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I’m getting too old for this, was the one thought running on repeat through Kayama Nemuri’s head. She was only thirty-one but the stress of a pro hero was getting to her and making her feel twice her age. Working at the Sports Festival was only making her feel it more. It was exhausting keeping her hero persona up for so long. She wanted nothing more than to go home, change into a comfy sweater and relax. And maybe go out for drinks with Hizashi who would no doubt drag Shouta along.
They’d just finished the final tournament battle where she’d literally had to knock out Bakugou Katsuki so he couldn’t hurt the Todoroki boy. It was almost over, she thought to herself. The tournament was almost over. Then she could go home.
She cracked her whip, made a lewd joke, and kept the audience’s attention on her as the stagehands prepped for the awards ceremony.
But then the podium with the three winners appeared and Nemuri’s heart sank. The second and third place winners— Tokoyami and Todoroki— were standing peacefully in their places. But Bakugou Katsuki was chained and muzzled like a rabid animal. Not that he was trying to dispel that impression the way he was screaming and thrashing against the restraints. But this was a fifteen-year-old boy, Nemuri reminded herself. He was just a kid.
She hesitated, her whip lowered as she debated how to handle this. Even Hizashi in the announcer’s booth was taken aback, judging by his prolonged silence. UA was already under so much scrutiny after the USJ attack, she couldn’t add to that shitstorm by making a scene now. The show must go on, she thought grimly.
She pulled on her Midnight facade, spun the situation to her advantage, and continued with the ceremony. She played off All Might’s awkwardness when he arrived and listened to Hizashi’s somewhat subdued comments all while a teenager was chained to a pole right in front of her.
After Bakugou’s outburst at All Might, he seemed to calm down. But one look at his face told Nemuri that was far from the truth. His expression was twisted into something ugly and defiant like someone backed into a corner with no way out. His eyes were wide. He was scared. Nemuri hated herself in that moment.
As soon as All Might passed out the medals, Nemuri swept passed him, lightly touching Bakugou’s upper arm.
“Here to knock me out again?” Bakugou snapped, but his voice was lacking its usual bite.
“Bakugou here has had quite a long day, don’t you think?” Nemuri said with a teasing lilt. She was addressing the crowd and the cameras, but her eyes were on All Might, asking him to understand. “I’m going to escort him outside for some private time.”
All Might looked startled. “If you think that’s best.”
Nemuri nodded. She trusted him to finish up the ceremony and placate the crowd if need be. She untied Bakugou’s chains from around the pole. With a firm hand on his shoulder, she guided him out of the arena. As soon as they were out of sight, she allowed her anger to show on her face. She glared at the stagehands who rightfully cowered before her.
“Which one of you motherfuckers have the keys to this?”
Without a word, someone passed her the key. She dismissed them with a wave of her, but not before memorizing their faces. She would have Nedzu rain hell on them for what they’d put Bakugou through. What kind of person thought it was okay to tie up a teenager because they didn’t want an award? She pushed those thoughts away. She could deal with all that later. First, she had a kid to take care of.
Carefully, she eased the chains off of him. He was surprisingly pliant, not breathing a word. It was unsettling coming from the normally explosive blonde. The chains fell to the ground with a resounding clank echoing down the quiet hallway.
Nemuri crouched in front of Bakugou. "I'm going to take the muzzle off now, okay?"
He didn't respond, his gaze fixed on his feet. She sighed and reached up to remove the muzzle. He flinched. She swore under her breath and made sure to keep her movements slow and telegraphed. He didn't flinch again, but his breathing hitched. Finally, she got the muzzle off and threw it to the side. She winced when she saw the angry red marks it'd left behind on his face.
Bakugou worked his jaw to ease the stiffness. He rubbed his hands together and Nemuri could smell the burned, caramel scent of his sweat. He was pretty freaked out. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was working towards a panic attack.
Still crouched in front of him, she asked, "Bakugou— Katsuki, can you look at me, please?"
At the sound of his given name, he dragged his gaze from his feet to her face. His pupils were blown, his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears.
She fished a stress ball shaped like a cat out of one of her hidden pockets. Hizashi liked to stim with his hands so she'd taken to carrying it around with her. She pried apart Bakugou's hands and passed him the ball. She kept her touch minimal and light. He didn't seem to be the kind of person who liked touch, especially not when he was freaking out. Nemuri understood. She was the same way. The one— and only— time Hizashi had tried to hug her while she was having a panic attack, he'd ended up with a black eye.
Bakugou immediately started squeezing and rolling the stress ball around, his attention now focused completely on it. His breathing was still too shallow for Nemuri's liking. Time for a distraction.
"Hey, Bakugou, what's two plus two?"
"Four," he replied automatically.
"What's seven-point-two seconds in minutes?"
The ball squished between Bakugou's callused palms. Nemuri realized if he accidentally used his quirk she'd never get the ball back. Oh well.
"Point-twelve minutes."
Nemuri blinked. That was fast. "All right, seven thousand eight hundred and ninety-six minus three thousand three hundred and fifty-five."
"Four thousand five hundred and forty-one," Bakugou replied almost without thinking.
Nemuri gave him a few more problems, none of which he had any trouble with. He was obviously very intelligent, which was somewhat jarring considering his delinquent attitude. But his breathing was more natural now, his hands occupied with the stress ball, and his brain working overtime on the math problems.
"You back with me, kid?" she asked.
He blinked, obviously working through a mental fog. A little awareness returned to his gaze. He clicked his tongue. "I never fucking left."
Nemuri smirked. There was the Bakugou she knew. She cast a quick look around. All Might had obviously taken the other kids out some other exit because she and Bakugou were still alone in their secluded hallway.
"I want to tell you how sorry I am that you were put into that position. It never should have happened." Nemuri felt some of her anger return. "Rest assured the ones responsible will be severely punished.”
“Whatever,” he scoffed.
She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Bakugou sneered. “No, leave me the fuck alone.”
Nemuri nodded. She hadn’t really expected him to talk to her. His pride would probably prevent him from opening up to anybody. She would have to work on it. For now, she didn’t want him to be alone. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
Bakugou paused. His face softened marginally. “Shitty Hair.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Kirishima,” he growled as if asking for someone was a sign of weakness. In his mind it probably was.
“Your classmates should be gathered in your homeroom.” Shouta was going to talk to the class about their performance. Nemuri was definitely going to mention this incident to him before then. “Do you want to walk you there?”
Bakugou shook his head with a scowl.
Nemuri nodded easily. “If you ever needed anything, no matter how small, I will personally be there for you, okay?”
“Tch, whatever.” Without a word of thanks or goodbye, Bakugou stalked down the hallway. But he didn’t explode in her face, so Nemuri considered that a sign of gratitude in of itself.
He’d kept the stress ball, she noticed with a smile. She’d have to get a new one, but she had a feeling Bakugou needed it more. She straightened, her back protesting at her crouched position for so long. Bakugou needed help and guidance but he wouldn’t accept it easily. She’d have her work cut out for her.
Nemuri sighed. She was beginning to see why Shouta called his class problem children.