Work Text:
Izuku stepped through the long winded hallway, dress shoes clacking with an echo as he approached the security doors at the far end. It scanned his Level 6 Clearance I.D., as well as his fingerprint and both of his retina’s before allowing entrance. His pristine white lab coat felt out of place for the dark atmosphere, but he continued—pushing past the first, second, and third set of security doors.
Finally, he arrived at his destination—A laboratory built for the greatest researchers in the world, a place where great minds have argued and tested and created things humanity could only dream of. Izuku’s eyes fret over the jumping vitals displayed across multiple monitors, scratching down observations on his worn down clipboard, mumbling to himself as he annotated and walked mindlessly to the observation tank at the other end of the room.
It was pitch black inside of the large tank, all light seemingly sucked into a vacuum—but Izuku knew of what lurked in those shadows. Every light from this half of the lab was turned off, all for the comfort of the creature lurking inside.
He brought over a chair from the desk at his right, opting to place it in front of the tank as he sat down, heart beating wildly in his chest as he looked up at the tank and back down at his notes. His hands felt clammy, and his bottom lip was aching from the incessant biting Izuku could never break the habit of.
Silence.
It clawed at his mind. Vitals looked fine, what was wrong? The last thing he was going to do was tap on the glass, he learned that the hard way, but it could usually tell when Izuku had arrived. He continued to sit in silence, only the hum of machines and computers occupying the vacant lab. He absentmindedly tapped his pen on the clipboard, waiting for-
CLANG!
His back hit the floor, falling backwards on the chair as he scrambled away from the tank. The loud sound reverberated throughout the lab, echoing up and around as Izuku tried to gather his bearings. The quick swish of an orange tail was the only indication he had of what had happened, and he clutched a hand over his heart in an effort to calm himself.
Obviously, the whip of that tail had struck the tank, and Izuku could only pray that the foot worth of everything-proof glass didn’t crack under the pressure. He crawled over to inspect it, hands shaking as his fingers grazed over the ice-cold tank.
Nothing is broken. Everything is fine, Izuku.
He almost allowed himself a breath of relief, but found himself flinching once again as a set of long, fanged teeth came to maul his hand, only stopped by the protective glass of the tank.
“K-Kacchan! Stop it! Bad specimen!”
Standing up, he made his way over to the wall near the entrance, flipping every switch until light flooded the entirety of the room. It was then that he was able to see the creature in the tank, shaking and wading in circles through the water while brandishing its sharp canines.
Kacchan always did this—scaring the pearls off of him before twirling around in the water without a care in the world. If Izuku could attribute human traits to the creature, he’d have thought that it was laughing at him, making fun of the puny human and his inability to defend himself.
Stupid Kacchan.
Izuku pouted, huffing before going to fix his chair and sit beside the tank once again. He swore Kacchan smirked at him, but Izuku wasn’t going to lean in and find out. How many times was he going to have to learn?
Beating heart now settled, he took out his notes to begin his daily observation log.
[Observation Log #8: 27/07/20XX 8:47AM “Ka-chan”]
Specimen used the caudal fin to strike the glass. No damage recorded.
Scales have grown red and slightly iridescent. Sketch provided.
Superior villiform teeth have grown. Sedation required for accurate measurement.
Head trauma has significantly improved. Regeneration of the dorsal fin is nearly complete.
Izuku sighed, tucking his pen in the corner of his ear before gripping the clipboard to his chest. His eyes tracked Kacchan around the tank, watching as he– it– darted from one side of the tank to the other, obviously growing stir-crazy inside of the 40 x 30 meter tank. Recording its speed was redundant, because if he could, he’d spend the entire day writing about it. (He’s already done it once.)
Kacchan shot across once again, leaving salt-water bubbles in its wake, giving Izuku another impressive morning show. The irritation from being scared by Kacchan settled into a familiar awe, and he found himself nearly pressed against the glass, again, in naive adoration. There wasn’t a moment of boredom with Kacchan here, which is why it was so easy to get caught up in his- its– fast pace.
Suddenly, Kacchan locked eyes with Izuku from across the tank. He wasn’t completely sure from the distance, but Kacchan’s head whipped in Izuku’s direction, and he only had half a second of processing time before the creature was a foot away from his face, hissing and trilling menacingly at him. Its black sclera were an indication of hostility, but it only accentuated the beauty of Kacchan’s glowing, crimson irises, pupils blown into sharp slits.
But, for some god forsaken reason, Izuku chose today to stand his ground, shaking only slightly as he stared ahead, unmoving from his spot in front of the glass. The creature hissed louder at Izuku’s downright insolence — for daring to challenge a predator such as itself, and its fangs were bared tighter. Sharp. Lethal.
However, Izuku didn’t flinch. He refused to, really. Everyday, it was the same exact cycle, and they were getting nowhere. They learned nothing about the creature other than its biological functions, and even those were still mysteries in some ways.
The only way to make progress was to attempt a form of communication, but nobody had the guts to try it when Kacchan had.. shredded half of the aquatic capture team like cheese. Not one of Izuku’s coworkers dared to even approach the tank, all in fear of what Kacchan might do, might break, but Izuku had no such reservations.
This is why he slowly placed a flat palm on the glass, gulping audibly as he watched Kacchan zero-in on his hand. Kacchan’s head fins flared and contracted, almost as a visible representation of his- its- fuck it. His hesitance.
Izuku nearly screamed in excitement as he watched Kacchan raise his own hand, long claws scraping upwards, before placing it flat against the glass—a perfect parallel to Izuku’s own. It’s then that their eyes met, and Izuku was sure, positive, that this creature was completely and utterly intelligent. They held each other's gazes, palms still outstretched, and the researcher could only try to keep from falling forward from the sheer power of Kacchan’s eyes. They were dripping with danger, death, and hostility—but there was an underlying inquisitiveness—something curious lurking within, that Izuku knew he’d never be able to forget.
Katsuki stretched his palm out, perfectly mimicking the cowardly two-legged creature. Its hands were dainty, dull, and small—horrible for hunting. How did it even fucking survive?
He had half a mind to strike the glass again, just to watch it jump and fall in that amusing way he’d grown to like—but its emerald eyes were surprisingly captivating. Perhaps, even a little pretty.
The two-legged creature studied him—this, he knew—but he found that he liked it when those shining eyes were on him, watching him, enraptured in Katsuki’s presence.
He shot a smirk towards the researcher, and watched as a pretty little flush adorned those weirdly dotted cheeks.
Guess it wasn’t all bad, right?