Chapter Text
September 1st, 1989
Dear diary,
Today some bitch said she wanted to sit on my face. Bleh... gross.
Katsuki was walking down the hall of Westerburg High with Izuku chattering about the new All Might episode that was on the night before. He was geeking out again. It was torture trying to decipher his unintelligible mumbling. Katsuki had long since mastered the ability to tune out when his friend started. At this point though, his mumbling was more of a comfort than anything. It was one of the constants in his life. I mean, they've been friends for a fucking eternity.
Yet it did nothing to make Katsuki any less pissy. He wasn't happy about being in school at all. Katsuki thought that his mother, or the old hag as he so kindly refers to her, was an idiot. It was his firm belief that he could homeschool not only himself but Izuku as well. He was far from being stupid. He wished he could say "screw you, bitch! I'm an adult!" But alas, he was only seventeen.
"Oh, Kacchan, your glasses are slipping," Izuku warned. Good thing too, he was fuming too much to notice that they were about to fall off his face. He pushed them up. "I thought you were going to try contacts?" Izuku asked. Oh, he just gave him something else to be mad about.
"I was," Katsuki said, "But they hurt my fucking eyes. But don't you dare look down on me! Once I get used to them it's over for you fuckers! I'll be the hottest person in this godforsaken school!"
"Heh, sure you will," mocked Uraraka. She held her hand over her mouth to cover her sly grin. Toga's arm was around her shoulders. Katsuki fucking hated cheerleaders. He wanted to kill her. He took a step forward to do so, but Izuku held him back.
"'S-scuse us!" Izuku stuttered. "We really need to get going. Goodbye!" Izuku dragged him away from them and into the room their next class would be held in.
"What was that for?! You don't think I could take her?!" Izuku sighed at Katsuki, exasperated.
"No, I know you could. But if you so much as lay a finger on her, half the guys in the school will be out to get you."
"I'd kill them too," he seethed. Izuku just sighed again, like a parent to their uncooperative child. In an attempt to distract Katsuki from his motto "talk shit get hit", Izuku started talking about the an article in the school's newspaper. What surprised Katsuki was the fact that they had anything to write about. Like, fuck, it's the first goddam day of the school year.
It wasn't long before Katsuki was bored of this, so after sitting down mere minutes before, excused himself to the bathroom. He wanted to try putting his contacts in again.
"Fuck!" Katsuki had just put the left contact in backwards. Anyone that wears contacts can tell you that if you put them in wrong, it fucking burns. Katsuki took it out as quickly as he could. Since he got the right one in the right way 'round, Katsuki figured he could get the left one in if he tried one more time. Katsuki had to be quick, he didn't want to be late for class. Izuku would have a cow, he had always been such a worrywart.
Katsuki set to work cleaning his contact using what little solution he brought with him from home. He held it up in the light to make sure he did a good job. It looked fine. It also seemed to be the right way 'round. God, who knew backwards contact lenses could hurt so much? Katsuki leaned heavily over the bathroom counter, slowly moving his finger to his eye. After it made contact, he pulled back. The whole thing was rather dramatic. Katsuki blinked a few times, nothing hurt and he could see. Hell yeah! He did it! Take that, assholes!
Katsuki let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. That wasn't so fucking hard. Now, time to get to--
Ring!
Shit, that was the bell. Katsuki was late for class. He'd better hurry. Katsuki held his books close to his chest, his small bag hanging off of his elbow. Then, as he was about to push the door open, he heard footsteps headed in his direction.
Katsuki thought it was a teacher and, since he didn't want to get caught outside of class, he quickly ran to the stall farthest from the door. Katsuki locked it, sat on the toilet, pulled his legs up so he couldn't be seen from outside, and hugged his books close to his chest. He wasn't hiding! He fucking wasn't! It was just smarter than getting caught. It was merely a tactical retreat. Yep, that was definitely all it was.
"Coming through!" yelled a young mans voice. So, not a teacher. Guess he could leave then. The young man rushed into the closest stall, fell to his knees, and immediately started retching. Ew, that was awful to have to listen to.
"Maybe you should see a doctor, Haruto," another voice suggested. Wait, Haruto? Oh, oh no. Katsuki most certainly could not leave. Not because he was scared of them. Nope, absolutely not. He just didn't want to have to talk to them. Not because they could turn the entire school against him in two seconds if they wanted to. Definitely not that at all.
"Yeah, Haruto, maybe I should," the one still emptying his stomach agreed. Katsuki was able to connect the voices to their owners. The one throwing up was Haruto Kaminari, he runs the yearbook. He's a dumbass, but all the girls like him. He's a huge flirt. Katsuki thought his weird dye job had to do with how he got away with being a pervert. No one naturally has a lightning bolt in their hair. Also, it's neon yellow. You don't have to be a genius like Katsuki to figure it out.
The second one was Haruto Kirishima. His hair may be a bit much for Katsuki, even for the '80s. But somehow a bright red, spiked mullet looked sorta okay on him. Katsuki had a crush on him in freshmen year, but that went away as fast as it appeared. Kirishima wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Anyway, he's the school's quarterback and his dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings. That couldn't possibly hurt his popularity.
Well, if it's just the two of them, then it wouldn't be too bad for Katsuki to leave. They weren't nearly as bad as Haruto Monoma. Ugh, that asshole was a piece of work. It's a good thing he's not he--
"Grow up, Haruto. Bulimia is so '87." Never mind. The universe must hate him. That was Monoma's voice. Dear Universe, Katsuki says go fuck yourself.
The bathroom door opened again. Great. What other popular kid is going to prevent Katsuki from leaving?
"Ah, Haruto and Haruto," came Mr. Aizawa's voice.
More retching. "...And Haruto." Shit, Katsuki thought. He opened his notebook and began writing as fast as he could.
"Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting. You're late for class."
"Haruto wasn't feeling well. We're helping him," Monoma defended. Monoma was a dumbass if he thought that was gonna work. Katsuki quietly unlocked his stall's door. Fuck, he was so going to regret this.
"Not without a hall pass, you're not. Weeks detention," Mr. Aizawa decided.
"Um, actually, Mr. Aizawa, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook comity..." Katsuki corrected, handing him the piece of paper he had just finished writing on. Mr. Aizawa checked it over. The handwriting matched Principle Nezu's perfectly, but still, Katsuki sweated nervously. If caught, he could get suspended for this. Shit, that would go on his record.
"I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going," Mr. Aizawa said, handing the note back to Katsuki. The Teacher left after that, leaving him alone with three of the most popular kids in school.
Monoma snatched the note from his hand, reading it over slowly.
"This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?"
"Katsuki Bakugou. I crave a boon," he introdused, straight to the point. There was no reason to beat around the bush, they owed him. Katsuki was sure he could get something out of this.
"What boon?" Honestly, Katsuki was surprised Monoma knew what boon meant.
"You are going to raise me in status. I'm fucking tired of being treated as scum." All three of them laughed. Unsurprisingly, that pissed Katsuki off big time.
"Fine," he snapped, "Guess you don't need report cards, permission slips, or absence notes." That shut them up real fucking quick. Katsuki shoved them out of the way. He was leaving. If they were stupid enough to let Katsuki and his talent of forging other peoples handwriting pass them by, then they were hopeless. No use even trying. "Bye, bastards."
But before he could reach the door, Monoma's hand was on his wrist. Katsuki's eyes widened when he was yanked back harshly. Monoma pulled Katsuki down so he'd have to look up at him. When Katsuki did just that, Monoma grabbed his chin as if he was examining him.
"For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure," Monoma concluded.
"And a symmetrical face," Kirishima added from Katsuki's left. "If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important." That was disturbing. Who the fuck says shit like that? At this point, Katsuki was hoping Kirishima would cut his head in half so he wouldn't have to listen to them talking anymore.
"You should work out more too," Kaminari oh so helpfully critiqued. What an asshole. Katsuki already worked out a lot. It was just hard to tell because he loved baggy clothes.
"Haruto, give me your hair gel," demanded Monoma. "And, Haruto, I need your brush."
"You got it, bro!"
"Sure thing."
"Let's make him beautiful." Monoma paused to glance at Katsuki. "Okay?" he asked as if Katsuk could say no.
"Okay."
Next thing Katsuki knew, he was being crowded. Kirishima pulled out a small jar of hair gel from seemingly nowhere. Kaminari handed Monoma a neon yellow brush. Where do they even sell those? This guy has no taste.
It wasn't long before Katsuki's usually unruly hair was tamed into more of a controlled ball of spikes than the previous ball of fluff. Next was eyeliner which Katsuki surprisingly liked. Then the Harutos were pulling off his clothes. He said goodbye to his hoodie. Apparently he looked better in red flannel, a black tank top, and black jeans. His combat boots were deemed acceptable. It's a good thing too, because Katsuki would have punched them if they tried to take them from him. Lastly, they gave him a spiked choker. Or rather, tried.
"Hell no! I'm not wearing that shit! You must be out of your goddamn mind!" Katsuki protested.
"Don't be a dick! Just put it on," Monoma insisted.
"Fuck off!"
"Haruto, maybe we should just leave it," Kaminari suggested.
"Shut up, Haruto," Monoma dismissed harshly. Kaminari shrunk into himself.
"I think Haruto's right," Kirishima said, "He looks fine without it."
Monoma reluctantly huffed, "Fine."
Thank god. Katsuki was about to punch him.
Ring!
That was the bell. Shit, they completely missed class. What subject did Katsuki have next? Oh, right. Lunch. Great. The Harutos are already on their way out the door.
"You coming, bro?" Kirishima invited, holding the door open for Katsuki to join them. Right, Katsuki doesn't look like a nerd anymore. Not that he was a nerd. Nope, of course not. He didn't study hard to get ranked number three in grades school wide. He definitely just knew all the answers.
"Tsk," Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance. Even though he knew everything about his school life was going to change, it was going to take some time to get used to. He pushed past his discomfort and through the sticky bathroom door. Men are disgusting.
When they entered the cafeteria it was a riot. No one even bothered to hide their gossiping.
"Oh hey, it's the Harut-- who's that with them?"
"He's hot as fuck!" What the fuck?
"How come I've never noticed him before?"
"Jesus, I wanna sit of his face." She wants to what?! The hell is going on?
"Is he new?" Bitch, I've known you since first grade.
Everyone was staring at Katsuki. And I mean everyone. The cheerleaders? Staring. The football team? Staring. The stoner kids? Staring. The Goths? Staring. And the nerds? Staring. This included Izuku.
"Kacchan?"
Uraraka's eyes brightened with recognition.
"Katsuki..."
"Wait, the Bakugou kid?"
"I thought he was a nerd!"
"Aren't his parents fashion designers?"
"That's him?!"
"There's no way that's the same dude!"
"Oh my gosh, his muscles."
A hand clamped on his shoulder. "This way, Kacchan," Kaminari directed. While Katsuki is thankful for the distraction, Izuku is the only person allowed to call him that.
"If you call me 'Kacchan' again, I'll kill you."
"Whoa, bro, not cool. He was just joking around," Kirishima defended from the Haruto table.
"Whatever."
It was strange. Sitting at that table. He had dreamed of it for years. Sitting here once would stop him from getting picked on. And here he was. He'd be eating lunch here for the foreseeable future. What could possibly go wrong?