Chapter Text
Bakugo Katsuki finally had a day off. Between patrols, publicity, and paperwork, he began to regret agreeing to take on as many overtime hours as he had.
First, there were chores to be done. An apartment to be cleaned, dinners to be prepared, laundry to be done. Second, there was a mid-morning nap to be taken while the washing machine hummed. He didn't used to be of the napping sort, but his internal clock still woke him daily at 530, even if his patrols had run him ragged all week.
Bakugo made a protein smoothie, threw his laundry in the wash, and settled down on the couch with his favorite blanket, ready to catch up on his sleep. He made it nearly fifteen minutes into this nap before the phone began to ring. He retrieved it groggily, reading the caller ID. "Shit. Icyhot." Todoroki only called for emergencies, usually when he had to be called into a scene. Despite his animosity for his coworker, he had to pick up.
But so help him if it wasn’t an emergency...
"What do you want?"
"Have you spoken to Uraraka lately?"
The question blindsided the half-asleep Bakugo, who instead chose to focus on the fact that this is not an emergency. "You little-- fucking calling me on my day off about some stupid shit. I'm hanging--"
"Don't hang up. Have you spoken to Uraraka?"
Even through his anger, he heard the urgency in Todoroki's voice, which won over the urge to throttle him. Barely. His head fell back onto the couch cushion with a sigh. "Not since that party, what, last year?"
"Turn on the TV. And then call her."
"What? Why the fuck would I--"
"Midoriya is in America with All Might," he replied, as if that was a real answer.
"I know that. What does it matter?"
"I have been told I am not... The most comforting presence," Todoroki stated uneasily. Bakugo resisted the urge to snort. "She may need a friend right now."
We aren't friends anymore , Bakugo wanted to say. Instead, he snapped the phone shut and turned on the news.
RESCUE HERO URAVITY KILLS DOZENS
The headline rolled across the screen, and Bakugo was suddenly very awake. He could already tell by the screen scroll that this network isn't very pro-hero, and he didn’t have time to sift through the bias to find the real information. He skipped a few channels. This must be bad. She's on every one.
He finally settled on a reporter duo he's seen before on the street. They interviewed him once after a fight and won his stamp of approval, focusing their questions on the villain he caught, not so much on the building he half blew out trying to do so.
"--devastating afternoon for Tokyo," the anchor said when he tuned in. "Before we go live to the scene of the disaster, I must warn you that some of the images will be disturbing for younger viewers."
It was raining there, and it took Bakugo's mind a second to process what he was looking at. There used to be a bridge spanning that river, he realized numbly, but it was nearly half gone. The water was murky and dark with debris.
"A villain attack brought Tokyo to a standstill this morning when the Nemuri Memorial Bridge was partially collapsed by a quirk simulating an earthquake. The villain was apprehended and is currently in custody, leaving the failing bridge to the rescue heroes. The evacuation process seemed to be moving smoothly, with only one death accounted for at that time."
The screen cut to footage that looks like it's been taken on a cell phone, shaky and blurry, but Bakugo still recognized a streak of black and pink as Uravity launched herself into the fray. The anchor explained that Uravity was crucial to the rescue efforts, managing to stabilize the bridge, and preventing it from collapsing entirely into the river below.
Bakugo couldn’t help the stab of pride in his chest, watching her clench her jaw and hold the massive weight of the bridge. Their first year at UA, she could barely lift her own weight, and there she was, holding hundreds of tons of concrete, steel, and cars.
The footage cut again, this time clearer, shot from a TV crew's camera.
"As we soon found out, the villain wasn't working alone. Having been identified as the linchpin of the rescue operation, Uravity was an easy target."
A blur of grey appeared on the screen, but Uraraka didn't turn. Bakugo almost instinctively called out to her, realizing all her focus was on the tremendous weight she was stabilizing. Why wasn't anyone watching her back? Obviously, someone should have known there'd be more. Why were only rescue heroes called? Didn't they realize this was a terrorist attack, and there's no way they'd let it fail that easily?
But Bakugo wasn't there. He wasn't watching Uraraka's back. No one had called him.
He watched as the villain dashed forward, a glint of metal in his hand. There was no sound other than the Anchor speaking, but he couldn’t hear their words over the rush of blood in his ears as the metal disappeared into Uraraka's back and she froze, glancing over her shoulder in horror. Time seemed to move slowly as she fell to one knee, fists clenched as she tried to keep a hold on the weight of the bridge. Her mouth was moving, but whether she's admonishing the villain or calling for help, he couldn’t tell. Either way, the result was the same. She struggled to stand again, lashing out at the villain with a kick, then launching herself to the next rock. But he knew she couldn’t activate her quirk again, not while holding up an entire bridge. When she jumped, the villain followed. They played cat and mouse, the seconds of the fight stretching into an eternity as the pink of her uniform turned brown where his knife caught her.
And then the fight was over. The knife was buried to the hilt in her stomach. Bakugo felt like he was going to throw up. She was on her knees then, shaking, hands raised above her head as she desperately tried to keep her quirk activated.
Finally, another hero comes into view. He dashed at the villain, who's hand was still on the knife buried in Uraraka's guts. It’s wrenched free and he runs as the hero leaps to Uraraka’s side, trying to help lower her to the ground. She's lost so much blood, Bakugo thought, feeling untethered, as if he was watching in real time and unable to help. He vaguely registered the smell of melting plastic as the remote crumbled in his hands, adrenaline sparking tiny explosions in his palms.
The hero removed her helmet, and Bakugo could see blood dribble from her lips. Her arms were shaking violently, and the blood continued to pour. The hero laid her down, pressing into her stomach, calling over his shoulder for help.
Her hands fell. The bridge fell. Bakugo turned off the TV, feeling sick.
---
Days passed uneventfully after the incident. Bakugo returned to work and avoided the TV. He had been pouring over the footage in his mind enough, mulling over what she could have done better (not much) and what the other heroes on the scene could have done (a lot.) The image of her bleeding, arms trembling as she desperately tried to keep the bridge aloft was lodged permanently in his mind, rubbing his nerves raw. Bakugo couldn’t understand why he couldn’t shake the gloom and frustration. Yes, he’d cared about Uraraka at some point, but it had been years since he'd even thought about her. Maybe his therapist was right. Maybe he wasn’t as emotionless as he thought, just good at compartmentalising, and the graphic display had started to fray his tidy organization system.
While he was successful at avoiding the TV, he was less successful at avoiding Todoroki. The bastard had the unique advantage of owning the building where he worked, as well as serving on the board that ran their agency, making him tough to avoid for long. On the fourth day he appeared in the doorway of Bakugo’s office, a stack of paperwork in hand.
“Walk with me.” Todoroki turned without waiting to see if Bakugo would follow. He did, grumbling the whole time. "Did you text her?"
"Did you?” Bakugo snapped back, his already frayed nerves sparking like live wires.
"Yes. She did not reply. But she will know I am thinking of her."
Tch. "I don't even know if I still have her number." His phone buzzed a moment later, and a text appeared with Uraraka's contact attached. The offending party blinked innocently at him. Bakugo stuffed the blasted appliance back into his pocket. He’d never admit that he didn’t know what to say to her, but Todoroki seemed to understand regardless. Stupid Icyhot and his emotional growth.
"However you used to let her know you were thinking about her," Todoroki mused, "I'm sure she still cares about you, Bakugo. She's not the kind to forget about people, even ones that hurt her."
"I didn't--" Okay, maybe he did. But he didn’t need extras in their business, the assumptive bastard. "I'll think about it," he grumbled finally, desperate for a change in subject. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a set of flames behind the glass wall of an office, and didn’t miss how Todoroki took a sudden right turn toward the kitchens. Not that he was avoiding his father, obviously. He just had a sudden craving for a cup of tea.
Todoroki the Elder could occasionally be found haunting the hallways of his old agency, gritting his teeth at the changes they’d made while attempting to rekindle his relationship with his son. Shoto accepted the peace offering with grace, offering him in-office duties that kept him far from hero work and the public, and far from Shoto. They took lunch together once a week-- usually with other board members so it could be considered a working lunch to deter Enji from making things too personal. Bakugo understood the dual-quirk user’s hesitation. The man was a ticking-time-bomb on a personal level, and a barely tempered nuke on a professional one.
During the fallout of Touya Todoroki’s infamous speech, Shoto had quietly set up a coup of the Flame Hero’s agency. Fresh out of UA, he’d approached his father with the deal of a lifetime: hand over your agency and legacy to the new age of heroes, and have another chance at being a part of this family. Bakugo personally thought he’d gotten off easily. If his old man had hurt his mom like that, he would have killed him with his bare hands. But Shoto and Momo had seen an opportunity where Bakugo had only seen a nightmare: the bones of the Endeavour Agency had been sound. They gutted management, evaluated contracted sidekicks and support staff, and left the doors wide open for anyone who wanted to follow Endeavour out. The gaping hole left by the first round of firings and resignations had been a simple fix after the duo threw money at hiring staff and recruited a few big-name graduates from their UA class, namely Bakugo himself.
“How has therapy been?” Todoroki asked, pulling Bakugo out of his reverie as he dunked a tea bag into a steaming paper cup.
“None of your business.”
A pair of mismatched eyes found his. “Are we not friends?”
“No.”
“Then, as your employer, I believe I have some right to progress updates on your contractually-obligated therapy.”
Bakugo heaved a sigh. “It’s going.”
Todoroki nodded, seemingly appeased by the non-answer Bakugo had supplied. “You should talk to her about Uraraka’s situation.”
“Why the fuck do you keep bringing her back up?”
Todoroki’s characteristically impassive face morphed into a knowing look, his white-blonde eyebrow quirking at Bakugo.
“What?” Bakugo spat again, watching as the other man wordlessly took his tea and left.
---
Even when Bakugo allowed people into his home, his bedroom door stayed closed. He felt safe leaving little mementos on display in there, with no one wise enough to accuse him of being sentimental or weak. On a white shelf above a desk sits a sparse collection. A photo of him and his mother when he graduated from UA. A figurine of All Might holds a comical rendering of the number one, reminding him of his future. A shard of his first broken gauntlet, reminding him to never lose another fight. And a small stuffed bear wearing a variation of his first mask.
It's the bear he took down from the shelf and sat on the bed, clutching it. He stared for a minute, as if it was going to look up and tell him to stop being an idiot. He kind of wished it would. It wouldn't make his insides squirm at the fact that the bear still sat on his shelf, years after Uraraka had gifted it to him, unable to be thrown away.
He remembered when she'd bounced up to him, late in the evening, the lobby conspicuously empty. Everyone seemed to think they were dating at that point, obnoxiously, and gave them "privacy" often. Bakugo hated their constant assumptions about his life, but he didn't mind not having the extras underfoot.
"I have a surprise for you!" Uraraka was practically beaming as she held out the little bear. "You have merch now!! And you haven't even graduated yet! Isn't that the coolest?"
The fact that Bakugo has merch isn't nearly as cool as she seemed to think it was, but her excitement, per usual, was infectious. He found himself grinning back at her as he took the bear. "Uraraka--"
"You can call me Ochako, you know," she replied easily, propping her elbows on the back of the couch, her round face resting in her palms. "We've been friends for, like, ever."
"Ever?" He responded, if only to fill the space while his brain short-circuited at the thought of calling her by her first name. Only the girls of 1-A used first names with one another. It made Bakugo wonder, not for the first time, if he was under-estimating their closeness.
"Yup. Ever." She bounced up again. "I've got homework," she announced, and reached out to pat the bear's head. "Isn't he adorable?"
"Adorable," Bakugo had replied, but he was looking at her.
Now, the bear sits on the shelf in his room as another reminder of something he has to do better next time. Not that there will ever be a next time. He doesn't have time for relationships. Even if he did, there's no one in his life he could fathom dating, so he puts it at the back of his mind until the next time his mom bothers him about having kids.
Also, Bakugo seriously doubted there are two people who could put up with him, and he’d already chased off the first.
He opened a new text to Uraraka’s number, and stared at it for a few seconds. He hated second guessing himself. He hated being unsure about where they stood after all this time. Uraraka was the most confusing, contradictory person he'd ever met. The first time she'd told him she loved him had been when he was telling her they couldn't be together. Even when he didn't respond, she'd pushed on like she just had to say it. When they met at the party last year, she'd teased him for starting to call her Uraraka again, even after ignoring his calls for months the year prior.
She’d always had an uncanny ability to worm her way into people’s lives without them even noticing. By the time their third year came to a close, Bakugo was spending as much time with Uraraka as he was with Kirishima. Busy as they were, they found ways to spend time together, often making their training and study sessions a joint event. As graduation rolled around, Bakugo realized he’d built his habits around her, and he loathed it. Okay, not really, but he wanted to. He found that he couldn’t hate a single thing about her, and that scared him more than anything else.
So he took a page from her book. Before he had time to think any longer, he snapped a picture of the bear and sent it, no message attached, just like he used to. She'll get it, he thinks. She had always understood him, even when he gave her nothing to work with.
She didn't reply.