Work Text:
“Do you ever get the feeling that,” Kugo sighed, his chest tight as he forced himself to voice the worry that had been nagging him for the better part of a month, “even at Yuuei, people treat us like we’re villains?”
After their final class of the day, Kugo and Juzo lounged beneath their favorite tree’s welcoming shade, a habit they’d formed early on in the year. They’d been watching clouds and brainstorming hero names in recent weeks. Today, however, Kugo’s mind had wandered down a well-worn path, and there was little he could do to stop himself.
“Do they?” Juzo frowned—or at least Kugo assumed he did. It was hard to read his insectile face at times. “I haven’t noticed.”
Kugo sighed again. Of course, Juzo wouldn’t have noticed. He wasn’t the one that looked like an apex predator. He probably got the usual amount of staring that mutant quirk users had to put up with but not the ‘please don’t hurt my children’ looks that were reserved for people that looked like animals with ‘killer’ in their common names.
“But in class—”
“Oh, that?” Juzo folded his hands behind his head, his antennae twitching. “You’re stressing, aren’t you? Don’t think about it. I’m sure they don’t realize what they’re doing.”
“I’m not stressed,” Kugo lied.
How was he supposed to brush off the observation that he was cast to play villains in training exercises a good majority of the time? At first, he hadn’t minded. He’d played ‘heroes and villains’ as a kid. He knew that someone had to be the bad guy, and sometimes, it would have to be him. Still, he’d noticed that he rarely got shuffled onto the hero team, and once that realization hit, he’d started a tally. The results stung.
“I can tell you’re stressed,” Juzo said, his antennae twitching again in an accusatory manner.
“Seriously, though. It doesn’t ever bug ya? Even a little?”
“Nothing bugs me as much as your horrible puns,” Juzo laughed, reaching over to give Kugo a playful smack. He paused, and then added, “But if it’s troubling you that much, you should say something.”
Kugo groaned. No way was he marching up to their sensei and unloading how he really felt. It would be way too awkward, and there was always the chance he’d be mocked for it or, worse, made to feel like he had imagined the whole thing.
Though he supposed Juzo had a point, in a roundabout way. Things weren’t going to change unless Kugo did something.
“Centipedeman?” Kugo offered, changing the topic back to hero names.
“That’s...awful.” Juzo feigned offense, placing his hand on his chest. His voice was a high-pitched chittering cut by laughter.
“Yeah,” Kugo snorted. “Not half as awful as—what did you suggest earlier? Super Whaleman? Really? You know my quirk is more like a dolphin than a whale, right? Please tell me you know that.”
“That suggestion was a joke, and I’m hurt that you couldn’t tell.”
“Whatever, man.” Kugo grinned, a rare expression reserved for those he knew wouldn’t back away at first sight of his teeth. “It’s too hot out. I’m going for a swim.”
Yuuei’s impressive aquatic center was the glue holding Kugo together. Swimming laps cooled him off and cleared his mind, a much-welcomed relief he sought out with increasing frequency. And after his muscles were burning, he’d hit the showers and just stand there thinking.
The pool was empty today, thankfully. Kugo didn’t mind sharing, but this way, he could slip into the water and zone out, which was a blessing as much as it was a curse.
Letting his mind wander allowed Kugo to inspect his thoughts head-on, chew them up, and then put them back together in a new order. It also made it dangerously easy for him to overanalyze and sink into self-doubt.
What if they never see me as a hero? What if my actions aren’t enough to prove that I mean well—that I just want to help?”
Swimming beneath the water’s surface, Kugo clicked in frustration and sensed the pool’s edge rushing to meet him. He’d swam the pool’s length enough times to know where the wall was without looking or using his echolocation, but he liked to make the sound anyway, especially when he was alone. Flipping, he turned and headed back the way he’d come.
Why do I have to prove anything?! I got into Yuuei. Shouldn’t that say enough? I work just as hard as anyone else. Why isn’t that good enough?
With his resentment mounting, Kugo shot through the water like a torpedo, each turn at the end of a lap saving his nose from being scraped by an increasingly slim margin.
Why do I care? This is stupid. If I get my license, it doesn’t matter what anyone says. But…
“It’s never enough!”
Kugo’s growl echoed through the aquatic center as he pulled to stop and slapped the water, sending it spraying into the air. As much as he tried to convince himself that worrying was stupid, he couldn’t. No amount of denial or avoidance could mask the hurt he harbored.
Still, he couldn’t keep trying to prove himself. Trying and failing to win people over was exhausting, and his fuse was growing shorter by the day. If he continued down that path, he’d end up snapping, and all his hard work would be erased in the blink of an eye. He could imagine what they’d whisper then, and it made him sick.
Sighing in resignation, Kugo floated onto his back, letting the surface of the water hug him. He stayed like that, unmoving, staring holes into the ceiling until his anger fizzled to a dull ache. If he could just sink to the bottom of the pool and—
No, Kugo shook his head. Wallowing didn’t help. He’d done it enough to know it went nowhere and solved nothing.
If people weren’t going to change their minds no matter what he did, then maybe he was the one that needed to change. Or rather, if their minds were set, then he should reset his.
Kugo knew he wasn’t a villain, and that would have to be enough. If his pitfall as a hero was his intimidating appearance, he’d make it his strong point. Villains got scared too, after all. So he’d just have to scare them straight.
“Tch.” Kugo rolled in the water, swimming to the edge of the pool. Embracing his quirk in its entirety wouldn’t be easy, not after working so hard to fit in all these years. Still, he owed it to himself to try.
“Gang Orca.”
“Oh?” Juzo looked over at Kugo, his expression one of mild interest.
“Yeah, I think so.” Kugo nodded. “I like how it sounds.”
“You know,” Juzo said, his tone even, “it sounds a bit like a villain name.”
“I know.” Kugo smiled, leaning back against their tree and tilting his chin to look through the leaves. “That’s why I like it.”
Juzo was silent for a moment, considering Kugo carefully.
“What happened between now and yesterday?” he asked, his antennae feeling the air.
“I thought it all over, and I realized I have nothing to prove, ya know?” Kugo rubbed at his head, smiling sheepishly.
“I’m glad you figured that out,” Juzo replied. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“Hey!” Kugo kicked at Juzo, but his friend rolled out of the way.
“I’m serious,” Juzo chuckled. “You were starting to get all serious. I’m glad you sorted it out.”
A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun spread through Kugo. Even if Juzo didn’t let things get to him, he was attentive when it came to others, and he cared. Knowing that strengthened Kugo’s resolve and was enough to make him feel less alone in his plight.
“Thanks, man.”
“You just gotta remember that everything whale be alright,” Juzo snickered, already scooting out of Kugo’s attack range.
“Not a whale, you jerk!”
“Hey, it’s payback.” Juzo shrugged. “For all the bug puns.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kugo shook his head and grinned. “So, you think of a good name yet?”
“I think I like Centipeder,” Juzo said. “It’s simple and to the point.”
“Gang Orca and Centipeder, huh?” Kugo mused. “Not the worst.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Now it was Juzo’s turn to swat at Kugo.
Settling back into a comfortable position, Kugo watched picturesque clouds meander across the sky. Already, there was significantly less weight on his shoulders. Maybe now, he’d be able to kick back and enjoy his time at Yuuei. Well, kicking back wasn’t a real option; their sensei was ruthless. Still, having one less worry was already doing wonders for him.
And if he was lucky, maybe he could become a hero who helped other mutant quirk users by being unapologetically proud of who he was. Kugo smiled at the thought. Now that was an idea he didn’t mind getting stuck in his head.