Chapter Text
Thinking back on it now, all that Izuku can remember of the first incident is the confusion that he felt as that first, unbeknownst to him at the time, fated crumpled up sheet of paper hit the back of his head.
Wrinkling his brow and frowning slightly, he had looked back over his shoulder only to be met with the blank stares of his UA classmates. Those, alongside Kacchan’s normal scowl, one so preen that Izuku could practically hear him saying, “The fuck are you lookin’ at, you damn nerd?”
Upon making eye contact with those piercing red eyes, he had whipped his head back around, a blush rising too his cheeks as he returned his attention to Present Mic’s lesson on syntax and pragmatics, linguistic facets that the greenette had long-since grown comfortable in an understanding of. Regardless, he jotted down notes on the matter as he always did, ignoring the burning feeling of eyes on the back of his neck whilst he did so.
It was embarrassing, really, to be so bothered by a childhood friend of his. Of course, they weren’t exactly friends anymore…unless they were? Izuku didn’t even know what to make about the whole incident at Ground Beta just a few weeks prior.
In fact, he hadn’t had much time to linger on the incident at all. The days he had spent in isolation with the Blonde cleaning the dorms had been particularly lonesome in that the two hadn’t spoken other than to communicate cleaning schedules to one another. And then he’d thrown himself right into an internship with Nighteye, and everything had gone to shit, for lack of better terms.
He’d almost died, and Kacchan had said not a single word to him. Had fought Overhaul, had witnessed Nighteye’s death, and had become something that he finally felt proud of, and not a word from the Blonde. It hurt. Of course it did, but Izuku wasn’t the type to complain, and so he didn’t.
That’s what his head was for, obviously. Under the radar, self-infliction of sadness, but that was just being dramatic, wasn’t it? Kacchan hadn’t truly been his friend in a long, long time, so why should he care if the Blonde paid no mind to him?
Why should he be bothered that Kacchan had so obviously thrown something at him?
He shouldn’t, and that was that.
Despite his inner turmoil, Izuku managed to continue through the lesson with his note quality unphased and was relieved when the end-bell finally rang through the air.
He stood, stretching his arms above his head innocently as he waited for Uraraka and Iida to catch up to him from the back of the classroom.
“Tch.” Izuku tried not to flinch as Kacchan walked past him, grumbling under his breath as normal, “Clean up your mess, Deku.”
Blinking in confusion, Izuku looked back to his desk, noticing the crumpled piece of paper that sat underneath it on the tiled floor, and for a moment, he almost felt angry.
That anger fizzled out as soon as it bloomed, however, as Uraraka and Iida came walking up to him, smiles adorning both of their faces, “Ready for lunch, Midoriya?”
Izuku nodded, allowing a small smile, “Yeah.”
Quickly, he bent down and grabbed the piece of paper, shoving it into his bag without a second thought, “I didn’t have time for a protein shake this morning after my run so I’m actually pretty hungry.”
“Aw, that’s no good, Deku!” Uraraka chided him with a clap on his shoulder as the trio made their way out of the classroom, “You gotta make sure you’re eating right!”
“Ochako is right, Midoriya, proper nutrition is the pathway to success, after all. In order to be the most efficient heroes, we must make sure that we’re taking care of our bodies!”
Izuku glanced to Uraraka, the two of them rolling their eyes playfully in unison as Iida began one of his usual ramblings.
Vaguely, Izuku found himself wondering when, exactly, Iida had begun to refer to his brunette friend by her first name.
--
The next day, the situation was much the same as, halfway through Present Mic’s PowerPoint on the application of semantics, Izuku heard Kacchan growl under his breath, followed by the unmistakable sound of a piece of paper being crushed in someone’s fist.
He should have known it was coming based on all of the tells, and yet he still flinched when the piece of paper thudded against the back of his head before falling casually to the ground at his feet.
Without sparing the Blonde a backward glance this time, he casually bent down and grabbed the paper ball, squeezing it slightly in his own palm before sighing it and shoving it into his bookbag. He’d throw it away later, alongside the one from the day before that he’d forgotten about in his haste, but for now he needed to focus.
To Izuku’s complete and utter chagrin, however, not even ten minutes after the second paper ball hit his head, a third piece shot over his shoulder and landed right on top of his notebook.
Biting his lip in frustration, he looked over his shoulder with the most menacing glare he could muster – one quick enough to where he wouldn’t have to meet the ruby eyes he was sure were there to glare back at him – and turned back to his work with a huff, shoving the third ball into his bag without a second thought.
--
To Izuku’s dismay, confusion, and…embarrassment? If he could even call it that, the Blonde continued throwing crumpled up sheets of paper at him, sometimes only once a day, sometimes twice, and almost always in Present Mic’s class. Though there had been an incident where a paper ball, smaller than the rest, had found its way to him in the middle of the hallway, arcing over his head and into his locker effortlessly.
Miraculously, nobody else had caught on, and if they had, they hadn’t said anything to the greenette. And, well, if they weren’t saying anything to Izuku, it was needless to say that they definitely weren’t saying anything to Kacchan about the matter
Each and every time, Izuku found himself mindlessly collecting the paper and putting it into his bookbag, which he’d meant to empty and rid of the evidence – he really had, but for some reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to throw the papers away. He’d found an extra bin in his closet, surprisingly not overrun with All Might figurines, and put them in there.
It had been going on for nearly three weeks, and Izuku knew he probably should have confronted the Blonde about it by now, but that was just another thing he couldn’t find it within himself to do.
As frustrating and embarrassing as it was, it was almost nice having Kacchan back, even if their only communication was implemented in, well, a rude way.
Sure, it was rude of Kacchan to constantly be throwing paper at him, but in a completely contradicting way, the Blonde had stopped seeming so angry. Not only towards Izuku, either. It was like the Blonde’s fire, only in the metaphorical sense, of course, had dimmed some in the days since this all had started. Things were almost calm.
And then, the crumpled-up pieces of paper had morphed, and were no longer just that.
The bell, signaling their lunch break had rang not even thirty seconds beforehand, and Izuku hadn’t even gathered his wits enough to stand yet, when Kacchan briskly walked past his desk, dropping what appeared to Izuku initially as a red and orange blob.
He followed the Blonde with his eyes as he swiftly made his way out of the classroom, before returning his attention to what he realized with wide eyes was an origami flame.
On the bottom of the flame, in black ink, was the day’s date, written in none other than Kacchan’s familiar scrawl.
Lips parted slightly, Izuku took a moment to marvel at the Blonde’s creation, a slight blush lighting his cheeks.
“What’s that, Deku?” Uraraka’s voice interjected his thoughts and nearly startled him out of his seat.
Frantically, he took hold of the flame and shoved it haphazardly into his bookbag, hoping that someone up above was looking over him and making sure he didn’t ruin it in the process.
“Oh, uh, n-nothing, Uraraka!” He squeaked out, standing up awkwardly and fumbling for the strap of his bookbag so that he could pull it onto his back.
“Is it another one of Bakugou’s notes?”
Izuku whipped around to look at Iida, “N-Notes?”
“Well, surely the pieces of paper he’s thrown at you have had writing on them?” Iida looked at him as if the implication was obvious, when to Izuku it most certainly was not, “I can’t see why else he would be so consistent, even for Bakugou that would be a pretty rudimentary version of bullying, no?”
Izuku felt like he might explode at that very moment as the lightbulb was finally screwed in, and everything made sense, “Oh my god.”