Chapter Text
Katsuki can’t help the animalistic snarl that leaves his throat when he watches his childhood victim’s finger wreathe itself in lightning. “Deku!” he roars, barely stopping himself from leaping forwards as his worldview struggles under the weight of watching Midoriya Izuku wield a quirk.
He’s known the nerd his entire life, from the x-ray that sent Auntie Inko into tears to the shoes on those feet that pinch something awful if you don’t have the extra toe joint. Bakugou watches that baseball soar farther than his own, watches Deku hold his hand gingerly and smile through the pain of a broken finger, and thinks to himself that this cannot be real.
It wasn’t a lie. Years of abuse from teachers and classmates and Katsuki himself, doctors visits and medical papers and disability notices, none of it was a lie. And yet somehow Deku managed to waltz into UA with a quirk so powerful it tears him apart from the inside.
“Bakugou-san!” scolds Glasses, saying something about his volume or what the fuck ever. Katsuki doesn’t bother paying attention.
“Deku, what the fuck was that?” he asks instead, voice loud and filled to the brim with a rage-shock-fear. “Midoriya Izuku, I have known you for fourteen years. When did you get a fucking quirk?!”
Deku goes from nervous grinning to frozen in an instant, eyes wide. It’s the first time Bakugou has called him by his name in a decade. “K- Kaachan,” he begins, and maybe it’s a good thing he never got to finish that sentence because just the single childhood nickname lights a fucking fire in Bakugou.
“My name is Katsuki,” he says through gritted teeth, nails digging into his palms from where his hands are clenched into fists. “Fucking call me by it or don’t say anything at all, you—”
“Midoriya-kun, head over to Recovery Girl. You two can finish whatever this conversation is later,” cuts in their shitty homeroom teacher, and Deku takes off like a bullet at the opportunity.
Silently Bakugou takes a deep breath, drowning out the world around him as he tries to stay calm. Today was supposed to be a day of success, a beginning to the rest of his life at UA. Of course Deku had to come in like a wrecking ball and ruin fucking everything.
The nerd has the audacity to corner him afterwards, babbling in the otherwise empty hallway about successors and hand-me-down quirks and secrets he has to keep.
“You want me to buy,” says Katsuki slowly, cutting off the characteristic ramble, “That a hero took a look at you— at the kid so pathetic that he’s been riding on the coattails of those around him for years, so delusional he thought he could get into a UA without putting in a quarter of the effort I do every day, and decided to give you their quirk.”
“Um.” Deku looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights. Bakugou doesn’t let him stop to spew out even more excuses and half-truths.
“You want me to buy that a hero, someone you claim is a good person, decided it was okay to give a fourteen year old a power that literally tears him apart from the inside out.” Katsuki doesn’t bother to try and hide the skepticism in his voice. “That I should find that behavior responsible and acceptable and keep this secret instead of turning my ass around to find Eraserhead and reporting it to him immediately.”
Deku actually stumbles forwards before he can stop himself, eyes widening into a panic that is uncharacteristic in it’s intensity. “I was trained!” he says hotly, waving his hands in the air. “I- I spent ten months cleaning up Dagobah Beach to get my body ready. And you can’t— you can’t tell anyone, Kaachan.” Deku’s voice is serious in a way that sends shivers down Bakugou’s spine.
“My name is Katsuki,” he says automatically, still categorizing the way his childhood victim looks ready to fight him in the name of whoever’s secret this is. It’s a ferocity that only ever comes out when Deku is protecting another person, that spine never fucking grows for himself. “And good on you for cleaning up that shithole, but I hate to break it to you— it doesn’t look like whoever was handling that ‘training’ did any good.” Bakugou’s voice is dry as he tilts his head towards the bandaged hand that’s waving in front of him.
“Forget that,” says Deku, shaking his head like the fact his quirk breaks his bones isn’t a fucking huge deal. “You need to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this. Promise me.” His eyes are alight with determination.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Bakugou can’t help it, he explodes. Both figuratively and literally, sparks lighting up in his hands that make Deku flinch away. “You corner me in this hallway, decide to tell me fucking unsolicited about the dubiously moral relationship you have with whoever is sponsoring you through UA, and then have the audacity to demand I not tell anyone? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The question is more genuine that Katsuki would like. If this secret is so important why is he even fucking being told in the first pace? He doesn’t understand how the mind in front of him works. “You’re lucky no one would believe me if I repeated the load of shit you just fed me,” says Bakugou with a scoff. This is not a battle he wants to fight, and frankly this whole situation is far more trouble than it’s worth (like usual when it comes to the nerd). “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut about your quirk sugar daddy.”
Deku actually trips over himself at that one, coughing and sputtering in shock. “He’s not my—!” The words are half a screech, and honestly it’s the closest thing to entertainment Katsuki’s gotten all day.
“Some hero,” Bakugou continues to say the word with a careful derision, “Decided to make you his pet project for the summer. He trained you one on one and he fucking, I don’t know, bought you some expensive freaky back-alley formula to give you a quirk— I don’t buy for a fucking second someone is dumb enough to give away their quirk even if such a thing were possible, fuck off with that shit— and then sent you on your way to the UA exam. I don’t know, Deku, sounds a lot like a sugar daddy to me.”
The sheer horror on other boy’s face is almost worth taking a picture of. “He’s not— he’s not my—” The poor nerd can’t even get the phrase out.
“Uh huh. Sure.” Bakugou makes sure to inject as much disbelief into his words as possible. “Anyways, thanks for this absolutely riveting and totally uncalled for conversation, Deku. Let’s never fucking talk again, yeah?” And with that Katsuki spins on his heel, walking towards the exit with the stubbornness born of someone who would rather cut off their toes than continue speaking to the person in front of them.
The whole interaction gave him as many questions as it did answers. But paradoxically it makes something in Bakugou calm, the ground feels steadier under his feet than before. Of course Deku fucking cheated. He couldn’t get into UA of his own merit, so he found some hero to scam, or maybe get scammed by? The whole situation is sketchy as hell, but quite frankly Katsuki doesn’t care.
Because this means Deku isn’t his equal. And Miyake-san will be having words with him at their next therapy session about how he’s fallen into this mindset, but with his world shaken like this Bakugou just wants to cling to something he understands. And what he understands is this: Katsuki made it to UA with his own blood sweat and tears, while Deku is still skating by quite literally on someone else’s power.
With a little bit of time the nerd will fall behind again, his benefactor will tire of him or that ability will blow off an arm permanently and he’ll realize that some job as a doctor or quirk analyst would better suit him. Deku’s mind is as brilliant as it can be terrifying, he’ll be just fine in Business or Gen Ed, and Bakugou will be able to stand without someone skulking in his shadow.
Katsuki has learned to be patient over the past year. He can stand being forced alongside the nerd for a little while longer.