Chapter Text
He’s at a busy city street-turned-fiery-danger-zone and the burning debris surrounding him makes the area scorching hot. That’s generally a bad thing, but the heat is useful to Katsuki because it produces excess sweat. He blasts a villain right in their face, knocking them out.
The heat, however, is not good for the civilians stuck in the bus trapped under the rubble: the only thing stopping the bus from being crushed by a block of concrete is another precariously placed concrete block. And Katsuki needs to get there, fast.
Crack. A piece of cement falls behind him and Katsuki whips around to see another villain fall to the ground and a plainly dressed marked medic girl (brown hair, brown eyes, she screams civilian with no combat skills) standing tall in their place.
“Saved you, Dynamight,” the medic says. “I can help save those people.” She gestures towards the trapped bus and the countless eyes looking out towards them.
Katsuki barks, “This is no place for you. Get back to the safety lines.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I can handle myself fine, thank you very much. And I have a floating quirk so—”
A boom resounds through the air as another high-rise building explodes and catches on fire. A stray piece of concrete is heading straight towards the bus, threatening its precarious safety, and Katsuki runs.
Maybe he can explode the piece in the air before it hits, oh god, please, he needs to make it in time—
The girl gets there first, taking a weightless leap into the air, and Katsuki is standing right in front of the bus when she gets her hands on the incoming concrete and floats it harmlessly to the side.
Katsuki watches, mouth drying.
She lands a few paces away from him. “See? Told ya I could help.” And without missing a beat, she strategically dismantles the death trap. “Help me evacuate, will ya?” She takes out the rock that’s jamming the front of the bus door and yanks the cracked glass door open.
“Fine,” Katsuki says, already reaching to help an old lady through. Save people first, then figure out what the hell is going on with this girl. “But after this, I better see a provisional hero license at the very least, or you’re going with the rest of these civilians out of the danger zone.”
“Ugh, okay, mister grumpy pants.” She sighs, and then they get to work.
The medic continues helping people through the broken doorway and Katsuki motions civilians away from the bus window so he yanks it open, providing them another escape route. Soon, there is a group of thirteen civilians standing in a messy crowd around them.
Visibly, none of the civilians seem gravely injured, and when Katsuki raises his eyebrow at the medic, she raises her arms in surrender.
“I’ll bring them to the safety zone,” she says before he can do anything else, and already, the civilians are following her.
That’s not an answer to whether or not she has a provisional hero license or not, but since she’s headed out of the danger zone anyway, Katsuki drops it.
“Great,” he says. “I’ll leave it to you, thanks.” His eyes scan their surrounding area. “Should I escort you?”
“No need!” she calls back to him, paces away now. She lifts a sizable concrete block with her quirk. “Got it covered. Go do your hero thing, Dynamight!”
Oh. Okay, that sounds good.
Katsuki nods, turning back to the conflagration zone, shakes off the abnormal encounter, and heads back into the field.
The incident wraps up quickly with the abundance of heroes on the scene and just before midnight, Dynamight retires from the field for the day and heads back to his cubicle to fill out his fair share of the agency’s never ending stack of paperwork.
As he’s drafting up an estimate of how many civilians he saw in the danger area, his mind drifts back to that odd encounter with the medic girl. Maybe he should report her for the unsanctioned use of her quirk... but it’s not that serious—she was only helping him out.
The thing about Katsuki is that he makes a point of staying a busy hero; he’s always on the field every chance he gets and only takes off time to rest when his co-workers practically force him to. It makes him feel better at the end of the day, knowing that he did his best and the rankings will reflect that.
It’s just that... Katsuki’s constant state is one that screams at him to go, go, don’t just stand there, there are more people to save, and Katsuki never thought that this mindset was wrong, per se, but that encounter with her had made him pause for just a second, it made him take an extra breath before moving again.
She’s an outlier.
Her existence is something that rises above his endless grind, something besides a quick cup of coffee with Deku or a quirkless spar with Kirishima or a heckling session with Sero.
She’s a breath of fresh air. He wants to see her again.
But that isn’t going to happen—he doesn’t even know her name. He doesn’t even fault himself for not thinking to ask for it. He had lives to save and no time to waste. But two weeks later, when the thought of her is still nagging at Katsuki, he’s not sure he enjoys having to waste time on it now.
She had a medic armband, though. It had looked sort of familiar, but Katsuki isn’t entirely sure where he has seen it before. He could just be imagining that he’s seen it before. Katsuki has been in many disaster zones and consequently seen a fair share of medics.
He tries to file this train of thought away. This shouldn’t matter to him. It doesn’t matter to him, and yet the thought of seeing her persists every time he goes out for a mission.
“You okay there?” Deku asks right after they stop a mid-downtown brawl. Concern from Deku never fails to tick Katsuki off.
“Worry ‘bout yourself, nerd,” Katsuki responds.
“You just seemed a little distracted,” Deku protests. “Are you looking for something?” he asks, turning his head left and right, as if he could help Katsuki find that said something without even knowing what it is he’s looking for.
Katsuki flips him off. “Mind your own damn business.”
Deku takes the cue and drops the line of questioning, but it’s due to this that Katsuki realizes that this is just going to be a thing now.
The rest of the week follows a similar clockwork and...
Fuck it, he decides.
It’s bothering him this much. It’ll just keep on bothering him if he does nothing about it. He’s always been a man of action. If he wants something done, he does it. If he has something to say, you bet he’ll scream at the top of his lungs to make sure he’s heard.
This is going to be no different.
He attacks new missions with renewed vigor, keeping an eye out for brown hair, which is fucking annoying because he swears more than half the population has brown hair. It’s not until he’s blasting away, competing with the rate of a falling building, that he makes the connection. He swings down to grab the shocked kid and heads to a marked-off safe area in one fluid motion, when he sees not her, but the armband again.
It’s as if allowing himself to act like he cares about this has unlocked a connection that’s been sitting in plain sight in his brain.
This time, he purposefully circles back to the civilian area after his work is done.
“Ah, it’s an armband that our organization uses,” someone is kind enough to fill him in. “It’s for voluntary field-work first aid, and we have stations all around the prefecture.”
Great, like that will help him.
Actually... it does.
Katsuki notes down the name of the organization and calls their number his next morning off.
“Hello, Fuyumi Medical Musutafu Branch. How can I help you?” a practiced female voice answers him.
“Hello,” Katsuki prefaces, quickly realizing he doesn’t know how the heck he’s supposed to ask what he wants to know without seeming like a psycho. “I, uh, am looking for a medic? I don’t know their name, but I know what they look like.” After a quick thought, he adds, “I’m a pro-hero and met them on the field.”
“If you’re able to describe them, I may be able to help you better,” the person on the line replies.
“It was a short woman with brown hair and brown eyes,” Katsuki relays, then gnaws at his lip as he waits. When there’s an extended pause from the other person, he knows his description did not help at all.
“How about you pay us a visit and see if she’s here?” the lady says, her voice kind. “We’re having an open house day next week for some high schoolers to tour our facility and if your hero license includes emergency first aid clearance you’d be able to volunteer for the day and see for yourself if any of our staff are who you’re looking for.”
And that was that.
“Why the fuck are you coming with me?” Katsuki asks Todoroki, who is sitting calmly next to him on the train.
“You’re not the only one who has emergency first aid clearance,” Todoroki reminds him. “We took that certification course at the same time, and the hospital would never turn down an extra set of capable hands.” Todoroki scrolls absentmindedly on his phone.
“You could have gone to another hospital,” Katsuki grumbles.
“I prefer this one. I’ve been here before. This is the branch that my older sister is in charge of, actually.”
Fucking great. Katsuki gets up, intending to find another seat, but it’s nearing rush hour so there’s no other seat. That doesn’t stop Katsuki from trying to get away from the half and half bastard. He makes it obvious he’s intentionally shuffling a few feet away, and instead opts to hold on to a handrail.
“You should sit down while you can,” Todoroki advises, raising his voice just slightly to get his message heard across the train car. “It’s going to be a long day.”
Katsuki knits his brow—that’s good logic, but right now he can’t decide if logic is to be appreciated or if logic is a God he’d like to fight just because Icyhot is doing the deliverance.
“I’m not listening to you,” Katsuki grumbles, staying right where he is.
Icyhot was fucking right, as much as Katsuki hates to admit it. In fact, if he ever got asked about it point blank, he’s not even sure he’d admit it.
Because... fuck, it’s not like hero work, where patrols meant constantly moving or an attack meant varied movements.
Nope, nada, zilch. He’s been standing in the same spot he had been standing at for three hours. They’re stationed in a storage room of sorts. He’s putting together some sort of packet to hand out to patients. His hands smell like overly inked paper and his fingers are tired of peeling open plastic bags. Even then, he is grateful not to be Todoroki, who seems to be inhaling an unhealthy amount of paper dust while cutting out handouts.
He’s sure that doing hero agency paperwork would be a more productive use of his time, at this point. Hell, he’d give anything to fight a gang of elementary schoolers right about now.
“How’s it going?” a woman with snow-white hair and red streaks says as she peeps into the storage room. She’s carrying a bunch of boxes, and Katsuki hopes it’s not more items for them to pack.
“Pretty good,” Todoroki says, even though he’s the only one who would ever say he’s doing ‘pretty good’ instead of something saner like trying to cough up a storm in an attempt to get out of shortening his life span with paper dust.
“Thanks again for stopping by, Shouto,” the woman says.
“No problem, Fuyumi,” Todoroki says. “Thanks for dropping off some mapo tofu the other day. It was good—a lot of flavor. I’m almost finished with it.”
Katsuki squints at them. He wracks his brain for where he’s heard the name Fuyumi before. This must be Todoroki’s sister.
“Are you the branch manager here?” Katsuki asks.
“Yes!” Fuyumi replies. “Thank you, Dynamight, for coming by to help us. It’s a bit of a slow day, but I’m so relieved to have these packets ready to go for our next outreach event.”
Katsuki politely nods. “Glad to help,” he says before quickly adding, “You don’t happen to know if your branch has a medic with a floating or gravity quirk, do you? I met one on the field and wondered if they might work here since I recognized her armband.”
Fuyumi puts a finger up to her cheek in thought. “Hmmm, I’m pretty sure we don’t. Most of our medics either have a healing quirk or emotion-based quirks. Floating quirks would be great for patient transportation, so I’m sure I would know if someone had a quirk like that.”
“Ah,” Katsuki says. Well, that would have been too easy. “It’s no biggie,” Katsuki says. “Thanks.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help,” Fuyumi says apologetically. Her pager buzzes and she frowns. “Well, that’s my cue to get going,” she says, offering them a goodbye smile.
“See you,” Todoroki says.
“Come by for dinner sometime! Both of you!” Fuyumi says as she hurries away. She leaves the boxes with them and Todoroki opens them to find more items to put into packets. Fucking figures.
“So that’s why you’re volunteering,” Todoroki says in realization. “I thought that it was quite out of character for you.”
Katsuki wants to bang his head.
Another day, another hospital to visit. Katsuki is a glorified kid babysitter at this hospital. He returns there a week later, just because he can. Against his better judgment, he asks Todoroki if he wants to join him during his next visit.
The kids like Katsuki more than Todoroki, which Katsuki is delighted to hold over him.
The PR head visits Katsuki’s cubicle as he’s doing his best not to nod off while filing yet another mission summary.
“You’ve been volunteering at hospitals,” the PR head says bluntly, a hand on her hip. He pauses his typing to look up at her. It’s framed like a question, but it doesn’t sound like one.
“...Yes?” he replies, brows knotting.
The PR head lights up. “Great! You know, we usually prefer it when heroes go through us before doing stuff like this, but this is marvelous—very organic and it’ll do a terrific job helping your image.”
“Uhh...” Katsuki says, because this was absolutely not his intention, but who is he to argue with the PR head doing her job?
She hands him a paper with a list of hospitals.
“Here’s some more for you to visit! Be sure to let us know when you head to this one.” She points at the one at the top of the list. “We want to get a clear picture of you going in. No more of that blurry tabloid stuff.” She waves a hand as if she smelled something stinky.
Oh. Katsuki scans the list. Well, it can’t hurt. He was going to visit all of them, regardless.
“Hello, this is Dynamight calling.”
“Dynamight! We were wondering when you would visit us. Please come by anytime.”
“Uh... thanks. Do you happen to know anyone in the medic department that may have met me before and has brown hair? I’m looking for someone I met on the field.”
“Oh, I’m not too familiar with our medic department, but I’m sure they won’t mind if you stop by for a visit!”
Next on the list is a small remote neighborhood hospital 20 miles out and no direct rail, so Katsuki ends up driving there and paying the price of gas, energy, and road tolls.
When he arrives, he already knows this likely isn’t the place he’s looking for. It’s out in the boonies, far from the place he met the medic. But he marches up to the front desk, because that’s not a good reason to turn back when he’s come all this way. Also, because he’s running out of places to visit and he’s trying to put off going to the hospital that the PR head wants him to get pictures taken at.
There’s no one at the desk, but there is an electric doorbell button taped down to the edge of the countertop.
There’s a paper taped down next to it with the words: Ring for assistance.
“Ah, welcome,” a teenager greets him when he presses the button. “You look like a hero. What brings you here?”
Katsuki opens his mouth to start his well-practiced little spiel about looking for a medic. He closes his mouth, thinking better of it.
“Just here to volunteer,” Katsuki says.
The kid squints at Katsuki. Katsuki ends up reading bedtime stories to elders.
He dreams.
He’s back in the fiery danger zone, except he’s not there at all. He’s missing from the scene as the medic girl tries to dismantle the bus-death-trap on her own and it collapses on her and everyone in the bus.
Katsuki’s eyes snap open and he takes a deep breath. Then another. And another.
They’re okay, he tells himself. They all made it to safety. He’s sure that they’re okay.
“Bro,” Kirishima says, “You’re like, way too caught up in this woman.”
“A woman?” Sero perks up and so does Deku, who looks up from his report. “Baku-bro is finally getting some?”
“Fuck no,” Katsuki grumbles and slouches in his chair. “Shut up.”
Katsuki glares at Sero for a good second. Tape-Arms brings his arms up in surrender so Katsuki goes back to typing up his report, satisfied.
“Hey, Kirishima,” Deku whispers in a way that Katsuki finds painful to ignore but does his best to. “Is Kacchan and this woman… Are they, you know...” Deku punches the air, “drift compatible?”
“No idea,” Kirishima comically whispers back. “I didn’t see her.”
“Ah,” Deku says, and then the office area falls to a rather pensive silence.
“The fuck is drift compatible?” Katsuki blurts out.
“Oh man,” Kirishima says. “As soon as you’re finished mooning after this girl that doesn’t exist, it’s guys movie night.”
“Don’t got time for a shitty movie,” Katsuki says sharply, hoping to put a stop to this before it snowballs into an actual thing.
“Sure you do,” Kirishima replies easily. The fucker is getting too used to deciding things for him, Katsuki bitterly determines. He’s got to find a way to make it stop.
Todoroki blinks. “What is drift capa—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki snarls. Kirishima and Deku look at each other.
Sero carefully places a casual arm around Katsuki’s shoulder.
“Do you know what we need?” Sero asks.
“Nothing, we need nothing,” Katsuki grumbles.
“A break,” Sero continues. “We need a break. And that means a guy’s movie night is tonight!”
Katsuki hates his friends. He truly does.
He’s in the kitchen, looking for red pepper to sprinkle onto his popcorn. No, his taste buds aren’t dead. Sero needs to stop asking that. He’s not taking criticism. Popcorn tastes better with spice added, and he doesn’t know how anyone else eats that bland, greasy stuff without spice.
Okay, well to be honest, it also gives him the added benefit of no one else daring to reach into his popcorn bucket because they all know they can’t handle the level of spice he puts in. They are all fucking wimps, but Katsuki still wins because it means no popcorn-sharing germs for him, thank you very much.
Deku hangs around the countertops and chews on a protein bar. Katsuki can’t fathom eating a protein bar and then sitting around watching a movie. A protein bar is better accompanied with a workout but he doesn’t bother scolding Deku—he’s kinda tired of doing that and there’s a reason Katsuki’s build is way better than anyone else. Except maybe Kirishima, but the dude is a meat head so that barely counts, anyway.
“About the girl you’re looking for...” Deku starts and Katsuki sighs.
“What about it?” Katsuki snaps as he unscrews the red pepper bottle cap.
He pours a generous amount of spice powder on top of his freshly popped popcorn, taking great pleasure in the way Deku watches, wide eyed and slightly aghast as the powder falls into his bowl. It’s not Katsuki’s fault that he’s ahead of his time.
“I know it’s plaguing you,” Deku says, eyes not moving away from Katsuki’s red-topped bowl.
“And?” Katsuki grunts.
“It’s just, I see you spending all your time on it.”
Katsuki sighs and decides that there’s no use hiding it from Deku, the motherfucker, at least not when he’s like this.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s just been bothering me and I cross checked everything reported from that incident and footage too. I can’t seem to find a lead on a stupid medic girl with a floating quirk.” He grinds his teeth together before reminding himself to take a breath and put away the spice bottle before he overdoses himself. Which he would like to see himself try one day, but today is not that day.
Yes, this has been occupying his mind for quite some time now, but it’s different to hear people nag him about it. And yes, he was already thinking about it, but contrary to popular belief, there can be some harm to already thinking about it and—
“Why don’t you just check the Hall of Quirk Records?” Deku asks.
He glares at Deku because of course he’s done that already—no, wait, he hasn’t?
“I fucking hate you, Deku,” Katsuki says as he takes his phone out of his pocket and clicks open the hero commission permission form to make a visit.
“Can I come—”
“Hell no,” Katsuki says and Deku pouts. “That doesn’t work on me. I’ve known you too long, fucker,” Katsuki tells him.
He schedules a visit to the Hall of Quirk Records next week and another hospital visit to end this week. It’s the one at the top of the list the PR Head gave him. He’s been avoiding it because he didn’t want to notify the department. But he does, because he enjoys not being too much of a headache to the people who support his career.
He takes a train to the hospital on Friday after his afternoon patrol. On the way, he stops by the library to pick up some picture books to put in his day bag, just in case he is assigned to kids again. He finds it uncomfortable to go places knowing a camera is trailing him, so he’s tempted to call out to them and tell them to just walk with him, but he knows that’s not how they operate. Stewing on this train of thought on most of the walk to the hospital, he’s careful to suppress his instinct to shake the cameraman off. He’d hate to do this whole uncomfortable affair again just because it isn’t done right the first time.
He enters the hospital at the same time a group of medics returns from their lunch break. He pays them no mind, intending to head to the receptionist first, but then he hears—
“Well, if it isn’t Dynamight,” a familiar voice says. Katsuki whips around.
He can’t believe his eyes. The medic he’s been searching for is right there, brown-haired and brown eyed, short stature but tall posture, with an amiable smile on her lips. Her cheeks are pinker than he remembers.
“You...” he begins to say, incoherent.
“I was wondering when you’d pay us a visit!” she says, her smile widening into a grin. “We were just placing bets.”
He musters a smile back. She steps away from the other medics and walks towards him. She sticks out a hand for him to shake.
“I’m Uraraka Ochako. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met once before.”
“I remember,” Katsuki says gruffly, shaking her hand.
Her smile turns secretive. “Only the good things, I hope.”
Katsuki barks a laugh.
“Sure,” he agrees easily. “Only the good things.”
She winks at him and Katsuki tries not to choke on air.
“Do you know where you’re volunteering today?” she asks.
“Haven’t checked in yet. So, no.”
“The medic department could use an extra set of hands if you don’t mind,” she says, putting a finger to her cheek in thought. “Not exactly the most PR friendly job, though,” she adds.
Katsuki shakes his head. “My agency wants the PR,” he says. “I don’t really care,” he admits.
He motions towards the receptionist desk and she steps alongside him.
And somehow gets him assigned to the emergency medic department.
And it’s... fucking crazy.
He barely has time to breathe in between patients coming in and out of the auditorium-sized room filled with beds and shelves of first-aid and medications. He’s glad he’s never been squeamish because he swears he’s seen more people’s innards in this single afternoon than he’s ever seen on the battlefield.
He does his best to do emergency paramedic procedures on patient after patient, waiting for a higher ranked medic or a nurse or a doctor to take over.
Some people don’t make it and it barely registers in his head before something else demands his attention. Because he always knew, conceptually, that his job as a hero was getting people to safety. And while the chances of survival are much higher, people can still die in a place that’s considered safe by hero handbook guidelines.
He holds onto a young man’s hand as a doctor closes an abdominal cavity. The young man is safe, but it’s not until Katsuki sees the last stitch close and transfers him over to inpatient care that he finally classifies him as okay.
He checks his badge. His scheduled volunteering hours are over, but he doesn’t leave.
It’s early Saturday morning, right after he cleans up surface level cuts from another patient, when he feels a tapping on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Ochako says. “You should go home and rest. I’m sure you have to report to hero work later today. Leave the rest to us medics.”
He turns to look at her. His shoulders ache, he realizes. His throat is a little dry too; he should drink some water. She takes that as her cue to guide him out of the medic room and to the locker room for him to change out of his sweaty and stained scrubs.
Belatedly, he realizes she must have been here this entire time, too.
“What about you?” he asks.
She makes a fist and lifts an arm to show her biceps. “Got a few more hours before my shift is over,” Ochako says. “I’m used to it, no worries.”
She has nice biceps. Katsuki blinks, finding the action slow and laborious.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he says, too tired to filter it.
“Thanks,” she says, sincerity lacing her voice. “Everyone here is, including you,” she says, then pauses. “Go change,” she firmly demands.
He ducks into the locker room to change back into his jeans and t-shirt, slinging his day bag over his shoulder. The children’s books he had packed in his bag seem lighter on his shoulder than before.
When he exits the locker room, Ochako is still there. She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and stifles a yawn that scrunches up her nose.
“Thanks,” Katsuki tells her, and her attention snaps to him.
“Of course,” she says. “You probably wouldn’t have been assigned to the medics department if I hadn’t intervened.” She chuckles. “We’re a big branch, so we get a lot of difficult patients, but you were great. I tried to check up on you a few times, but you were always busy with something.”
Katsuki shakes his head. “No, I’m glad you asked for me. I think I needed this.”
“You gonna be back for more volunteering, hot stuff?” she asks.
Katsuki pauses. Then grunts.
“Yeah.”
Ochako beams.
He cancels his Hall of Quirk Records appointment the following Monday and replaces the time gap on his calendar with another hospital visit.
“You know, I really gotta stop seeing you here,” Ochako says. She’s seated at one of the plastic tables, shoveling fried rice into her mouth. Katsuki went to the break room to get a drink of water; he’s been getting better at keeping hydrated ever since he had to pin down a patient stuck in a nightmare quirk to stop them from hurting themselves for over an hour and nearly fainted, himself, afterwards.
“You’re the one who said the department needed the extra hands,” Katsuki says.
“Starting to believe this is the only hospital you volunteer at,” she teases him, mouth full with rice.
“Oh, don’t worry, you guys aren’t special,” Katsuki says and as if to prove a point, he adds, “One of my ex-classmate’s elder sister runs a branch closer to my agency so I’ve been helping out there too. And there’s the other hospital that practically calls me every other week to go hang out with the kids there.”
“And here I thought we were special,” Ochako says.
No, Katsuki thinks privately, Just you.
“Nope,” Katsuki says aloud. “Got any plans after your shift?” he asks.
“Sleep,” Ochako says.
“Good stuff,” Katsuki replies, snagging a protein bar from the vending machine.
“You?” she asks. Katsuki sits down with her at the table and unwraps his snack.
“Might hit the gym,” Katsuki says. “Been getting fewer hours there recently and I want to make use of the facilities since I’m paying for membership.”
Ochako puts her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm. “Which gym do you go to?”
“The one on tenth street,” Katsuki says smugly. That’s the nicest one in the city.
Ochako whistles. “Damn, of course you do. I go to the one that’s down the street from here. Not state-of-the-art, but the monthly rate is cheap and they have most of the equipment I like. Gotta keep in shape if I want to continue being an on-field medic.”
At that, an old thought of Katsuki’s resurfaces.
“Do you have a provisional hero’s license?” he asks.
Her cheeks paint with a hue of pink darker than usual.
“Uh, nope,” she says. She scratches the back of head, self-conscious, then quickly adds, “I used to be a hero-in-training though!”
Katsuki’s eyebrows raise.
“Really?” Somehow, Katsuki doesn’t find that hard to believe.
“Yeah! Like in middle school, becoming a pro hero was my dream.” She trails off for a moment before restarting a little more hesitantly. “I, uh, dropped out of the program before high school, though. Hero school tuition wasn’t exactly cheap, so I changed career paths to become a medic instead. My quirk was always more rescue-orientated anyway, so it feels right to still be involved this way.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “When I first met you and saw what you could do, I didn’t really think to question you about it after. I was just in work mode, so anyone who wasn’t in hero gear was another person to save.”
“I get that,” Ochako says. “I know I probably technically broke a handbook bylaw or something.”
“You did,” Katsuki confirms.
She stills, offering him a sheepish smile.
Katsuki chews on his protein bar when a thought occurs to him: “Want to join me at the gym after your shift? My membership tier lets me bring in a guest.”
Ochako does another whistle at that. Katsuki’s gaze stays on her, heart thumping and waiting.
“I’d love to,” she says.