Work Text:
i
“Uravity!”
The call comes from behind her, and Ochako struggles to sit up, glancing backward. A guy around her age is running up, the white and green of his costume unfamiliar. She tenses, ready to fight even though her leg is impaled through with rubble.
“Uravity, please relax!” He says as he approaches, “I’m Triage!”
She stills, the name familiar. That’s Recovery Girl’s apprentice. He’s mostly decked out in white, a little shawl-like top with green pluses on it. His pants are green too, tucked into white combat boots. The bag he carries is decorated with Recovery Girl’s syringe, but in green. There’s something almost familiar about him, but he did go to UA.
“You doing okay?” Triage asks, falling to his knees and peering at her leg.
Ochako nods. The pain is just starting to register, her adrenaline drained. Sharp shocks of it shoot through the hole the spike made. She gulps, attempting not to move. It’s hard, her leg wants to twitch, she wants to pull away from the throbbing ache.
Triage breathes deeply beside her.
“Okay, this is gonna hurt. Brace yourself.” He looks directly at her, green eyes narrowed. Ochako nods, her lips pressed so tight she’s sure they’re white.
Triage takes the spike and rips it out with surprising strength. Ochako screeches, falling back down, the pain ricocheting up. Her head spins and a familiar nausea bubbles up in her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he says and she tries to nod, but her head is still swimming and she can’t tell what’s up or down
His hands touch her leg lightly, right where the hole is. Ochako whines, pain radiating from the soft touch. What little vision she has is still blurry, but she tries to angle her head towards where the healing hero is sitting.
“Don’t worry, my Quirk will destroy any inorganic material left behind. It’s been thoroughly tested.” He says, a slight lilt in his voice, an inside joke Ochako doesn’t have context for.
And then-
Warmth.
Like sitting under a kotatsu on a cold day. The pain flickers away, dissolving as a warm green gow envelopes her leg. Ochako sighs in relief, her whole body slumping in relaxation as Triage finishes up.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, eyes fluttering open. She hadn’t even realized that she’d closed them.
A laugh. “It’s just my job,” Triage says sheepishly.
Ochako sits up again, flexing her newly healed leg.
“Still. My leg would be a goner without you!” Her leg is fine, the movement only sending a soft tingle, like she’s sat for too long.
Triage flushes, freckles covered by brilliant red. Ochako stands and he makes an aborted motion, like to offer a hand. She has it, though, and stands easily, bouncing a bit.
“Woah! Be careful! The nerves will be a little tender.”
It’s Ochako’s turn to flush now and a small nervous giggle pops out. “Sorry, sensei! I’ll be careful, promise!” She salutes and Triage squeaks.
“I’m not- not technically a doctor, even if I do have the training, I don’t actually have the title, it’s a little more complicated with healing Quirks and Pro Hero laws-”
Ochako can’t help snickering, Triage’s mouth snapping shut when it bubbles out.
“Sorry! Sorry! You’re just- really cool, you know?”
He blinks at her, eyes impossibly wide.
“Cool…?”
“Yep! A super cool almost-doctor Pro Hero!” She says, pumping her fist in the air.
He waves his hands in front of himself, as if to ward her off. “No! No! You’re the super cool Pro Hero! You’re combat skills and rescue numbers are top notch, I’m surprised you aren’t higher ranked!”
“Would you two losers stop complimenting each other and get to work?”
Ochako startles, whipping around. The words obviously came from Bakugou, whose blasting past them.
“I’m-”
“I’m-”
They both start and stop, bursting out laughing.
“I’m gonna go!” Triage says, hiding his face, It was nice to meet you, Uravity!”
Ochako nods, smirking and pressing her fingers against her stomach to float upwards.
“You too, Triage! Good luck!”
“You too!”
ii
Hitoshi has had better days. Blood is coming from...everywhere, really. His costume is soaked in it and he limps through the alleyways, hand pressed against the grimy brick.
Usually his Quirk, combat skills, and support gear are enough to patrol without much worry.
Then there are nights like this one, where two gang members caught him off guard and they must have been warned, because one had earplugs. It didn’t help that both had long-range Quirks, making his combat skills almost useless.
In the end he’d prevailed, handed the knocked out villains to the cops, and limped away. If he goes to the hospital there’s no telling how long they’ll keep him. Hitoshi has spent his entire time in heroics catching up, he doesn’t need two times in one month at the hospital.
He’s almost at his apartment, anyway. And he’s doing fine-
A sharp red-hot line of pain shoots from his hip to just under the top of his ribs and Hitoshi stumbles, falling to the ground. The motion jars him further, the pain leaving him breathless.
Hitoshi grunts, his hand coming to curl around the wound. A plaintive meow comes from his right and he glances over, panting.
The neighborhood stray sits, meowing. The cat’s yellow coat is dingy, as usual. Hitoshi has tried to catch it before, but it’s never let him get this close before.
“Hey asshole, now’s when you pick to come say hi?” He scowls, trying to leverage himself up. It fails and he falls on his side. Hitoshi is sweating, body shivering as pain pulsates through his torso.
He mutters a curse and the cat meows louder.
“Yeah,” Hitoshi coughs, “Heard you the first time.”
“Hello?” A voice calls from the edge of the alleyway entrance.
Hitoshi tenses. It’ll be hard to use his capture weapon like this, but not impossible.The cat perks up, trotting towards the voice.
“Coconut?” The guy says and comes into the alley. He’s wearing a simple sweater over jeans, but as he comes closer Hitoshi realizes he’s seen the guy before.
At UA. Of course, Hitoshi has no idea what department the other man was in, considering it wasn’t Heroics or Gen Ed. Support or Management, maybe? They’d talked maybe once or twice by the gym when Hitoshi had still been in Gen Ed.
Regardless, he can recognize the green curly hair and freckled face that reveals itself under the dim light someone’s put on their backdoor. It’s more probable than not that a UA student would help, even if they aren’t a hero, so he tries to sit up instead of stand.
“Hey,” Hitoshi calls out weakly, the guy’s head whipping around.
“Oh,” he says, alarmed, “Are you stable?”
Not okay, but stable?
Interesting word choice.
“Yeah, can’t stand, though,” Hitoshi admits, wincing. Greenie comes over, crouching beside Hitoshi and his hands start hovering awkwardly.
“Do you-” he starts, biting his lip briefly, “Do you want me to help? Naomasa said you might be in trouble, but I didn’t expect-”
“Detective Naomasa?” Hitoshi interrupts, eyebrows shooting up.
The other laughs, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, we work together a lot! He uh...asked me to check on you, said you looked bad. But I lost track of you, thankfully Coconut was here!”
“That fucking snitch!” Hitoshi snarls. He’s not actually mad, though, considering he’s laying in a dirty alley practically bleeding to death.
Greenie smiles sympathetically. “He worries. Anyway,” He continues, pressing gentle hands on Hitoshi’s back, “You want help?”
“Uh,” Hitoshi mumbles, “Yeah, would be appreciated.”
Greenie smiles wider and then his hands glow-
Which- hey, Quirk usage is illegal, so Hitoshi opens his mouth to protest when warmth floods through his system, each little pinprick of pain washing away under the flood of green light.
His arm gives out from under him, more out of the sheer bonelessness than anything else.
“Oh, oops,” says the man over him.
“You’re Triage, aren’t you?” Hitoshi says into the concrete. The Quirk doesn’t lie, though Hitoshi hasn’t ever been on the receiving end of it.
A giggle. “Guilty as charged,” Triage says, moving his hands up to the lacerations further on Hitoshi’s torso. The warmth follows them and a sigh slips past Hitoshi’s lips.
The last of the pain washes away and Hitoshi flexes, pleased at the new range of motion. Triage helps him up, though Hitoshi frowns when he notices the other’s trembling hand.
“You okay?” He asks.
Triage nods, though he looks pale under the limited light.
“I’m fine! Just a little Quirk exhaustion, don’t worry!”
“Well now I feel bad,” Hitoshi says, “Walk with me to my apartment, I’ll get some coffee for you.”
“Oh!” Triage waves a shaky hand, “You don’t have to-”
“Don’t have to do anything, and I have way too much coffee, might as well share.”
Triage bites his lip but nods.
“My name is Midoriya Izuku, by the way!”
“Shinsou Hitoshi, nice to meet you.”
iii
It’s getting harder to breathe.
It’s getting harder to breathe and Momo knows she’s panicking.
Momo gasps, her chest refusing to expand, a sharp stabbing pain radiating from the area. Kicked into a building, she’d known the injury hadn’t been good, but this was something else. Black edges at her vision, the world trying to grey out.
Her hand scrabbles at the ground and she tries to crawl forward, but is unable, pinned by pain.
“H-h-” she manages, coughing. The motion is excruciating and tears prick at her eyes. Her teammates are rightfully focused on the villain, unable to get to her. The damage from the Quirks flying around prevent the paramedics from closing in.
Momo is alone.
Something coppery slides into her mouth.
She refuses to think about what it is.
Footsteps.
Momo glances up as much as she’s able, eyes flying wide open as the villain’s partner sneers at her, walking closer.
She tries to form- something- anything, under her skin, her Quirk pooling and bubbling. But the movement is enough to jar her into another coughing fit, breaking her concentration. Blood flicks out and her chest throbs in agony.
“Now you know how it feels to be helpless,” the villain sneers, a viscous purple fluid forming on his hands as he leans towards her. Momo shuts her eyes, tensing.
A thud. A smack.
She opens her eyes again. Someone is standing in front of her. The white jacket and green hair is a combination she’s vaguely familiar with.
Triage flips his staff around, getting into a fighting position Momo knows well.
“Go away,” he says, voice cold.
The villain sneers, leaping forward. Triage is quick though, dodging and smacking him in the side. They dance for a minute, but it’s clear that Triage has far more combat training, easily knocking the villain out with a quick blow to the head.
He pants a moment, then turns to Momo.
“Sorry!” He says, rushing over. Triage drops to his knees, sliding the last bit of distance between them.
Momo tries to say thank you, or anything, really. But she chokes again, body trying to curl in on itself, but the pain too overwhelming.
Triage frowns, placing a hand just under her collarbone. A warm green glow envelopes his hand, nothing threatening like the villain before. She can almost imagine her ribs knitting back together as the cascade of tingling energy rushes down.
She gasps, airway free. Spitting up the rest of the blood coating her mouth, Momo sits up, turning to Triage to thank him properly.
Except he sways forward, eyes fluttering shut.
Momo catches him, his forehead bumping against her shoulder.
“Triage?” She asks, voice still cracking a bit.
He doesn’t say anything, his breathing unsteady. There’s a thin film of sweat on his forehead, causing his head to start to slide sideways off of her shoulder. Momo tilts him back, pressing against the pulse in his neck.
Too rapid, is her immediate impression. His eyes flick back open, the eyelashes tickling her arm.
“Huh-”
“I think you’ve exhausted yourself on me,” Momo says, “I apologize.”
“No, no ‘s fine,” he slurs, trying to sit back up.
“Stop that,” she says, trying to put her class president voice to good use, “Quirk exhaustion isn’t anything to ignore!”
Triage freezes, but he smiles.
“S’pose you’re righ’,” he says, “S’rry.”
She keeps an eye on the villain, letting Triage recover his energy. He leans back and sighs, though there’s a faint flush to his cheeks still.
“Thank you,” Triage says.
Momo blinks.
“Well, you saved me, after all!” She gives a small bow.
“No, no-”
She pokes him. Right on the tip of the nose.
“We’re both Pros! Saving people is our duty, even if it is a fellow Pro!”
“Ah,” he says, “You’re right.”
She nods, looking out at the battlefield.
“We should probably take care of that guy and rejoin the fight, Creati, “ Triage says, a small smirk on his face. Momo nods, standing. She offers a hand to Triage and he takes it, letting Momo help him up.
“You know,” she says, “Your staff work was familiar. Am I right in thinking…”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yep! Midnight-sensei trained me on it! Good eye!”
Momo resists the urge to squeal.
“She trained me too, I had private tutors before but…”
“They aren’t the same as the pros.”
“Exactly!”
She flushes, ducking her head. The embarrassment is easier to overcome, though, when she notices him doing the exact same thing.
iv
(- 3 years)
Mirio frowns, rolling his shoulder. Nejire had knocked him clear against the training grounds and his arm came out the worse for it. Not that he didn’t appreciate the rough treatment. Scraping his way back into fighting shape was hard, especially now that his friends were already Pros.
Nejire had done him a huge favor in coming back to UA with her busy schedule. But remembering to turn on his Quirk...the waves of frustration were hard to deal with, but he could manage it. Especially with his previous kohais about to graduate! He couldn’t let them down, after all!
Recovery Girl’s office is the same as ever and he peeks in, surprised not to see the older woman at her desk, but instead a student.
“...Hello?” Mirio says. Recovery Girl wouldn’t let just anyone in her chair. Whoever this is, is gonna prove interesting.
The boy at the desk startles, fumbling with the book he’s reading.
“Ah, hello! Come in!” He stands, patting his uniform pants awkwardly.
Mirio lets himself into the room.
“Hello! I’m Togata Mirio!”
“Ah! Yes!” The boy bows. “I’m Midoriya Izuku! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
It’s no surprise that Midoriya recognizes him. The whole of UA does, at this point. Mirio is more relieved that Midoriya doesn’t seem to want to press it.
“Did you need Recovery Girl?” Midoriya asks, head tilting.
“Oh, yeah!” Mirio gestures towards his right arm with his left. “Took a hit at the training grounds.”
Midoriya blinks.
“That’s...broken?”
“Probably!”
“No,” he says, frowning, “Definitely.”
Mirio glances at his arm again. It is rather twisted. The pain is bearable, though. Nothing he hasn’t felt before, or worse.
Midoriya sighs, obviously put-upon.
“Heroes,” he mutters, walking towards Mirio. He sounds so much like Recovery Girl that Mirio has to stifle a chuckle.
Midoriya stares at Mirio’s busted arm for a beat of a second.
“Recovery Girl is out for the rest of the day...but if you don’t mind...I could use my Quirk? It would just...be faster?”
He hesitantly looks up at Mirio.
“Don’t you need to have a Provisional Licence to use your Quirk?” Mirio asks. He isn’t judgemental about it, but he hasn’t seen Midoriya in the Heroics classes and doesn’t want to get him into trouble.
“I’m Recovery Girl’s assistant! I didn’t get to take the Provisionals with everyone else, but I did take them!”
“Wow!” Mirio says, “All by yourself? That’s impressive!”
Midoriya flushes. “I guess? I just did it with the make-up group…”
“Then I retract my statement! Learning to work with strangers is impressive!”
“Ah!” He hides his face. A little like Tamaki, then.
“You’re pretty impressive, yourself,” Midoriya mumbles under his hands, “So you don’t need to compliment me!”
“If you say so!” Mirio says, not intending on stopping.
“A- anyway! Let me heal your arm!”
He lightly places his hand on Mirio’s arm. The sensation isn’t like Recovery Girl’s at all, instead of just a simple release of pain, a warm sensation crawls through, almost like an analgesic. Midoriya releases his arm, backing up a few paces.
“Hmm, your Quirk isn’t like Recovery Girls’, is it?” Mirio asks, staring at his arm.
“Oh! You noticed!” Izuku squeaks.
“I’m not the best at analyzing Quirks,” Mirio starts, “But my friend Nejire is good at it and a little rubbed off on me.”
“Really? I haven’t met anyone too interested in it. And Nejire...is that Nejire-chan?” Midoriya looks a little lost. A little lonely. He must be in special classes, or shuttled around. Not enough time to make bonds.
“I can let you meet her,” he says, “She’d love you, I bet. And yep! She turned Pro a year ago!”
“Wow…” he gasps, “She’s already in the top forty!”
“And still a dork,” Mirio adds, leaning against the wall. He probably should go back to training, but Nejire already left and well…
Midoriya looks a little less lonely already.
v
(- 6 years)
Toshinori frowns at the child before him. He’s running low on time, on energy, on the ever-present urge to push harder and harder. He should leap away, find somewhere to de-transform, and take the villain to the Police Station.
The kid had taken a little longer than normal to wake up, which is why he hadn’t darted off already. Didn’t need a kid having health problems when Toshinori could do something about it. But then the kid had asked if he could be a hero.
“Everyone says it’s too dangerous for me...that my Quirk’s drawbacks are too strong...but…”
He bows his head, clutching the slimy notebook Toshinori had signed. Once pristine, the pages had been slightly wet from the villain. With the great amount of information about the Pros (and, oddly enough, the human body), Toshinori knew the kid had to be a hero fan.
Looks like he was right.
“Kid...look-”
“I want to be a strong, dependable hero!” He finishes, shouting the last word.
Toshinori, unable to hold on any longer, coughs blood and feels himself de-transform.
“What!” The kid takes a step back, eyes wide. Toshinori tries to stop coughing, but the blood flows between his fingers as he hacks.
“Who- where did All Might-?”
Toshinori finally gets hit coughing under control, sighing.
“I am All Might,” he says.
“No way!”
“Yes, six years ago I was injured in a villain fight.”
“Toxic chainsaw?” The boy asks, leaning forward, studying Toshinori’s face.
“No,” he replies, “Like that low-life could do this. No this wasn’t a publicized battle.”
“Oh.”
“Look, kid, heroism is dangerous. If your Quirk can’t cut it, well…” Toshinori trails off, then pulls his shirt up a little, exposing the scar tissue. “This happened to me, it’s a dangerous career. There are other jobs out there that don’t require a Quirk.”
The kid clearly isn’t listening anymore, eyes wide with horror. Toshinori sighs, ready to drop the shirt tail and ask the kid not to tell anyone about his different forms, when the boy steps closer.
“What are you-?” Toshinori starts, stopping as the kid lays a hand against his scar, enveloping it in a warm green glow.
He’s never felt better, like he’s years younger, years before he’d pushed himself harder and harder. Toshinori gasps, pulling away. The boy sways, his hand still extended. He’s panting and slightly red.
“Kid…?”
He falls forward and Toshinori catches him. The kid is shivering, breaths rapid. A quick check to his pulse uncovers one that is far too fast. Without thinking, Toshinori transformers. There’s no resistance, no grasping for the power- it flows easily into himself.
He leaps in the air, stopping quickly by a walking police officer to drop off the bottled villain, and then he’s back in the air, headed for UA.
Toshinori is pushing himself, but unlike before, there’s no limit nipping at his heels. Toshinori is refreshed, breathing easier than ever before, his muscles responding to each movement almost as if he was at his peak.
It’s terrifying.
The boy in his arms barely weighs anything in comparison to the things he usually lifts, but his awareness is as careful as if he were carrying a busload of people.
He’s barely breathing, flushed and shivering. Pale and sallow, the small tremors reverberate through Toshinori’s core. He pushes himself even further, almost surprised at the lack of resistance.
Recovery Girl probably shouldn’t be his first choice, but she’s the most powerful doctor he knows and she’s well-versed in Quirk theory. If anyone can fix the kid, it’s her.
The defense systems at UA don’t activate when he leaps over the gate and Toshinori knows Nedzu will be giving him a talking to later. It’s unimportant and he bursts in the infirmary’s window, panting not from exertion, but stress.
“All Might-” Recovery Girls starts with a scowl, but freezes when she sees the kid.
“Put him on the bed. Now.” Toshinori doesn’t hesitate to obey. “What happened?” She continues, checking the boy’s vitals.
“He- he used his Quirk. I’m not sure what it was, but-” Toshinori pats the injury at his side. It isn’t fully healed, he can still feel the scar tissue- the slight concaveness of it. But something is- something is different.
“I think it was some type of healing Quirk. I’m...I’m back to my limit of a few years ago. He mentioned his Quirk had a drawback dangerous to himself…”
Recovery Girl finishes hooking up the kid to an I.V., attaching monitors where she can.
“I can’t say for sure, but it seems like his Quirk uses his own energy and stamina, unlike my own Quirk, which uses the recipient’s stamina.”
“That’s…”
“Indeed a dangerous drawback,” Recovery Girl finishes, frowning. “There’s not much I can do, besides put him on nutrients and saline. He’s going to have to rest more than anything. There’s a student down in 1-A with a similar stamina drawback...at least I’ve seen something like this before.”
A sigh slips past Toshinori’s lips. He’d been so frightened of the boy dying.
He’d come forward, no hesitation, upon seeing Toshinori’s injuries. Come forward to heal him with no regard for his own well-being.
A true spirit of a hero, right there.
Toshinori sighs again.
“I didn’t get to tell him any sort of answer.”
“He asked a question?” Recovery Girl asks, hooking something else up.
“If he could be a hero.”
Laying on the hospital bed, the kid doesn’t look like much. But that...that can be fixed.
“I do think you’re right!” Someone squeaks behind the two. Toshinori flinches, glancing up. Principal Nedzu stands in the doorway, a smug smile on his face.
Recovery Girl is unmoved. “You’ve been there this whole time, then?” She asks.
“Yes, indeed!”
She rolls her eyes.
“And I think that you have been getting old! Why now is the perfect time to take on an assistant!”
Recovery Girl scowls at that. “You overgrown rat, I’ll show you old!”
“Uh, disregarding that, it isn’t a bad idea,” Toshinori says, “Us Pro Heroes could always use another healing Quirk.
“He’s reckless. Too reckless, in my opinion.”
Toshinori opens his mouth to refute her when the boy groans. Three sets of eyes zero in on him.
“Where- where am I?” He asks as his eyes struggle to open.
“UA,” says Recovery Girl, “You were suffering Quirk exhaustion. Do not get up.”
“Oh- All Might!” Disregarding her advice entirely, the boy shoots up. His eyes fall on Toshinori and the man gives a slight wave.
“Right here, my boy.”
The boy pants, then nods. “That’s- good. Good.” He falls backward, eyes closing.
“What’s your name?” Toshinori asks.
The boy’s eyes flicker open again. “Midoriya Izuku.”
“So, Midoriya,” Nedzu says, “How would you like to apprentice here at UA?”
“What?!” He sits back up again, though this time obviously struggling.
“I didn’t agree to anything,” mutters Recovery Girl.
“Well if you don’t want to, I’m sure All Might could!” The Principal chirps. Toshinori is slightly impressed by the sheer bastardry the man displays. Recovery Girl sighs.
“Midoriya, would you like to apprentice under me?” She stares hard at the boy. “It won’t be easy and I won’t accept such fool-hardiness.”
Midoriya, for his sake, is gaping like a fish. Toshinori puts a hand on his shoulder.
“You can take as long as you need, my boy,” Toshinori says, “We need to call your guardians anyway, and tell them where you’re at.”
“No! That sounds- that sounds fantastic!” He’s a little too loud, hands fluttering by his sides. “Thank you!”
He’s crying at this point, but the smile on his face stretches wide.
+ i
(now)
Katsuki comes home to find Deku slouched on the steps in front of their apartment.
“Dammit,” he mutters, lightly kicking at the other’s leg. Deku only shifts slightly, passed out as hard as he is. Katsuki groans again, before picking Deku up. His head rolls under Katsuki’s chin and Katsuki spits out a stray strand of curly hair that finds its way into his mouth.
“Disgusting. Fucking idiot, passing out on the stairs,” he says, openingthe door with mostly his hip. He dumps Deku on the couch, gently as he can.
Deku actually groans at that, blinking awake.
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You passed out outside. Overdid it. Again.”
Deku looks down sheepishly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be- ugh.” Katsuki storms over to the fridge, yanking a drink out. “Don’t be sorry, stop doing that shit.”
Deku doesn’t say anything to that, staring at his hands instead.
“What kind of hero you gonna be if you’re dead?”
Katsuki takes a vicious satisfaction in how Deku flinches. He can hear the other swallow from across the room.
“I can’t- I can’t help it,” Deku says, scowling. “I see people hurt and if I don’t fix it they might- they might die.”
“And you can only help as long as you’re alive!” Katsuki slams the drink on the counter. Deku flinches again.
“...Kacchan- I-”
“Save it,” Katsuki says, closing his eyes. “All Might, what did he say about his offer?”
Deku is still pale, lips pressed tight, but something in his shoulders relax.
“He wants to give me his Quirk. One for All, he called it.”
“Crazy shit,” Katsuki says, taking a swig of the soda.
“Yeah,” Deku replies, dryly. “But...it should solve my stamina issues, even if I never use the strength aspect. It’s stockpiled energy.”
“No more passing out? No more almost dying?” Katsuki levels Deku his best glare, the other man giving a genuine smile that relaxes something inside of him.
“Shouldn’t! It’s on the eighth user, so there should be plenty of energy! And with Nejire’s help I think I could make that last even more! She’s always had more stamina than me.”
Katsuki saunters over, ready to be less angry with the idiot. There’s a part of him a little bitter that All Might didn’t choose him, but the old man was always stupidly soft on Deku. It makes sense, especially since it’ll stop the self-sacrificing nerd from killing himself one day.
He sits down, Deku scooting back. Their knees touch, but the other can’t stop his slight rocking. It’s a nice reminder that Deku’s alive and breathing, so Katsuki allows it.
“You should use the strength anyway,” Katsuki says, flicking on the television. The volume is always low, so it doesn’t interfere with the conversation.
“Kacchan, that would give something away,” Deku scolds.
“It’d be funny as hell, though,” Katsuki smirks, thinking of the designated medic punching a villain into the stratosphere. “Besides, better to know how.”
“I guess...it would be bad to accidentally do something!”
“You know I’m always right.”
“Yes, yes. Kacchan’s amazing,” Deku snickers. Katsuki flicks his knee in retaliation. Deku might be hiding it, but he’s still shivering, still unnaturally pale.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“Ah, you don’t need to make anything!”
“Don’t give a shit, gonna make it anyway, what do you want?”
Deku pouts, but presses a finger against his lips in thought.
“Your spicy miso?” He asks, tilting his head.
“Spicy miso it is,” Katsuki says, “Though if you keep fucking up, it’ll be plain rice from here on out.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
Deku frowns.
“Fine. I’ll be more careful. But I’m not going to let anyone die.”
“I know, just...try to save your shit for that.”
“I will,” Deku says. He looks sincere, leaning forward. The pallor of his skin is easing a little and he’s shaking a bit less. Katsuki grunts in agreement.
The old man can’t pass on his Quirk soon enough.
end