make sure there aren't any eavesdroppers or passersby. When he turns back, Icy Hot has decided to completely change the subject.

"You were friends with Midoriya as a child, right?" he asks, and shit, he has a starry look in his eye. Katsuki doesn't like that look one fucking bit. "What was that like?"

What was it like being friends with him when I was four, or what was it like tormenting him for ten years? he doesn't ask, because he doesn't feel like answering either question.

"I don't wanna talk about fucking Deku. Just be ready to fight me all out, and that includes with the hand. I want you to use your flames on me like you did with Deku."

Todoroki blinks at him. "I would have thought you'd be against me using my flames, or try to turn me in to Midnight for having a support item."

Am I being suspicious? Does he think I know more than I'm letting on? Can he see the hinges by my wrists, or the way my hands don't have a scratch even after three battles?

He doesn't let his paranoia consume him. Not while he's in the doorway of the wrong waiting room, open and exposed. 

"I don't give a shit," he settles on, hoping the shaking throughout his body can be mistaken for exhaustion or anger. "I want everyone to know I beat you at your best, and that includes the fire." 

He storms out, slamming the door behind him. His own waiting room is just down the hallway, and the first thing he does is close the door behind him and lock it. Only then can he settle at his table, take out the fuel bottle he hastily shoved in his pocket, and remove his hands to refill them one at a time.

He's so callous to it. He doesn't care at all who knows, even though he thinks it's a fake. Probably doesn't think of himself as a real fraud, since he's not quirkless. He grits his teeth, reattaching his hand and moving on to the second one. Fuck that. This isn't time to be stubborn, or stick to some shitty morality code that society ingrained in quirkless kids like me. Whatever you're born with doesn't mean jack shit. It's how you adapt and what you do with yourself that decides everything. These hands will take down villains just as well as Deku's. Better, even. And that makes them heroic and valid and whatever other fucking inspirational things society looks up to.

He finishes up, wiping his hands on his track pants. The hag might be a complete asshole with no regards for my feelings, but she gave me power. And no amount of shit talking by Icy Hot will make it any less destructive.

Come at me with your "real" quirk and "fake" quirk. I'll come at you with everything I have, and I will come out on top.   

Chapter Text

If Katsuki thought the crowd was loud before, it has nothing on the cheers and shouts that greet him when he faces Icy Hot. He's hoping the dissenters from his match before left - or that Aizawa kicked their asses, he's not picky - but he probably wouldn't be able to hear them anyway. The cacophony from the crowd turns to white noise, and his hearing goes fuzzy.

Last match before the end. One more fucker standing in my way of being the winner. One last shot to prove myself.

He hears the hag's voice in his head, her words clear in his muddled head. One of the only valid things she's ever said in his life.

“But you know who nobody questions?”

”Who?”

”The one on top."

"It's all come down to this!" Present Mic yells, even though he's talking into a loudspeaker. Does he know how to talk at a normal tone? I'm going fucking deaf here. "Todoroki Shouto of the hero course versus his classmate Bakugou Katsuki!" Icy Hot's classmate. What an honor.

They stare at each other, and Katsuki does his best to relay a telepathic message. I'll be watching you, Icy Hot. I'll know if you don't put your all into it. If the other boy gets the message, he makes no indicator of it. As always, his face is as blank as a sheet of paper.

"Begin!"

Katsuki gets a second's notice before he's on the receiving end of one of Icy Hot's giant ice blasts. He's underestimating me, he thinks, blasting his way through the thick cold. He wonders for a minute if he can use the ice to his advantage, as a sort of hiding place, then dismisses the thought. He wants his victory to be as loud and obvious as he is. No sneaking, no backhanded fighting. Just a one on one quirk battle like the sports festival was made for.

He bursts through the other side, launching himself from the entrance of the newly formed ice cave.

"You've got some pretty powerful attacks, but you're a bad aim!" he shouts, dodging Todoroki's right arm and tossing him over his shoulder with the left. "Are you underestimating me, idiot?"

He catches himself with his ice, barely missing the out of bounds line. Katsuki doesn't want him out of bounds anyway; he just wants to trigger whatever it is that'll make him use his flames.

He launches himself again, and he feels his left arm grab onto him. Perfect. This oughtta do something.

They both hear Endeavor at the same time. He can recognize the voice from countless interviews and news stories. The number two hero isn't someone you just forget. He can see that Icy Hot heard him too; his face screws up, eyes narrow. 

"Do it, Shouto! Use your flames!"

Katsuki's got many opinions on the man now, but it seems they're on the same page here. Sure, Endeavor definitely wants Icy Hot to kick his ass and get it over with, but Katsuki just wants a good fight. The whole crowd wants a good fight. Everyone-

Well, apparently not everyone after all. Before he can yell at the bastard, he's flung to the side, not a hint of heat to it. He catches himself easily with his explosions, and his heavy breathing is more from anger than exertion.

He wonders if Asami's watching this on TV. He wonders if she has any opinions about Icy Hot's choice not to use his fire.

"Stop screwing around," he growls, catching his footing. Icy Hot's crouched just a few feet away, and he can see the frost forming on his face. It would be so easy for him to just get rid of it. He's a fucking coward. He's the fake here, not me. Pretending to be all morally high and mighty instead of just having daddy issues. "What, do you think I'm not worthy of your fire?"

Icy Hot doesn't respond, just glances at him. His eyes are empty, neutral. Whatever passion he threw into the fight with Deku, it's not there anymore, and it's almost unbearable. Watching someone slap him in the face with the fact that stupid fucking nerd-turned-wonderboy Deku is so much better. Icy Hot got over his bitterness towards his prosthesis for one epic match, and Katsuki's just the leftover. Not worth the effort.

"You bastard," he continues, his palms sparking. "I'll tell you what'll happen if you make a fool out of me. I'll kill you!" That at least gets a bit of a reaction: surprise. "I don't want there to be any doubt that I'm the best student at this damn festival. That's only possible if you come at me as hard as you can! There's no point if you don't fight me with the same power you used to fight Deku. If you don't wanna win this, why are you even fucking here?"

Katsuki's voice is hoarse and cracking. He doesn't know why he's choosing now of all times to pour out his heart at the guy, but his rage is all consuming. If he doesn't yell, he'll probably spontaneously combust. Everyone else in the audience be damned; if Icy Hot doesn't get it, he doesn't give a shit.

He wants to get more of a reaction. He has half a mind to throw his fucking hand at him, tell him it's as real as the frost covering most of his arm now. He'll pummel the self-acceptance into him if that's what it takes to fight him evenly. 

He starts charging again, hands outstretched at his sides. "Show everyone you're trying to destroy me! Use everything you have!" 

A voice calls out from the audience when he's halfway there. "Come on, Todoroki! Don't give up! Do your best!" It's Deku, interceding himself into Katsuki's life yet again. Putting himself in situations where he doesn't belong, as he always does.

"Stupid nerd," he mutters, turning back to what really matters. Icy Hot looks invested now, though his face is unreadable. Of fucking course Deku's the one to get him into this. Maybe Deku should come and fight alongside him. At least then he'll stay awake long enough for me to crush him.

He shoves himself off the ground, giving him a good view of his opponent below him. Finally, finally, a layer of flames coats his arm. He looks pissed; Katsuki hasn't been this excited in a while.

Fucking finally. This match took forever to start, but now it'll really be interesting. 

He spins himself around in the air, and the wind around him picks up at turns him into a miniature tornado for maximum power. He wants his next move to be burned into everyone's eyes, until it's the only thing they can remember from the whole fucking festival.

"Howitzer Impact!" he yells, holding out his hand for his biggest blast yet. He realizes a second too late that the flames he was expecting, anticipating, holding out for, are completely snuffed out. He blasts the fucking coward in face with all the strength he has, but inside, he's hollow.

The next thing he knows, he's flat on the ground, coughing out the smoke that now surrounds him. He waves his hand around to clear the air, eyes stinging, lungs burning. He's feeling nauseous, like when he forgets to eat and trains for a little too long. 

The smoke dissipates, allowing him to see in front of him. Most of Icy Hot's ice block is gone, scattered to bits, and what's remaining was pushed out of bounds. Lying on a large chunk of it, completely still, is Todoroki himself.

"No," he whispers, his throat too scratchy for much else. He pushes himself to his feet slowly, determined not to be sick while the whole country is watching. He's shaking all over, both from the recoil and from the shock of it all. All of the adrenaline in his body is emptying out in a nauseating wave. "No."

He stumbles when he tries to walk, but catches himself before he can fall. His feet drag with every step, but the closer he gets to Todoroki's body, the faster he goes, until he's running recklessly, barely seeing the ground in front of him. He has to wake up. The fight isn't over yet.

"Hey," he calls, more like a growl than anything. He coughs, tries again. "Hey!" He doesn't get any response. Todoroki's blank eyes aren't even open.

He reaches the body, grabbing Todoroki's collar and forcing his body upwards. There's no resistance, no give at all. "Stop messing around!" His voice cracks, but he doesn't care. He keeps yelling as loud as he can. If I can reach him, if I can wake him up, we can keep going. He'll use his fucking flames on me if I have to heal him myself. 

"This isn't a real win for me unless you try harder!" His vision is blurring. The smoke must've gotten in his eyes or something. He blinks hard, and Todoroki's limp body comes back into view. "It can't end like this. Now get up!" He won't take this fake victory from a coward who thinks of him as a fake, regardless of whether he's aware of it or not. 

I didn't get the chance to convince him that his quirk is real. I didn't get the chance to convince him that I'm real.

He smells something sickly sweet around him, and his grip on Icy Hot's collar goes limp. "Don't-" he gets out, before his eyes shut against his will, and he falls to a heap beside Icy Hot, ice cutting into his skin.

He wakes up in the infirmary, head pounding to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He spins around, spotting Icy Hot in the bed beside him. He's awake, staring at his hands like he's having another fucking crisis.

"I'll kill you," Katsuki says sincerely, his throat surprisingly clear. Recovery Girl probably healed him while he was unconscious. Icy Hot looks up at him, eyes just as blank as ever. 

"I'm sorry, Bakugou," he says softly. "I don't know if I made the right decision or not, but-"

"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear your bullshit right now. You used your fire before, but you were too much of a coward to use it against me. End of story." He lunges at him, or at least tries to lunge; he didn't realize it before, but his hands are encased in metal and chained to the bed. "What the fuck?"

"You were being a bit... aggressive before, so we took precautionary measures," a new voice says. It's Midnight. She was probably the bitch who knocked me out in the first place, he realizes.

"What the fuck?" he repeats. "You're just gonna keep me here like a fucking prisoner?"

"Of course not," she says, like it's obvious. "You and Todoroki are due at the awards ceremony soon anyway."

The fucking awards ceremony, where he'll get a gold medal for something he didn't even earn. "I'm not going. You can keep me chained down here if you want, but I'm not going."

"Of course you are. You have to get your medal. You got first place, remember?" Her words feel like a slap in the face. You won, so you should be grateful and happy and go out with a smile.

"I'm not going," he repeats firmly. "Tell 'em I'm still knocked out or something. I don't want the fucking medal."

"Watch your language," Aizawa says, entering the infirmary, still wrapped head to toe in bandages. "And you are going, because you have to. As the winner of the sports festival, you are obligated-"

"Then I give up my win." The words taste like bile in his mouth, but he's desperate at this point. "Give the medal to Icy Hot. That'll make everyone happy anyway. I'll be fine down here, I won't fight anyone about it. Please." He's using every weapon in his arsenal, but by the look on Midnight's face, it isn't enough.

"You have to go. It will only be for a little bit, but we will use force if we have to." He doesn't like the look in her eyes. This is why you don't let sadists be teachers. This definitely isn't fucking legal.

"Use your force, then. You can try," he spits, crossing his arms as best as he can in his position. He won't let any villain disguised as a teacher boss him around and force him to their will. He wants them to try and come out of this looking like the good guys. 

"Bakugou, you shouldn't-" Icy Hot starts to say, but Katsuki practically hisses at him.

"Shut the fuck up. Stay out of it. Fuck you." He must look like a rabid animal, kicking and pulling and spitting, but that's what he feels like now. If they chain him up like an animal, they better believe he'll play the part.

He's ready for the awful perfume smell now, and he holds his breath as Midnight tries to use her quirk on him. If he waits long enough, maybe the air vents will spare him. But he takes a gasping breath a minute later, and he's knocked out for the second time in ten minutes, choking on the cloying smell of flowers.

The next time he opens his eyes, he's standing. His eyes widen as he realizes he's chained to something again, and he looks over himself in a panic. He's tied to some sort of pillar by the waist, and his arms and hands are chained together, also attached to the pillar. 

He wants to yell, but he realizes one heart-stopping second later that he can't open his mouth. He looks down, catching the edge of something metal attached to his face. His teeth are clenched together, and he tastes blood. Probably bit his tongue while they were trying to force this on him.

Those fuckers gagged me. Muzzled me like a fucking mutt. His vision tunnels as he struggles to breathe through his nose, yanking at his restraints. His hands are chained, but maybe he can pull at the belts securing him to the pillar and flip himself over and-

The ground starts moving, and he looks around with frantic eyes, finally taking in his surroundings. Icy Hot is standing to his right, and Bird Brain is on his left. Neither of them are meeting his eyes, and he can see them tense further as he struggles. The ceiling opens up, and sunlight blinds him for a second. They're right back in the middle of the arena, and the whole crowd is watching.

Are those sons of bitches just gonna stand there while I'm paraded like a fugitive? He realizes a second later that they probably were there while he was chained up in the first place. Fuck them. Fuck them all.

He feels like his head is underwater, caving to pressure thousands of feet below. He wants to spit the blood out of his mouth but he can't because he's gagged and restrained and his vision is blurring again and he doesn't care anymore if everyone sees him throw up. He'd give both of his hands up easily to be able to open his mouth and let the world know how he feels about this.

There's confetti raining down on him, because this is supposed to be a celebration. He wants to burn up every last bit of it, but he can barely breathe, much less act. Even if they did unchain him at this point, he'd probably fall right off the fucking podium because his head is spinning a mile a minute. He shuts his eyes against the flashes of a hundred cameras, each capturing him at his worst. He had thought the news coverage of the slime attack was bad, but this is a billion times more awful.

"He's acting like a feral animal," he hears Bird Brain say beside him, and he wants to shout right in his face that if he was in his position, he'd be acting the fucking same. But, gag, so he shrieks muffled complaints and focuses his energy on busting himself out. It was never a joke, but it's not fucking funny anymore. He hasn't felt so not in control since the sludge villain. The taste of blood, acrid on his tongue, only reminds him more of the slime that infected him. It tasted like blood too, at the time.

Midnight grabs a microphone and starts talking about why Iida isn't there, but Katsuki can barely process what she's saying. What he takes out of it is that yes, it was a possibility for him not to come to this fucking ceremony, but they didn't like him enough to give him the option.

She says something else, but Katsuki can't hear it at all over the sound of his own harsh breathing and chains rattling. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them next, All Might is standing right in front of him, holding three medals. 

Why am I not surprised? he thinks, a little hysterically. Whenever I'm at my most helpless, All Might's there to witness it. Are you going to save me now, All Might? Break me out of my restraints like a fucking hero? You're supposed to help the helpless, right? 

All Might gives the medals to Bird Brain and Icy Hot, giving them a nice little speech with each one. Katsuki is completely still now, most of the fight drained out of him. His legs are shaking badly, so it takes everything he has not to collapse.

"And now, young Bakugou!" All Might hesitates, taking in his decrepit state. "Well this is a little much." To Katsuki's everlasting appreciation, he pulls off the muzzle, letting Katsuki gasp in air for the first time in a while. He spits blood in between mouthfuls of air, not caring that it drips down his chin in what's probably a horrifying display. He coughs out more blood that he swallowed before, until the front of his shirt and the ground in front of him are splattered in it.

He doesn't give a shit that everyone's watching anymore. He wants them to see it, forces them to see it. This is all a show, right? Here's their fucking entertainment.

All Might hesitates again, waiting for the coughing to subside before continuing. "Uh, you did what you said you'd do in the pledge. You're true to your word!" He notices All Might doesn't meet his eyes either, and he bares his teeth, licking the blood off of them.

"All Might..." he growls, not even tasting it anymore. "This isn't a real win. I don't give a shit if everyone in the world calls me a winner, I refuse to accept it like this!" He doesn't realize his voice grew louder until he feels his own voice grating at his ears. The words are bursting from his mouth, demanding to be heard. 

"In a world where we're all compared to each other constantly," All Might continues, staring just a little over his shoulder, "there are very few who can keep their eyes focused on the top spot. You are one of those people."

Yeah I keep my eyes on the top spot. That's how I know this isn't it. He bites his lip until it starts bleeding again, then spits it angrily. I need some fucking mouthwash. My breath's gonna smell like a butcher shop all day. It's weird what weighs on your mind when you're conscious from spite alone. Katsuki chooses dental health.

"Please accept this medal. Even if you have to think of it as a scar. Something you'll never forget." Katsuki's never forgetting this, all right. Nothing but extreme electroshock therapy could make him forget this. 

"I don't want that piece of garbage," he hisses, throat sore and scratchy. "Get that shit away from me!"

"Come now," All Might says, and shoves the ribbon between his teeth. "There, that's better."

It's not better. Katsuki clenches his teeth with the ribbon between them and lets the blood drip down on it, staining the pristine white cloth and falling onto the shiny gold. Icy Hot and Bird Brain continue to look everywhere but at him, and he doesn't know if he wants their eyes on him or not. He wants to be alone, away from UA, deep under his covers so he can sleep for eternity.

He hiccups, and is infuriated to discover that his eyes are welling up. No. I'll be seen as a fucking rabid animal on TV, but I won't be seen as a baby. He spits out the ribbon on the ground, swallowing his tears away. It clatters as it hits the concrete, and he kicks it off the podium, shutting his eyes tight against the world. All Might's voice fades into nothingness, and he slumps against the pillar.

They want their fucking medal? They can have it.

Chapter Text

Katsuki doesn't open his eyes again until he feels the podium move. Figures they wouldn't release me up there. I'd probably thrash them all to pieces. Icy Hot and Bird Brain are gone, so he's alone. And in the dark of the tunnel, away from the prying eyes and flashing lights, he lets loose one animalistic yell of indignation. For his pride, for his reputation, for his loss. It'll be written up as a win, sure, but he seems like the only person who truly knows it for what it is. A resignation.

Midnight's the one to unchain him, because she's the only one who's able to subdue him if it's necessary. His teeth are clenched together so he won't yell, and his limbs are tense so that he won't flinch when she touches him. He refuses to be under her control any longer than he has to be, and that means he has to be obedient. If it'll get him far from her faster, he'll bite his tongue.

"Was that so hard?" she asks, and he bites harder on his already injured tongue. His skin is bristling, but he refuses to break eye contact. He'll take any form of dominance he can get in this situation. "Now go on, Eraserhead wants you back in class for a bit. Some sort of announcement."

Eraserhead. The name makes his shoulders hunch up. He doesn't care about me. He never stood for me at all. The hands are just a part of it. He doesn't want to make me a better hero, he just wants to subdue me. If I got last place during his fucking logical ruse, he would've expelled me for sure. 

Nobody ever stood for me. Sure, All Might took a hit from a Nomu for me, but only because he had to as a hero and a teacher. Deku constantly fucks himself up trying to save me, but that's because he's a naive idiot with a death wish. My mom never stood for me specifically, just anyone who could make her look good. My dad never stood up for me period. 

I'm all alone.

His moment of self pity over, he shakes his head hard, spits blood on the ground, and moves on.

He changes out of his gym clothes in the bathroom, throwing them directly in the trash. He doesn't want the hag to go on about blood stains and tears at the fabric and scorch marks. He knows that they're there, she doesn't need to point them out. Not that she'll be focusing on the uniform. She has other things to be pissed about today. He feels cleaner in his school uniform, but not by much. He doesn't even try to put the tie on today.

Somehow, he finds his way back to the classroom, even though his mind is miles away. Aizawa looks at him, but doesn't say anything about him being tardy. His expression is unreadable beneath the bandages. 

His classmates, however, have almost comically exaggerated expressions of surprise, confusion, disgust, or a motley of the three. Deku has pity in his eyes, which is worse than everything else put together. Iida is still nowhere to be found. Lucky bastard. 

The eyes on him itch, like they're tangible things touching him, and he crosses his arms stiffly against his stomach. He can't tense his muscles enough not to tremble; the more he tries, the more they do. It's partly out of anger, and he hopes that's what it looks like fully. In reality, it's mostly weakness that makes him shake.

He thought coming to UA would make him stronger, but it feels like a downward slope.

"Good work, class," Aizawa says, and the eyes draw towards him instead. His voice sounds weird giving encouragement; he probably doesn't do it often. Katsuki keeps his eyes on his desk, tapping a finger silently against the wood. If he meets Aizawa's eyes, nothing good could happen.

"There will be no school tomorrow or the next day," he continues in the same monotone. "I'm sure the heroes watching the sports festival will want to recruit you, but that will all be organized when you get back. So rest well and look forward to that."

Heroes recruiting? This'll be a fucking trip. They'll probably make me wear the muzzle around them like Midnight, if they'll accept me at all. Maybe they'll test me for rabies first, or sedate me so I don't attack them. I don't have anything to learn from anyone who was watching the sports festival. They already don't know shit about me.

They're dismissed, and Katsuki has no bag to take, so he goes straight for the door.

"Bakugou," Icy Hot says, and he speeds up his pace. Fuck no. "Kacchan," he hears, and he practically bolts out. He doesn't know which of the two is worse, but he definitely doesn't want to find out which will cause a more visceral reaction. He didn't throw up on the podium, but anything goes in the hallway.

He waits for the train home, sitting on the edge of the bench, until he hears the whispering. 

"That's him, from the sports festival."

"He's scarier in person than on the screen."

"Did they really just let him out?"

He groans, but it comes out more as a growl. The people beside him freeze, caught in the act, like he's going to go psychotic on them. Instead, he spits, "Fuck you," and storms off. He'll walk home. 

But his own face follows him everywhere. Billboards, phone screens, hastily compiled articles written only an hour after the actual event. He doesn't have a hood to hide his head, nor a mask to hide his face, so he stays in the shadows. He curses his light blond hair that draws the eye, since even the dark can't conceal him well. He hears the whispers as clearly as he hears the shouts meant to draw his attention. 

Some positive: "That was an awesome win!" "You're really powerful!" He ignores these, because he doesn't believe them and these people, these pedestrians, know nothing.

Some concerned: "Are you okay?" "Do you need help?" He ignores these people too, because whatever help they're offering, it won't make a difference to him. Not unless they have a time machine and lighter fluid.

Mostly negative: "What's wrong with you?" "Learn to control yourself." "You didn't deserve to win." No fucking shit, Sherlock. That's what I was trying to tell them before they muzzled me. He doesn't say that out loud; his tongue feels like it's made of lead.

When he gets home, it's dark outside, and the chill cuts at him. The only light on in his house is in the kitchen, and he plans on how to avoid it and beeline to his room as fast as possible. But when he puts his key in the lock and turns, his mom is standing right by the door. Not doing anything else, just standing and waiting. Her eyes are narrowed. Displeased. 

"I watched the festival," she says, her words sharp. "You looked feral."

"I was feral, for good reason," he says slowly, pulling off his uniform jacket. "They fucking chained me and gagged me."

"Because you were feral."

"I wasn't feral before." He spits the word, her way of compartmentalizing all of his negative emotions and qualities into one word. Like he can be contained so easily. 

"You tried to attack a kid who was already unconscious. I thought you were gonna fucking kill him." Her voice is hard, not a crack in it. "I didn't raise you to attack everything in sight. You won, wasn't that enough?"

"I didn't win!" he roars, hands balled into fists. "I didn't get the chance. I wasn't going to fucking kill him, I was trying to wake him up so we could finish the fucking match! And you raised me to take advantage of every opportunity I can in order to make it to the top. I was headed there. And then they tied me up."

Her red eyes meet his identical ones, cold as ice. She's a very angry person in general, but she gives off the air of control. Like every word she yells is premeditated, exactly what she wants to say. Katsuki always says what he wants, but at least he sometimes regrets it. 

"Go to your fucking room," she says, pointing to the stairs. Katsuki's about to reply with "I was already planning on it, hag," when she adds, "Your father can't even look at you."

Something heavy and burning hot settles in his stomach. There have been many times when he didn't want to see his old man, but never the other way around. Parenting isn't supposed to be like that. Sure, the hag is a hag, but she's consistent with it, just like his dad is always consistent in supporting him.

He was before, anyway.

"Fine," he growls, and stomps all the way upstairs. He can hear the TV on in his dad's room, and he stomps harder. He never stood up for you. This isn't a loss. He slams the door and grabs his headphones, turning on his music as loud as he can. He was too weak to support you. He could never handle it. He stares blankly at his ceiling, still wearing his shoes. He was never good to begin with. He was a coward.

His mom doesn't call him for dinner, but he isn't hungry anyway. His throat feels acidic, and he knows that anything that he tries to send down will come straight back up. So he drinks a cup of water from his thermos in baby sips, puts on his warmest sweatshirt, and goes through his anti-nausea routine. Breathe in through nose, out through mouth. Close eyes. Count to ten. Wiggle fingers. Breathe.

His dad doesn't come to say goodnight. Good. I'm not a baby anymore. Haven't needed him to do that since I was fucking five.

He doesn't leave the house for the next two days, choosing to train from his room, so he's grateful that both of his parents leave for work before he gets out of bed and return after he's already eaten dinner. The hag is still angry, like she didn't raise him exactly the way he is, but he doesn't care about her. She's angry about shit all the time. One time she got so angry she kicked a wall, broke her toe, and then was angry for another two weeks while it healed, all because he wouldn't clean his room once. Nothing really satisfies her. Not for long, at least. Apparently, not even winning first place.

That was it. If she isn't happy with that, then I don't know what she expects from me.

He suddenly remembers his own dream about winning the sports festival. He always imagined that demolishing his opponents would get him the gold medal, and it did. He just didn't expect the boos that came with it, or the chains, or the self hatred. Not about him doing what was necessary, but because for all the effort he put in, he didn't get what he wanted in return. Just to be fought like an equal, and to come out on top.

His phone buzzes every so often, and he makes himself check it once a night so that it won't build up and give him a headache. The first night, there's nothing of importance. A few emails, a text from Deku, some relatives who somehow got his number. He deletes all of these.

The second night, however, he gets a different kind of text. The usual congratulations, but from someone else. He doesn't know how Iida got his number; probably from Deku, since they're friends.

Unknown number: Hello Bakugou, this is Iida Tenya. I was not able to watch the last portion of the sports festival, but congratulations on winning first place.

He wouldn't be saying that if he saw me. He wouldn't have any congratulations left in him. He thinks about the family emergency that got him out of the awards ceremony, and almost types out a question, but deletes both it and the text before it. Who fucking cares. Doesn't have anything to do with me.

He only spots one newspaper in his house, left near his mom's purse.

"Bakugou Katsuki's Explosive Entrance at the UA Sport's Festival: What We Know About the Rambunctious Winner." Rambunctious is a nicer way of putting it, he supposes, better than "feral" or "rabid." Doesn't make him feel any better that his mom's reading this shit about him. If you wanna know so much about me, you could always fucking ask me. 

He sees his dad on the morning he's going back to school, and it stops him in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Good morning, Katsuki," he says, sipping on his coffee. Katsuki doesn't know whether to laugh or to yell. That's it? He's gonna fucking pretend like nothing happened? He remembers suddenly that his dad is a coward. He won't say anything unless Katsuki presses him for it. He won't apologize, but he won't mention the situation again unless he brings it up directly. 

Katsuki used to like that about him. That he never confronted him or made him talk about what he didn't want to talk about. Now it makes him want to scream.

He walks to school again, and it's worse now. Anyone who didn't watch the sports festival live has seen it on YouTube or in the papers or in a meme. He's a reaction picture now, multiple of them in fact. One from while he was fighting Uraraka, two from his match against Icy Hot, and too many from when he was chained up. One reads, "When Netflix cancels the OA after just two seasons," and shows him rabid and raving, clawing at his restraints. Katsuki doesn't get it, but he hasn't had much time for TV in a while. He probably wouldn't find it funny either way. 

There's no darkness to shield him, to cloak him like a blanket and hide him from their stares. He starts to think that maybe he should've taken the train, because at least that would be faster, but being stuck in a cramped space surrounded by people who know his face sounds like a fate worse than death.

His teeth hurt from gnashing them, his tongue and lips from biting them. He even catches himself about to bite his nails before he remembers that he doesn't have any nails to bite. A hysterical giggle bursts out at that. He covers his mouth and keeps walking. 

There are two categories of people who follow him: regular people, and the reporters. He needs to be extra careful around the reporters, since the news hogs will slop up any bit of negative emotion he gives them. That doesn't mean he doesn't tell them to fuck off, of course; he tells them this loud and often. But he doesn't listen to their shitty questions or bait, blocking them out with his earbuds. All he says is fuck off, because you can't get a story out of that.

(He'll later find out that while it's very hard to get a story out of it, it isn't impossible. Seems that a conglomerate of reporters coming together to write on article on his "dismissive and aggressive behavior" towards them makes quite a read.)

He reaches the school building and he's so tired already, he can barely walk through the gates. Or it might be a mental block, telling him that this isn't the place for him, they couldn't have been more clear about that. Bet they don't go through this shit at Shiketsu. Maybe I can transfer.

But no. Katsuki's no coward. He forces his legs through the front door, grits his teeth against the whispers, blocks them all out. I'm so close to the classroom. I can let it all out during training.

"Hey, Bakugou." He doesn't turn around, even though he doesn't recognize the voice. It could be anybody; his name isn't much of a secret anymore. Whoever it is, it's no friend of his. "Bakugou. I'm not trying to goad you. Geez, just pause for a second."

Katsuki turns his head slightly, just enough to catch their face in his periphery, and his mind goes on high alert. Purple shithead from the sports festival. Mind control guy. There's no telling what he'll make me do if I respond. It's a trap.

He walks faster, and he hears footsteps behind him telling him that the fucker is following him. He won't respond, but if he keeps following him he'll find some other way to say fuck off. Maybe a written message will do it.

"You don't have to say anything. Just stop and listen for a second." His voice sounds resigned, like he's used to people not wanting to talk to him. Katsuki looks around, catching a few eyes staring before they look away abruptly. He turns to the purple shithead, eyes half shut, and waves a hand out. Go on, speak. Before I get sick of this.

On a normal day, he would've already been gone with a blast and a yell. But today isn't a normal day.

Purple bastard looks around too, then leans in. Katsuki leans back on instinct, and the purple fucker makes an annoyed sound.

"I don't bite. Are all you hero kids so paranoid?" he asks, and Katsuki reluctantly leans his head back. He wants whatever this shit is over with, and fast. Already his mind is bursting with the effort of not talking, not saying a word to anyone. After a moment, Purple says in an undertone, "I know what it's like to be muzzled. And it's fucking wrong."

"What the fuck?" Katsuki says before he can stop himself, and he braces himself for the other boy to do whatever mind control shit he did at the festival. But he doesn't. Instead, he walks away slowly, like he has all the time in the world. Katsuki doesn't follow him - he doesn't know what he'd say if he did - and walks the rest of the way to the classroom.

I know what it's like to be muzzled. And it's fucking wrong. It shouldn't feel that satisfying, to hear someone say something that's just common sense. But it is. There's just the matter of getting everyone else to realize that too. 

Chapter Text

His run in with Shinsou - if he can call it that, he isn't really sure what to call it - costed him a precious minute to slip into class early and make himself look occupied. The class is already half full by the time he reaches his seat. Luckily, per usual, they're too occupied with their own newfound fame to pay him more than a single glance.

They're soaking it up like fucking sponges. This is why all of the other courses say that we're full of ourselves. They're not totally wrong.

"Everyone was staring at me! It was kind of embarrassing," Invisibitch says, and he scoffs under his breath. I'll eat my hands if you had a single memorable moment in the whole festival. If anyone was staring at you, it's because of your UA uniform. You didn't earn any recognition.

"All it took was one sports festival and suddenly we're like celebrities," Sparky says, and damn if that isn't the truth. One sports festival to mark my face down in infamy. One moment in my first year of high school that will follow me for years to come. Look at the little dogs, lapping up their praise. How heroic.

Deku doesn't try to talk to him again, because he can at least sometimes take a hint, but Icy Hot gives it one more go on his way back to his seat. 

"Bakugou, about the sports festival-" he starts, and Katsuki grabs the first thing he can reach - a pen - and presses it to his mouth to shut him up. He does a quick scan of the room, sighing in relief when it looks like no one is watching. Only Deku, with his eyes like a hawk, is looking on in alarm, but Katsuki knows he won't step in. Not unless he does something drastic.

"Don't fucking talk to me," he hisses, putting the pen down when he's sure Icy Hot won't speak. He doesn't realize that his hands are clenched into fists until he looks down. "Go back to your seat. Don't try and talk to me again or I'll go psycho on you. You know I will."

He hopes he can convey as much of the dangerous energy as he had back in the sports festival. In reality, making a scene in the middle of his classmates - who already think he's a lunatic - is far from ideal. Talking to Icy Hot would be worse, though. It was tolerable having All Might and Deku and maybe even Midnight see him as weak and out of control.

Icy Hot, though? A step too far.

Either his words somehow permeate the other boy's dense peppermint head, or he decides that it isn't worth the fight. Whatever it is, Icy Hot continues to the back of the room towards his seat, and Katsuki can relax.

For, like, a minute.

"Morning," Aizawa says, walking into the room, and the whole class responds back. He looks a lot better, not a single bandage on him. Katsuki remembers how awful he looked during the attack, having stepped in to save one of them.

He wonders if he would step in to save them again, if need be. He wonders if he would save him, if the time came around. 

"We have a big class today on hero informatics," he continues, making his way to the podium. The fear in the air is almost palpable, but Katsuki just wants to roll his eyes. Hero informatics? Using information as a hero, whatever that means. Could he possibly be any more cryptic? For a guy who's supposed to be a teacher, he likes scaring the twats way too much.

Aizawa waits a second, then adds, "You need code names." The whole class settles once again, and chatter springs up across the room. Even Katsuki feels vaguely excited about choosing his hero name. He's been thinking about it for years, after all.

Pro hero Nitro. We'll see them try and ridicule me then.

Aizawa's eyes flashed red, and everyone quieted down again. "This is connected to the pro hero draft picks that we talked about last time in class. Normally they wouldn't start so early, but your class is different."

He doesn't have to elaborate on how they're different. We fought real villains. We have the experience. 

"By drafting first years like you guys, the pros are essentially investing in your potential. Their offers can be taken back, however, if their interest dies down before graduation."

What would lead to their interest dying down? Did I gain any offers after my fight with the pink nerd, only to lose them after the awards ceremony? What constitutes a good hero, anyway? Can they spot it in our tiny bodies, in our still growing minds?

He presses a button on his remote, and the total number of offers for each person shows up. Katsuki has 3556. Icy Hot has 4123. Everyone else has at least ten times less, so he doesn't focus on theirs. 

"Todoroki got the most, ahead of Bakugou?" Earjacks asks, which is basically Katsuki's line of thought. You should be grateful you got any at all. After the way they saw you, after all of the shitty press, it's a miracle anyone wants you at all. But the small, petty part of Katsuki thinks, If winning the sports festival doesn't make you a winner in their eyes, could they please make a new competition that actually does?

"They probably weren't excited about working with the guy who had to be chained up in the end," Tape Elbows explains in a whisper that would be more effective if he didn't sit three feet away from Katsuki. 

"If I scared a pro, they're just weak!" he says angrily, startling the whole group. His mind flashes to the one pro who called him a bully, and he grits his teeth. "If winning the sports festival makes a good hero, that should be enough for them. I'm not interested in all of their bullshit interpretations otherwise."

He reads over the board again. Icy Hot, me, Bird Brain, Iida. That makes sense. Sparky would've been fine with a different match up, that's alright I guess. Ponytail and Kirishima, okay. Pink Nerd too, she wasn't horrible. Tape Elbows? He didn't even do anything before he lost. Must be pity then, like the kids on the train.

He squints. Wait. Deku isn't on there.

Grape Creature notices it too. "Midoriya, you got none. You must've grossed everyone out by the crazy way you were fighting." Deku nods, probably fighting back tears as always, and Katsuki is pissed off. He hates Deku with all his heart, no doubt, but the pros don't. And yet they're still picking someone who couldn't last five seconds against Icy Hot over someone who was almost equally matched, who could've beaten him if it wasn't for his own stupid morality.

Quirkless Deku didn't deserve to get into UA at all. Deku with a quirk, though... nothing really makes sense in this scenario. 

"Settle down, class," Aizawa says. "Everyone here, regardless of whether they're on the board or not, will be interning with a pro hero. You all got experience facing real villains during the USJ incident, but it will do you well to work up close with a pro hero in the field.

"These hero names will most likely be temporary, but choose them wisely or..."

"You'll have hell to pay later!" a female voice says from the doorway, and Katsuki recognizes it without looking. Midnight. He bites his lip, staring down at his desk as the rest of his classmates drool. "This might be your choice for life, so be careful, or you'll be stuck with something utterly indecent." The only utterly indecent thing here is you and your whole brand. 

Aizawa goes on to explain that she'll be the one with final say over their hero names, and Katsuki's heart very loudly falls into his stomach. She's going to reject mine. There's no reason for it, but she will. She hates me already. He looks up, and she catches his eye with a wink. He barely contains a growl. 

They pass out whiteboards, and everyone around him starts thinking and scribbling. I don't need to think of my actual name now. I'll make up some bullshit, put it out there, and she'll either accept it or reject it. Then later when I do actual hero work, I'll use my real hero name. 

He mindlessly writes the first thing that comes to mind, which happens to be King Explosion Murder. There's no way in hell that it'll be approved, but at least he has something. Even if his is the worst one out there, she can't fault him for not trying.

Ten minutes later, he realizes that once again, he has overestimated his classmates' abilities to be competent. I can not stop twinkling. Froppy. Fucking Grape Juice. She approves most of them, all sparkly and bubbly and positive. 

"King Explosion Murder," he says when he walks up. 

"Too violent," she replies, and gives him a look. An I can see what you're doing and I don't like it look. And yeah, maybe he was trying to pull some shit, but she just looked like she expected it. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Icy Hot goes with his real name, and so does Iida, because apparently they're both basic bitches now. They probably could've thought of something better than Grape Juice. Anyone could've. 

"Lord Explosion Murder," he declares, and is shot down once again. At least now she'll give me more time to think of one. I'll get mine approved through the board, not through some shitty teacher wannabe.

Then Deku steps up, and Katsuki feels a little nauseated. Probably something to do with All Might. We used to play heroes together, all the way back when, and his hero name was always some variation of All Might. Mine wasn't any better, mostly just Blasty or Explodokills, but still. 

He turns his whiteboard around. Katsuki is suddenly very nauseated. 

He's choosing to call himself Deku. As his hero name. Is this some kind of reclaiming your abuse shit? Who the hell told him this was a good idea? If his friends were any good they would first stop calling him Deku, then they would tell him not to try and use it as a hero name. He's trying to continue his own trauma. I can't deal with this shit. I gave him some kind of Stockholm syndrome to the stupid nickname.

"Someone told me that it could have a different meaning, and that had a huge impact on me. So now I really like it." He doesn't sound confident, but maybe Katsuki's the only one who hears that. Everyone else seems pretty happy for him.

Was it enough of an impact to get rid of years of bullying? One girl decides that your name means something different and all of a sudden you're a different person? I'm calling bullshit. Of course, I'm just a gremlin who feeds on other people's happiness. What do I know?

They're dismissed, given two days to make their choice. Katsuki sifts through his packet, highlighting all of them that interest him. Another fire or explosion type would be good, because I could get hero move inspiration from them. Anyone close to the top would be good too, since they're obviously the best. 

He narrows his exhaustive list down to twenty names, the highest ranking of them being Best Jeanist. He rushes home as always, this time in a hurry to do some research. But for once, someone else seems to be in a bigger hurry than him.

"Watch it, asshole," he says when someone pushes past him to the lockers. It takes him a second to realize it's Iida, their infallible, untouchable, supposedly completely emotionally stable class president. 

"Sorry," Iida says, not even looking up from his scramble to change his shoes. This is even stranger than him rushing in the first place; usually Iida would be all apologies and bows and please forgive me for giving UA a bad name by acting improperly while in its uniform. 

"Whatever," Katsuki says, eyeing him warily. "You good?"

"Never better," Iida says, and finally turns to face him for a second. Katsuki is momentarily taken aback. He looks like shit. Barely composed shit. Again, he thinks to ask what the fuck is going on, but before he can even consider it, Iida's gone in a puff of dust. If he really had a problem, he would take it up with his nerd friends. No need for me to interfere.

When he's about to run off himself, he hears chattering behind him. Deku and the pink nerd. But rather than blast off and hope that they didn't see him, he stays by his locker, frozen in his place.

I have to make him choose a different name. The thought doesn't feel like his own. Why should he care about Deku's shitty self-therapy attempt? He's the one who gave him the stupid nickname, he should be happy that it's being spread.

But it doesn't feel right. He wants Deku at a distance, so far away that he never even crosses his mind; that's all he ever wanted from the fucking nerd. He doesn't want him to suffer through everyone calling him useless on the off chance that it might make him feel better in the end. He knows plenty about trying to fix trauma yourself: it never fucking goes the way you want it to.

"Deku," he growls, and the other boy jumps, like he didn't see him there even though their lockers are right near each other. "I need to talk to you."

"Whatever you have to say to Deku, you can say to both of us," the pink nerd says, and there. A split second wince, so fast that Katsuki almost missed it. I fucking knew it. He doesn't like being called Deku as much as he lets on.

"Uraraka, it's okay," he says, meeting Katsuki's eyes. "It'll only take a minute, right Kacchan?" A request. Whatever he thinks Katsuki wants to settle, he wants it over quickly. Ironic. This is the one time I'm trying to be halfway decent and he's still wary.

"Yeah, whatever," he says, waving the pink nerd away. Once she's around the corner, he pounds his fist against the locker. "What are you trying to pull, making your hero name Deku?"

Deku blinks. "I, uh, said it all in class. It doesn't mean useless for me anymore. It means-"

"I heard your fucking spiel, and I don't believe a word of it. You might've tricked the rest of the dumbass class, and Aizawa-sensei, and maybe your own shitty brain, but I know better. It doesn't mean any positive 'do your best' shit to you."

Deku's gaze hardens. "How do you 'know better'? You've been pushing me away for years, and now the moment I'm trying to get out of your control by taking back the nickname you've held over me for years, you want to step in and stop me? You can't do this forever, Kacchan."

He takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut and opening them back again. For once, they're dry. "I'm tired of being stepped on, Kacchan. I'm so tired of it. The pro hero Deku won't stand for uselessness, and if I have to beat you to number one to show you that, then I will. You deserve to know it."

None of what he said makes any sense. Trying to get out from under my control? Since when did I control him? He's the one who was always fucking following me, even though I told him to go away. He was the clingy stalker freak, the one who wouldn't let go. I was never holding on to him at all.

"You never get it," he starts saying, audibly frustrated, but the pink nerd reappears from around the corner.

"One minute is up!" she says chirpily, and hell if it is, but Deku grabs his stuff anyway and turns to go.

"If you don't like the new meaning of my nickname, you can always call me by my real one," he says, eyes painfully blank, and he skips off with his friend, chattering about the internships and not looking back.

Katsuki stands, stunned, bag still clutched in one hand. He shuts his locker with a slam, which startles a pair of 1-B girls, but he doesn't register it. 

He really thinks I'm the villain. If anyone should, it's him, but now of all times... It doesn't matter. If he wants everyone on the fucking planet to call him useless and to have to deal with that, then I don't give a shit. I don't have to make peace with him or try to help at all because he won't take it anyway. He shouldn't. I'm a shitty person. Fuck him.

His brain, as always, pingpongs between fuck everyone else and I'm the worst human being on the planet, fuck me. He takes out his list of pro heroes again, the remaining twenty, and his finger settles on Best Jeanist.

If anyone's gonna make me into what everyone else calls a hero, it's him. If he wants to try, then I'll put myself through it, and then everyone will stop looking at me like that. I won't be the villain anymore. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki hasn't been avoiding Hatsume on purpose, but he hasn't exactly been seeking her out. He has so many questions he's too tired to ask. He's been eating his lunch on the roof, starting from right after the sports festival, and it's peaceful there. 

She finds him two days after they come back to school, right before he's supposed to submit his internship form.

"Great weather out here," she comments, which is weird enough to make him look up from his lunch. Hatsume hates small talk. Says that it wastes time and doesn't do any good to anyone. Guess she doesn't know what to say either. Least she's not talking about the sports festival.

He decides to commandeer the conversation, since the air already feels uncertain. He scans the roof for anyone else around, then says, "Icy-Hot, the one who got second place. He also has a fake hand. Did you know that?"

Hatsume raises her eyebrows. "Of course I know about him. I do repairs for him. How do you know about him?"

"He told me." Even now, he mentally curses Icy Hot for being such a trusting fucking idiot. "How many people in UA have them?" He needs to know who to watch out for. He won't be blindsided by anyone ever again.

"Including you and Todoroki, there are eight people in UA with manufactured body parts. Five with hands, two with legs, and one set of eyes. Those are the ones my mom is most proud of." She pauses. "No one else in your class, though. It's just you and Todoroki."

"Does he know about me?" It's doubtful, given that he didn't give any indication of it when they were talking at the sports festival, but maybe he found out since then. Maybe that's what he wanted to talk about in class. If he told Deku, I'm fucked.

But Hatsume shakes her head. "I try to keep some sort of customer confidentiality. It would be bad for business if everyone was just running around exposing other people like that."

Customer? Bad for business? "You realize that most of your 'customers' don't have this done willingly, right?" he asks, pushing his lunch aside. "I didn't sign any consent form when I was four or some shit. My mom just... decided for me."

"My mom gets plenty of willing customers," Hatsume says, unfazed. "And she doesn't kidnap kids to experiment on or anything. It's always with the parents' permission. Besides, her hands are just as good as normal hands, but better. Aren't you happy with them?"

She asks this like it's part of a customer satisfaction survey. Like there's some way she can improve the experience of getting his hands chopped off. It reminds him of the casual way Asami spoke to him before knocking him out. She thinks this is normal. She was raised like this is just another business practice. Motherfucker. 

Maybe one day he can explain to her, clearly and concisely, why nothing that her mother does is right - there's a reason she has to hide her "business" in a run-down warehouse - but he won't open that can of worms now. She's like a child who doesn't know better; she needs a whole ass ethics lesson, and he doesn't have the energy for that now.

"Are there any other first years with prostheses?" he asks instead. "I need to know who to watch out for. I don't give a shit about the second or third years, and I won't expose them or anything. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

She presses her lips together, as if holding back a smile. "There's one person, but she's not in the heroics course."

"What? Why would someone make their kid get the operation if they're not even gonna get to be a hero?" At least he got a kickass quirk with his hands. Imagine getting your hands chopped off just so you could be a gen ed fucker. I'd jump off a roof.

"Maybe the kid was blind, and the mom wanted to give her a better life, so she did the operation so her daughter could see. Maybe the daughter didn't want to be a hero." She grins, half smirk, and her yellow eyes shine. "Maybe she wanted to make some awesome babies instead."

If Katsuki was sitting at the edge of the roof, he would probably fall off. "You have the operation too?" He should've guessed from the moment she said she's not in the heroics course, but this conversation is moving a little quickly for him. 

"Got it when I was three," she says unabashedly. "Both eyes. I'd take them out and show you, but they're hell to put back in. All sorts of wires and delicate things like that. If you really want I have pictures-"

"Fuck no. I believe you." Katsuki can't imagine doing something as awful as cutting his own kid's eyes out, even if it was so that they could see. No wonder she's so relaxed about what her mom does. She'd be blind otherwise. "Are you the reason your mom does this shit?"

Hatsume laughs loudly at this. "As if my mom would try this out first on her daughter. Nah, she did it for years before I was born, so it was just a lucky coincidence for me. My dad left us after she did it for me, though. He preferred that I stay blind to having her 'gadget shit' in my head." She makes air quotes around gadget shit, rolling her eyes. "His loss. I hope he goes blind too. Then we'll see how much he likes it."

Her callous tone sends a chill through Katsuki. I shouldn't give a fuck about her eyes. And he doesn't, not really. She could've said that every limb on her body was fake and he'd take it in stride. He's heard enough crazy shit in his life. But the way she talks about her operation like it was necessary, like her dad was an idiot for not wanting her mom to cut her eyes out, creeps him out. 

"So what kinda quirks do your eyes have?" he asks, because hell if he'll let her keep talking. "Your mom probably put a ton of crazy shit into them, right?"

"I have a couple," she says, and her tone shifts from the weird indifferent one to her excited let's talk about tech one. "I have the far sight, which you already know about. They're also compatible with all of my mom's babies, sort of like a signal tracker, so I can tell where they are in case they get damaged and need repairs. That's how I found you up here." A pause. "And I can shoot lasers from them."

"Bullshit. There's no way you could do that and not tell me," Katsuki says vehemently. If offered he would definitely say no, but an operating to give him laser vision... he's have to think about it.

"Yeah, it is bullshit," she concedes with a grin, "but it's by choice. My mom gave me the option once, but I didn't think I needed them, so I passed. Laser vision is basically useless, if you think about it. Flashy nonsense."

"You're insane. If I could shoot lasers from my eyes, I'd never stop. I'd obliterate all my enemies."

"You do that anyway with your hands. Not that I'm complaining, it always makes for a nice show."

Katsuki's glad that the air seems clearer now, and he packs away his lunch. "I'm tired of the roof. Nowhere comfortable to sit. Let's go to the lab."

Hatsume looks elated. "I was hoping you'd say that. New baby, two words: reusable grenade."

"Count me the fuck in."

The rest of the day passes quickly. He gives Aizawa his form with Best Jeanist's agency written on it, and mostly feels like he's made the right decision. Then he has to get permission from one of his parents, which is a pain because he doesn't feel like talking to either of them. It would've been an easy decision of who to go to a month ago, but now he picks the known evil rather than the unknown.

"Best Jeanist?" the hag asks, reading the form. "He requested you?" Like it's so surprising that anyone that important would give a shit about Katsuki. Like he didn't work his ass off in the sports festival, all the way to the end. 

"Obviously, it says it right there," Katsuki grumbles. "Don't give me that shit, just sign the form. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to."

"You never ask anyone for anything, brat. It's what'll get you one day. I don't know where you got your stupid self sufficiency from." Just a product of losing my trust in my mother from the ripe old age of four, nothing special.

She gives it back to him, and he puts it in his backpack to take to school on Monday before stomping off to his room. He doesn't know if the hag tells his dad about it, but he sure as hell doesn't tell him himself. He doesn't deserve to be proud of him. Not while he's a fake of a father.

The weekend speeds by. Katsuki's been avoiding the news, not wanting to see his own face and the commentary below it, but he doesn't like staying disconnected for too long so he checks now. There's new news to replace his old "victory." Some fucker called the Hero Killer going around and, unsurprisingly, killing heroes. Katsuki scans the list of people he killed, not recognizing any of them from the billboards. Nobody real important, then. Wonder who he's targeting. 

As he looks through the list of attacks, his eyes stay on one particular hero. Ingenium, head of his own agency. No small time hero either, so that's probably how he got out alive. He's in the hospital, though, with no sure chance of recovery. 

It's only when Katsuki looks at an interview with his family - Am I somehow getting dumber from spending so much time in UA? - that he realizes who exactly Ingenium is.  Iida's brother. Holy fuck. That's gotta be why the fucker wasn't at the awards ceremony. 

A normal person would probably text Iida right away, saying that they're sorry about what happened to his brother and giving him all sorts of well wishes. But Katsuki is cursed with a stupid amount of empathy, which tells him that if it were me with the paralyzed brother, I wouldn't want shit from anyone. He's probably getting all sorts of nice crap from his friends, but he knows I don't do that shit. It'd be fake if I tried.

So instead, he tells himself to go easier on the blue nerd. Check to see that he's okay from time to time - discreetly, of course - because he knows that the optimistic fuckers who are his friends wouldn't understand rage like he knows Iida feels sometimes. They wouldn't understand the lack of self worth that he heard when Iida said I need to be faster, or the fire in his eyes when he told Katsuki he was fine by the lockers. Happy go lucky people never get why other people aren't. They don't understand. 

He looked like he was planning something dangerous. He might want to do something insane. Katsuki knows all about acting out while not in his right mind, but if Iida really is planning on acting, then there's nothing Katsuki can do to stop him. Hopefully the cheery shits will catch on and interfere. I'm not his babysitter.

When Monday comes, he doesn't take the usual route to school. Instead, he follows the directions to the Best Jeanist agency, lugging around his hero costume in a carrying case. He would walk the whole way if he could, but it's too far. He'd have to wake up at four to make it there by nine.

So he takes a few buses, preferring them to the cramped trains and train stations. The large windows make it easier for him to ignore the people around him, who are staring even though he's wearing a hat to cover his explosive hair style. He has earbuds in too, even though everyone always says not to wear them in public. He can read the stops with his eyes, and through the loud thumping of dubstep - don't judge, fucker - he can't hear a single word, much less a whisper.

The Genius Office, where Best Jeanist works, is a tall and modern looking building, easy to spot among the regular brick ones around it. He drags his case through the front doors, stopping by the receptionist. 

"I'm-" he starts, and is immediately cut off by him.

"Bakugou Katsuki, yes, I heard you were coming in," he says, smoothing his hair down. "Best Jeanist is waiting for you on the top floor. The elevators are right down the hall, so don't tarry. There's also a bathroom next to them where you can change into your hero costume."

"Uh, alright," Katsuki says, backing away slowly. Was it just him, or was there actual contempt in that guy's eyes? He suppresses his anger - he will not have a meltdown in the middle of the hero agency and prove them right. He changes his clothes, and when he enters the elevator, he presses the top button and waits. 

The top floor is a conference room, open and spacious. There are a few men walking around, probably sidekicks, and standing by a giant window is the man himself. Best Jeanist, clad in double denim - which hurts Katsuki's fashion designer heart - and not facing him.

Now's my chance to make some kind of positive first impression, or at least a neutral one. That's probably the best I can hope for, given my shiny gold reputation. He'll get me where I have to go, and I'll be a fucking angel. It's just a week, I can keep my mouth shut for a week. 

"Excuse me?" he says, to get the man's attention. "I'm here for an internship. Bakugou Katsuki?"

Best Jeanist turns, looking his costume up and down. Katsuki averts his eyes, already uncomfortable. This isn't a fashion show or some shit. It shouldn't matter what I look like.

He finally reaches Katsuki's eyes eyes, and his don't look happy. They look full of disdain. And as Best Jeanist utters the harsh, yet self explanatory words, "To be perfectly frank, I don't like you very much," Katsuki has two thoughts:

1. Fuck, not another one. and 2. Join the club, asshole.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Katsuki wonders if gods actually do exist.

He goes to the shrine on New Year's day with his parents every year. He goes along with their traditions. He rings the bell and gets his damn fortune. Most of the time it's half decent, so he keeps it.

But if gods really do exist, he thinks as Best Jeanist stares him down, then they don't fucking like me very much at all.

"You only picked me because I'm in the top five heroes," Best Jeanist continues, more of a statement than a question. No, I picked you because I have a thing for denim. Of fucking course I picked you for your rank. You're popular. You're supposed to teach me what the fuck I'm supposed to do to be a successful hero. I don't need lessons in quirk use, I need human resources shit.

"You're the one who drafted me," Katsuki says slowly, his skin prickling with the beginnings of what he's afraid will be a rage that will last for hours. Even when he's trying his best to control it, his worst "temper tantrums," as his mom calls them, can stick with him all day, right under his skin. Waiting to erupt.

"That's true," Best Jeanist says, eyes impassive. "I've only had do-gooders for the past couple of times. You're the first one in a long time who's been a little more ferocious. And it's my job as a hero to reform people like you."

Well okay then. 

Yeah, Katsuki came so he could be a better hero, but did he really have to phrase it like he just came out of prison or some shit? And calling him ferocious, like a wild animal. Like feral. Whatever this is, Katsuki hates it already.

"Heroes and villains are two sides of the same coin," he continues. "I can see it in your glare. So what really makes someone a hero?" Is that a jab at me? Is he calling me a villain? I didn't do shit to deserve this. His mind flashes to Deku, and he grimaces. I didn't do shit that he knows about to deserve this, anyway.

He's led to the living section of the Genius Office, where heroes and sidekicks sometimes crash when they have to stay out late on cases. The room is nice, sorta like a hotel room, and it even has a mini kitchen with a fridge and a microwave oven. So I won't have to survive on convenience store meals all week. Great.

He texts his mom to drop off his stuff, since he couldn't carry a whole duffel with him on the bus, and asks her to enclose a couple of grocery store items with it. They're not on good terms right now, exactly, but none worse than usual. She works close to here anyway, so it's not too big of a deal for her. 

"I'll give you some time to settle in, and we'll start your training this afternoon," Best Jeanist says, leaving him in the doorway. "Try not to do any damage to the room." It's a good thing that he leaves then, because Katsuki can only bite his tongue for so long before erupting.

Just when he's about to shut the door behind the bastard, he hears him say, "You can leave your hands in the safe, if you feel more comfortable like that rather than just leaving them out at night."

Katsuki stops dead in his tracks. "My... hands?"

Best Jeanist walks back a few steps, standing in front of him. "Your school told me about them when you accepted my request. It would be foolish if something happened and I wasn't about to help because of a lack of information. No one else at the agency knows, you can relax."

Relaxing is the last thing Katsuki wants to do. Hatsume. Aizawa. Nedzu. And now Best Jeanist, who hates my fucking guts already. The pool keeps spreading outward. I should've known he would find out, how could I have been so fucking stupid? I should've prepared for this. I should've known.

"Okay," he managed to choke out, and actually closes the door on his face this time. He collapses onto the double bed, grabs for the TV remote, and turns it on. He watches a news broadcast - again with the hero killer, can't they catch that bastard already? - until his pulse settles, then checks his phone.

His mom texted him before to tell him that his stuff is waiting for him in the lobby. Figures she wouldn't stay around to see him. The receptionist gives him another contemptful look as he grabs his duffel bag, but he grits his teeth and ignores the prat. He'll be the bigger person here, because if he goes over the edge, he won't be able to survive a week in Best Jeanist's territory. He needs a plan to cope with all of this. 

He makes himself some chicken salad while he tries to figure out how exactly he'll make it through without being put on the government's watch list for murder or grinding his teeth into dust. Is it too late to switch? Probably, and I'm not a coward. I won't run away just because he's an asshole. 

He thinks about asking Best Jeanist directly to be less of an asshole, but shuts that thought down right away. It won't look good for me if he kicks me out, either.

There's always the option of kissing so much ass that Best Jeanist decides on his own to be less of an asshole, but Bakugou Katsuki doesn't lick boots, and he's no toady. Besides, if Best Jeanist isn't an idiot, he'll see right through it. He knows Katsuki, or at least he thinks he does, and if he acts too different then he'll be suspicious.

That leaves one option, the easiest one, but also the least preferable. He can drown Best Jeanist out as often as he can, continue to do what he does, and kick some ass while he works. He knows hero stuff, he's fine on that part. He won't get anyone killed if they go on patrol. 

But then this whole week is useless, his brain reminds him. If you don't try to listen, then what's the point of spending a week with the number four hero? This is your chance to-

Better than punching a hole in the wall, he reminds his brain. Better to spend a week of nothingness than to make my situation even worse. And there's no arguing with that.

Katsuki spends the next couple of hours eating and doing schoolwork. They have an English test the week they return, and he won't study the night before like the other idiots in his class. He knows that heroes are generally regarded like actors or sports players: universally known and beloved, but not very smart. He'll change that.

He also gets a text from Hatsume during this time, which says that she's developing something "really fucking cool" and that he has to see it when he gets back. Plus a lot of exclamation points. He tells her not to blow anything up and that it better be super fucking kickass otherwise he'll block her number.

While he's on his phone, he turns to his few other text messages and ends up on Iida's. Hello Bakugou, this is Iida Tenya. I was not able to watch the last portion of the sports festival, but congratulations on winning first place. It feels more like a sting now than a blow, but that text isn't the important part. He remembers how shit he looked a week ago and suddenly has the odd, inexplicable urge to text the fucker himself.

Me: Don't do anything fucking stupid.

He's immediately filled with regret. Like he'll read this text and it'll snap him out of whatever insanity he's in. Most it'll do is make him look at me weird when we get back to school. 

But surprisingly, he gets a reply only a few minutes later. 

Iida: Have you heard of the hero killer Stain?

Katsuki blinks. That's... completely unrelated. 

Me: Yeah. He's all over the news. Why?

Iida: I'm going to kill him.

Katsuki almost drops his phone. He was sure he was talking to the stiff class president before, but now there's a new metal fucker on the other end talking about murder and Katsuki isn't entirely sure. Either way, there's somebody talking crazy on the other end, and it's his job to make them less insane. What am I, a fucking self help line? For now, apparently, yes. 

Me: I literally just said don't do anything stupid, and now you're talking about the stupidest fucking thing ever. Why are you even telling me this?

Iida: I know you feel this way too sometimes. You understand what the anger is like.

Understand? Sure, Katsuki talks about murdering someone just about every day, but he never means it. No matter how deranged he looked at the sports festival, he never sounded as dangerous as Iida does now.

Me: I'm not gonna just let you murder someone because you're angry. That's fucking stupid. 

Iida: He's a villain. I'm doing society a favor.

Me: You're a STUDENT. This is a job for PRO HEROES you FUCKING IDIOT

Iida takes longer to respond this time, long enough that Katsuki thinks he actually scared the guy off. Is any of this actually happening? Am I dreaming, or is the class representative trying to argue with me about why he should kill someone? 

He's slowly losing his temper, and he doesn't know whether to turn Iida in or not. No. Not yet. You can still handle this. If the blue bastard's being serious, then this might be the most important thing he's ever done. 

Iida: I know where he is, and I don't think the heroes do.

Me: So TELL SOMEONE WHO CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT

Me: TELL YOUR FUCKING PRO HERO OR SOME SHIT

Me: JUST DON'T TRY AND KILL HIM YOURSELF. I THOUGHT YOU HAD A BRAIN

There's another pause, and his phone starts buzzing, which startles him. It's Iida, actually calling him on the phone. Fuck it, I'm going through with this. It's ride or die time. His general rule of staying out of other people's shit has been put on hold. This is serious shit. Hero shit, like talking someone off of a bridge. If Katsuki can get him to stop talking insane and stay away from the hero killer - regardless of whether he actually can find him or not - then he'll be able to deal with Best Jeanist for the week. 

"He paralyzed my brother." That's the first thing Iida says when he picks up the phone. "He ended his whole career in one move, for no reason whatsoever. He's trying to spread his tainted version of justice throughout the city and I can't just stand by and allow him to do so. That's why I must kill him."

It takes all of three seconds for Katsuki to process that the class rep might be actually crying on the phone. 

Shit. Fuck. Katsuki's main weakness is other people's emotions, in that he absolutely sucks at dealing with them. Years spent around shitty Deku and his waterworks left him the second least capable person of comforting a crying Iida in this situation, only second to the hero killer himself. 

He's not crying about a fucking paper cut, he thinks firmly. He's not a crybaby like Deku. He's crying for his paralyzed brother and because if he doesn't cry, he'll fucking explode. When Katsuki feels like that, he usually does explode something, but Iida doesn't have that option. Class representative, never did anything wrong Iida, who now wants with all his heart to murder a guy.

Focus, Katsuki. This is game time.

"That's exactly why you shouldn't murder him, dumbass," he hisses, taking the phone to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He doesn't want anyone in the hallway accidentally overhearing any of this. "Your brother can't be a hero, right? And you always looked up to him or some shit?"

"That's correct," Iida says thickly.

"So he wouldn't want you going to fucking jail just for revenge. You can't be a hero if you murdered someone in your first year of high school! I thought everyone with a brain knew that."

"He's a villain."

"We're not authorized to fight them yet. We don't even have our fucking hero licenses. So if you kill him, it's gonna be a big ass mark on your record. Even when adult heroes kill people it looks bad, but you'll get your ass sent to kid court before you can even feel a little bit of satisfaction at what you did."

He's on a roll now, a rant. He's good at talking when he has to. "And that's assuming you even fucking kill him! Full offense, if your brother can't kill him, you have a zero percent chance of getting him. If you can even find him, then you're probably dead. No, you're almost definitely fucking dead. He's the hero killer, dipshit, this is his job. If he sees a little baby hero like you try and kill him, he'll get you for sure. I'm hot shit, but would I ever go after that guy? Hell fucking no, because I want to live to see my twenties."

He stops, catching his breath. He's using his full verbal artillery here. If by the end of the call he still thinks Iida will do something, he'll have no choice but to tell someone with authority. Not Best Jeanist, that prick, but maybe the cops.

Iida coughs, then speaks again. His voice sounds marginally clearer. "I cannot just let him continue to kill and paralyze people, Bakugou. It would make me a bad hero, a bad person, and a bad brother."

"You said you know where he is, right? Just tell the fucking cops, or your hero mentor person or someone like that. They'll take it seriously and look for the guy, and they can actually do shit. Then if they catch him and send him to jail forever or death sentence or something, you'll get a nice little commendation for helping out and oh yeah, not have murdered someone. If your brother's any type of good hero, he wouldn't want you to kill someone for him. It'll only make him mad."

He waits for Iida to respond to this, sitting on the edge of the sink with the phone pressed hard to his ear.

"Thank you, Bakugou," he finally says quietly. "I will take what you said into consideration."

"No," Katsuki says quickly before he can hang up. "That's not enough. I need you to say you won't fucking kill him."

He hears a sigh on the other end. "Bakugou, there are a lot of things to consider-"

"Fucking stop. No." It's not enough. I need to keep going. "You like being class rep, right? You like having the whole class respect you? Because they do, right now. Like if you said to jump off a bridge, half of the class would do it easy. And you know why they would do that shit?"

He waits for Iida to ask why. "Because you keep your head in stressful situations. That's your shit. When everyone was freaking out over those fucking reporters, you did something to calm them down." Katsuki wasn't personally there, having hid with Hatsume, but he still knows the story. "You keep a level head. But if you do this, knowing fully well it's a stupid fucking move, no one will respect you anymore. Fuck, you probably won't even be allowed to go to UA anymore. If they don't send you to kid jail, at the very least you'll never get to be a hero."

"Bakugou-"

"Shut up, I'm not finished," he cuts him off. "You're always calm and rational so you never think about this, but I'm not, so I know how people react to other people doing stupid shit based on anger. Nobody likes or appreciates it! You won't come out of it looking like a hero. If you survive, you'll be thought of as an unstable idiot who can't be trusted around scissors."

"Bakugou, please-"

"Let me finish, asshole."

He takes a deep breath, feeling it shudder a little at the end. I shouldn't be getting so worked up over this. It'll only make me testier later when I have to deal with Best Jeanist. But if he doesn't take this with every ounce of seriousness in his body, he can only begin to imagine the consequences. Iida dead, most likely, or at least paralyzed like his brother. If he survives, he might be sent to a loony bin if they decide he can't take care of himself. He'll never make it anywhere. Everything he worked for will have been for nothing.

"If you don't say that you won't kill him, then I'm taking the next fucking train to wherever the fuck you are and stopping you in person. I don't give a shit about my internship, this is more important. I'll say that it's a family emergency or some shit. I'm dead serious here." 

Leaving the Best Jeanist internship before he even starts wouldn't look great, but this is murder they're talking about. Everything normal goes out the window. If it was someone like Sparky or Bird Brain or anyone else in the class, really, he wouldn't be so worried, because they're all talk. But he knows that Iida's true to his word. And he saw his eyes. 

"Bakugou, the first internship after the sports festival is an important part of our training to be heroes," Iida chides, and for a second sounds like himself again. "You cannot just walk out for no reason."

"This isn't no reason. Say that you won't kill him, right here and right now. Then you can go back to doing whatever the fuck you do in your internship, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened. I won't treat you any different when we get back to UA, and I won't tell anyone. Just say the fucking words and mean them."

He's almost begging now, but his ego can take the hit if it'll save Iida's future. He can't let someone with his eyes, even if it's just for a little while, throw their whole fucking future out. 

"I won't kill him, Bakugou." Iida's voice is shaky, unsure. Not good enough. If there's even a little bit of him that still wants to go through with it, it'll drive him mad.

"Swear on your fucking life. And also swear that you won't try and find him. I won't hesitate to buy the train ticket." Katsuki won't let him get away with any kind of loopholes here. Not after all the work he put into this.

"I won't try and find the hero killer," Iida says, and his voice is slightly stronger. "I swear on my life."

"Thank fucking god," Katsuki says, practically drained of energy. "That took for fucking ever. I need a nap."

"I apologize for putting you through that ordeal," Iida says, practically a whisper. "I did not intend to tell anyone about it, but your text caught me off guard and I thought-."

"Don't be sorry, unless you'd rather be dead right now," Katsuki interrupts. "It's good you told me, so that I could open your fucking eyes." Scratch that, he needs like ten naps. "Whatever. Don't let this keep you up at night or some shit. You didn't try to murder him so you're all good, and I won't tell anyone. Punch some shit if you're still angry. Always works."

"Thank you, Bakugou," Iida says, closest to his normal tone than he had been the whole conversation. "Enjoy your internship. Goodbye."

He hangs up the phone, and Katsuki makes his way back to the couch, where he collapses unceremoniously and groans into a couch cushion. UA exams had nothing on how laborious that conversation had been. Still, he's really fucking glad he sent the text and picked up the phone. If he watched the news later on and heard that Iida died acting like a fucking idiot, he would probably kill everyone at his agency and then himself.

He closes his eyes, mind screaming for a nap. I'll just take a couple of minutes to rest my eyes. I earned it. I just saved a guy's whole ass future. 

But as soon as he feels himself drifting off, he hears a loud rap at his door.

"Bakugou, it's time to go on patrol. Change into your hero costume and meet me in the lobby. You have a lot to learn about being a hero, so we must start as early as possible."

Bastard Jeanist, Katsuki thinks grumpily as he rolls off the couch, reaching for his costume case. I'm seriously starting to hate that guy.

Chapter Text

Full offense to a hero who's on the top ten billboard, but if Katsuki wanted to learn how to comb his hair, he would have interned at a hair stylist shop. 

"Being a hero is about capability, but also about elegance," Best Jeanist explains as he tries to tame Katsuki's bomb blast of hair with more gel than Shitty Hair probably uses in a week. "You need to give people peace of mind through your words, actions, and look."

His mindless jean cronies all rave about and clap at the finished result, hair so pressed to his head that it's like it's crafted from a block of plastic. He's already wearing the stupid fucking jeans - how he's supposed to fight in them, he has no idea - and the addition of the hair is making his skin run hot. He doesn't want this bastard touching him. He doesn't want to be here anymore. 

They set off soon after that, walking through the city and looking for trouble.

"We're most likely not going to encounter any criminals," Best Jeanist explains, "especially since it's the middle of the day. As you probably already know, the majority of crimes happen at night."

"Yeah, I know," Katsuki says, poking his helmet of hair with his finger. Stiff and dry as a bone. "If there's no trouble here, then why are we walking around?"

"Two reasons. One, to deter criminals. A constant presence of pro heroes keeps villains from thinking that they can get away with whatever they want. Can you guess the secondary reason?"

"So if there are villains we can beat them up right away?" As far as Katsuki can tell, that's the main part of being a hero.

"No." He looks like he's about to say more, but he's interrupted by a group of middle school girls pointing and waving.

"It's Best Jeanist!" one of them calls, and another shouts, "Do your best at work!" Best Jeanist waves back; Katsuki can't see his expression under his mask. Personally, his skin itches under the attention, even though he knows its not aimed at him. All of those eyes, like they see him... like they see through him...

They continue walking, and Best Jeanist continues talking. "The second reason is so that the public sees us, and so we can give them peace of mind. Our presence is a calming one, a living breathing proof that there will always be someone there to fight against criminals. We have to build trust between those who protect and those who need protecting."

Didn't look like peace of mind. Looked like they were lapping at your heels and you were eating that shit up.

"Hey, I recognize that guy from TV!" he hears a small voice behind him say, and he turns to see a group of three kids. Elementary schoolers, as far as he can tell. The sports festival ranks in the top three things he hates most to talk about, but he knows that Best Jeanist is judging him, so he'll keep his temper around the little brats. I'll give them the fucking autograph, answer their stupid questions, and leave before they ask for a picture. I don't want there being a record of my hair looking like this.

But instead of asking him about the sports festival, the kid continues by saying, "He was caught by a villain and looked like he was about to cry, right?" and Katsuki can't stop the words from bursting out.

"What the hell did you just say?!" he roars, staring the stupid kids in their stupid faces. If they were caught by a villain like that they would piss themselves then die of fright. What kinda little shit judges the victim of a villain attack?!

The kids start to cry, which gives Katsuki a sick sort of satisfaction. Now you feel a fraction of the fear I felt at the time. Not that Katsuki feels fear like that anymore, but at the time... he had been ready to die. And those snot nosed little brats would never get it, if they were lucky.

He hears Best Jeanist sigh, "Did you forget what I told you already? Deal with them properly," and he knows he can't just fuck off now. He has to wipe away their baby tears and make them feel better because he's a public servant who lives to please miniature assholes like them. It's part of the job, apparently.

Katsuki takes a deep breath, then leans down to meet the little shit's height of three foot nothing. "All right already! You know, I wasn't caught by the villain back then. I was thinking about how to defeat him." At first. Before I knew I was a goner. "It wasn't that I'd lost. I'm the man who's gonna be the number one hero! So kids like you shouldn't worry about me!"

This only makes them cry harder, but he doesn't know what he expected. They're children; they don't know shit about the real world. What's he trying to reassure them for, anyway? They saw a villain attack on TV and the first thing they thought of was the fact that he looked like he was going to cry. They're too sheltered.

He stalks off while Best Jeanist says comforting bullshit to stop them from crying, and waits for him at the street corner.

"I'm not a kid person," he growls, meeting his judging stare head on.

"I can see that," the bastard replies. "But you'll have to be their hero too. Remember that."

With mercy that Katsuki didn't know the man had, he lets him go back early for the day. Katsuki doesn't know if he would've been able to face another person without biting their head off. He knows that the Genius Agency has a cafeteria, but there are people there, so he makes himself dinner back in his room and settles down for the night. When Jeanist knocks on his door, he pretends to be asleep.

Proving that even the coldest bastards have souls somewhere, Jeanist lets him work on paperwork the next day. 

"As yesterday was somewhat of a failure, I'm aware of what you need to work on, but there's more time for that later. For now, there are other skills to improve upon," he says, leaving him in the cubicle of one of his interns who's on vacation with a pile of papers and minimal instructions.

Translation: you sucked so much ass yesterday that even I'm starting to regret taking you. Make yourself useful by doing my paperwork. Katsuki doesn't mind, though; he's not top of his class for nothing, and spending a whole day doing paperwork alone sounds like a dream to him.

The day after that, Katsuki expects more paperwork, but instead is sent to the support center of the Genius Agency to see what they do. Again, Best Jeanist is nowhere to be seen all day.

"I'm learning shit," he tells his mom when she calls. Not fighting shit, but shit nonetheless. "I'll be home in a few days, get off my back."

"Alright, brat, just making sure you didn't get yourself kicked to the curb," she retorts, and hangs up the phone. I did sorta get kicked to the curb, didn't I? He can't even bring himself to see his own intern. At this point he's just keeping me busy so I don't cause trouble.

The fourth day is different. 

Firstly, Katsuki wakes up to a phone full of news about the capture of the hero killer. He holds his breath while he reads about the death of the hero Native, scanning the article for any mention of Iida. But there is none. No news is good news, right? It's only when he reads Iida's text that he can finally breathe again.

Iida: I told the authorities about where I thought he was. I did not get involved otherwise.

Me: Good. Stay that way.

Best Jeanist gives a little speech to all of them about how because of Stain's new fame, there might be an influx of criminal activity, so they have to be extra vigilant. Katsuki, who has been extra vigilant from birth, only narrows his eyes at this.

They're walking down an empty sidewalk when Jeanist mentions the one thing Katsuki hoped he wouldn't. 

"So about your hands," he starts, and Katsuki's shoulders shoot up instinctively.

"What about them? How'd I lose them? Will it stop me from being a hero? Because I know sure as shit that they don't matter."

Best Jeanist only blinks at this. "I was going to ask if you are planning on revealing them as prostheses once you become a pro hero. That is all."

Katsuki gapes at him. "Of course not. I don't want people to think I'm a fake hero who could only get places because of my hands. That's fucking ridiculous."

"Watch your language, Bakugou," Best Jeanist says with narrowed eyes. "I'm mentioning this because of what I told you before. Remember how I mentioned that a hero is a symbol of peace to the people, and how we want to build trust?"

"Yeah, I remember," he grumbles.

"Well imagine how many children with missing limbs would look up to you, the first hero just like them. There you are, missing both of your hands, and yet you could still become a hero. You want to be the number one hero, right? Then it would be beneficial to you to try and relate to the public, and it will probably be easier for you to relate to children like you."

Katsuki thinks it over, frowning. "But won't everyone think that the prostheses are doing all of the work for me? Since I'm... you know..." Quirkless.

Best Jeanist actually scoffs at that. "It may not seem like a lot to you, but the amount of work that goes into being a hero is much more than the average person could bear. Your quirk doesn't make you a hero, it's what you do with your quirk."

It reminds him of his own line of thinking. Yeah, quirks are hot shit, but there's more to it than that. Agreeing with Best Jeanist? Maybe I died in my sleep and this is hell.

They stop outside a tall white building, and Best Jeanist says, "We're making a detour here. Just for a little bit, then back to patrol. I try to stop here at least once a week." The sign reads Tokyo Burn Ward. Katsuki doesn't know what they're doing there, but Best Jeanist starts walking in, so he has no choice but to follow.

"Ah, Best Jeanist!" the receptionist lady says as soon as they step inside. "I was wondering when you were coming again. You know where to go by now, I believe?"

"Sure do, Maki," he says, nodding to her. "Follow me, Bakugou, and try to keep it down. We're in a hospital, after all." Katsuki would like to know why they're in a hospital, but even he has his limits about where it's appropriate to start shouting.

He tags along mutely, looking at the doors they pass. There are different signs pointing to different wards, and it takes him a moment to realize they're heading for the kids ward. Brightly colored walls and artwork hanging everywhere. Never a cheerier place to be treated, he thinks sardonically.

They pause outside of room 133, and Jeanist turns to face him, eyes serious. More serious than usual, in fact.

"Despite your tendency towards quick and rash thinking, I believe you're a mature young man," he says, staring directly into his eyes. "I trust that you'll be respectful in here, and you will not go running to the press after this visit."

Before Katsuki can ask what the fuck he means by this, Jeanist rolls down his jurtleneck. And oh fucking god, the skin of the whole lower half of his face is stiff and scaly and covered in whitish scar tissue. His nose is practically not there, just a nub of one, and his mouth is pressed together in a thin line (though that might just be because Katsuki's staring. He should stop staring.)

He breaks his eyes away, forcing himself to meet Jeanist's average looking eyes. "What kind of asshole would go to the press about this?" he asks, scowling. "I'm not some shithead deadbeat who would sell someone out for five seconds of fame. I hate the press."

Best Jeanist does his best version of a smile, which is stiff and painful looking. "I appreciate it, Bakugou. I come here as often as I can, to visit the children and other patients here. It comforts them to see someone who looks like me going out and being a hero, even if I cover my face to do so. Gives them hope that they can accomplish their dreams too."

It's all too sickeningly sweet for Katsuki. I'm not like you, he wants to scream. I wasn't in an accident or whatever. I can't be an inspiration to anyone, except maybe other kids who got their hands chopped off by their parents. I'm not someone overcoming what life threw at them, I'm someone who was given a quirk, for better or for worse, at the expense of my hands. Whatever kids with no hands watch me on TV won't have that same opportunity. I'm different.

But he doesn't say a word about it. He follows Best Jeanist while he makes his rounds, talking to the kids, doing cool tricks with his jean suit, making them happy. Katsuki mostly doesn't talk, but when some of the kids ask if he was in the sports festival, he nods stiffly and tries not to glare. These aren't the same brats that he met in the street; these kids aren't spoiled idiots.

"Can you do the explosion thing like you did to the other boy?" one of the girls with burns up and down her arms asks with starry eyes. Katsuki looks over to Best Jeanist, who says, "Definitely nothing big. If we go outside, he can show you a small one, right, Bakugou?"

"Uh, sure," Bakugou says, and they go to the yard, the girl pulling on Jeanist's sleeve. She waits expectantly, staring up at him, and he makes his palms spark, keeping them a safe distance away from her. She gasps and wows, and soon more of the children join, until there's a veritable crowd outside, accompanied by their nurses and guardians.

"I don't like fire," one of the little boys with a head wrapped in bandages says, "but that was cool. I liked that." And Katsuki's cold dead heart inexplicably beats. 

They leave soon after - "Someone still needs to patrol, after all" - and he feels his strange, oddly positive mood start to slip almost immediately when they walk out the doors. Jeanist's mask thing is secured back in place, and now that Katsuki's used to seeing the man without it, he doesn't like it. He shouldn't have to cover up his face to make the public like him. It should be enough that he saves their asses all the time.

"That was... fine," he says, scratching his neck. "I liked those brats better than the street brats."

"I figured you would," Best Jeanist replies. "Children of trauma tend to understand each other better." Oh I have trauma alright. Just not the type you think I do. "I can tell by the look on your face that you look down on me for covering my face up, and for focusing so much on appearances."

Katsuki tries to hide his surprise at being seen through so easily, but probably fails hard. "It's okay, I am not too offended. Sometimes I feel like a coward for hiding part of myself for looks. My brand is already made for me, but who knows? Maybe your brand will be different."

He sighs, running a hand through his combed hair, and Katsuki wonders for the first time how old Jeanist is. He looks like he's in his thirties, but he talks like he's in his fifties. Maybe that's just the way he is. Or maybe it's true, the saying that heroes age quicker than everyone else, outside and in. Katsuki would believe it.

"Looking back," Jeanist continues, "I should not have tried to force my own style of heroics onto you, and I do apologize for that. Even though I do believe you can be rather rough around the edges, you aren't cruel. I can tell by your behavior in there. If you can treat all civilians like you treat those children, then I think you'll make a fine hero. "

Can he really see that I'm not cruel? If he knew me like Deku did, would he say the same thing? It's hard, living in his own head. Contrasting who he was a year ago with who he is now. Trying to distribute the blame, trying to find out just how much of the cruelty was an act and how much was genetics and how much was just him.

"I try my best," Katsuki says, averting his eyes. "Not my fault most people are dumbasses." And Best Jeanist actually chuckles at that.

Stupid Jeanist, being an asshole for the past three days and then suddenly making a total 180. Who does he think he is? But at the same time he feels... trust? He knows from his first encounter with the man that he doesn't sugarcoat and he doesn't lie (a lesson he learned quite abruptly). Even though he's acting weird now, it's genuine, and that automatically makes him not as much of a shithead as Katsuki originally thought.

"I also checked in with Ogasawara, the woman who supervised you yesterday." Katsuki tenses, trying to remember how he acted the day before. As far as he could tell, he hadn't done much of anything besides sitting back and watching her work and talk, occasionally handing the woman whatever tool she needed. It was peaceful. He liked it there. "She said that you were a model visitor." 

"Nothing really to screw up," Katsuki mumbles. "Just sat there and didn't break anything."

"For someone who tries to radiate arrogance all the time, you do tend to understate your own accomplishments," Jeanist says, almost to himself. "Regardless, you did well. I judged you prematurely on your first day, as I'm sure many people do, and I regret it. I hope, for whatever time you have left here, we can work together better than we have."

The amount of genuine positive emotion is starting to make Katsuki uncomfortable. He's not used to adults talking like this to him. Like they really know him.

"Yeah, alright," he says, opening and closing his fists repeatedly. "But if we meet more assholes on the street then I'll probably snap at them. I can't help it."

"You must have dealt with a lot of assholes in your life," Best Jeanist says softly, and Katsuki gapes. "Your demeanor suggests that you think the worst of people automatically, and that you judge them unfavorably from the start because you expect them to treat you the same way. If you push them away first, they don't have the opportunity to judge your true personality."

Katsuki is speechless. He physically has no words in his mind to vocalize. It takes a full minute for him just to get his voice back.

"Don't- don't psychoanalyze me," he spits out. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, drowning out his own breathing.

"I'm not trying to," Best Jeanist replies. "I am simply trying to understand you." And Katsuki can't for the life of him remember anyone ever saying that to him. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki wouldn't go so far as to say the rest of the internship passes without a hitch. 

Best Jeanist, for all of his understanding, still makes him comb and gel his hair every day that he's on duty with him.

"Presentability," he says calmly every time Katsuki tries to argue. "Presentability is key. Besides, you can see some of your forehead now."

"No thanks," Katsuki always grumbles, but it's always fruitless. At least he gets out of wearing the jeans for the second half of his internship. 

Best Jeanist still refuses to let him fight, but he does let him help with a few rescues, so at least it's not always boring patrol. Katsuki tries not to be too brusque with the people they save, probably failing at it, but his mentor is more forgiving now. He doesn't scold him for things he already knows Katsuki knows.

They also visit the burn ward two more times, and the same kid from last time who said he doesn't like fire asked him to read him a story. It's one Katsuki recognizes from his own childhood, one his dad used to read to him. He doesn't do the voices like his old man did - thinking about when he was younger makes his throat ache - but the kid seems satisfied anyway.

"We could stop by a hospital for kids like you, you know," Best Jeanist suggests when they leave. "I know you don't want to go public with your hands yet, but hospitals are very good with keeping gossip under wraps."

"I'm good," Katsuki says instead of I don't trust the hospital people as far as I can throw them or If I see kids oohing and ahhing at my hands then I might just snap right there and tell them all how I got them. He doesn't want kids to want to be just like him. At least, not while knowing his secret. Other people shouldn't be striving to have fake quirks like he does. They can marvel at Deku's mysterious late bloomer quirk, or Half and Half's half real-half fake one, but no one should be striving to be like him.

No one should have to go through what he did. 

By the end of the last day, the other members of the Genius Office still don't trust him, but that's alright because Katsuki still hates their faces. The receptionist isn't the number 5 hero, so his opinion doesn't mean shit. Best Jeanist sends him off with warm wishes and two new pairs of jeans and that's all that really matters.

"I know you won't wear the into battle, but consider keeping them for press conferences or events," he says lightly, handing Katsuki the bag. "Or for if you come back here for your official internship, if you decide to come back here for it. I'll send you a request form when the time comes. It really has been an enlightening experience having you here."

Katsuki blushes, which makes him more than a little annoyed, but says, "I'll see when the time comes. Thanks for having me here."

"My pleasure. Have a good night, Bakugou."

The hag comes to pick him up, since he now has to take all of his luggage with him. 

"How did it go?" she asks, which is code for Did you make any more bad press for yourself or our family? Katsuki speaks fluent hag, and he doesn't bother answering back in her weird convoluted talk.

"Didn't kill anyone," he replies, balancing his bag of jeans with him in the back seat. He didn't realize it before but even the bag is made of denim. That Jeanist really sticks to his brand, huh. "Best Jeanist even told me that he'd have me back for my next internship if I wanna come." Suck on that, hag. Not everyone sees me as a two bit villain like you do. 

He doesn't mention, of course, that Best Jeanist did see him as a two bit villain at first. That feels like a while ago, and there's no point in dwelling on the past. If he can see past the sports festival, why can't the hag and old man do it too?

His return to school isn't all that monumental. He's used to the random stares in the hallway, and there seems to be fewer of them now than before the internship. Maybe my time with Best Jeanist really did something. When he walks into class, he expects it to go quiet like it did before the break, but nobody even spares him a second glance. Not about the sports festival, at least. 

"Dude, what's up with your hair?" Kirishima asks, and Soy Sauce snickers beside him. Katsuki touches his hair, suddenly aware that it's still in Best Jeanist's patented part. While he chews them out for mocking him - it's not his fault the hero uses industrial strength gel - he ruminates on how normal it feels to be arguing with them. It's hard to believe that two weeks ago, the school turned him into a social pariah. It's funny how quickly people forget their past judgments, or at least pretend to.

He's spared from more of their teasing by the class president himself, who waves at him from across the room, then speeds over when he has Katsuki's attention. This, of all things, makes the class start to pay attention to him. The upstanding class president interacting with the class A delinquent? Fucking shocker.

"How did your internship go?" Iida asks, chopping his arm cheerily. "Was it a fulfilling experience? Best Jeanist is a top rate hero, you must have learned a lot from him."

"Went alright," Katsuki replies simply, turning his head suddenly towards the creepers listening in on the conversation. In this case, he meets Pinky's eyes, and she quickly looks away with a whistle. "You survive yours?" 

"Yes I did!" Iida exclaims. "I learned quite a lot under Manual, and I think I came out of the experience a more rational person than I was before."

"More rational?" Kaminari asks, butting into the conversation. "You? Impossible. You're already left brain personified."

"Yes, well I learned a lot," Iida repeats, and meets Katsuki's eyes. Only he knows the real meaning behind the words: I know better now. All Katsuki's thinking is Took him long enough. 

He returns to his normal friends after that, probably having an equally mundane conversation, and Kirishima taps Katsuki on the shoulder.

"You became friends with Iida because you both have perfectly parted hair, right?" he asks, and Katsuki swats his hand away.

"Piss off, Shitty Hair."

Their classes resume, and it's weird transitioning back to regular lessons after all of... everything, really. The time leading up to the sports festival. The sports festival itself. And now, the internships. Hearing All Might give them a rudimentary maneuvering challenge almost makes Katsuki nostalgic.

He watches, bored, as the first five people line up to do the course. Soy Sauce Face, Tail, Pinky, Iida, and Deku. The rest of the idiots start blabbing about who they think will win. Katsuki personally has his money on Soy Sauce Face, but he keeps his eyes trained on Deku. His quirk isn't made for this. There aren't any land mines to do the jumping for him this time, and he'll break himself trying to do it himself. He'll lose for sure.

He keeps his gaze steady as the actual race begins, and does not like what he sees. He notices it first, but the rest of the class is soon to follow, and they're mighty vocal about it.

"Wow, Midoriya," someone on his left breathes. 

"Where did this come from?" another asswipe behind him adds. He doesn't bother looking back to see who it is. He's too busy taking in the spectacle that is shitty Deku stealing his moves and using them with his own quirk. There's no doubt about where he got his maneuverability from; Katsuki can't not recognize the way he launches himself from the pipes, bouncing off of them and flying forward.

How long? How long has he been fine-tuning that copy of my move, waiting to show it off? How long did he practice before he thought he could do it better than me? How long was it in that fucking notebook of his, waiting to knock me out standing?

Then of course Deku slips near the end and knocks himself out, losing the entire damn thing. Katsuki feels no satisfaction at this. The damage is done; no one will be able to see his move and not think of Deku doing it.

He's proven right when it's his turn to do the course. He's with Fish Lips, Sparky, Earjacks, Grape Garbage, and Invisibitch. It's a good matchup for him, in the sense that none of them stand a chance, but even after he beats them all, he only hears whispering about "how similar the jumps were, it's insane. They're both so good."

They're both so good. Both him and Deku, at least according to whichever loser was saying it. It doesn't matter how well Katsuki did by himself, on his own right, without having to steal moves from someone better than him. Now it's both of them, and the words claw at his chest and make him slam his locker shut with more force than necessary.

It's not fair. The words are immature, childish really. But they're also true. And he's getting the feeling that this won't be the last time he's thinking them.

He's in a shit mood the next morning. He spent hours at the park practicing his launches, enough that his arms and legs were both sore. He knows better than to overwork himself on a school night, but every time he tried to stop, his mind said both. And that was enough to keep him going.

He doesn't talk to anyone before or between his morning classes, not Iida or Kirishima or any of the idiot brigade. His head aches around his temples, and the painkillers he took with breakfast were apparently placebos. No relief whatsoever. He keeps his head down during his classes, and when he has to pass a paper backward to Deku, he almost hits him in the face with it without even looking. Good. Nope, still no satisfaction.

When the lunch bell rings, he stays in his seat for a little while, just so he won't have to deal with all of the noise of the hallway. Aizawa gives him a look as he leaves, last one out of the class, but Katsuki averts his eyes and walks faster. Not doing this today. I just gotta get to the support lab and I won't have to hear all the dumbasses babbling on.

The lab door is open when he reaches it, which sounds a warning bell in his head. Usually Hatsume would leave it shut - "for security reasons" - and then open it when she saw him on the camera. She never leaves it open, so someone else must've done it.

Katsuki shakes away the bad feeling. Probably one of her classmates or something. Still don't wanna be around them, but it's a shitload better than the cafeteria. Maybe Hatsume'll even have a pair of headphones to lend me.

He's proven wrong as soon as he turns the corner. Instead of being faced with one of Hatsume's nerdy classmates, or at least one of the teachers, he makes direct eye contact with Icy Hot. One handed Icy Hot, with the other one being tinkered on by Hatsume herself.

"Good, you're here!" she exclaims without looking up. "You know Todoroki, right? He says you're in the same class."

Katsuki is sorely reminded of a mother trying to make her son become friends with the weirdo neighbor kid. Icy Hot plays along anyway, nodding to him blankly. Katsuki tears his eyes away, stumbling back a second. He doesn't want to be here with Icy Hot, watching him nonchalantly get his prosthesis touched up. He definitely doesn't want to start talking about the subject, probably giving himself away in the process.

Not to mention that he doesn't like the fucking look that Hatsume's giving him, like he should be bonding with Icy Hot over this. Make friends, Katsuki. A little shared trauma goes a long way in a relationship.

No, he doesn't like any of this.

"I'm eating somewhere else today," he says loudly, spinning on his heel to go. "See you."

"Bakugou, don't be like that," he hears Hatsume call behind him, and his stride turns quicker. I won't turn around and face her again. I'll keep walking to... somewhere else, somewhere quiet. The roof, probably. Hatsume will know where I am, but hopefully she's smart enough not to come find me.

He climbs the stairs to the roof, throwing open the door at the top and groaning loudly. He's so done with today. If he wasn't a top student at a top high school, he definitely would have taken the day off just to get away. 

"Mood," he hears someone say, and he literally jumps in surprise, jerking his neck towards the voice. Right by the radiators, not a few feet away from Katsuki's usual spot, is the purple haired mind freak from the sports festival. Katsuki can't for the life of him remember his actual name, and he feels like at this point it's too late to ask. Whatever. Doesn't matter, since I'm leaving now anyway.

He takes a step back, trying to think of yet another place to eat lunch, but Purple cuts him off. "You don't have to go. You're here for the quiet, right?" Katsuki nods cautiously. "Same here. I won't bother you if you want to stay here. It's a free country, after all. Although if you start being loud and angry, then I'll leave."

"I won't," Katsuki grumbles, and sits down at his normal spot, between two giant vents. He can't forget that Purple was the only person actually on his side after the sports festival. There were plenty of people against him, and a few people like Hatsume who pretended like it didn't even happen. But Purple actively told him that it was wrong. The least Katsuki can do is not be a dick about eating on the roof with him. 

Purple, as promised, doesn't say a word for the first twenty minutes of lunch, and if Katsuki closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's the only one there. How nice would that be. A place free of fuckers so I can get some goddamn peace and quiet. He doesn't have any places like that at home, not with the hag always prowling around, and the support lab used to be his safe place. Now, apparently, it's been moved to the roof. Not too bad of a transition. It's tolerable up here.

Ironically enough, he's the one who breaks the silence, a minute or so after he finishes eating. It's definitely weird, he decides, to sit a stone's throw away from someone else and just pretend like they're not there, especially when you don't have any shit with the person. If Purple was like anyone in the idiot brigade, he would be totally down to ignoring his existence for an hour. But he's not. He's... different. Katsuki doesn't know yet if that's a good thing or not. 

"Do you eat here every day?" he asks, breaking their thick silence. He leans around the radiator first, just to make sure Purple heard him and doesn't have headphones in or something. Purple looks back at him, cocking his head to the side. 

"Didn't expect you to start up a conversation," he says after a moment. "Yeah, I eat lunch here. Less people."

"Too many idiots at this fucking school," Katsuki replies. "Can't stand them during my breaks. That's why I eat in the support lab." 

"Support lab? Is that even allowed?"

"I know someone there, so I guess. Never asked a teacher or anything."

Purple chews thoughtfully at that, and Katsuki takes the time to quickly search up the sports festival bracket. There, first round against Deku: Shinsou Hitoshi. That just saved me an awkward couple of minutes.

"Is it weird that I like you better now than before the sports festival?" Shinsou finally asks, still totally calm. 

"What the fuck?" Katsuki asks, peering over at him. 

"Sorry," he says, not apologetically at all. "I don't talk a lot, so when I do, I try not to bullshit. I'm just thinking that before the sports festival I kind of hated you, but now you don't seem like bad company."

"Got nothing to do with the sports festival," Katsuki retorts. "You just didn't like what you heard about me, and you didn't like that I was in the hero course, so you judged based on that. Now that you're not being a prick, you can finally open your eyes."

"To be fair, you were kind of a cocky jackass during your opening speech."

"No one expected any better from me. And I wasn't gonna lie to them."

"I get that." Katsuki sends him another sideways look. Sure you do. "I mean it. Everyone always judges me badly based on my quirk, so after a while I stopped talking to people at all. It felt like a waste of time to try and prove them wrong." He pauses contemplatively. "Plus my parents used to muzzle me at home, so it wasn't like I was getting any practice there."

That's right. He told Katsuki himself that he knows what it's like to be muzzled. Still, to hear him say it so matter-of-factly makes Katsuki shiver.

"That's fucked up," he says. "Shitty parents like that should go to jail."

"Let's just say I'm not living with them anymore," Shinsou says lightly. "Sometimes it feels like that happened to another person."

Ah, dissociation. Katsuki's old and longtime friend while he was adjusting to his hands. He nods, not wanting to let on how personally he knows the topic. The silence descends on them again, but it doesn't impose on Katsuki like it did before. Now it's almost... comfortable.

Eventually, Shinsou checks his phone and says, "Bell's ringing. We should go inside."

Katsuki grabs his things and leads the way to the staircase. Just before he goes down, however, he pauses. "Hatsume doesn't care who else is in the lab," he says evenly. "She'll keep working on her shit even if there's a whole crowd in there."

"Okay..." Shinsou says, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

Katsuki doesn't slap a hand over his face, which takes a lot of self control on his part. "I'm saying that if you went there during lunch, she wouldn't care. It's a big lab, so there's lots of room to sit."

"Let me try and translate this to Japanese," Shinsou starts, leaning against the railing. "This is your weird roundabout way of inviting me to the support lab to eat lunch with you and your friend, right?"

"It's not-" Katsuki begins, then sighs. Why can't everyone else just go along with what I say instead of twisting it around? "Yeah, if you want. Doesn't mean that we're fuckin' besties or anything, but there's air conditioning there. It's getting fucking hot out."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shinsou says, starting down the stairs. "See you, besty."

"Fucking die."

Chapter Text

Katsuki's no fucking nerd, but it wouldn't be a lie to say that exam time is his favorite time of the year. 

Nothing's better than a full week of studying, followed by a chance to show everyone that he's the top of the class. Sure, this year will be harder than previous years, considering that some of the extras here are actually capable, but he only lets it depress him for a second. If he spends his time moping, then he's just as bad as the other idiots in his class who waste their time complaining about studying instead of actually studying.

The second Aizawa mentions exams, he's already reaching for his planner, ready to organize his whole week around them. One day for English, one for literature, one for math, one for biology, and one to review everything he already reviewed. Of course he'll be physically training too, memorizing terms on his runs and lifting while mentally writing out equations. If his schedule works out right, which he knows it will, then he'll be able to still get a full ten hours of sleep every night and actually eat, which he sometimes forgets to do when he's really invested in his work.

And then Shitty Hair comes in and screws it all up.

"Damn, you're organized as hell," he says, peering over Katsuki's shoulder in the middle of his color coded planning. "Do all of your notes look like this? Probably takes forever."

Katsuki immediately shuts the notebook, feeling the back of his neck heat up. "Fuck off. Better than not studying at all." He knows for a fact that the idiot brigade "studies" together, which basically constitutes them hanging out and playing video games together while mourning their grades. He knows this because Kirishima actually invited him to one of these "study sessions" once, before an algebra test. Katsuki doesn't know whether this invitation was approved by the rest of the group, but it didn't matter because he turned it down. He had actual studying to do.

Meanwhile, he hears Ponytail offer to tutor half of the class at her giant mansion. He's sure she could pull it off, being number one in the class, but he would personally rather die than sit and try to drill quadratic equations into their thick fucking skulls. He can barely keep quiet when they act dumb in class; having them over at his house would be bad for his health.

Kirishima must've heard her too, because he says, "What a difference in virtue, huh?" like he read Katsuki's thoughts exactly. He's joking, of course, he always jokes around like this, but Katsuki seethes anyway. Who does he think he is, comparing me and Ponytail? He's never seen me tutor shit. I could be the best fucking tutor on the planet if I wanted to.

"I could do that too!" he shouts, indignation radiating off of him in waves. "Want me to beat it into you?"

His brain is lagging behind his words, so he only processes what he said when Kirishima replies, "Yeah, I'm counting on you!" with a smile. He goes to rejoin his friends, probably to avoid Katsuki's rage when he realizes what he signed up for.

Motherfucker tricked me into volunteering to tutor him! I'll explode him to a fucking crisp. I'll raze his whole neighborhood to the ground. Bastard. Bastard to end all bastards. Sneaking, conniving bastard.

When the red clears from his vision, he opens his planner again and makes a big X over the whole page, then restarts on the next one, uncapping his highlighters. He's not going to half-ass his tutoring, even if he was tricked - conned! - into it. If Shitty Hair doesn't pass every single written exam that he takes, then Katsuki will eat his hands. 

Speaking of his hands, Katsuki forgives Hatsume for her Icy Hot-related betrayal in time to get his hands touched up for the exams. 

"So when you say touched up, you mean totally upgraded, right?" she asks, unscrewing one of Katsuki's prostheses on the table in front of her while he eats his lunch with the other. "Because I have a shitload of features that I want to try."

"It's gotta be related to my quirk," he responds. "Nobody's gonna believe I'm human if I start shooting lasers out of my hands."

"Damn. There goes that idea."

They work through a list of possible modes to add that won't arouse suspicion. He mentions wanting to have a flash mode, so he can stun without releasing any actual blasts, and she swears to have it all planned out and ready for installation before the practical exam. 

"How are you studying for written exams?" he asks, because if he's going to tutor Shitty Hair, he might as well offer to tutor her too. It'll be easier with her anyway, since they're used to spending time together.

"Eh, I'm probably just gonna watch some videos online for the topics," she replies offhandedly. "Studying for long periods of time makes my head hurt. Plus, I know I have the practical nailed, so I'm not worried."

Katsuki can't think of anything more stressful than not properly studying for a test, but it's not like it's his problem. She'll do her own thing and probably be fine in the end. Probably.

In terms of his own practical, he's not worried in the slightest. And when Shitty Hair tells him that he heard that it's actually going to be another robot battle, he's almost disappointed. Guess I can't use the flash attack after all. Fucking shame. I'll keep it for next hero training session and blast someone's eyes out. 

The other extras are ecstatic, of course, since they're lazy bastards. 

"This'll be a piece of cake!" Sparky exclaims. "Training camp here we come!"

And there it is. The only actual source of trepidation for Katsuki: the summer training camp.

Pros: a week away from home, extra hero training over the summer, getting to become stronger while I'm there.

Cons: a whole week of my vacation spent in close quarters with the rest of the class who hate him.

Back in his house, Katsuki's room is his room. He's the only one allowed in there - although his mom loves to go in there every so often when he's away and rearrange his stuff - and he likes it that way. Having other people in his space makes him physically uncomfortable, like they're staring right into his soul and judging him. Plus, without his bit of alone time every day, he would've gone insane years ago.

He's been to sleepovers before, a couple of parties over the years at the houses of extras that he never really liked, but he never slept well at any of them. People were too loud. People ARE too loud in general, and they take up too much room, and having so many people in one enclosed space - especially people who can't stand him - just breathing around him makes him want to close himself in a bathroom stall and never leave. 

Plus, there's the issue of his hands, but he can just keep those on. His personal comfort is the real thing in danger.

Just think of the pros, all of the training you'll get to do there. If you can deal with the extras every day at school, you can tolerate them for a shitty week away.

"Make sure to use this time to actually study," Aizawa says on Friday afternoon, looking over at them with eyes that betray how little he believes they will do so. "You're dismissed." And just like that, study week begins, and the excitement in the air is audible. 

As for Katsuki, he's a little less thrilled now that he knows that he'll be sharing the week with someone else, but it's fine. He's fucking fine, and he's going to be a damn good tutor.

"So where do you want to meet to study?" Kirishima asks as they walk out of school. They both agreed to start on Monday to give each of them individual studying time, although Katsuki doubts that the redhead will be doing much of anything with the time off. The weekend is more for his sake than anything. 

"I don't care," Katsuki says, then corrects himself a second later. "Not my place."

"Got it. My house is kind of crowded, so wanna meet at a cafe or something and study there?"

"That works. Don't forget to bring your shit." 

"I... probably will, honestly. Can you remind me before we go?"

"How? I don't have your number." 

"Here, I'll give it to you." I really signed myself up for that one. I can only blame myself for it. He takes Shitty Hair's number, punching it into his phone with maximum force and upping his number of contacts to the highest it's been since he purged his phone of his middle school extras. 

For the duration of the weekend, he packs information into his brain, taking minimal breaks to eat, shower, and sleep. He survives off of pillaged power bars and water bottles that he fills at stolen moments in the day. He studies so hard that even his mom tells him to relax, and she's always up his ass about working harder. But he can't slack off, especially since he's now studying for two people. He can't consider himself successful unless they both fucking ace it.

So he's more than a little high strung when Monday rolls around, and he know that he looks it too because of the wide berth that the people on the bus give him. He doesn't care. He's used to it by now. 

The cafe is small and quiet, which has a slight calming effect on him. At least now there won't be a whole crowd of people around to watch me snap when he gets a question wrong. 

Kirishima's already there, which is another pleasant surprise. Katsuki expected to be waiting for at least five minutes, but there he is, and oh god, he even has his stuff with him. It's a fucking miracle. 

"Hey, you made it!" he exclaims when Katsuki takes the seat across from him, tucking his bag under the table. "I'm kinda surprised, honestly."

"I said I'd be here, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but you seemed kinda down about having to tutor me so a tiny part of me thought you'd cancel. I mean, I can be sorta hopeless about all of this so I wouldn't blame you, but..." He seems to lose his train of thought for a second, then shakes his head. "Anyway you're here so it doesn't matter. And I brought my stuff!"

"Thank fucking god," Katsuki huffs. "I'd make you go all the way home and get it if you didn't." He pulls out his planner, opening it despite the irrational part of his brain screaming don't let him see it, don't let him know just how hard you try. "Here's the study plan. If you have something else to do, cancel it. We're sticking to this."

As expected, Shitty Hair's eyes go completely round. "Wow, that's precise," he says, leaning over the whole table to look at it, then ultimately giving up and walking around to Katsuki's side. "I don't think I've studied this much in my whole life."

"Deal with it."

"No, I'm grateful," he clarifies hastily. "You really didn't have to go through all of this effort. I'm probably not going to absorb all of it anyway."

Katsuki tilts his head, glaring over at him. "You will absorb it because I will make you absorb it. End of fucking story. I'm not here so you can mope on your sorry ass about your old grades, I'm here so you can do well. And you will do well." I didn't go through all of this effort for you not to get shit.

Kirishima looks like he wants to say something, but only smiles and sits back down in his chair. "So English today, right? What do we have to know for the exam?"

"So much, Shitty Hair. So much shit." 

"Guess it's good we're starting now, right?" The never ending optimism. Is this how other people see the world?

"Yeah, sure, whatever the fuck. Now do this worksheet and tell me when you're done."

They spend hours at the cafe, going through worksheets, websites, videos, and Katsuki's notes, which Kirishima comments are "way too aesthetic, bro." Kirishima offers to buy them both food, since Katsuki's the one helping him, but Katsuki only takes out a container of his own curry and starts eating it in response. Life's too short to waste money on other people's cooking. 

"Why am I not surprised at all?" is Kirishima's only comment on that, and he steals a rice cracker from him before ordering his own food.

It's surprising how much content they get through during their time together. Katsuki expected Shitty Hair to go off topic every other minute, or try and take break after break when he got tired just like the idiot squad seemed to do. But he actually manages to stay on Katuki's schedule, albeit with a little bit of bitching every time he makes a careless mistake.

"I told you before," Katsuki groans, jabbing his finger at the paper. "Read the question three times. First time just look it over, second time underline anything that seems tricky, and third time after you answer it just to check."

"Easier said than done," Kirishima sighs, but crushes his pen back in his fist and returns to the assignment. While he fills that in, Katsuki has his own assignment to work on, which he does silently and with rapt attention.

"You look like you want to murder the paper," Kirishima comments, which makes Katsuki want to murder him a little bit, but he takes a sip of his water and glares instead. Much safer, and won't get them both kicked out of the cafe, which has been very understanding despite his occasional outbursts.

After five straight hours of studying, Katsuki declares them done for the day.

"Same time tomorrow for biology," he says, packing away his things. "Don't be late. Remember your shit."

"Yes sir," Kirishima says, saluting him. When Katsuki turns around at the door, almost instinctively, he's still sitting there, staring at the the last sheet. If he wants to keep going, fuck it. Who am I to stop him?

Biology goes a little slower than English, since it's apparently Kirishima's worst subject. 

"No, you mixed up the cycles again," Katsuki hisses, circling the right answer no less than 3 times with his red pen. "Just stick it in your fucking brain, it's just two terms."

"Not everyone can just stick it in their brains like you, Bakugou," Kirishima hisses back, equally irate for once. "If it worked like that then I wouldn't be failing."

"Just fucking-" He takes a bite of his lunch - fried rice and chicken this time - and returns to stewing in his own anger. "Use the flashcards. Drill it in there until you know it better than your own name. Just keep repeating it."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

The waitress, a black haired girl who was also there yesterday, walks over, and Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut so he can't see her dislike of him apparent in her eyes. He knows it's there even with his eyes closed. 

"Is everything okay?" she asks, seeming to be addressing Kirishima. Which, alright, is probably the most rational approach. Katsuki wouldn't approach an angry Katsuki either, not with a much more stable Kirishima available. 

"Yeah, we're fine Naoki, thank you," he says, which makes Katsuki open his eyes again in confusion. He looks between the two of them, but neither offer any explanation. Neither of them are looking at him at all, in fact.

"If you say so, Ei," she replies, and walks away, giving Katsuki a sideways look as she does. 

"Okay, who the fuck was that?" he whispers when she's gone, because he really doesn't want to summon her back again. He's not angry anymore, just weirded out and a little threatened. He doesn't want Kirishima's whatever to glare at him. "Is she like your girlfriend or some shit?"

"What? No!" Kirishima whispers back, looking over his shoulder to make sure she didn't hear. "I'm just kinda friends with her since I come here a bunch. The other waitresses too, but Naoki's the only one on staff now because Momoko works night shifts and Kameko is on her honeymoon."

"So you're friends with everyone everywhere? Shock of the century," he mutters under his breath. "Anyway your friend over there hates my guts now so we should probably study somewhere else tomorrow."

He's used to it by now. He is. He doesn't mind the dirty looks that randos give him, because none of it matters anyway. They're just pebbles. But Kirishima's fucking soft, and if his friend judges him for hanging out with Katsuki then he'll probably cry. It's all on Katsuki, really. He'll take responsibility for it. 

But rather than take him up on his perfectly rational suggestion, Kirishima just gives him a weird look.

"She doesn't hate you," he insists, cocking his head to the side. "She doesn't even know you. She was probably pissed for a second that you were yelling, but she's totally over it by now. She's chill."

"Doesn't matter if she doesn't know me," Katsuki insists right back. "She doesn't have to in order to hate me. She was literally fucking glaring at me. I know what hatred looks like. Let's just get the fuck out of Dodge and do this at a park or something. I'm not gonna apologize or anything."

"But you don't have to apologize because she doesn't hate you!"

"You don't know anything about hatred so you don't see it, but I do. It's the waitress. It's the people on the bus with me, and the people I pass on the street, and the teachers at UA, and the extras in our class, and the extras in the whole fucking school, and my own fucking parents. It's everyone."

He pushes his lunch away, not hungry anymore. "I don't want to be here anymore. If you want to keep studying, then follow me out. Or fucking don't, I don't care." He grabs his sheets, shoves them into his bag, and throws the whole thing over his shoulder. He doesn't look back as he leaves the cafe, because he doesn't care if Shitty Hair follows him or not. He doesn't. He couldn't possibly give less of a shit.

He stops outside of the building, chest heaving. His legs refuse to move until he feels a hardened hand clap on his shoulder. 

"She doesn't hate you," Kirishima repeats, face hardened. Perhaps against a potential attack by Katsuki. "But if you want to leave, then we'll leave."

Katsuki nods, not turning around, and they make their way to a nearby park. He feels the stares of the people walking by, and he wants to point and shout and make Kirishima see that there, there's what I was fucking talking about! but he knows that the redhead wouldn't see it. He's too much of an optimist. He doesn't see reality as clearly as Katsuki does.

Studying is both easier and harder in the open air. There are more people milling around, teens walking their dogs and kids playing in the grass and young and old couples alike holding hands. All with eyes. All giving sideways glances.

But it's easier to ignore them with Kirishima there. Every time Katsuki drifts off mid-explanation, eyes pinpointed on a new nosy fucker staring at him, he feels a hard elbow jab him in the side, and it snaps him back to what's in front of him. His retaliation blasts don't do shit against Kirishima's hardened face, but they're not really meant to. They're the closest to a thank you that Katsuki can bestow.

As much as Kirishima argues that Naoki probably doesn't even remember him, they continue to study in the park for the rest of the week. Since they don't sell food there, Katsuki packs lunches for both of them to eat there. 

"Since when do you cook?" Kirishima asks, mouth full of teriyaki salmon. "This is really good!"

"Damn straight," Katsuki replies, digging into his own bento. "I've been cooking for a few months now. This is a new recipe, though."

"Well I think it's great."

"You eat protein powder sandwiches, Shitty Hair. You'd think sawdust was great."

"Fine, don't take my compliment. Whatever." He does his best impression of a Katsuki scowl, and it's close enough that Katsuki actually snorts at it. It's only for a second, and he quickly covers his face with his hoodie front, but Kirishima doesn't let him forget it all day.

On Friday, their last official day of studying, he comes bearing a shopping bag.

"They're pastries from the cafe," Kirishima explains, pulling out a container of flaky dough confections. "I stopped by last night and Naoki gave them to me to give to you. She said she feels bad for being weird before, and she hopes there are no hard feelings."

Katsuki gives the container a single look before rolling his eyes. "She spit in them. Oldest trick in the book. Tell her I say get fucked."

"She wouldn't do that," Kirishima says, looking peeved now. "She's nice. She just wanted to apologize."

"Nice people don't like me. Anyway, we're not supposed to eat shit now that we're training."

"Then take them home for your family."

"My family doesn't deserve anything, even shit that someone spit in. You can have them if you really want, but I wouldn't eat them. There might be worse things than spit in there."

"Jesus Christ, Bakugou, how do you survive while being so paranoid?"

"I survive because I'm so paranoid. This isn't my first time on the planet, Kirishima. I've watched waiters spit in my food before, and now I don't eat out anymore. If your friend really did just want to apologize, then fucking whatever. I'm not taking any chances, though, and I'm not going back to that cafe. End of fucking discussion."

Why does he even want me to eat the pastries so much? Does he think that if I accept the gift and go back to the cafe that everyone else will change? That I will change? Nothing's that fucking simple.

After a brief moment, Kirishima says, "Bakugou. You know I don't hate you, right?"

This takes him aback for a second. "I sure fucking hope not, or this'll get awkward real quick."

Kirishima nods. "And none of my friends hate you. I know this for a fact, because when I asked them if you could come to study night, they were all chill with it. Actually, they were excited for it, because they know you're one of the smartest in the class. They don't hate you."

Doubtful. "Alright, what's your point?"

"And Iida doesn't hate you, you know that. You guys are buds. And Cementoss says that you're his best student. And All Might-"

"Don't mention All Might," Katsuki growls, but Kirishima plows on regardless.

"The All Might likes you fine too. All of our teachers do, because you're so smart and good in class. And I can't think of one person in our class at all who actually full on hates you. Even Midoriya doesn't actively hate you, and you guys seem to have a lot of beef."

Beef doesn't begin to describe it. "Alright, I get it. What's your actual point?" He knows what the point is, he'd have to be an idiot not to, but he has to hear him say it. Even though he won't believe it, he has to hear it.

"Nobody hates you, Bakugou. They might get pissed at you sometimes, and maybe even get really pissed for a bit, but no one actually hates you. No one that matters, at least." 

You're wrong. They do. You don't see their eyes-

"Eat one of the pastries, Bakugou. It'll make you feel better."

She spit in them, I know she did. I'm sure she did-

"Just one. For my sake." He takes one out himself, making a big show of eating it in two bites. "They're really good, too."

And Katsuki is weak, and Katsuki is tired, and Katsuki eats the fucking pastry. And it's the best thing he's eaten in months.

Chapter Text

The practical exam is actually something Katsuki had been looking forward to. He proves himself daily in hero training, and no one in the class can deny that he's powerful, but it's been far too long since he's been first place in something that mattered. It's time for him to remind them all - and himself - why he's going to be the number one hero.

"Robots, robots, we're fighting robots," Invisible Girl chirps as they make their way to the training grounds. Why're you celebrating? You can't even fight them head on.

"I really need this grade," Sparky says to Kirishima, clutching his hands together. "I think I knew like half of the written test questions, but I definitely didn't do that hot."

"I think I did fine," Kirishima says, beaming at Katsuki, and he averts his eyes. Dumbass.

They finally reach the training grounds, and Katsuki presses his hands together absentmindedly. Once he heard that the test was going to be robots again, he had asked Hatsume to focus on big powerful blasts. They take up more fuel than usual, but one can knock out a robot easily. He can use flashier attacks on others, but he isn't sure what the grading scale is. Hopefully they'll explain that when the test starts. 

Aizawa is standing there at the gate, just as expected, but standing next to him are a few anomalies. Namely, the rest of the heroes on the UA staff. Katsuki grits his teeth when he makes eye contact with Midnight by mistake. Don't they have anything better to do then come and watch us kick robot ass? 

His question is answered a moment later by Nezu, who jumps out of Aizawa's scarf. Everyone proceeds to pretend like that's normal, so Katsuki does the same.

"I'm sure you were all prepared to fight robots," he says cheerily, and Katsuki gets a shiver right there. Nothing ever good comes from starting something like that. "But for various reasons, this year's test will be completely different!"

He gives them a moment to internalize this. Katsuki isn't too bothered, even though it does seem a little unfair. It's dumb to have the same test for the end of term as the entrance exam. We should have something harder, if they're actually teaching us shit. 

"This year's test will have a new focus!" he continues, still in the same chirpy voice that makes him want to claw his ears out. "There will be a fighting aspect, of course, but also focus on teamwork and combat against actual people. So what does that mean for you?"

It means that this test is going to suck fucking ass, Katsuki thinks, practically deflating. He can't fight well alongside 90% of the class, and he doesn't want to fight alongside them. This is his test, not theirs! If they screw up - and he knows some of them will - then he doesn't want that to bring him down.

"It means that you students will be working in pairs to take down one of our esteemed UA teachers! Isn't that fabulous?"

Judging by the chorus of groans around him, everyone thinks this is just as unfabulous as Katsuki does. Fighting a teacher sounds like a great opportunity - god knows he'd be down to kick Midnight's ass - but if he has to drag his teammate along with him, it'll only hold him back. And if he wants to beat a teacher, he'll need all the strength he can get.

Whatever. Maybe they'll let us choose our partners. He knows he can fight alongside Kirishima well - after all, they pulled it off against actual villains - and he's the only person who won't be seriously injured if caught in the crossfire of one of Katsuki's giant blasts. He can actually be useful, unlike most of the people in their class.

But of course, before Katsuki's blood pressure can settle, Aizawa speaks up.

"Additionally, your partners and match-ups have already been chosen," he says, fixing his scarf around his neck. "They were determined by my discretion based on many factors including fighting style, grades, and interpersonal relationships."

Alright, so in terms of grades, I could be paired up with Icy Hot, since we're both at the top of the class and were the top of the sports festival. That wouldn't be too shitty, besides for the fact that I hate his guts. At least he's powerful. Ponytail is smart, so if I'm paired with her then she could be useful in strategy. In terms of interpersonal relationships, I get on best with Kirishima and Iida, although Iida's much closer in grades to me. Even though we lost last time we teamed up, we can do better this time. He's useful.

He's not sure who's like him in terms of fighting style. He gets a flash of Deku, copying his moves in the sports festival and the pipe navigation challenge, but bites his tongue hard to get rid of the thought. If Aizawa wants either of us to pass, he won't put us together.

Five seconds later, he concludes that Aizawa does not, in fact, want either of them to pass. In fact, he wants both of them to fail. Miserably.

"We're going against All Might?" he breathes, staring up at the man. He's barely had five seconds to adjust to the fact that he has to work with Deku, and now this. The number one hero. I like a challenge, but this is fucking ridiculous.

The test isn't too complicated. They have thirty minutes to either cuff their teacher or make a break for it. Katsuki knows which one Deku will suggest, because he's a fucking coward, but he knows which one he's going to try, at least. He didn't develop all of those new moves for nothing.

The teachers put on handcuffs specially made to slow them down. Katsuki doesn't really like the odds of him against a fully capable All Might, but he really doesn't like the feeling of fighting against someone who isn't going full power.

"You think we need a handicap to beat you?" he spits, looking up at All Might. The man only laughs, hands on his hips. Katsuki never noticed it before, but All Might can look downright sinister when he wants to.

To calm himself down, he goes through the facts. One: the teachers think very highly of him, since they're pitting him against All Might. They wouldn't just stick any old student against Japan's top hero. Two: they feel like he needs an even bigger challenge, so they partnered him with Deku. Teamwork building his ass; they know what they did. Three: the teachers wouldn't assign something that he couldn't pass. Otherwise it would just be a waste of time. Four: he's prepared for the test. He trained his ass off for this test. He will pass this test, or heads will fly.

They call the order of the tests, and him and Deku are last. Which gives them plenty of time to strategize, except for the fact that Katsuki doesn't want to strategize with him whatsoever. He would rather pass - or even fail - on his own merit. Passing with Deku's help is only affirming the fact that the bastard is on his level, and that isn't true. After fourteen years of him training, it can't be true. 

While Kirishima and Sugar Man - his actual hero name, what a fucking joke - head off to face against someone, Katsuki stalks off in favor of a quieter place. He knows Deku will be watching the match, probably taking notes while he does, and he heads in the opposite direction of the media room. He doesn't need to know how other people fight other teachers. Right now, the only person standing between him and a passing grade is All Might.

He sees Iida standing in the hallway, and he almost joins him when he sees that he's talking to Tails. Strategizing, he supposes. He passes Bird talking to Frog too, more perfect partners. That could be him, actually getting shit done. Maybe Invisible Girl or Grape Bitch would be useless to him, but he could talk to them without getting into a yelling match. They would easily go along with his plans. 

Not Deku. Deku would want to talk things through and work out a plan together. 

Maybe if you weren't a little bitch, you would be able to talk to Deku without losing your mind, the little voice in his head sing-songs. He's not the problem here, you are. You and your pride-

He clenches his teeth, huffing indignantly. He's the little bitch, not me. He wouldn't work well with me either, I know it. He'd either want to run for it, which I won't do, or he would want to face All Might himself. He thinks he's better than me. He thinks he's smarter, and he thinks he's more powerful, just because he has a flashy new quirk now. I can't stand being around him.

Focus, dumbass. Think about All Might.

He's not a creep; he doesn't have a notebook full of everyone's weaknesses. But he's smart, and he has eyes. Surely he can think of something while he waits. The people around him slowly start to disappear, off to their own tests, but he barely registers them. 

A plan. A plan against the number one hero. I can't treat him like a robot, that's for sure. He's much faster, and he has human intellect. He'll be planning against us with much more experience.

I have the stun grenade, which will be effective against him regardless of how strong he is. My regular blasts for maneuvering. My bigger blasts to cause actual damage. He'll be slower than usual, so if I'm fast enough, I might be able to get behind him.

There's a pit in his stomach, deeper than he can remember feeling in a long time. He feels like he's about to face a real villain, fight a real fight that could end in life or death. Worst case scenario, I fail. I wouldn't even be the only one. But that only makes the pit deeper, enough to consume him from the inside out. Fucking stupid. I'm not going to fail. He feels like there are hands clutched around his neck, slime pouring down his throat-

"Are you alright, Bakugou?"

"Fucking fine," he answers before even registering who asked. He opens his eyes to find Bird Brain in front of him. As far as he remembers, he hasn't looked directly at him since the sports festival. I must really look like shit if he's asking if I'm okay.

"Your match is coming up," he says nervously. Katsuki can tell from the way his eyes flick away a few times. It's a wonder he's still standing there at all. "Right now, Shouji and Hagakure are fighting, which means that you and Midoriya are on in two rounds."

"Yeah, and? Did they send you to fetch me?"

"No, I stumbled upon you myself." His feathers are sticking up on his head, and he looks like he's covered in bits of concrete. Katsuki wonders for a second if he passed, but doesn't care enough to ask. Everyone else can take care of everyone else. He has to look out for himself first.

"Now I know. You can leave now." The choking feeling is gone, but a headache is quickly replacing it. He feels like his head is being torn apart: half of him is sure he'll pass because he's Bakugou Katsuki and he doesn't lose, and the other half is trying to convince himself that it's okay if he loses. He won't lose. But what if he does? It's paradoxical, endlessly frustrating, and fucking Bird here isn't helping.

But the fucker stands his ground. "You'll be fighting All Might. That's not a simple feat, defeating him."

Like I don't know that. Instead of speaking, he opts to glare and hope that it will be enough to get him to stop talking.

It's not.

"You consider yourself the strongest in our class. And knowing your track record, you will try to fight him without using Midoriya's power at all. But that's impossible. This is All Might. If you truly want to win, then you have to use every tool you have, and that includes Midoriya. You will fail otherwise." 

"Why the fuck does everyone in this class keep trying to give me advice?" Katsuki complains loudly, looking around as if there are more nagging nobodies around hiding, ready to interfere with his thinking time. Bird takes a step back involuntarily. Good. Stay back. "I never asked for your opinion! What's it to you?"

Bird steels himself, opens his mouth, and says, "I passed my match. Me and Asui together. And most of our other classmates did too. If you really want to be the number one hero, then you cannot just decide every now and then to throw your own chances."

"And since when do you give a shit whether or not I pass? Don't you want to be the number one hero too?" In his mind, that's every hero's goal. If you're going to dedicate your life to being a hero, then why would you settle for something other than the top?

"Of course I do. But you aren't the only person on the planet who wants a fair fight for it." His quirk, Bird Two, peeks its head out from behind him and nods at Katsuki, although it doesn't say anything.

"I'm going to the media room now," he says, brushing some dust off of his cloak. "What you do is your choice. But the world is watching you in particular, Bakugou. Not everyone gets that opportunity." And he strides off, Bird Two glancing back at Katsuki every so often.

Katsuki doesn't move for a while. The world is watching me, huh. Doesn't seem like they really like what they see. Bird Brain should know that by now. But he lets the thought bounce around his head for a while. He's been told all his life that he's great, and will grow up to do great things. Everyone is waiting for him to do those great things. His name is already out there, whether he wants it - which he does, obviously - or not. He can't undo it, so he only has one thing to do: continue to be the top. And as vomit inducing as the thought is, he might have to use Deku to do it. As a tool, of course, something at his disposal. Nothing more.

I'll do as much as I can by myself. But I won't fail this test.

Chapter Text

He meets Deku at the entrance of the gates. Neither of them say anything, but Katsuki can practically feel the nervous energy exuding from the other boy. 

"Stop shaking," he finally growls, but this only makes Deku shake more, and it brings up his old revulsion that he hasn't felt since they got to UA. Pathetic. God, he's so fucking pathetic. How could someone like him-

"Team Bakugou and Midoriya, begin!" 

The gates open, and the two of them start walking down the road. It's a big fake city, so All Might could be hiding anywhere. Then again, he's All Might. He's huge too.

"We’re the heroes here, and All Might is the villain,” Deku says after a moment of walking. “We have the choice to either fight or flee, and we should take into consideration the strength of the enemy. All Might is way stronger than us, so we should choose to run away.”

”Of course you’d say that,” Katsuki says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a pussy like you. I’m gonna fight him head on.” Deku’s weak. If he hears Katsuki say something like an order, he’ll follow it. That’s the way it’s always been. And it’s the only way they’re going to win.

Deku doesn’t say anything, and they keep walking forward. Katsuki takes the opportunity to keep talking.

”I don’t wanna work with you, and you sure as shit don’t want to work with me. But this is All Might, so we gotta do it I guess. If I blind him with my stun grenade, then you can get him from behind. Shouldn’t take too long.”

I’m the one in charge. It’s not teamwork, it’s me using my resources. We’re not equals.

He's still not saying anything. "Do you hear me, nerd? I don't wanna repeat this shit again." He's starting to get a little pissed off, honestly. Is he ignoring me or something? The one time I'm trying to cooperate, jesus fuck. "Do you need me to knock you back to your senses?"

Deku stops in his tracks, and Katsuki waits for him to agree with the plan. It is, after all, a damn good plan. Plus with All Might having the weights on, he’ll be slower than usual. So if they time it right—

“No shit, Kacchan.”

Katsuki turns his head back violently, wondering if he heard the nerd right. “What-“

”No shit we have to work together.” Deku’s entire body is shaking, but Katsuki’s starting to think it’s not entirely from nerves. “Do you think you invented teamwork? Is this a new idea for you? Can you really be that much of an idiot?”

He’s fuming, truly fuming, for the first time that Katsuki can remember in years. What makes this time different than all the other times?

“You think you can just ignore me when I actually want to strategize, storm off, then come back here and TELL ME what the smartest plan is?” he continues, waving his hands wildly. “Besides for the fact that your plan is absurd, we’re not four anymore! You can’t just boss me around like that and call it teamwork!”

He’s made a mistake. Katsuki really is a dumbass for thinking he could just go in and try to work together with him. After all this time, they are built against it.

“And back to your plan,” his eyes are positively gleaming at this point, “it sucks! Pride can’t win this fight for us! Just because you really really want to prove yourself doesn’t mean that you can just stroll in and beat All Might. If you had an ounce of self awareness you’d see that this is a dumb plan. You’re not stupid, so why are you acting like it? This is All Might!”

He sniffs, and Katsuki can plainly see now that he’s crying. Of course he is. He’s too stunned to think anything else.

”I don't want to fight with you on this, but it just makes me so frustrated. I want to do well just as much as you do. So stop treating me like I’m second rate and listen to me for once!”

He looks like he wants to keep going, and Katsuki wants to say something too — that is, as soon as he regains function of his mouth — when All Might makes his grand appearance.

“Powerful speech, hero,” he booms, eyes glowing maliciously. “I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t you be fighting me instead of each other?” He winds his fist back, and before Katsuki can blink, sends an avalanche of air towards them, causing them to tumble backwards like bath toys in an ocean wave. The buildings around them crumble too, Katsuki can hear them, and he coughs on dust.

"Who cares about damaging the city?" he rumbles, standing above the two of them. Katsuki sees Deku freeze up, and knows that he doesn't look much better. So this is what All Might looks like as a villain. Intimidating. "I'm a villain, heroes, so don't just treat this as an exam or that will be your downfall. Come at me with everything you got!"

Katsuki needs no other invitation. He  prepares his hand for maximum power, stretching his fingers in anticipation. "Stun Grenade!" he shouts, letting loose a blinding flash in his direction. Just as he expected, All Might covers his eyes, which gives Deku the perfect opening to come from behind.

But rather than be useful for once in his life, Deku merely watches from afar, eyes wide in fear. Fine. I'll handle this myself. I don't need your sorry ass. He blasts towards the man, intending to land a few good blasts to his head, only to be grabbed instead by his face and held from a distance. Even so, he still starts unleashing a barrage of explosions at the man until he gets flipped over, head slammed into the dirt.

"With such weak explosions, they only sting," All Might says, leaving him there with his vision spinning and his teeth clenched. "And you're not off the hook either, young Midoriya. Are you leaving your teammate and running away?" 

Katsuki blinks hard, pushing himself to his feet. Another shot. I have to put in as many shots as I can. He flexes his fingers and leaps at All Might, only to collide with Deku midair. Watch where you're going, dumbass! he wants to shout, but the wind is knocked out of him. It takes him a moment to regain his breath before he can stand back up again.

"Kacchan, it's not going to work," Deku says, and his voice is back to one of a quavering little weakling. Whatever the fury from before was, it's gone now. "Coming at him head on isn't-"

"Shut up," Katsuki breathes. "You had your chance to be useful, and you didn't do shit, so now I'm going to beat him myself. Heroes don't run away, they fight head on. Just like All Might always does." 

There are always times when some heroes are more suitable than others. Water quirks in wetlands, that kind of shit. But this? This is a full on power play. This is are you capable or are you fucking around? This is battle, and Katsuki is no deserter.

He's barely up when All Might pins Deku under a railing and punches Katsuki in the stomach, hard enough that he pukes right there on the ground. How many times can I keep getting up? How many times do I have in me?

"I know why you're upset," All Might says, strolling over to where he's hunched over, still clutching his stomach. "It's young Midoriya's sudden improvement, isn't it? You should know that level 1 and level 50 don't advance at the same rate. There's so much wasted potential in you. Do you understand? You do, right?"

If he was able to breathe at that moment, Katsuki would have lunged again. He doesn't care that he could get knocked out again. Nobody talks to him like that. Nobody has the right to comment on his potential and how he's using it, especially someone who barely knows him. If he wants to say that Katsuki's wasting his time, fine. He can deal with that. He can even say that Katsuki's wasting his strength. But he can't say that he's wasting his potential. Katsuki was born with zero potential, and he made it to UA. His potential is immeasurable. 

"You still have so much room to grow! Not in terms of power, but-" All Might continues, and Katsuki musters up the strength to speak through a raw throat.

"Shut up, All Might," he rasps. "Don't compare me to that scum. He's a weakling and a coward. I don't want whatever help he thinks he can give."

He prepares himself to get decked again, and he is, but not by who he expects.

"Don't say that!" Deku shouts, somehow free from his metal trap. Katsuki barely hears him as he tumbles over and over again. "We're helping each other today!" He feels himself being scooped up in his arms, and he doesn't have the energy to push himself off. 

"Le'go of me, asshole," he says, speech slurring. Fuck. I definitely have a concussion. He grits his teeth together and elbows Deku in the back, causing him to unceremoniously drop him in an alley.

"Ow," Deku says, like he hasn't broken seven bones at a time. Katsuki ignores this. "Kacchan, I'm sorry for yelling at you before. You can be mad at me later. But right now we actually have to cooperate. If we make a plan together, we might actually be-"

"You're still scared," Katsuki interrupts. "We're not gonna be able to do anything without fighting, so stop fucking trying to avoid it."

"But we can't win a fight against-"

"Shut up, I'll kill you!" He lets a few sparks fly from his hands. "This is the exact shit I was talking about! He's not gonna move with half assed power, so we have to go all in!"

Deku presses his lips together, considering this. Even so, he doesn't look happy. "Fine. Then let's think of a plan, both of us."

No. I'd rather die. We're not on the same playing field. I don't need your help. Stop acting like we're equals. He opens his mouth to say all of this, plus a couple more profanities, but all he can taste in his mouth is bile and dust and failure.

Fuck. I'm not ready to fail.

A minute later, he hears All Might approach, and that's the cue to begin the plan. Fucking plan. He comes from behind him and fires blast after blast, shaking his whole arm with every one. He has to keep blinking to keep his vision from blacking out, and every molecule in his body stings, but he can't fall now. 

"Deku!" he yells, and the other boy comes out, fist already glowing. He knocks All Might with a punch not unlike the hero's own, sending a cascade of wind that propels him backwards. The two of them run off, Katsuki using his blasts and Deku doing his weird hopping thing. It's all according to their - dry heave - plan.

"Did we knock him out?" Deku asks. "It doesn't look like All Might's following us."

"Dumbass, of course not. Weren'tcha the one who said before that we'd never beat 'im?" They're getting closer to the escape gate. Just the sight of it makes Katsuki nauseated. He came into this test determined to beat All Might alone, and now... now he teamed up with Deku. Now he's running away. His resolve was steadfast back then, but now it's cracked. "Next time we see him, I'm gonna be the one to deck him."

"Is that so?" All Might says, suddenly between the two of them. Katsuki readies his hand to fire, but before he can release the blast, All Might punches it full force. He flies back a few feet, then checks out the damage. Fuck. A crack. I don't even know if it'll work anymore. Hatsume'll have to check it out after this. 

He looks up right as All Might knees him in the chin, launching him fifty feet in the air and crashing through a window. He takes minimal time to get his bearings, then jumps out the gaping hole in the window, using only his left hand to propel him forward. All Might anticipates this and uses Deku as a goddamn war hammer to knock him down, stomping his foot down on him to keep him in place. 

"It's good that you two finally worked together to try and beat me," All Might laughs, "but that was only a prerequisite for this test. It's over, boys." 

He's power. Pure power. I dunno how I ever thought I could beat him, with Deku or without. He feels All Might's boot dig into his back. He can barely keep his eyes open, he's so dizzy. And yet... he's not finished yet.

Katsuki flips his hand palm side up, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, and stretches his fingers back. "Die," he says, voice strained, and releases another giant blast from his left hand. He can't have that much fuel left in it, after all of this overexertion. Yet it's enough to send All Might rushing back, dust clouding the air and making it hazy.

"Shit," he breathes, pushing himself to his feet with what little leftover adrenaline he has left. "Fuck." He sees Deku on the ground and lifts him up by the collar. "I'mma send you flying." 

He ignores Deku's ramblings of "Wait, hold on a second," and bends his left arm back. "Die!" he yells, throat begging for the sweet release of, well, death, and releases all of the energy he had been building up into one throw. Deku goes flying ahead towards the finish line, and he can finally breathe again, despite his swimming head.

Until All Might makes his billionth grand entrance and bodily slams Deku into a bus. Fuck. Is there a word stronger than fuck? Fucking shit. Fucking shitting ass. There really is no end to this.

"So close, yet so far!" All Might crows, and Katsuki might actually be developing an aversion to the man's voice. I gotta get back in there, but what can I even do? He spares a glance at his left hand, taking a moment for his eyes to focus, and curses under his breath. Nothing. I have to use my right hand for it. Even though it might kill me, I still have to fucking try it. There are no other options left.

He runs wildly towards the two of them, using his right hand every so often to give himself an extra boost. Thank fucking god it works, but it's loopy. Unstable. Could definitely blow him to kingdom come. He uses it anyway.

"What's reward without a little risk?" he mumbles to himself, leaping at All Might with his right hand extended. "I could never beat you without taking any risks. Parkour." He definitely has a concussion. His right hand opens up, and both he and All Might face his explosion head on. He feels his hand crack further as he uses it to catch himself. There's one blast left in it if I'm lucky. 

"Move, Deku!" he croaks, and he's not even sure if he's audible at this point. His voice is absolutely shot. He aims his hand at All Might again and fires, and there. That last blast did it. When he looks down at his hand, covered in sweat and grime, he finds it doesn't move under his command anymore. Wires must be fucked up or something. Fuck.

But Deku isn't at the gate yet, so he has to keep running. Even if he can't really fight anymore and his brain and eyes barely work, he's not done yet. Katsuki grabs one of the spare grenades from his belt, bites off the pin, and chucks it at All Might. They're not nearly as powerful as his hand blasts, so he didn't want to rely on them, but he has no other choice now. 

It explodes on impact with All Might, and even though it barely singes the man, it still stops him for a moment. "Bakugou? I didn't know you were still conscious. But you'll have to do better than that to stop me."

He throws another one, and another one, and another one. His belt can hold six, and he's going through them like hotcakes, but if he stops for a second, he won't be able to start again. He doesn't stop as the man speeds towards him, and he doesn't hesitate the second before he's smashed into the ground, head first as always. 

I'm not having any shitty regrets with this. I'm not going down without using up every goddamn tool I have.

"Go to sleep, young Bakugou," All Might says, holding his head down to the ground. He's not restraining his arms and legs, but Katsuki can't use them anyway. He's spent. "As your teacher, it pains me to see you hurt yourself like this."

Is he talking about the hands? No, I don't think he saw them. Just the rest of me then, which is ironic since he's the one who beat the shit out of me.

"I don't care what I hurt," Katsuki hisses. "I break and I break so I can win the way I choose." He bites down on the hand still clutching his face, narrowing his eyes. He wants All Might to see exactly what he saw at the sports festival. Not a beast, or a savage, or an animal, but someone who will do everything they have to in order to truly win.

The last thing he sees before he blacks out is Deku rushing back at All Might, full body glowing with his quirk. Fuck off, Deku. Can't you see I'm handling... He passes out before he can finish the thought. 

Chapter Text

When he opens his eyes, he's in a bed. Hospital bed. Recovery Girl's office? Yes, it has to be. He tries to move, but everything hurts like a bitch, and he's not exaggerating when he says everything. He can feel the individual joints of his toes screaming out in pain. 

"Fuckin'... fuckin'... ugh," he moans, pressing his eyes back shut. This is what happens when I get supplexed by the number one hero ten times in a row. Is this before or after Recovery Girl did her shit on me? 

"Bakugou, it's good you're awake," Recovery Girl says, and he hears her walk over. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty," he says bluntly, because he's not in the right mindset to mince words, even though he generally respects Recovery Girl. Anyone who can keep UA from falling apart under lawsuits by angry parents of injured kids must be doing their job right. 

Rather than berate him, she chuckles. "I would have assumed so. I haven't used my quirk on you yet, since you were unconscious, but I can begin to heal you now."

"Thanks." Every word out of his mouth sounds like hail on a tin roof. He tries to clear his throat, falling into a coughing fit so strong, he almost hits his head on the headboard. Only once he has his breath back does Recovery Girl approach him. She waits for his nod of approval, then begins to heal him, and he falls back unconscious.

The second time he wakes up is leagues better than the first. He can sit up properly, for one, and he doesn't feel like he's breathing ashes. 

"What time's it?" he asks, since he doesn't know where his phone is. Probably with his bag, which he left in his locker along with his normal uniform. 

"It's about five o'clock," she says, and he nearly rolls out of bed. "Your body needed a lot of time to heal."

"So school's over. Did everyone go home?" He really needs to get his phone now. He tries to climb out of the bed, only to feel shooting pains up his legs. He catches himself with his hands, and it's then that he remembers the extent of their damage. The right one looks like a mannequin hand, stiff and unmoving, and his left - while functional - looks like it got run over by a truck. He shoves both of them in his pants pockets, though he's sure Recovery Girl's already seen them. He isn't as affected as he had been when others discovered his secret; maybe he has a concussion.

"The students did, yes. Most of the staff are still in the building. I attempted to call your mother using the number the school has in the system, but she didn't pick up. I left a message telling her to call me back."

Conflicting waves of panic and relief wash over him. On one hand, his mom can't find out that he got his shit rocked. Not because she'll yell at the school or anything - she knows what hero training consists of - but because she'll yell at him for letting his hands get destroyed. How could you be so irresponsible? How could you be so fucking careless with your hands? Do you know how much those things put me out? He has a headache just thinking about it.

But she didn't pick up the phone. She's probably still at work, and Katsuki knows from experience that she rarely answers the phone while she's working. If he can get Hatsume to fix his hands before his mom sees, then the whole disaster can be avoided.

"I'll call her myself," he says, mind racing to figure out how to get to Hatsume the quickest. He could go to her house - she can't live that far from UA, and he's sure she'd be more than happy to see him and his hands - but more likely than not, someone else will be there too. And Katsuki's not ready to face her again anytime soon.

So that leaves stopping by the support lab before classes start. It'll be risky, since he has to last the night at his house and the commute to school without getting caught, but he can wear gloves or bandages and make it through. 

He tries to stand again, and it's a little less painful than it had been the first time. If he leans heavily on the bedboard using his left hand, Katsuki can even walk a step or two. "Thank you, Recovery Girl. I'm going to head home."

"Bakugou, look at your condition," she tuts. "You can't take the train home like this. In fact, I think that you should be checked into the hospital for the night for observation. A real doctor will be able to heal you back to new."

"A hospital?" All of his plans go down the drain. If the hag hears that he's been checked into the hospital, there's no way in hell she won't stop by to visit. "I don't need to go to the hospital."

She sighs. "Bakugou, I have seen many students at this school push themselves past their limits. You are no different. If you don't let yourself heal, you'll only injure yourself more."

He knows this. He knows all of that shit, and yet there are bigger things at stake than his own physical health. His body can handle a train ride home; it can't handle an hour long lecture from the hag. "I'll stop here again tomorrow before class, I swear."

"You need to be seen by a real doctor."

"Then I'll stop by one tomorrow after school. I'm not gonna die in my sleep."

"But untreated, the effects of today's fight could very well affect you for months or even years down the line. It simply isn't worth the risk."

Fuck. "How would I get there, anyway?" There's no way in hell he's going to ask the hag for a ride. He'd rather stay overnight in Recovery Girl's office. Actually, that wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

She smiles a little, like she's won, and he scowls deeper. "Aizawa has offered to drive you there tonight. Should you need it, he also offered a ride to school tomorrow morning."

So I'm really giving in, huh. He tries one more time to think of a reason why seeking medical help would be a bad idea, and his stomach chooses this moment to suddenly seize up and start begging for fucking mercy. He collapses back onto the bed, folding his arms petulantly.

"Alright," he resigns. "Thanks for the help." 

"My pleasure," she says warmly. "If you're ready to go, I'll bring Aizawa here."

He stays on the bed, unable to move far, and a minute later Aizawa-sensei walks into the room. He's holding a bag, which Katsuki quickly recognizes as his own, and he sets it down on the bed beside him.

"Did we win?" Katsuki asks before the man can say anything. "Me and Deku, the final exam. Did we make it?"

"You should be worrying more about your health," Aizawa replies, cold as ever. "You'll never be able to win anything again if you act recklessly and don't think about your physical health." He pauses. "But yes, you and Midoriya passed your exam."

"Thank fuck." If he got the shit kicked out of him and Deku didn't even do his job, he'd start a riot. 

"All Might also told me to tell you that he apologizes for being so rough with you two." 

Katsuki shakes his head dismissively. "That was the point of the test. If he didn't try to beat the shit out of us, then I'd be more pissed. I want to take All Might on at his full power one day."

"I will see you in the infirmary again when you do. Are you ready to leave?"

Katsuki pulls on his shoes and reaches for his bag, only for Aizawa to pick it up again. "I'll carry this for you. You focus on making it out of the building without falling. Recovery Girl has a cane for you if you need it."

"I'm not an invalid." He pushes himself to his feet, clenching his teeth to keep from cursing. Bolts of fire shoot up his legs, like ten years worth of growing pains attacking him all at once. This is fine. This is fucking fine. I've felt worse. Whether or not that was actually true was up for debate. 

"Let me reiterate: you need that cane. Take it from Recovery Girl." Aizawa sighs. "I had almost forgotten that everything I say to you needs to be a command."

"If you're so pissed at me then let me get my own way home." At this point, he'd rather walk than deal with his teacher's passive aggressive comments every five seconds. He remembers how close Aizawa was to expelling him when he found out about his hands, and he furrows his brow. Why did he even bother offering me a ride to the hospital if he hates me so much? He should've gotten a different teacher to do it.

"I'm trying to do what's best for you, as your teacher." He holds the cane out, handle first, and Katsuki snatches it from him. It helps, of course it helps, but he scowls anyway. He doesn't like leaning on anything for support. 

When they reach Aizawa's car, he asks him for his bag so he can get his phone out. He holds his breath while it powers on, releasing it in a rush of air when he sees no missed calls from his mom. He does have a few texts from other people, though. One from Iida, three from Kirishima, and a whopping ten from Deku, which he ignores.

Iida: Are you alright?

Kirishima: bro are you alive

Kirishima: cant believe allmight SMASHED you like :O:O:O

Kirishima: wait seriously are you ok

He responds to both of them basically the same way - of course I'm okay you dumbasses - and texts his mom - one painfully slow letter at a time -  that he won't be home for the night because he's crashing by Kirishima's place. Lying is for cowards, but he's not chickening out of anything. Just saving himself a headache. Maybe if she wasn't the worst person on the fucking planet then he'd tell her the truth. 

Katsuki sits in the backseat of the car, hugging his backpack to his chest. He feels sick, and drowsy, and every breath hurts, but he'd give up his right kidney to go home and continue on like nothing's wrong. He doesn't want Aizawa's pity, or his time, or his attention at all, any more than Aizawa wants to give it. If he was able to walk properly, he wouldn't be in this car. 

The car starts moving. Katsuki sinks lower in his seat.

"I know you must be concerned about the doctor finding out about your hands," Aizawa says, and he starts. With everything on his mind he hadn't even been thinking about that. Maybe I can- "Don't worry. I know this doctor well, and he is as trustworthy as they come. He treated me more times than I could count back when I was an underground hero, and he's as good as they come."

Why do you even care if I'm worried? You had no problem telling the principal about my hands.

"I understand why you feel ashamed of your hands, even if I don't believe you should be, and as your teacher, your well-being is my priority," he continues, looking at him through the rearview mirror. Katsuki averts his eyes, chest burning.

Shame? I don't have anything to be ashamed of. These hands are the best things that ever happened to me, and they just add to how amazing I already am. It's everyone else who has the problem with them.

He realizes that Aizawa is probably waiting for some kind of response from him, some indication that he's absorbing what he's saying. Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets, faces the window, and says nothing. 

They drive in silence for another few minutes. How far away is this hospital, anyway? Katsuki checks his phone a few times, but the only notifications he has are the still unread messages from Deku. He deletes them, then blocks the number for good. He doesn't know why he never did that to begin with.

"I realize now that I never formally apologized for how you were treated during the sports festival," Aizawa says, and Katsuki turns his head a little. Not enough that he's actually looking at the man, but just a bit to listen better. Is he trying to undo everything he's done in one car ride? I don't even need his shitty apology. If he wants to stop hating me for no reason then that'd be enough for me.

"It's fine," Katsuki says, even though it isn't. "I don't care about the sports festival." 

"You shouldn't have been restrained like you were, and you shouldn't have been forced to participate in the awards ceremony if you didn't want to," Aizawa continues like he didn't say anything. "There were better ways to deal with the situation."

Being referred to as a "situation" makes Katsuki's skin prickle, but he nods anyway. Anything to get out of this conversation. 

Finally, finally, they arrive at the hospital. Aizawa doesn't bother trying to help him out of the car, but he does carry his bag for him inside. The waiting room is half full, but he walks straight to the front desk, so Katsuki does the same.

"I'm Aizawa Shouta," he says, and the receptionist nods. 

"You know where to go, right?"

"Room 237."

"Yes sir."

Aizawa thanks her and walks through the back door, holding it open so Katsuki doesn't have to struggle with the cane. At this point, the only thing driving him to keep walking is spite alone. If he has to be wheeled through the hospital in a wheelchair - or god forbid, carried - then he would rather get sepsis and die right here.

"So you know this doctor from before," Katsuki says, leaning against a table covered in fliers for a blood donation fair. 

"Yes. He saved me when I was on death's door, and I have no doubt that he'll be able to treat you quickly." The elevator arrives, and Katsuki stumbles as he pushes off of the table. Aizawa grabs his arm for a second, just to steady him, then lets go immediately. Katsuki grumbles a 'thank you' under his breath, following behind with the cane, but he doubts he heard him.

The doctor, a short man with slicked black hair and thick glasses, is already waiting for them in room 237. 

"Eraserhead, so good to see you again," he says. To Katsuki's surprise, Aizawa grabs the man's hand and pulls him in for a hug.

"You as well, doctor," he replies, stepping back. "This is my student, Bakugou Katsuki. He fought All Might in his final exam and won." Katsuki wants to intercede that there were a few key details missing in his explanation, but he stays silent.

"Well no wonder he's here today," the doctor chuckles. 

"Take good care of him tonight. I'll be here to pick him up in the morning." Aizawa then turns to address him. "The doctor has my number in case you need anything. I also assume that you will call your parents and tell them where you are. If they wish to call the school, that's fine as well."

"Okay," Katsuki says, and bites his tongue to keep from asking Aizawa to stay with him. He's already done more than enough, dumbass. All he wants now is to go home and stop dealing with you. You won't die from a night in the hospital. "Thanks."

Aizawa leaves, and Katsuki is alone with the doctor.

"My quirk works with particular areas of the body," the doctor says, pulling on a pair of gloves. "It's no general full body heal like Recovery Girl's, so I need to perform a checkup in order to see where you need healing. Is that alright with you?"

"I guess," Katsuki says. 

"Great. I'll bring the nurse, and we can begin."

An hour later, the doctor confirms - to no surprise at all - that Katsuki is in shitty shape.

"It's a good thing UA is paying for all of this," he jokes. Katsuki isn't in a laughing mood.

"They shouldn't have fucked me up in the first place, then."

The doctor laughs. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

Then he moves on to the actual results.

"Your arms and legs took a lot of shock damage," he says, pointing to a set of x rays. "You have a severe concussion, and your ears are damaged, although I believe that this might be from before the fight. Luckily for you, there is no internal bleeding or organ damage, although your esophagus is quite raw from dust inhalation. I believe that's the end of the laundry list. Any questions so far?"

Katsuki shakes his head. "Good. My quirk will knock you out for the night, and it will require a significant amount of water, so I always recommend patients drink a lot of water before I use it." He holds out a sealed water bottle and Katsuki takes it, opening the cap with his teeth before drinking. He can feel the contents cool his throat all the way down to his stomach. "In the morning, you will feel more or less back to your normal self, although you might still be a little sore. Any questions?"

"No," Katsuki says, throwing the empty water bottle out. He sits on the bed, and with a practiced twist, takes off his right hand. The doctor looks away politely as he follows with the left, moving both of them to his bedside table. "Actually, can you make sure no one else comes in while I'm sleeping?" He doesn't want to give some random nurse a heart attack.

"Certainly," the doctor says, and on Katsuki's signal, puts both of his hands on his head. A few seconds later, Katsuki starts to feel woozy, and he sinks down into the bed. These sheets are fucking scratchy, he thinks right before he drifts off. Someone should do something about that.

In the morning, he wakes up to find himself feeling... normal. Completely dry mouthed, but overall normal. The magic of the hospital.

His hands are still jacked, of course, and he texts Hatsume to let her know that he'll be stopping by her in the lab. She texts him back - in all caps and with several emojis - that she can't wait to see them.

He doesn't text Aizawa as the doctor checks him out, but somehow finds the man waiting for him by the main entrance anyway.

"It's quicker this way," he says simply, and Katsuki doesn't have any excuse not to take him up on his ride. That's what I get for trying to help myself.

The second he reaches school, he runs off to the support lab, knocking with his elbow. As expected, no one else is there yet besides Hatsume, since it's a full ass half hour before the first bell.

"Jesus, Bakugou, did you run these over with a monster truck or something?" she asks when he shows her the damage. 

"All Might did this," he huffs. "If my hands were real, they probably would've been wrecked to shit forever. You can fix these, right?"

"Of course, who do ya think you're talking to?" She holds the right one up to the light. "That being said, if I can't fix them by the end of school, I'm gonna bring them home for my mom to look at, so they probably won't be ready until later. I'll give you spares in the meantime, but they won't have your quirk in them. Is that good with you?"

"It's better than nothing," he says, praying for the first time ever that they don't do something cool and flashy in hero training class.

"Alright, I'll spray them to match your skin tone and you'll be good to go." She pauses. "Make sure not to get murdered and lost in a ditch before I get your old hands back to you, alright? I won't be able to find you then."

"Sure, alright. I've gone this long without getting lost in a ditch." He waits a few minutes, then she returns with the spares. They're a little bigger than his usual hands, but unless Deku is keeping track of the length of his fingers now, he doubts anyone will notice. "Thanks."

"And try to avoid getting All Might Detroit Smash-ed in the fingers, will you? It'll help these last longer."

"I know, I know. You don't have to harp on me about it."

He heads off to his class, finding only Aizawa there in his sleeping bag. He tenses, waiting for another awkward conversation, but the man merely nods in his direction and curls up for a nap on the floor. Typical fucking Aizawa-sensei. 

The rest of the class shows up shortly after, and they seem surprised to find him still alive and breathing.

"Jeez, man, we all thought you were dead," Sparky whistles, leaning on his desk. "I would've died if it were me."

"That's because you're weak," Katsuki says bluntly. 

"That confirms it. It's really you, not a robot they designed to look like you. No robot could be so mean."

"With modern day technology, anything's possible," Soy Sauce Face chimes in, and Katsuki moves to blast them both before he remembers that he can't. He sits on his hands, glaring down at his desk. This'll be harder than I thought.

"I'm glad you're okay, Kacchan," Deku says, and Katsuki grits his teeth.

"If you didn't make it through the gate you'd be fucking dead right now," he hisses, not wanting to start anything major while his hands are under repair. The other boy shrinks away anyway, saving him the trouble.

Aizawa gives them a brief description of their training camp, then dismisses them early in an uncharacteristically kind gesture.

"We should all go to the mall!" Pinky suggests, and everyone else in class jumps on board with that idea. No fucking thanks. I'd rather stay home and stare at a wall for a few hours. 

Nobody is home when he arrives, which is the best thing that's happened to him all day. He makes himself food, works out, goes to the park for a run, takes a shower, and does all the things he usually has to squeeze in between homework assignments. 

As soon as he hears the front door open, he books it to his room, closing the door softly. 

"Food's on the table," he yells. "I ate already." Usually, this would be enough to get him out of interacting with his mother for at least a few hours. Today, however, he hears her footsteps growing closer and closer, until they stop just outside his door.

"I got a text from Asami a little while ago," she says, and even though her tone is even, Katsuki still freezes up. "She said your hands are ready. How about we go pick them up together?"

Chapter Text

Katsuki's breath stays caught in his throat the entire walk to the car. Every movement he makes feels shaky, stilted. His mom doesn't say a word either as she unlocks the door, and he instinctively sits in the backseat.

"No," she says, voice still cool as ice. "Come to the front. What am I, your chauffeur?" 

He climbs out of the car, reentering in the passenger seat, and that's when she grabs his hands. She studies them, bending the fingers herself, while Katsuki forgets how to breathe. His entire chest cramps up, he can feel his lungs begging for air, but the best he can do is shallow swallows. 

I'm screwed. I'm dead. His instincts are telling him to get out of the car immediately and run back into the house, lock his door behind him. Maybe even invoke his father's mercy and get his protection. He won't know anything about the situation, but his mother wouldn't yell at him for it in front of him, right?

Before he can do any of this, she releases his hands suddenly and starts the car, like she read his mind about bolting.

"How did this happen?" she asks, backing out of their driveway. Her eyes are stormy.

Katsuki squeezes the seat beneath him, willing the strength to breathe again. "I had my final exam today." His voice is tight, forced through an unwilling throat. It feels like he's being strangled, but there are no hands on his neck. "Against All Might. My hands got wrecked. But Hatsume said that she'll fix them by tomorrow."

"Oh, so it's that easy, huh. You use the hands, you break them, then bam, they get fixed for you. Is that how you see it?" Her voice grows sharper with every word, even while she doesn't look at him. "How fortunate for you, that all of your stupid mistakes are so easily fixed by me. How fortunate your life is."

It's not a new argument from her. Every so often she likes to bring up privilege, how spoiled he is, how she does everything for him. The cost of his prostheses is a common complaint from her, as if she forgets that she's the one who wanted them for him in the first place. As if for years, he wouldn't have given them back - quirk included! - for his old hands. 

Normally it's easy for him to talk back, to snap at her like she does at him, but today his throat is clogged with- fear? Impossible. He's ten times stronger than her, there's nothing she can do to him. And yet his eyes rapidly dart throughout the car, on alert for danger. Must be a side effect of the doctor's healing quirk. Elevated stress levels or whatever. It's the only way.

"How much did your hands cost?" She knows the price, probably has it tattooed on her so she never forgets. When he doesn't respond, she pushes his shoulder roughly. "Come on, tell me."

"43,958,200 yen," he says through gritted teeth, staring down at the hands that aren't his. His initial panic is now bleeding into red hot anger, bitter on his tongue.

"That's a buttfuck shitload of money, wouldn't you agree? That's how much I make in two years of work. Two full goddamn years. And you treat them like they're toys, breaking them and waiting for them to be fixed."

Katsuki wants to yell back that if she were the one fighting All Might, then the hands would be unfixable. How much effort and pain he put into the final exam, into everything at UA, and how she never says a single good word about him anyway. How she's always looking for something to complain about and this is the exact reason why he doesn't want anything to do with her. 

But, still, his jaw remains clamped shut.

"You weren't planning on telling me, were you," she says, not asks. "You were going to get Asami's daughter to fix them for you and continue on like nothing happened. Look me in the eyes, brat. You can't get anything past me."

Finally, he gets the strength to mutter, "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you." He's sure some mother somewhere does more good than harm, but his brings nothing but trouble with her. If he was bleeding out in a ditch, he'd sooner call the local curry place for help.

However, his moment of bravery was a big mistake. His mom pulls over to the side of the road, sharply parking the car. The moment before she slaps him, he can see the intent to hurt in her eyes, and yet he still does nothing but take the blow. Nobody in his whole class can land a hit on him like that. Not Icy Hot, not Ponytail, no one.

His eyes tear up from the sting, and he looks over at her in betrayal. Even when she's at her angriest, she usually keeps her hands to herself. 

"Don't forget, brat," she hisses, yanking his arm towards her. "These hands don't belong to you. I found the place, I bought them, I did everything for them, so they're my hands. And I gave them to you, you ungrateful shit, so that you could have a better life than being a quirkless piece of scum. You should be thanking me."

"Thanks," he says, and gets another slap for it. He was prepared for this one, though, and it hurts less. Everything hurts less the second time around.

"These are my hands," she repeats, "so I can take them back whenever I want. Then you'll really have nothing. If you think you're suffering now," she makes air quotes around the word suffering, like he's being absurd, "then try living without hands."

"You'll rot in jail," Katsuki replies, choking out the words. She can't take my hands. There's no way in fucking hell she can do that. "You think any of this is legal? If you try any of that on me, I'll turn you in. It's called child abuse, bitch."

"Oh, so it's child abuse for wanting to give my child a better life? You've never lacked anything. You're not neglected, you're not abused, you're just ungrateful."

She's so lacking in self awareness that Katsuki can do nothing but sit and stare, the pain in his cheek forgotten. The only reason he hasn't turned her in as of now is because if she goes down, she's taking his hero career with her. No sane woman would get the operation for her child, and Katsuki hasn't forgotten that. But the fact that she doesn't even see what she did wrong cinches it. The second he leaves UA, he's never coming home again.

She waits for him to say something else, but he's out of words. After a minute of silence, she starts the car up again, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. Katsuki's ears ring with her words. Privilege. Abuse. Ungrateful. Quirkless.

When they reach the building, Katsuki is struck with a wave of nausea. It's been eleven years since the last time he was here, but it looks exactly the same as it does in his nightmares. 

"Come on, Katsuki, get a move on," the hag says, turning off the car. "I'm not letting you sit this one out." Numbly, he follows behind her to the door. She knocks four times, steps back, and waits. A second later, the door swings open, and Katsuki inadvertently takes a step back.

"Mitsuki, it's been a while!" Asami booms, standing in the doorway. "And is that Katsuki? He's gotten so big, I swear. I mean I saw him at the sports festival - quite entertaining stuff - but it's been so long since I've seen him in person! How are you? How are the hands treating you?"

Katsuki doesn't want to look in her direction, much less answer her questions, but his mom elbows him sharply in the side. "Good. Until they broke."

His mom looks ready to slap him a third time, but Asami laughs. "Yes, Mei told me about that. That's why you're here, right? Trust me, the damage they sustained is nothing compared to some of the others that I've seen. They were such a simple fix, I'm sure Mei could've done them herself."

That would've saved me some fucking trouble. 

The two of them follow Asami inside, and Katsuki fights the urge to look around. He's sure it'll only make his nausea worse. 

"Here they are!" Asami exclaims, motioning him over, and he sees them lying on the operation table. He squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach. Nope. Nope nope fucking nope. "Come, sit, I'll have them on in a second."

"I can do them myself," he says, pulling at the left substitute hand. "I have practice."

"Just sit, Katsuki, it'll only take a second," his mom says, and he can't tell if she's actually snapping at him or if he's the only one who can hear the bite in her voice.

"I got it." He takes off the second hand with a practiced yank, setting them both down on the bed, which he does his best not to touch. The smell of antiseptics is making his eyes water, and he rubs his nose on his sleeve.

"If you insist," Asami says, passing him the first prosthesis, and Katsuki grabs it hungrily, attaching it to his arm. He hates how familiar it feels, like a childhood toy. She gives him the second one, and he grabs it the same way.

"Thanks," he says, because he doesn't want to start another worthless fight with the hag. "Are they the same as the old ones?"

"Well I wanted to try adding some new features, but Mei told me you wouldn't like that, so yes, they're the same," Asami says, shaking her head woefully. I'll have to remember to thank Hatsume later. I don't want this creep messing with my hands any more than she has to.

"Is Hatsume here?" He doesn't know what he'll do if she does show up, but he figures the more people in the room with his mom and Asami, the better. 

"Yes, she's upstairs," Asami says. "Working on her gadgets as usual. Do you want me to get her for you?"

Before Katsuki can say anything, his mom smiles and says, "Sorry, we're in a bit of a rush. Katsuki, you can see your friend tomorrow in school, okay? Thank you again, Asami, for fixing his hands. He'll make sure not to break them like this again, right?" It's more of a threat than a question.

"Yes," Katsuki says, and he fully means it. He's determined never to get into this situation again. The next time he sees Asami again, whenever it may be, will be too soon. "Thank you again." His words are scripted.

"Anytime, really," Asami says, and her eyes gleam. "It's part of the agreement we made when I first installed them. And if you do ever want to consider adding more features, I'll give you a great deal for them."

"I'll... keep that in mind." He turns to his mom, waiting for her to give him the go ahead to go to the car. She studies him back, looking from his eyes to his hands, then back to his eyes. Finally, she nods, and the two of them walk off. 

"You should be grateful that Asami was so nice about it," she says as they climb back inside. "We didn't have an appointment or anything, and you wanted them back as soon as possible."

"I am grateful." Katsuki's new approach is appeasement; if it'll shut his mom up, he'll say anything now. His head pounds rapidly, and he scrunches his eyes shut in an attempt to appease the migraine gods. Like that ever helped before.

"No you're not, brat. You're transparent as fuck, you get it from me." He winces at the thought of being anything like his mother, even though he knows their similarities are undeniable. "But that's okay, because you'll appreciate everything I've done for you one day, when you're the number one hero. And when that day comes, when they put your name at the top of the billboard, you'll know exactly who to thank in your speech."

Never in Katsuki's life did he want to be the number one hero less.

"Ok." He's trying his best not to sound annoyed, but it's exceedingly difficult, especially since half of him would prefer to smash his head against his window than let her win this verbal battle. He keeps taking hit after hit, and he can't do anything about it. It's exhausting.

"Don't talk to me like that." Suddenly, Katsuki wants nothing more than to laugh, and he presses his lips together as hard as he can to keep from doing that because he knows that it'll only get him in more trouble. There's nothing I can fucking do in this situation. Nothing that'll make her happy. She's practically talking to herself at this point. He stifles a laugh, even though the pain in his head is only getting worse, because he's never felt so useless.

They somehow make it home without Katsuki slipping up, and he dashes out of the car, ignoring his mom's call of "Where are you rushing off to, Katsuki?" The second he enters his room, he locks the door behind him, then adds a chair and a pair of dumbbells there for good measure. His lock is strong - he made sure of it when it was installed - but the more protection he adds, the more comfortable he feels.

He hears his mom pacing downstairs, greeting his dad, and he presses his ear to the door to listen in on their conversation. His dad asks what they were doing, his mom responds that she took him shoe shopping, his dad asks where the shoes are, his mom says that they didn't find any good ones. As always, her lies come out as smooth as butter.

Katsukis first instinct is to punch something, which he does. He doesn't bother stretching before he turns on his punching bag, unleashing rough punches that would never be useful in training. These blows are too emotion fueled to do any good but let off steam, and by the time he runs out of energy, his arms are trembling from the impacts.

Still, his chest burns with anger, helplessness, shame in his helplessness. It's not enough. I need to do more.

He doesn't want to go downstairs for obvious reasons, so he climbs out his window and hops down to the backyard, circling around to the front to start his usual running path. He left his headphones in his room, but he's not in the right mindset to enjoy music anyway. It'd all sound dissonant to him.

After twenty straight minutes of running, his body starts to complain in the form of bone-deep pain. He didn't warm up before exercising, so he knows that he'll be sore as shit in the morning, but he cant regret it yet. His heart burns for more, more release, more distraction. What the fuck else is there to do? 

He returns to his house, using the tree in his backyard to climb back up to his window. His clothes are gross and sweaty, so he throws them in the laundry and lays down on his bed. Usually when he's in a bad mood, a really bad mood, he trains until he can't move anymore and passes out for the night. But this is a different type of mad. This is a mad that makes his whole head buzz, and no matter how much he works out, he can't silence it.

Beside him, his phone vibrates, and he looks to see a message from Hatsume.

Hatsume: i heard you stopped by before. why didnt you come say hi? i wouldve showed you my latest baby, shes a looker. i dont want to spoil anything so i can show you tomorrow, but ill just say two words: synthetic fuel

At first, all he wants to do is snap at her. Synthetic fuel? Bitch, I just spent the better part of an hour being fucked up by my mom because of you. I don't want to hear anything you say ever again. And I didn't stop by because I was being held hostage by my mom while your mom tried to experiment on me.

Then, once the impulse to destroy one of the only healthy relationships in his life passes, he considers ignoring the message until he's in a better mood. He's about to go with that when he remembers last time he was super pissed about something, namely the sports festival. And that time too, he avoided everyone and stewed in his shittiness. And Hatsume showed up and talked about her "babies" and it somehow made him feel better. Distracted him and all that.

Katsuki's not about to start venting to her like a fucking baby, but that doesn't mean she's useless in this situation. Instead of texting her back, he calls her.

"What's up?" she asks, picking up almost immediately. 

Katsuki coughs, trying to get the hoarseness out of his throat. "I want to hear about your new tech."

Hatsume gasps loudly. "Really? Why?"

"I just do, okay?" he snaps. "If you don't want to talk about it-"

"No no no, of course I do. I'm just not used to it, yannow?" She laughs. "Anyway, do you want to hear just about the synthetic fuel, or everything I've been working on today? Because I'm actually fixing some new stuff up for people in your class and I think I'm really onto something with some of them."

Katsuki puts her on speaker, placing his phone on his bedside table and laying back down. "All of it. Tell me all of it."

"Okay, but you'll regret it in half an hour," she half-jokes, and launches into an explanation of fuel that she probably considers rudimentary, but no one outside the support course could ever hope to understand. Katsuki closes his eyes, letting it all wash over him. He's not exactly listening, but the words are taking up space in his head where the anger used to be anyway. 

So this is what friends are for, huh. They do what they do when you're feeling shitty, and you feel less shitty about it. Sure, his followers in middle school were fine to be around, but he would never turn to them for comfort, never entrust them with his emotions. Hatsume is different. So is Kirishima, and Iida, and maybe even Shinsou. He doesn't need them, but they're... helpful.

He folds hands over his heart and feels it beat through the synthetic skin and metal and whatever-else-the-fuck his hands are made of. It's Hatsume's voice, not his mom's, that inhabits his brain before he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Katsuki wakes up at ass o'clock in the morning - even earlier than he usually does - to pack for the training camp. By the time he's done, his duffel bag is crammed to bursting with clothes, training supplies, food, personal hygiene items-

"Why do you need all of this stuff?" his mom asks, watching him leave. Ideally he would've left without her knowing at all, but he didn't want to start something else with her so soon after their last 'disagreement,' so he told her when he was leaving. He hadn't expected her to wake up for it.

"I don't know what they'll make us do, so I want to be prepared."

"You've got your whole room in there." She's in one of her better moods, so shes joking around with him. Katsuki's still not in any mood to joke.

"Yeah." 

She sighs, bored with him. "Well, I don't need to tell you to be safe, but try not to get into trouble while you're there. Your school's nice to take you on a trip, so don't get kicked off of it."

Katsuki doesn't want to argue the difference between a trip and a training camp now, so he just nods and leaves the house. 

"Wait," the hag calls after him, "Don't you need a ride? You're not thinking of carrying that with you on the train, are you?"

"I'll be fine," he shouts back, walking faster. It's really not too heavy, and he'd take carrying it on foot over getting a ride from the hag. "Bye."

"Whatever," she says, closing their front door. "Bye." 

He somehow makes it to UA without breaking his back under the duffel, and he reaches the bus area before most of his class. The class 1-B kids are also going to the training camp, and a few of them are milling around. Unfortunately, that includes the loud whiny one from the sports festival, who he's done his best to avoid up until this moment.

"You!" he shouts, pointing to Katsuki. 

"if you try and talk to me again I'll break your kneecaps," Katsuki snaps, not ready to deal with whatever bullshit he wants. Sure, the boy caused him major anxiety the night after the sports festival, to the point where Katsuki considered not coming back to school, but that was before he remembered what a crackpot the boy was. If he said anything to anyone about his hands, no one would believe him. The most he can do is annoy Katsuki, which he does with great pleasure. Katsuki's considering getting a restraining order on him.

"Threatening someone isn't very heroic," the boy sniffs, and Katsuki flexes his hand into a fist, ready to tell him that threatening him is not only heroic, but a much needed public service. Before things can escalate, his babysitter classmate smacks him on the back of the head and drags him off. Gold medal to her. I should really learn her name. Maybe send her a gift basket or some shit like that. 

"Bakugou, over here!" he hears someone shout, and he turns to find Hatsume standing with Shinsou of all people, who looks dead on his feet.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asks, putting down his bag to walk over to them. "You don't have a training camp, do you?"

"They only give those to hero students," Shinsou says, yawning a little. "Hatsume wanted to say bye to you before you left on your training camp. I saw her in the hallway and she told me to come too."

Katsuki isn't that surprised to see Shinsou alongside Hatsume, since they've had lunch together a couple of times now. He's more surprised to see the boy this early in the morning, since, according to Shinsou, he usually sleeps until the first bell rings. Must've been Hatsume's pleading that got him here.

"What would the gen kids do on a training camp, take notes?" Katsuki asks, smirking. "And the support course kids would just build more robots."

"What are the hero kids going to do, punch shit?" Shinsou asks, tilting his head up to look down on him. It's a running joke between them, hero course vs support course. It reminds him of teasing his friends in middle school, except he doesn't secretly resent Shinsou and want to kill him sometimes.

"I think there should be a support course training camp," Hatsume says, eyes twinkling. "We could go to junkyards and try and build as many babies as we can out of the scraps we find."

"And die of tetanus a few days later," Katsuki says. "This is why you guys don't get a training camp. You'd get yourselves killed."

"And the hero kids wouldn't?" Shinsou asks, while Hatsume says, "Of course we'd prepare for tetanus, I get my shot every year."

"The smart ones wouldn't. I cant speak for my dumbass classmates." He looks behind him, just to make sure said dumbass classmates aren't eavesdropping on him. Lucky for him, none of them appear to be listening, which will save him a lot of shit on the long bus ride to wherever-the-fuck.

"Hey, you never know what could happen. Smart people get got just as often as the dumb ones," Hatsume says, shrugging. "I mean, that's what they teach us in the support course anyway."

"That's probably just what they teach you, since you experiment with gasoline all the time," Shinsou says.

"Good point."

More of the hero course students start showing up, and Katsuki sees Aizawa-sensei gathering them all on the side. "I think I have to go," he says. "I'll be back in a few days. Hatsume, if you spam my phone I'll block you"

"You can't block me in a way that matters," Hatsume sing songs, and Katsuki flips her off good-naturedly to let her know that even if he does block her, it'll only be temporary.

"See you around," Shinsou says, tugging Hatsume towards the building.

"Don't get yourself killed, hero boy," she calls behind her, and the two of them head off on the path towards the main building. Katsuki watches them go, only turning back to Aizawa once they disappear inside. His class is gathered in a big huddle, with Katsuki on the outside, and he observes them for a moment. They never stop talking, do they.

"You can start packing your bags into the bottom of the bus," Aizawa says, voice barely at talking level. Of course, nobody hears him besides for Katsuki.

"Class! Aizawa-sensei is trying to relay important information regarding our trip!" Iida shouts, silencing them all with a few chops of the hand. "It's important that we listen to whatever he has to say."

"You got it, class rep," Kaminari says. "What were you saying, sensei?"

Aizawa sighs hard enough to put out a candle. "I said you can load your stuff onto the bottom of the bus. Make sure your bags are balanced properly or everything will fall during the drive. If anyone needs help carrying their bag, just say so."

Since it's the hero course, nobody asks for help with their bags. Instead, it becomes a competition to see who can put in the most bags the fastest. At least, it's a competition in Katsuki's eyes.

"Out of my way, Tails," Katsuki says, carrying a bag in each arm. He doesn't even know who they belong to, but damn if he'll lose a test of strength. "And who the fuck put these in? They're gonna fall down and kill someone any second."

"That was Dark Shadow," Tokoyami says apologetically. "He gets overexcited when challenged."

"Well tell your bird shadow thing to watch it." Katsuki straightens out the teetering stack of bags and adds the two he's carrying. "That makes five for me. What about you, Octopus?" Since he has six arms and is considered the strongest in the class, Shouji is his biggest competition.

"Eight."

"What the fuck, Octopus. Are you pulling bags out of your ass?"

"I brought a couple of bags with me," Invisibitch confesses, and Katsuki peers into the bus's storage area to find no less than three pink duffel bags stacked together. 

"Why am I not fucking surprised." He reaches for another bag. "You're still not gonna win though."

"Shouji, please don't compete with him," Iida pleads. "You know how he gets with competitions." 

Kirishima pats him on the back. "There's nothing Shouji can do about it. If he doesn't compete with Bakugou, then he'll just compete with himself."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Katsuki grunts, throwing the bags into the bus. "You're just not competing because you're a pussy."

"Come on, bro, it was arm day yesterday," Kirishima whines. "I just wanna rest them for a little."

"It's arm day every day, bitch." Katsuki throws the next suitcase at him, and Kirishima barely catches it on time, hardening his arms.

"Bro." He throws it back, wincing. "Ow. You're the worst."

"No apologies," he says, catching the bag with a grin and loading it. "That's eight for me. Octopus?"

"Eleven."

"What the literal actual fuck."

Katsuki loses the competition in the end, a fact that leaves him steaming in his seat. He originally sat with Kirishima, but once the redhead realized that he would just be listening to music the whole time, he went to sit with Kaminari, leaving Katsuki with Tokoyami. He doesn't mind; at least the bird brain doesn't talk a lot.

During the ride, Hatsume texts him twice: once with a picture of her new "baby," the other asking him how the training camp is. Katsuki tells her that he's not there yet, its been half a fucking hour, replies with a thumbs up emoji to the gadget - a nest of wires and springs - and turns the music back on. 

An hour into the drive, the bus stops in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, and Aizawa-sensei tells them to leave the bus. Katsuki looks over the railing at the forest far below, then around at the empty stretch of nothing around him, and connects the dots a few seconds before it gets explained. We're not taking a lunch break. Of course we're not. UA doesn't do regular things like lunch breaks. His stomach growls, and he rubs it irritably. I'm not missing out on lunch today. I'll do what I have to do.

He doesn't anticipate being thrown over the railing by the cat lady's quirk, but luckily for him, his reflexes catch him before he faceplants into the dirt like a lot of his classmates. Instead, he catches himself with a few blasts and lands on his feet.

So I just need to reach the campsite and then I can eat. Easy enough. He looks up, ready to blast past the rest of his class, and finds himself eye to eye with a towering dirt creature. All thoughts of lunch are immediately forgotten, and he rubs his hands together expectantly. A good fight fills him up twice as well anyway.

He shoots through the first creature, laughing as it gets demolished. It's not a living creature, so he doesn't have to hold back at all with his firepower.

"Nice explosions, man," Kirishima says. "You showed that thing who's boss."

"It's not over yet." Katsuki jerks his head towards the rapidly-forming dirt monster ahead, which grows actual fucking wings and takes off into the treetops. "Come back here, fucker, and fight me head on!"

Either the dirt clod doesn't hear him, doesn't care, or - most likely - doesn't have the capabilities to understand human speech, because it stays up in the air, making flash appearances through the overbrush. 

"Whatever," he mutters, looking ahead to where more monsters are forming. "Not my problem now."

He leaves the flying monster for some other bastard to deal with and darts ahead towards the first one on the ground. At the same time, he sees a line of ice leading towards the same monster, freezing it in its tracks.

"Move, Icy Hot!" he shouts, taking its head off with a single blast. "You're in the way."

"Then choose a different route," Icy Hot replies, running towards the next one. Bastard. 

"Oh yeah? How about I go ahead and you eat my dust!" He puts extra power into his next blast, sending a cloud of dirt behind him which hopefully gets Icy Hot right in the kisser. No rules out here in the forest. He lands on the closest monster and starts pummeling it, first getting it in the eyes to disorient it, then starting in on some body shots. Before he can finish it off, he feels cold creep up his legs, and he looks down to find his feet fully encased in ice, sealing him in with the dirt beast.

"My mistake," Icy Hot says, thawing him out, but not before he gets the last blow in on the monster.

"Like hell it was a mistake," Katsuki spits. "Now I'm gonna accidentally blast your whole face off."

"I wouldn't waste fuel on that if I were you," Icy Hot says under his breath, and Katsuki freezes.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

For the first time that Katsuki can remember, Icy Hot looks mildly disconcerted. "Nothing. I misspoke." Before Katsuki can question him on it further, he's sliding away on his stupid homemade ice walkway, and Katsuki is left to deal with the new dirt monster that forms not a few feet away from him.

He couldn't have meant- No, fucker doesn't know a thing. Unless he heard something from the class 1-Bitch loser, but he wouldn't believe something from a rumor like that, and even that guy doesn't know how my hands work. I'm overthinking it, he was talking about my sweat. If I get so worked up about a throwaway line like that then I'll actually be wasting my energy.

Still, it's not Icy Hot's words that get him so much as his reaction when he realized he had heard it. Nothing. It's fucking nothing. He rubs his hands together again, then shakes one of his hands just to make sure he does have enough fuel. I'm covered. Stupid shit, making me lose it over nothing.

He loses sight of Icy Hot somewhere along the way, but he'd rather have no company than his company, so it works out. He fights enough monsters that by the time he reaches the campsite, his arms ache from the recoil of his explosions. He checks his phone. Way fucking past lunchtime. His stomach agrees. 

It does help to watch Deku get punched in the nuts. Not a lot, but it does. Whoever that kid is, he has my approval.

The food at the place is good at least, and Katsuki grabs himself a bowl of rice and a full plate of vegetables and meat. When he returns to his seat, he finds Iida on one side, and on the other...

"This rice is good," Icy Hot comments to nobody. Fucker must be so off his rocker that he's used to talking to himself. Katsuki turns to Iida, just so he'll have some excuse not to engage with Icy Hot, but he's already talking to Deku who's on his other side. If he had to choose between entering a conversation with Deku and staring off into the distance, he'd choose nothingness any day.

Icy Hot doesn't talk to him either, which is absolutely fantastic, until it isn't. Unanswered questions itch at Katsuki's skin, and the longer he sits next to the fucker, the more it pains him. Does he know or does he not? If I ask him straight out then I'll get a straight answer, but if he doesn't know then I'm signing myself up for trouble.

Katsuki watches carefully as he eats a fried pepper, face as blank as a field of freshly fallen snow. This is a boy who doesn't appear to have ever had a thought. Either he's a complete dumbass, or he's entirely unreadable, and Katsuki can't live alongside the latter.

Fuck it, I'm not dealing with this the whole trip.

"So before," he hisses, kicking Icy Hot to get his attention. "When you said something about fuel. What did you mean by that?"

Icy Hot blinks. "I meant that you would be wasting fuel by blasting me in the face. I don't see what's confusing about it."

I should've known. He's just a dumbass. 

"Whatever," Katsuki says, turning back to his food. Meat doesn't taste as good when he's agitated, so he's glad that he cleared it up now, at least. 

"I mean, I suppose Hatsume would have given you extra to take on this training camp, but I doubt you would want to use it on something trivial like revenge. On second thought, that does seem like something you'd do." He takes a sip of soup then, like he doesn't have a care in the world. Meanwhile, Katsuki drops a piece of meat into his lap, almost dropping his chopsticks entirely with it. It sits on his leg, steaming hot, but he ignores it for the time being. Or rather, he doesn't even register it. 

Hatsume. Hatsume. He said-

"Ok, now what the fuck did you just say?"