Chapter Text
It was difficult being back here.
It should be so familiar that his brain would not even register this as a significant moment. He spent most of his life here, of the most important parts anyway, the ones that made him. He knew the smell and the taste of the late spring air, the particular floral scent that rolled down from the sloping hills around the city each year. It took him back to beetle hunting in the woods and the cold splash of the ravine. And sometimes when he was feeling at his most unguarded, the memory, of a flicker of green curls in the corner of his eye, hurried footsteps, the beginnings of his head, turning round to greet the bearer.
In the distance over the heads of the commuters, at the top of the platform steps where he stood in front of the cool tiled mezzanine wall, UA loomed. A ghost in the distance, hazy through the filtered sunlight. He took a deep breath, and with it came the nostalgia he didn’t normally allow himself.
The screech and echo of rubber soles on the varnished gym floor. The calls of countless friends he’d not deserved but been given anyway. The lazy late summer walks to the campus food stalls. Firecracker smells in the deep indigo autumn air. Smokey barbeque, clicking locks of the dorm doors, the beep of his key card, still shiny and slightly worn down from use in a box somewhere back home, now deactivated. Cracks of the new building settling at 2am when he couldn’t sleep. Kirishima laughing through the wall at stupid videos. Golden sunlight filtering through the common area casting a safe soft glow over quiet groups of classmates chatting. Jasmine tea brewing in the kitchens.
He stopped himself. There was a tug of something in his stomach, fingers pressing damp misty circles onto the tiles. He was still on the mezzanine, in the train station.
He almost thought better about coming here. But it was time.
It was time he grew up. He didn’t want to be that Katsuki anymore. The Katsuki who didn’t care and didn’t want to come to these stupid things. The one who was dragged here by patient people or otherwise left early with some bullshit excuse.
With another long exhale, 8 seconds long as he’d been taught, he turned away from the beast of UA, stood proud atop the green mountain, and rejoined the sea of commuters and students rushing onto the downward escalators.
He wasn’t nervous.
That’s what he told himself as he checked his phone by the vending machines in the station entrance. Nerves meant insecurity, defensiveness, and the familiar trickle of hot white anger that his body remembers like a recurring nightmare. He almosts thinks twice again. Three times. A fourth. Eight seconds of breathing. He can do this.
Nothing might happen.
He knows this might be a non-day, a non-incident of non-outburst with no lingering ruminations, regrets, or dreams.
But then again it could be.
He could embarrass himself, lose his temper, run away, get overwhelmed. He hates this stuff as much as he craves it. Stockholm Syndrome. His head is a mess and it’s taken nearly 5 years to get it somewhat controllable. Five years of someone poking around and dragging a deep-seated, aged, rooted old mess of tree knots out of his core. And his insecurities and superiority complex and anger problems and neurological differences and shame and repression along with it.
Being aware that he has issues hadn’t made it any easier, but he’s always been the kind of person ripe for a challenge. Or he likes to make life hard for himself, apparently.
That’s why he doesn’t bottle it now, he breathes again, buys a cold coffee can from the machine, and sets off down the street after sending a confirmation text to the message in his inbox.
People pass him and a few give him a second look, he’s tried to make himself a little less ‘Ground Zero’ before arriving - his hair is tucked under a bucket hat and he tries to make his gait and face a little more relaxed, less ‘hero on duty’, more ‘average guy on a day out with friends’.
It’s difficult for a few reasons, mostly being that he’s always ‘hero on duty’. Even now, with the sun casting a warm and comfortable atmosphere over the familiar relaxed streets and the gaggles of
innocent and casual shoppers, children, salarymen, and teenagers.
Giggles filter through from an open window in an old-style house in a narrow street as he passes. There’s the smell of spicy ramen, and the thunk of the metal sieve against the side of the pot, hungry workers stood behind the curtain eating quickly as it sways in the light breeze. Even now, his head cannot be still, though he knows he isn’t alone in this. Trained heroes seldom relax, seldom switch off, the fear of not being on guard when danger or villains suddenly strike, an all too familiar feeling. The paranoia of being watched and followed, the fear of being the one that didn’t see it coming.
Especially for Katsuki, the memory of choking on sludge as he walked home, the feeling of being squashed and restrained in too small too dark of a place, tied to a chair in an unknown room, needing rescue. The lack of ability to help as All Might ended and began, a new era right in front of him. Out of a loop, not in sync with anyone. Arguing, anger: mistake after mistake after mistake . Death, a recurring threat, and leagues of villains before he’s even a legal adult. Ignorance and pushing away everyone and missing things again and again and again .
He startles as someone with green hair bumps into him and he whips around with a lump sudden in his throat. It’s not Deku.
He turns again, breath tight through his nose and carries on walking, trying to bring his shoulders back down to a relaxed state when he notices them tensed up under his ears.
Switching off for Katsuki didn’t come easy but he was trying .
A day out with friends is what this is, but it feels more like a mission. He’d be more comfortable with a mission.
He’s spent so long trying not to let others in and distance himself from it all, that he’s not sure how to be a part of it again now they’ve all been separated. He’s learning. He was serious about this part of himself, he was honest years ago when he’d told that child, scowl so familiar, that if you spend your time looking down on others that you’d miss your own weakness.
He’s still surprised sometimes that he even has friends, when he’s been how he has all those years. When he'd tried so hard not to feel anything but glory and control.
Some people are as stubborn as he is though. Wouldnt let him not be a part of it. Stubborn and oblivious and direct to a fault.
And still, he’s not sure what to make of it.
That is Deku this time.
He’s walking this way within a small stream of people and Katsuki’s stomach does something that he tries not to pay attention to.
He hasn’t noticed Katsuki yet, he’s looking down with wide eyes, laugher playing around his mouth. He’s paying vivid attention to the little girl he’s holding hands with. She’s almost skipping to keep up with him, clearly excited and in the middle of a story, bouncy on her heels, silver hair whipping around. She’s changed so much in these past few years.
Everyone has. Everyone has to change eventually, nobody is themselves at sixteen , or so his therapist said. Some people maybe never grew up - but he didn’t want to be one of those people. At first, he told himself this day was just a favor to Aizawa, to Eri, to Kirishima, anyone but him. It wasn’t though. He has something to prove and keep proving.
He just wishes this didn’t give him nausea. Three years of therapy and counting (mandatory now for all new heroes) and still this. He still feels the trickle of fear and insecurity, the thoughts that he’s weak, he automatically tries to push it down, before he remembers he shouldn’t. Don’t push it away: notice it, pause it, breathe, eight seconds, move on .
He’s stopped walking, tossing his coffee can into a waste bin and Deku predictably looks up at the movement, notices him, does that big stupid smile he does. Katsuki tries not to notice the tiny little wobble of nervousness in the corners of it, switch off.
Eri has bounded over and hugged Katsuki round the middle before he can get too tense. He smiles automatically, easier than it used to be, says ‘Hey,’ quietly and looks up again. Deku has a smile on his face that gives away he’s ever so slightly smug but trying not to be. Katsuki feels the old scowl settle back in on his own face. ‘Back to this again’ his inner critic sighs, but it’s ok, it’s mostly pretend now. He can slip into his role.
“Did Deku do this braid?” He says to Eri, letting the floaty silver locks slip between his fingers as she steps back from the hug and bounces between them. Deku opens his mouth to defend himself at Katsukis’ judgemental tone but Eri is already joining in, fingers almost over her lips in a mock whisper:
“I told him Urara-san could do it when we got there, but he tried anyway!” She’s grinning as she talks and Katsuki smirks, raises an eyebrow at Deku, who rolls his eyes.
“I’m being bullied by both of you now?” He relaxes a bit, tension dropping as Katsuki remembers they have this rhythm now, not like the old kind, still slightly strained but a better one than before.
“Never mind Uraraka, I’ll do it on the train. You’re not turning up with his clumsy handiwork. There are bumps everywhere.” He taunts, brushing a hand over the hair again, wonders when he ever became so comfortable with touch. She spins her head and scolds Deku, ‘I told you there was bumps!’ she laughs and the braids swing side to side with bits of errant hair falling out of the too loose weaving.
“I tried!” Deku sighs, takes her hand again and they start walking, Eri between them.
She doesn’t even think twice before taking Katsuki’s hand on her other side, humming to herself as she walks connecting the two of them.
It confuses Katsuki. He never expected her to take a shine to him even if he’d gotten closer with Deku over the years. He wasn’t one of the ones involved in all the Yakuza stuff those years ago; he’d hung back and avoided everyone after the rescue. Even when she lived with them during their school years - Izuku or Mirio or Aizawa helping her socialise and looking after her - he hadn’t tried to befriend her like most of the class had.
But she liked him. He’d tried to reason that she couldn’t, shouldn’t, but she did, undoubtedly. She’d stuck to him and asked after him a lot. He thinks maybe Deku has something to do with it - she calls him ‘Kacchan ’.
It made his blood boil at first when she’d called him that in the dorms years ago, and everyone around looked between them and Deku and started laughing at the look of surprise on his face. He’d not got angry with Eri though, even he’d had the tact not to yell at a recently rescued trauma victim. He’d made do with glares and hissed warnings at Deku but the name had stuck.
Though he loathes to admit and never would to anyone out loud, he likes it. He gets a small pang of something when she says it, that he still hasn’t found a name for.
He still shouts at Deku for calling him Kacchan though, they were grown-ass men and Deku has no tact at all, he does it on purpose, Katsuki is sure.
He’s not sure at what point he stopped being so reactive to everything Deku did. Maybe after the fight and the suspensions back in school. That night, after he and Deku had finally faced each other properly and laid it all out on the table. After the revelation and the telling off and the medical check-ups. When he was sent back to the dorms to his too-quiet room with the adrenaline wearing off and the guilt and weight of it all finally setting it, he’d let himself cry.
It was the hardest he’d cried in years, he’d wailed so hard he could barely stand, and the snot and tears fell thickly from his face in a disgusting mess, running down his chin to the floorboards where he’d fell to his knees. He’s sure that his neighbours heard him but thankfully they seemed to understand at the time not to intervene. Kirishima had waited till it was quiet before coming to Katsukis room and pulling him into a fierce hug, tears in his own eyes. Katsuki, in his worn-out, walls-down state had allowed it, encouraged it even, arms wrapped back almost desperately and soaking in his friends, brothers , empathetic embrace, crying all over again. It wasn’t the last time he’d cried, it had become easier since, but it was the last time like that. That was the night he’d purged, slept heavier than he ever had, and woke in the morning knowing that he had to change.
He’d fought so many times by Deku’s side now as equals, instead of on the other side looking down on him. It was impossible for something not to fall into place. At some point he’d stopped listening to the insecurity and started believing, hoping maybe, that Deku was sincere. That he genuinely just did the stupid shit he did because he was selfless, and liked him for whatever bizarre reason. Therapy helped.
He wasn’t letting go so easily though. Deku still confused him. Katsuki knows that his anger doesn’t make Deku nervous any more, though Deku is nervous around him sometimes for reasons he doesn’t understand.
He knows Deku goes from awkward, to blindly confident in the blink of an eye, but he doesn’t quite understand how he does it or if both sides of him are equally true.
He’s an enigma. A ball of twine. So tanged that no matter how many threads Katsuki followed or untied he’d never see the core.
“I’m surprised you didn’t come with the others.” Deku says quietly, bringing Katsuki back to the bustling streets, he’s not quite looking at him. Katsuki wonders, as always, if it’s a challenge - some kind of pointed comment to get him to reveal something - or just his own paranoia: old habits die hard.
“They’re busy, Eijiro’s coming much later.” He lowers his shoulders again. “Besides, Aizawa messaged to say someone was asking after me.” He glances at Eri, who bounces a little higher on her next step, Katsuki can see her smiling.
“I’m glad,” Deku starts. “That you came I mean.” Whether he means right now or to the meet up at all, Katsuki isn’t sure. He swallows the little bit of defensiveness that jumps to his throat at the insinuation of each.
“Yeah well, I knew you couldn’t be trusted with her alone, you’ve never had any style or finesse. Between your fine motor skills and Sensei’s taste in clothing, she never stood a chance.”
“Aw come on it’s not that bad!” Grimacing apologetically, he swings Eri’s arm and she swings Katsukis. He imagines Deku’s large scarred hands struggling with Eri’s fine hair, he can almost see the way he’d be sat: hunched over, legs crossed, tongue peeking out between teeth in concentration. Maybe he’d mutter, ‘Hold this one here. Right over left. Left over right. Not too tight. How did the video go again?’ And so on. Slippery silver strands escaping between stiff calloused fingers. Deku’s fists were made for punching things, not beauty. “Besides Aizawa-Sensei has got better at buying clothes.”
“I pick my own now!” Eri comments and Katsuki feels a laugh tumble out of his chest freely.
“Probably for the best.” He smirks, Deku laughs, he smiles.
It’s getting easier.
They’re back at the train station and the light changes from a warm late afternoon orange to a cool blue as they duck through the entrance and head for the subway station. He takes note of Deku asking Eri if she’s ok with the subway and gets the feeling it isn’t the first time he’s asked her when she says ‘I’m ok Deku.’ and gets ‘Alright alright, I know I worry too much.’
Katsuki remembers that she was living underground, hidden in a series of tunnels during her time with the Yakuza. He isn’t supposed to know but of course, he knows - Kirishima is his best friend.
“Have some faith idiot,” Katsuki grumbles as they descend down the long escalator. “She’s braver than you.”
“She is!” Deku agrees, Eri beams at him over her shoulder from where she’s holding on to the rails.
The train carriage is fairly quiet, Eri sits beside Deku on the end set of seats, shuffling back till her tiny feet dangle and swing above the floor and Katsuki stands by them holding on to the overhead handles. He watches her kicking feet as they set off. They assume the usual train etiquette of quiet stillness, not making eye contact with anyone in particular. The first part of the journey is through tunnels and isn’t so interesting. Eri leans back and rests a little, her feet are still swinging, Deku sits slightly turned towards her and taps his fingers on his knees, attentive but appearing relaxed. Katsuki looks past him to his reflection in the dark glass as the train rocks gently, mind wandering.
Back when he was at school, one afternoon when Eri was staying with their class, something odd had happened to him.
Summer had been in full swing, this one particularly muggy, and towards the latter end of the season, downright wet. A storm had battered their prefecture a couple of days before because of a huge typhoon making it’s way up from the south and some classes had been rearranged as people had holed and kept an eye on the announcements. A shared sense of relief had been felt late the previous night, as it was made certain than the typhoon had passed and they were in the clear.
Katsuki was sat alone that morning after, on a wide window-ledge in the common room. Knees up and shoulder leaning against the cool glass. It was too early for anyone else to be up. Even the usual early risers had not come down from the rooms yet, still tired after the late night. The sun was still rising and the sky was a soft pale muted blue; as if relieved to be done with all the blowing about. The common room was dark and silently still now the winds and rain had finally stopped - the evidence of which was strewn about the landscape outside the window, branches and debris littering the field. He hadn’t slept well. He was usually a heavy sleeper but these days he was struggling more and more and last night particularly, the wind had been so loud that he figured a lot of people wouldn’t have drifted off, many had opted for sleepovers and staying up to play board games together to distract themselves. As soon as the light began filtering through the balcony doors he had given up and wandered downstairs, needing something to distract him from the monotonous irritability bubbling around inside of himself.
The window was cool on his sweaty skin, the trees and bushes were blowing softly outside, calming like a moving painting. His eyelids were heavy and he let his temple press into the glass pane, fogging it a little as he listened to the birds outside trilling at each other.
It was because of his tired haze that he didn’t even notice her come in.
“Good morning Kacchan.” Eri was suddenly stood there in the dark and Katsuki blinked a few times as his eyes struggled to adjust from the bright light of the outside to the dark of the empty room, neck twinging from the speed he’d snapped it around.
“Hey.” He’d said, still unsure and awkward at that age, his scowl never did do much to dissuade Eri from talking to him.
“What are you looking at?” She’s walking towards him, and her bright hair in the dark room makes her appear almost ghostly.
“Nothing.” Katsuki grunts. “Where’s...” Deku? Togata? Aizawa? Anyone? She’s on the windowsill with him now, she’d hoisted herself up to kneel on it, small fingers pressing on the glass.
“Everyone is really sleepy.” Her voice is quiet, tired, she lowers her body and sits on her heels, Katsuki notes the bottoms of her feet are dusty, she must have forgotten to put on slippers. “I didn’t want to wake them up because they stayed awake all night already-ooh! A bird!”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Deku, Iida-san, Urara-san. Aw, it flew away.”
“Oh.”
She begins humming very quietly as he looks back out the window and watches her profile too out of the corner of his eye. The clouds and swaying trees are reflecting in her wide glassy eyes as she stares at the landscape. She’s very quiet, for a child of this age, she talks quite maturely and doesn’t babble incessantly like most. She seems content right now, to just sit by him on the ledge and watch the world outside. She doesn’t seem threatened by him.
“Are you ok?”
He startles as she suddenly turns her glassy eyes towards him, eyebrows slightly drawn in open concern.
Caught.
“Sorry.” He grumbles as he turns to the window, a knotted sensation forming in his already tired body.
“Why?” She asks quietly and he looks back at her, searching, only finds genuine confusion. Now he’s confused too.
“What?”
“Why are you feeling sorry?” She’s turning her body towards his now, one leg dangling off the edge of the sill. He bristles with anxiety, answers quickly.
“I’m not.”
“Oh...ok...” She stares at him a little. “You looked sad.”
“I’m tired.” He hoped his tone wasn’t too defensive, he wasn’t sure what to say to this child. He wants to leave but he isn’t sure if he can. It would be cowardly to leave, she’s just a kid. Should she even be roaming around on her own? She’d lived with Yakuza, she can probably handle looking after herself a bit...but would that be right? She’s still staring.
“Do you like sweets?”
“What? No.”
“Sometimes when I’m sad, I think of sweets and it makes me feel better. My favourite are the candy apples. Oh! I like birds too! Do you like birds?”
So much for her not being a babbler. The sudden barrage of information took longer to register than Katsuki would have liked. Stupid weather messing up his stupid sleep schedule.
“Birds are fine.” He says, she’s waiting for more of a response, he thinks. She must be used to Deku and Mirio’s endless chattering. “I...sweets are...I prefer spicy food.” He can’t believe he’s wishing Deku would come and save him from his, anyone really.
“Like curry!” She beams with newfound recognition. “Sensei gave me curry last week!” She’d leaned closer, her body weight resting on her hands on the sill and Katsuki finds himself leaning back a little, back against the wall.
“Yeah. Like curry.” He agrees stiffly, relieved at least that their lazy ass teacher didn’t give her the same shitty nutrient drinks he lived off himself. The knot in his chest tightens again as she smiles up at him, eyes round and wide. A sudden lurch of a memory flies through his mind right at the back. The falling sensation, yelling, cold shock of water and fear, an outstretched hand and a tangle of green curls. Shame and anger and guilt.
“Another one!” Eri points suddenly back out the window and he only just stops himself swearing. It’s a Rock Dove flapping past the building from the distant tree.
“It’s a Rock Dove.” He breaths, unsure of what else to say. Embarrassed by the fact a mere child is making him feel so exposed. He needs Kirishima to come and do the talking for him like he usually does.
“Rock Dove.” She repeats as if she likes the sound of the word. “What’s that one?” Tiny fingers point at a small gaggle of birds hopping on the grass.
“Starlings.” He tells and for reasons unknown (he blames lack of sleep), elaborates. “They jump on the ground to make the worms come up.”
“Why?”
“What do you m-so they can eat them.”
“Oh...ew!” Now she's giggling, and he realises he's doing something right so he carries on.
“That one’s a Magpie, by the fence. There’s usually more than one of them.”
“Woah.”
The sun rises more and more as he waits and spots birds with her, taking refuge in the quiet post-storm tranquillity. Eri is kneeling on her heels again, until she becomes fidgety, feet falling asleep. She leans sideways a little then, using his shin as a bit of a lean-to, and Katsuki is trying his best not to react or shift away even though he’s feeling flighty and confused.
“You know lots about birds.” She says it like she’s incredibly impressed with him.
“I like hiking...walking.” He corrects when he sees she doesn’t understand the work hiking. “You see a lot of birds when you go hiking in the forests and mountains.”
“Wow, I bet its pretty.” She leans against his leg more, she’s incredibly light. When he’d first looked at her, her pale skin and silver hair and slim body made her seem like she could fade away with a slight draft. Only her bright red eyes grounded her.
“It is.” He agrees. Most of the birds had started moving on now as more people - campus staff - began wading up the hill to start sorting out the debris before the day began.
She leans her head on his knee as they run out of birds to spot, she’s humming again and her fingertips are at her lips, a knuckle just barely in her mouth, looking younger than she was. He used to suck his thumb apparently before he’d been trained out of it, mother insistent. He doesn't remember. Her other hand is curled around the back of his calf and her head rests on his knee sleepily.
Why were kids so trusting? Eri especially should not be so comfortable around him, he’d never talked this much with her before. She should be scared of off-putting angry people, like him.
Her head snapped back up as Katsuki’s lifted from the wall - they heard Deku before they saw him.
Clumsy heavy, hurried footfall and the slightly frantic calls of Eri’s name got louder and louder before he skidded several feet through the doorway in one long slide and his darting eyes landed on the window.
Something strange happened, Katsuki laughed.
Deku had one sock on and his hair was an absolute mess, squashed and matted on one side so he had several inches of cowlick clumps sticking straight up. On the other side, a bobble gave him a small tuft. His face was covered in what looked like badly applied makeup, lipstick smeared across his jaw and eyeshadow half wiped off. Definitely a child's handiwork.
Katsuki couldn’t stop laughing .
“Kacchan! Uh...” Deku’s eyebrows didn’t seem to know whether to go for confused and embarrassed or annoyed and embarrassed, and so, flittered between both. For Katsuki this only made the situation funnier. He wondered if all of this was a dream and he was actually still asleep in his room where everything wasn’t so fucking weird and surreal.
“Calm down princess, she’s fine.” He smirked as Deku avoided his gaze. Eri jumped down from the window and bounded over to Deku and the little knot in Katsukis chest tightened with what he really hoped wasn’t jealously, he looked away from them both back to the window.
“Kacchan knows all the birds Deku!” Eri says, amazed. Katsuki can see her dragging Deku closer to him from the corner of his eye, ridiculous green hair becoming covered in the now golden sunbeams filtering through the glass.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! That one is a starling!”
She’s on the window again, one hand on Katsuki's knee for balance and the other on the window as she kneels. Deku is stood behind her, looking out. Katsuki feels suddenly more caged than ever.
“Kacchan has always been very clever,” Deku says quietly, avoiding his gaze still.
“They’re just birds, it’s nothing!” Katsuki snaps. He doesn’t want to be part of this. It was ok before, just him and Eri and the birds. Now its Deku too he feels likes he’s being pulled into something he doesn’t feel he should be a part of.
Deku changes the subject and it’s probably for the best.
“Are you ok Eri, were you looking for something? I’m sorry I didn’t wake up!”
“It’s ok, I went to the bathroom but then I was too awake to sleep. I didn’t want to wake up you or Urara or Iida-san so I went downstairs...was that ok?”
“Yes! Yes, that’s totally fine! You can go wherever you want in here, as long as you’re safe!” Deku’s hands were up in reassurance, Katsuki gave him a look that he hoped told him he was overcompensating. “Sorry, I just...” He shot Katsuki a glare. “It’s fine I’m just being a big dummy, you're clearly brave enough now to go walking around on your own.” He’s sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck.
“Were you scared?” She still looked guilty. Nice one Deku.
“He’s scared of everything.” Katsuki cut in. “You weren’t scared were you?”
“Nope.” She answers honestly and her blunt directness strikes a chord with him.
“There then.”
Deku looks between them and Katsuki bristles at the goofy little smile he’s letting spread across his face, sighs in annoyance when Deku says ‘thanks’ for some reason. The quiet is awkward and he turns back to the cool familiarity of the window.
“Sensei said that he’d be coming around lunchtime to pick you up Eri-chan,” Deku tells her quietly. “What do you want to do this morning?”
“Is it ok to go outside again?” She turns a little too quickly, balance not quite developed yet and almost tumbles from the window but Katsuki sticks his leg forward to stop it as Deku leans forward to grab her.
“Whoops! Are you ok?” He asks, too loud, breaking their nice little quiet bubble by the window. The worried look is back and Katsuki notices the change in Eri as her body language becomes suddenly timid and stiff. Kids are sensitive, they embarrass easily. Deku is an idiot.
“She’s fine Deku, how many times do you trip over daily?!” He hopes the glare gets across that he needs to stop overreacting to everything she does, the kid is going to get a complex.
“A lot!" Luckily he and Deku had always had the weird power to communicate things without actually saying them, for better or worse. There's not a lot of people he trusts other than Deku to read his mind during a fight, though he’d never say so. "Eri did you know on my first day at school when I first met Uraraka-chan it was because I fell down and she made me float so I didn’t break my face on the floor!” He takes the hint and laughs at himself instead. It works, Eri smiles, unsure if she’s allowed but surer when Katsuki snorts too. “But. Yeah. We can go outside today - the storm is all done. We can go get breakfast if you like, the others are waking up now too.”
“Can Kacchan come too?”
Katsuki’s stomach lurches. He doesn’t want to be part of this, he doesn’t do breakfasts with Deku and his crew. Deku is already stuttering wondering what to say and Katsuki’s cheeks are heating up. Kids make everything complicated, unaware of the strange social barriers that teenagers and adults have. Why is this a big deal? It’s not like he and Eri are best friends just because of some birds, she won't mind.
He’s about to let her down gently before Deku can answer for him. Only before he can, she turns, and her big red tired eyes meet his own.
He can’t do it.
He’s been coerced by a fucking kindergartner. He’s literally about to agree to breakfast with Deku and a load of other people he hardly voluntarily talks to just because this kid has turned her big shiny puppy-dog eyes onto him. He’s fucked.
“I think that Kacchan might be busy to-”
“Don’t answer for me, nerd! Who said I wasn’t coming?!” The knot in his chest is tighter than ever. He can’t handle this any more. He turns and steps off the window, pushes past Deku. “I’m hungry so you better hurry up. We’ve been waiting for your lazy ass since sunrise.” He can hear more people coming down the stairway. “And wash your dumb face, you’ve ruined your makeup drooling into your pillow all morning.” He can hear Eri giggling as he leaves the room, telling Deku that his face is all smudged.
He still thinks about it a lot.
-
He’s being spoken to.
They’re out of the tunnels now and the train is roaming through the less densely populated areas on the edges of the town, covered in mountains and forests and the odd temple nestled high up dotted amongst the peaks. Deku and Eri are turned in their seats towards the windows and are spotting things as they hurtle through the suburbs.
“Kacchan look! A Kite!” Eri’s head snaps around and Katsuki snorts as more hair falls from the braid. She’s grown a lot since the window and the storm, not in size but in presence and attitude. She’s grown into more of a regular child, surer and steadier. He can’t imagine her tumbling from a seat or a windowsill now, her balance and muscular system had steadily been improving and she can now curl up and twist around on the train chair with the rocking of the carriage without any threat of a wobble. He knows Aizawa will have been training her, disguising it as play. She’s still a tiny thing though, still curls up into a little ball a lot and sometimes chews on her fingers when tired, still hums when content.
He bends to peer through the window behind her and sees the large bird hovering over a field.
“Yeah, a Black Kite.” He sighs, smirks at Izuku who looks far too ‘happy families’ right now. Katsuki in all his destructive insecurity has to challenge it somehow. “Shift over onto Deku a sec Eri, I’m sorting out these sorry excuse for braids.”
She hums in agreement, clambering over into Deku’s lap and Katsuki sits in Eri’s seat, gets to work removing the hair ties and wipes his hands on his jeans before brushing his fingers through the shiny locks. He’s in control of his quirk enough as an adult to stop the flow of sweat to his palms when it isn’t needed, but he does it more out of habit than anything.
There’s something in this. This calm quiet domestic closeness that falls over the three of them each time, easy and comforting when it ought not to be. In his youth he would have struggled away from its embrace, kicking and screaming. But now he’s fluttering on the edge of it, trapped by old habits but desperately wanting to be inside too. Often he’s just in the perimeter, not quite in the hot, molten core of this thing. This nameless, uncontrollable thing. He finds himself more and more these days, inching forward towards it, away from the safe edge. Wanting it to burn him alive, before he has a chance to notice and retreat.
He catches Deku watching him fondly and the knot in his chest is back like he’s a teenager again. He’s slipping over in the perimeter and it’s one of those moments where he can lean into it or resolutely stand his ground. These moments have only increased over the years. Even more, since they've been working together. He’s reached the end of the now immaculate left braid in Eri’s hair.
“Pass me the hair tie.” Katsuki says quietly, holding Deku’s gaze. He can see the molten core glimmering behind it as the sun reflects through the green irises. He’s a hero. He wants in on this thing. He’s not weak for wanting. He always wants.
From Deku, he’s always got what he needs.
He’s handing Katsuki the tie and the first braid is secured. He moves on to the other side, Eri turns slightly in Deku’s lap to give him room, nods shyly when a tiny older woman sat opposite them gives her a warm smile. Deku smiles at the grandma in return, she probably thinks they’re a family.
Katsuki sighs. In a way, they are.
“Ok, I admit, they look way better.” Deku laughs when Katsuki is done. Eri shakes her head experimentally and they swing around her, swatting them both with no loose strands. She takes out a small mirror from her little bag to inspect them, tongue peeking out. She concentrates like Deku does when he’s doing paperwork.
“Are they too tight?” Katsuki asks.
“No! They’re good. What does the back look like?”
“Here.” He takes out his phone and takes a photo for her, brings his arm round to the front of her so she can see properly, her hands move over his on the phone, tiny arm resting over his whole thing smaller than his forearm. Deku is leaning over her shoulder, scarred arms wrapping around her loosely, lips almost pressed into the back of her head, he looks so happy. Katsuki is melting.
“Woah!” She is delighted. Katsuki may have been showing off a little, with the wavy pattern he’s managed to work into the crown of her head with the braids before they dangle off down her shoulders. Phone away again, she leans back into Deku’s chest and Katsuki stays put on the chair, close beside them. Still melting from the molten core of them inside the perimeter walls.
He leans towards them.