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It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that this had happened. It wasn’t as though there weren’t any warnings, not with the way Katsuki slowly delved into more violence. Inflicting pain seemed to become just another hobby, and fearful expressions were like an elixir needed to live. Never, not once in his youth, had he ever thought to question the odd, pleasurable coil in his gut.
He knows now, when it’s already far too late, that it wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right. Too little, too late; and suddenly he was standing on the sidewalk just outside of the towering gates of UA, phone clutched tightly in hand.
The media swarmed around his cloaked figure, paying him no mind as he was jostled about. He didn’t yell, didn’t scream, didn’t threaten to explode any of them for invading his personal space. On the video he watched, an airpod nestled in his ear, a familiar man sat in a tall chair placed in the middle of the screen. Some boys he recognized shouted their inputs. They all had something in common- how they'd known he’d end up on this path.
But that wasn’t right. They all- Everyone- had told him he was destined to rise to the top, to be the best of the best. No one had ever said that he was evil, that he was taking things too far.
“ You’re going too far, Kacchan! Stop! I won’t let you hurt him!” Goddamnit! Deku had known. Deku had warned him. Deku knew this is what he would have eventually become if he didn’t slow down. But Katsuki. hadn’t. listened. Because his fucking ego was too big to admit he wasn’t OK. Because someone who was OK wouldn’t laugh as he put someone else down- someone who was OK wouldn’t threaten to tear some limb from limb if they uttered a word about his sick actions- someone who was OK wouldn’t tell their once-best-friend to kill himself. Someone who was OK wouldn’t smile while saying he’d do it for them.
The sudden cut of noise drew his thoughts, ruby eyes cast down at the phone. His hands had formed a fist, clutching biting glass and bent case. His tired reflection stared back from the black screen, hollow-eyed and sunken cheeks.
He wouldn’t lie and say he received the news well. When the letter from UA was sent back- well, all his dreams crashing down in a single blow had been too much to bear. An anger he’d never felt before, one that he’d been feeding by refusing to put a cap on his temper, had exploded, taking with it rouge buildings and innocent lives. He doesn’t actually know if anyone died that sorrowful day, as it makes him feel sick to the bone to so much as even thinking about it.
He hadn’t been able to deal with the consequences and ran. Like a fucking pathetic, discraceful, bitch, he’d ran, tail between his legs. Katsuki did not run from his problems, that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He- He reeled his fist back and powered through it because he was supposed to the very best. Supposed to rise to the top in one swoop. Supposed to blow away the competition.
But he wasn’t offered a chance, his formal request to take the exams being denied because of his violent record.
How many people has he hurt? He wonders as he looks back, a dark frown creasing his features. He didn’t want to be a villain, but with the goal he’d held so dearly before, did he really want to be a hero? To rise to the top, make villains cower at his feet, becoming rich- did any of that count as heroic? What made a hero? Bringing his hand up, he clutched his jaw, slowly covering his mouth before dragging the fingers down his face, nails biting into the tender flesh from numb frustration. What the fuck makes a hero?
Allmight- he’d always been someone who the blond has looked up to. Katsuki… he wanted to rise above the great man, be better than he could ever hope to be. What made someone like Allmight so much better than Katsuki in every conceivable way. What carried him to the top rank? His goal felt the same: rise to the top, make villains scared, become rich- what was Katsuki missing?
Suddenly, a crumbling sound rumbled through the earth, putting his mind on halt. Narrowing his eyes, he investigated the scene, listening as blaring sirens cut the air. Pushing through the crowd, he grew closer to the damage, having already been hovering near the gate. The crowd of reporters paid him no mind as he easily glided by, slowly gaining speed before he’s suddenly running onto the grounds, ducking behind a stray piece of rubble.
Heart pounding, he tugged his hood further over his face, hoping the shadows would disguise his more distinguishing features. Fuck- Katsuki shouldn’t get involved in this whole mess. He really fucking shouldn’t. But at this point, this far in, he’d already cemented the deal. He wasn’t a hero and he never would be. This would be his life now, as much as he hated it. He fucked up any chance at being good , and there was nothing he could do about it now.
The past couple of months have felt hollow. He’d run away with nothing. A numbness that has only existed in a far away sense suddenly became overwhelming, devouring any positive emotion he tried to feel. Only anger seemed to drown it out, bringing taunting wants that would bring back that exhilarating thrill that came with beating someone to a pulp. But he didn’t want to be bad. To be evil. But this late in and he’d accepted it was just who he was. That it happened to be something he’d always be plagued with.
He was going to retreat, even though some part of him stuck in the past begged to follow through, when his stomach gave a sharp pang. Selfish. He was so, so selfish. Planting a hand on the wall, he pushed a little of his quirk into the palm, watching as stone melted in a way he didn’t think it was supposed to. The halls were bustling with panic, shoulders knocking into shoulders, feet scrambling and trampling, screams rising above screams . Seeing these hero wannabes awoke something cold and dried out, a blazing want someone had put out for him. A knowledge that, had he gotten in, he would’ve been better than all these wimps stampeding about. And fuck, Katsuki wasn’t a hero but… But he had wanted to be. He just knew he couldn’t anymore. How was he supposed to, when he barely even knew what made a hero in the first place?
He’s quick and silent in a way he never had been before. Months of wandering between dark alleys taught you how to go unnoticed. The time he’d spent all alone- it was humbling, to say the least. The panic inside the building was almost enough to make him turn back, say fuck it and forget this every happened. But instead he grit his teeth and wormed through, head kept low and ashen hoodie covering his spiked hair.
Katsuki worried slightly about being caught- after all, this was definitely illegal. But the people around him seemed too lost in their panic to pay him any mind, offering a sigh of peace. They’d accepted him as another poor fool who’d wound up in the rampaging crowd, knocking him to and fro through the building. He clenched his fists to keep from drawing any attention, as it was the last thing he needed right now. He’d gotten lucky; not getting immediately called out. If everything was going according to plan, then all of the stronger faculty should be down at the gate, dealing with the wave of reporters. And thank god to them, because he doesn’t think he’d ever get in as easily otherwise.
The door he was searching for was on the second floor, and that had been a challenge in and of itself. The elevators had all turned off, flashing red warnings to not enter. Not that he would, for no doubt cameras would be in every corner. He was already pushing it as it was, no need to go poking fate with a broken stick. The crowd flowed down the stairs, so he’d had to wade through, each step bringing a hurtling body to smash against his chest. He’s not sure why he did it, but he caught every one and set them right before seeing them off.
Finally to the second floor, he merged in with the traffic, smoothly gliding over the tiled floor. There’s windows on every side, and that deep wanting kindles, urging to stop all this. Maybe they’d open a spot just for him- a special little thing that he’d work to deserve. If he was thrown a bone, he would fucking take it. Which is a thought that astonishes him. His entire life he’d never needed anyones help, had never asked, never begged, never cried. But here he was, the dull shell of a man who used to be, willing to give in to the tempting urge of help. A smarter, more lively part of his brain started spouting off insults, shaking him back into the objective.
He was Katsuki Bakugou, and giving up fit nowhere in that name. It was something he was to bear with pride, scream it from the rooftops as fans thundered cheers below. That’s not who I am anymore, he growled monstrously to himself. He was no one to be looked up to. People spat at his feet and mocked his dirt caked skin, and if he dared bite back then dried blood would join that mix. He was surviving on straws, and when you did that you learned shit. There’s no room for pride, dignity, ego, not alone on the streets. Not when all you have is a dingy cardboard box and whatever you can find in the trash cans.
Reaching the door, he plants a palm on the metal handle, watching as it melts almost immediately, rendering it relatively easy to slip in. No one noticed, he didn't think.
He has to be quick, no doubt there’s cameras in here that’ll alert someone to the location. Rummaging through filing cabinets and tearing papers off of desks, he comes face to face with the week’s schedule. Biting his cheek, he nods, reaching down to his pocket for the extra phone. Giran had been a man who took pity upon him, but made him swear to pay him back whenever he got the money. It was a deal to be regretted later, not now, when all he could feel is gratitude. If he had to crawl through the halls again- well, he just doesn’t think he’s ever getting through scot free.
The paper is heavy, and he hesitates as his fingers fly over the screen. Fuck. People were going to get hurt because of his selfish ass. Children, nonetheless. God, when did he become such a fucking wuss? He imagined himself out there, or Deku, or any of the other past classmates who dreamed of meeting him at the top. They’d certainly be scared shitless, wondering if they made it out alive. If the plan went accordingly… They might not.
This isn’t your job to worry about. His stomach hissed to his brain, this is the only way to live. We both know it.
It’s fucking selfish. He bit back internally, head pounding behind his eyes from murmuring stress.
Since when have you cared? And that… that was a good point with a not so easy answer. He wants, in the truth of his mind, to say that he’s always cared, even if just a little bit. But then tearful eyes would flash in his mind’s eye and he’d know that sometimes whatever part of his brain made him care simply turned off. That's what led to the pleasure he derived from the experiences.
It made him sick to think about, so he didn’t.
The text was sent before he could double guess it, stepping back into a swirling portal. “ Hey you! Stop!” Behind, the door slammed open, but he was gone before they could even peek inside.
—
He was rewarded handsomely for getting the information. They even offered him more to join during the official invasion, and he had agreed before his mind had caught up. If it meant more easy meals, less empty dreams on concrete, then why would he ever complain? He forced what guilt he felt to the very back of his mind, barricading it with thick boards and hammering it tightly shut. He knew exactly what he was in for the first time he agreed to that job, he wouldn’t- couldn’t back down. This was a chance to regain some of the pride that had been forcefully stripped away. He’d hurt people, yeah, but if he distanced himself from the fact they were his age then he thinks he can do it without any unpleasant thoughts gouging out his mind. Afterall, all he was good for was hurting people. It was just something he was still trying to consciously accept.
The cash is warm in his pocket, and he feels unexpectedly anxious over anyone trying to take it. A woman gets too close and he bares his teeth- a brat knocks into his leg and he shoves them harshly, earning stern looks- Men meeting his eyes in a fierce challenge.
By the time he gets into the cool little restaurant, his skin is clammy and pale, heart having dropped every time his anxiety spiked. The anxiety- that was new too. It had never existed before. Hadn’t needed too; not with the way his future had basically been promised. Wrapped in a small little box that he’d exploded in his haste to open, reducing the gift inside to ashes. But he had every right to be fearful at every turn- too used to getting robbed or beat up in dark alleys and empty roads. It’s shameful to say that he rarely fought back, mind blank in a terrifying way. Sometimes, he figured that it was all karma and that he deserved it. He hated that feeling, and it was thanks to those villains that he wasn’t like that anymore. They offered a place to sleep, to hide, to shower because god knows he needed one after those months. He owed them a lot, and he despised it. Relying on people- he didn’t want to do that, but needed to at the same time, it was frustrating.
His hoodie is up and around his face. He doesn’t actually know if any of the city cameras caught a clear view of his face, steering clear of the internet, but it never hurts to be safe. He was beyond sure, though, that his explosions would be a dead give away, and so, he wiped the sweat that had gathered in his fingers across his pants, stalking towards the register. The fabric heated at his touch, but no explosions were pulled forth. A win's a win.
The lady didn’t pay him much mind, simply giving a mandatory smile. “Table for one.” He requested, pulling out the wad of cash from his pocket and flicking through it as she rattled off the cost.
“You’ll be seated shortly.” She chimed, nodding a dismissal before turning to the next customer.
The place he’s found himself in happens to be on the fancier side, a clear treat to himself. A victory to a job well done. He doesn’t know if he actually deserves something as nice and pleasant as this, but he’s come to learn that he is a selfish man. One who only thinks about himself. He frowns at the unpleasant thoughts, rubbing his hands together in an anxious habit. His senses are on high alert, as they always were. He probably looked out of place; shoulders up to his ears and eyes flying every way.
“Uh- Shit, I know I had it somewhere.” The boy who’d come in after Katsuki whined, digging through his pockets. His hair was spiky red and teeth sharp and deadly. His eyes were a dark shade of crimson, one side sporting a small scar. Eventually, he pulls out a bundle of crumbled dollars, and even Katsuki has to wince as he passes it over with a “is this enough?” It isn’t. And seeing the heartbroken expression on his face, Katsuki steps up and glides over, pulling a couple extra bills and handing it over, ignoring the stranger’s squawk of surprise.
“Can I change to a table of two?” He regrets this already. Deeply. Deeply regrets this. He can’t be bringing attention like this. It’s not like he’s a nice person, he’s just doing this because the idiot’s whining was a grating noise he didn’t want to listen to. That’s it.
The worker nods and instructs them to take a seat. They do.
“That was so manly of you to do!” The boy had a grin that split his face basically in half. Katsuki stared with tired, dead eyes, hoping he’d shut up. “I thought I’d have to go home. My mom gave me some money to get out of the house for a bit.” There was an underlying note to the words that spoke of a deeper story. If he were any more concerned, Katsuki would ask, but he didn’t, just glared silently.
“Boo fucking hoo.” He growled, making the other’s eyes widen in some amounts of shock. “I don’t care what's going on in your shitty life or why you’re here.” He huffed, rolling his shoulders and repeating his earlier action of wiping his palms against his jeans. “I only did that because you were annoying.”
“Could have sat me at my own seat.” The boy teased, not flinching at the venomous look shot his way. “I’m Eijirou Kirishima! And you are?” Kirishima stuck his hand out, and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel himself die a little. This guy had to be around his age- Another wave of depression washing over at the thought of everyone who would get hurt because of his earlier deed.
His expression twitched, and he had to hold everything together to not let it crumble. “It’s cheaper, and names aren’t important.” He growled, voice gravely with guilt. Kirishima cocked his head to the side, confused by the strange response. A man came up to them, wearing the restaurant's logo on the front of his shirt, and waved them over. “Let’s go.” He muttered in some amount of embarrassment, keeping his head down as they passed an assortment of full tables.
Kirishima spoke lightly to the waiter before taking his seat, still smiling like a fool. Katsuki scowled, turning away. They sat in silence until they ordered, having already decided their meal with their drinks. The waiter checked once to make sure they had it right before disappearing somewhere into what he assumes is the kitchen area.
“Thanks again for this meal, bro! Like, really, the place is kinda expensive.” The red-haired boy chatted, waving a hand as he talked. Katsuki couldn’t find it in himself to respond, not even with a snappish shut up. “We’ve got this field trip coming up that I'm, like, super nervous for. Yesterday, our teacher threatened to expel us!” He shivered at the memory, “And I totally didn’t tell you this but Allmight was our heroics teacher,” Katsuki’s gaze shoots up, horror dawning with each sparking word, “and he totally didn’t stop this fight between this one kid who went all out and completely fucked his arms! We were terrified!” He laughed afterwards, “He’s alright though, Recovery Girl healed him, I saw him after school.”
A pit hollows itself into Katsuki’s gut, “What school do you go to?” He whispers in a pathetically careful tone.
“UA!”
Katsuki’s heart drops.
—
He ends up letting Kirishima talk to his heart’s content, dissociating in a mild way. He probably looked terrible, eyes wide and mouth creasing into a delicate frown, skin milky pale beneath a series of cuts and bruises- whatever hair that spilled out from beneath his hoodie was oily and untamed. Absent-mindedly, Kirishima had recommended some hair products that the blond only vaguely noted before shifting to a different topic completely. He wasn’t sure, something about his dad?
Fuck, was the only thought that swirled around in Katsuki’s mind, small and weak. He grit his teeth, hands now clenching the fabric of his dreams to stave off the impending explosions. He’d have to light them at some point- His quirk- it was like a living creature, reckless and begging to be set free. Katsuki had always succumbed to it’s pull, and it had let him think he was in control. He never was, he knows that now. Explosions crackled and boomed even when he wished they wouldn’t, sensitive to his simmering emotions. Those too would erupt soon, he wasn’t an idiot. Though, considering he thought for his entire life that it was OK to hurt people, he may as well be.
But it scared him, he didn’t want to admit it but as of late that was all he could think about. Everything he’d done wrong suddenly pounding against the pale wall of his skull, screaming and sobbing for attention, for justification. He deserved whatever was coming for him, he recognized, head tilting as his eyes unfocused a little more, and when that time came he’d just sit down and take it. Unless control slipped from his grip, because everyone knows how weak it is, and succeeds in making everything a dozen times worse. That was more likely, he recognized.
He thought of the coming attack on the field trip, USJ? Something along those lines. He’s already confirmed his attendance, so there’s no backing out, not now. Giran had even pre ordered him a special suit that would hide his appearance, saying that he had potential and it could be cut short if his face was out. Did that mean it wasn’t already? He couldn’t be sure. It’s not that he wants to hurt them, it’s not that he’s stuck on revenge or a grudge, if he was he’d go hunt down all of his old schools and not leave until each one was left in a pile of bloody rubble. He’d wait until school was out and only his teachers remained. Is it sick that he had even let this planning thought into his mind? Probably.
No. It was just the money, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the high he got when feeling bones crush under a deadly fist. That can’t be it, he can’t secretly want to do this. When he’d whispered this in a husky whisper to the bartender, Shigaraki’s… parent? Worker? Caretaker? The man made of swirling mist had encouraged it in an approving tone, saying that that was exactly what it could be. It scared him, he hadn’t said. Embrace it, Kurogiri had said. He couldn’t run away from this part of himself forever. He just… Wished, somewhere in the depth of his mind, that someone would lend a hand and pull him out of this whole mess. Someone patient and willing to put up with his shit, but also help him control his beast of a power and tame the bubbling want of falling bodies.
He scowled, as that wouldn’t be happening. Because of his quirk- he’d been set as dangerous. Enough so that he was sure the more riskier heroes wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, just get the problem over and done with. It made him angry, so he didn’t think about it, forcing that numb blanket back up over his shoulders.
At some point their food arrived, and at some point he ate it. He can’t recall, later when he returns back to that dingy bar, of what the meal tasted like. If it burned his tongue or sat at just the right temperature. Can’t remember what the floor or table or chair had looked like, the face of the waitress or the sound of their voice.
No. Instead the only thing reverberating in the hollow of his mind is a hesitant picture of this poor Kirishima boy, red hair and all, but with blood splattered across his face, a vacant silence in those ruby eyes. The thought raises some kind of anger he isn’t sure the origin of. Curled in a spare bed that had once been covered in a thick layer of dust before his arrival, he pushes the image to the growing pile seated at the furthest corner of his mind.
“Be careful,” Katsuki had warned, voice sounding foreign to his own ears, words spilling before processing through his shuttering brain, “at your UA trip. I hear there’s some group of people planning something.” His feet scuffle against the rain wet pavement, in a last moment of thought, he adds; “Live, Kirishima. Live.”
He had sent out a text before they’d left, and just in time a familiar portal spun beneath his feet. The wind blasted in his face for just a moment, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, cutting off whatever the other boy was going to say. He didn’t tell his fellow villains of what he’d done, taking an empty seat at the bar. That had been his final act of a hero-wannabe, a dream that hadn’t truly died when that letter came. Now, though, he accepted his fate with rumbling disdain.
—
He was sent to a beach to take care of anyone who escaped from the ship. The suit he wore clung tightly to his skin, defining the raw muscle he’d spent years building. He watched with a kind of worried boredom as three small bodies plummeted into the faux lake. He wasn’t sure, anymore, why he tried to care so much. The man from the alley, himself but not, had relied on the generosity of other people. Some part of that had taken root in his mind and wouldn’t budge, blooming ever so slowly into an eldering tree.
He couldn’t do that. He wanted to save these people in the same way he wanted to hurt them. It was a weird sensation he didn’t quite enjoy. It made him confused and wondering what the hell he was doing with his life. He needed help. The professional kind. But that ship had long since sailed. The anger directed at himself and this whole situation sparked some kind of lingering fear, and out of habit he’d pushed it far down. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Kurogiri had said to embrace and enhance that rage, but how could he do that when it scared him so much? Fuck. Why couldn’t he have just been a good brat. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been avoided much earlier.
Kirishima popped in his mind, the imagined picture of his dead face ringing behind his sharp eyes. He wanted to find him and see if he took his words to heart, or if he discarded them and more blood painted the earth. It made him angry. He suppressed it.
Attention flicking back to the water, he watched as a small silhouette made an incredible leap onto the ship, carrying behind two others. Katsuki scowled, hands rubbing on his pants. He didn’t wear any gloves like he’d hollowly requested, as the fool who had worked for them didn’t specialize in a power that exploded sweat. They simply hadn’t known how, and any regular gloves would get burnt to a crisp.
Selfishly, he wished the villains hidden beneath the waves would finish the job so he didn’t truly have to get his hands dirty. The thought of blood dripping down his hand brought on some sort of excitement he didn’t want to look into. However, he knew it wasn’t likely, as most of the recruits sucked actual ass and if these hero wannabes were at all competent then they’d have no trouble getting thorough.
A resounding crash! Shook and the ship was split cleanly in half. Katsuki wondered why so many of their people had been sent to the lake, water quirk or not, while he remained the only one on shore. Sure, there were other areas, but those were compiled with groups. Why was he the only one alone? Did they think he was strong enough? He was, of course, if there was one thing he wasn’t oblivious to it would be the dangerous strength teaming beneath his muscles. Were there any other awaiting villains out there? Alone and watching from a distance?
With mild interest, the awaiting villain watched as the powerful student from before lept to the sky, holding a shorter one with a rope… tongue? Another kid clambered onto the side of the deck as it slowly began descending into the crashing waves. Something was thrown down from the group above, and Katsuki knew that the villains in this area had failed, leaving just him to deal with this. Irritating. The brat on the boat raised his hand to the water and let out a powerful blast that shot out in a wall of air. Eyes widening, he stumbled back at the force, uncertainty rising to the surface. Hands clenching, he forced his rage down, again, and prepared for the attack that was sure to come.
The girl flew through the air, figure becoming clearer the closer she grew. Her tongue lashed back, grabbing the boys and carrying them behind. Her giant eyes narrowed the closer to the sandy beach she got, attention zeroing in on his large form. She yelled something- probable a warning- before crashing down where the waves met the pristine sand. It glowed a blinding white underneath the sunlight shooting through the glassy roof, pristine and untouched until this moment.
Katsuki jumped back as she let go of the two she was with, shooting her tongue to where he’d just been. Scowling, he struck out a hand, grabbing the thing with burning hands. She cried out, reeling back at the unexpected touch. There’s a boiling beneath his skin, one begging for more, but an ache in his chest that chants stop, stop, oh please stop.
She jumps back, a white gloved hand snapping onto her shoulder and thin body shifting to protect her frame. Katsuki doesn’t even notice the other two, lungs getting caught up in his throat. “Stand back, Asui! Thank you back there but I got it now.”
Katsuki… He hadn’t recognized him when they’d landed, too narrowed in on… Asui? Was that her name? He felt as though his limbs had locked in place, heart thumping against the drum of his ear. No words escaped, and not a single explosion would ignite. It was as though vines had risen from the ground and rooted him to that very spot. This boy didn’t recognize him, couldn’t through the intelligently crafted mask and suit. It wasn’t as though he’d spoken yet, or used his quirk. There was a scary determination in those wide, emerald eyes that shook him to the very core. It hadn’t existed before, not to this extent anyhow.
Deku… He’d always wanted to be a hero. That was a fire that could never be put out, no matter how many buckets of icy water Katsuki tried to dump. It had always been there, and always will be, it was something the blond had come to accept around the last month spent in isolation, when he’d stopped trying to blame the nerd for him ending up like this. So that wish was still there, that fire, but now it was like a furnace, hot and bright. Someone had fanned these flames and allowed them to grow in an encompassing wildfire. He can feel it even now- that out of control urge to protect.
That brings him back to his earlier question, what made a hero. He couldn’t figure it out now, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this boy was the very definition. He didn’t know why he knew, he just did. God, Katsuki wanted that so bad. He was supposed to be a hero- he wasn’t, he knew, he knew, he knew. But he wanted to be and seeing this broken boy standing right there, the first victim of his outbursts, the one who suffered the most, lit something inside him. The part of him that had been carefully crafted this past while snarled and barked, berating him for even thinking of turning this whole thing around.
But that childish voice had risen to the forefront of his mind, asking why he’d even consider allowing himself to fall into vile hands. Surely homelessness was better than hurting others? Perhaps, if he wore a good enough disguise (not that anyone seemed to recognize him by nothing but appearance) perhaps he could get a job and find a proper roof over his head. Why had he bullied Deku for so, so long? What had driven him?
But then things clicked into place, and that hopeful line of thought derailed violently. Deku was quirkless, the supposed embodiment of nothing, and yet he was everything Katsuki wasn’t: Kind, forgiving, determined in a way Katsuki doesn’t think he ever was, and heroic. Katsuki had seen that, but that had meant that power didn’t mean virtually anything. Sure, it helped pack a punch but what good was that in the grand scheme of things? How was an explosion quirk supposed to turn someone as mean, awful, and downright evil as him into a hero? He’d beaten Deku, back then, chanting affirmations that strength made the hero. Obviously, he’d been wrong. Completely, utterly wrong.
Quirkless. Deku was supposed to be quirkless and weak, frail and nothing but bones. Though he hadn’t gone, he knew the entrance exams were physically taxing, with hulking robots that could crush you beneath their treads the moment they set their eyes on you. The entrance exams weren’t built for those who couldn’t hold their own, forcing people like Deku to fly under the radar. So how the hell did he get in?
But then the last couple seconds flashed through his eyes, and it was like pouring gasoline over the anger that had been suppressed and buried. Deku… that was a quirk. And a powerful one as well. He’d almost been toppled over by the force alone, and he was ways away from the initial attack. Deku… He could have stopped him at any given point and he hadn’t. He’d let Katsuki believe that… that…
A match was held up, and the simmering rage exploded.
Katsuki won’t lie and say he had any control over what transpired in the next couple seconds, only that one minute he was standing there, gawking under his mask like an idiot, and the other he had the nerd pinned under his larger body, one arm held back in a creaking grip. The sand was glass shards, black and charred by a hot explosion. Deku was screaming against the waves, head tilted back and expression etched in pain and shock. If Katsuki squints, he thinks he can see boiling fury. “Asui! Mineta! Run!”
“We’re not leaving you, ribbit!” The frog girl retorts, falling into a crouch. The coward at her feet whimpers, scooting behind her surprisingly thin legs. With those jumps she’d done, you’d think that her thighs would be well built. Katsuki, however, doesn't want them involved. Deku yells a frightening “Go!” before an explosion is rattling the ground. When the smoke cleared, so had the other two. Whether they escaped or died, the blond couldn’t be too sure. He wasn’t sure he even cared.
Katsuki tried to push away the wrath that struggled forward, but it was becoming increasingly harder. It was as though he was fighting with himself, and losing. Vaguely, he was aware of his knee digging in the center of the shorter’s back, spine curving dangerously. His arm was twisted back, wrist clutched in a bone crushing grip, and face buried in the pearly white beach. Frustrated tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, lips drawn back in an uncharacteristic snarl and dust layering his tongue.
“ Deku.” Katsuki hissed slowly, tugging experimentally on the arm. The body below him whimpered, whatever fight he’d had before extinguishing before his very eyes. Katsuki’s head tilted dangerously, every move held taught in delicate fury. The initial, bursting anger isn’t as wild as he’d first expected, rather it had grown into a careful viper, coiling sharply around his biceps and rearing its fang against his heart. Deku squirmed and the blond pulled, earning a sharp cry that had a grin (It wasn’t his. It wasn’t.) stretching manically across his face.
“Kacchan.” The name whispered, pained and scared. The fear brought on a victorious burst. He could kill him. He could He could He could. It would be so easy, just bringing up a hand and bash it through that too-intelligent brain. Would the blood on his hands feel good after? Rewarding? He could find out. Did he want to? He did. (He didn’t)
“Where the hell’d you get this quirk, bitch?” He inquired, shifting lightly. It didn’t matter if any of the hero wannabe’s tried to interfere, he’d kill them, too. In fact, he didn’t even think about them. The anger that had been steadily brewing thudded in his veins, having grown sharp and deadly. He wasn’t himself, he knew in some distant kind of way. But he shut that out just as he did the rage. “Were you hiding it from me? Think that you’re better?”
“Get off, Kacchan.” Deku retorted, words holding a new kind of bite that had never met Katsuki’s ears. “What are you- What are you doing?” That wasn’t said in the same tone, it warbled and shook, quiet and fearful. “We were- we were supposed to be heroes, you were supposed to be the best.”
Katsuki’s hand flew out, fingers tangling in the mop of hair and forcing his tearful expression into the lapping waves. “Shut up.” He didn’t yell, didn’t think he even could right now. His words, though soft, held just as much intensity as they always had, if not more. It was the knowledge that he didn’t have to hold back that kept him gleeful. God. He was filled with a childish giddiness. (Later, his eyes would be red rimmed and his cheeks would be ghostly pale. What was happening to him? What had happened? He would ask.) “Why don’t you show me that power, I know you can stop this.” He reeled his other hand back and slammed it into his shoulder, relishing in the cries it rewarded.
Palm burning, the blond lifted the other’s face back up. “Stop.” Deku snapped, struggling. Muscles rippled under his suit as he twisted, teeth grinding and broken fist snapping on the nose of his once-best-friend-turned-enemy. He easily reversed their position, and Katsuki’s eyes went wide, chest heaving in surprise. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” The words were yelled, full of raw emotion. There were so many that the blond didn’t know how to decipher. “What are you doing, Kacchan?” The name was repeated firmly, as though trying to get it through his skull that they were supposed to be friends. Katsuki scowled, struggling. Since when has Deku become so strong? Like with the quirk, it was another mystery that played no help in the situation. “Why- Why are you a- a villain? You’re not- you’re not supposed to. Please, why?” The nerd was crying now, shoulders wracking and breath hitching. He didn’t let up on his grip.
Katsuki tried to be angry, tried to grasp onto whatever fuel he could muster, but all of it was slowly draining away, and this whole encounter was really starting to set in. Fuck. He’d wanted to kill Deku. He’d been prepared to do so- hand against his fragile skull, hand slowly heating- He didn’t- No. What the fuck? Who was he? What was going on?
Deku frowned at the silence, carefully moving a hand down and slipping the mask that concealed the other’s face off, staring down in muted surprise at the full look of terror on the blonds face. It hit him slightly that Katsuki was scared. Of what? He’d been so mad and so terrifying in every way. What was with the sudden flip? “Kacchan?” He repeated the name. It felt grounding to Katsuki, in a strange way. He thinks that Deku picked that up, and that was why he kept repeating it, words full of worry. It should have angered him, but it didn’t. “Please, talk to me.”
“I didn’t get into UA.” He found himself whispering, being vulnerable in an uncomfortable way. Deku had always been able to pick him apart, he’d known he’d turn into this, but yet he sat there in worried confusion.
“That’s it? ” Deku gawked, mouth flapping open. If he tried quick enough, Katsuki thinks he can struggle away in the moment of surprise. But before he could even force his arms, which were sore from the explosion that had rattled off earlier, to move, an unwavering fury swam in Deku’s eyes, and suddenly it was Katsuki’s bones that creaked under the force. “ That’s it? This whole thing? You hurt- hurt innocent people because you didn’t get into a hero school? What the fuck? Kacchan, what the fuck?”
It was pathetic, the blond knew, had known, and yet he hadn't stopped it from happening anyway. Deku had forgiven him for a lot of shit- but he didn’t think he’d ever be forgiven for this stunt. His mood dimmed, the pleasure from before snuffing out and leaving him laying there numb to the bone. His head felt light from the sudden switch of emotion, a docile person taking over. Him from those alleys. No, wait. They were the same person, weren’t they? Why was he separating the two? Three? Middle school him had to be someone else, too. Katsuki from now didn’t care for the fame or glory, but the him from all that time ago had.
He surprised himself, whoever he was, with a startling laugh. It was all over the place, bubbling and manic and depressed and happy. Deku starred in mild bewilderment, eyes growing as wide as saucers, too astonished to cry. “Kacchan?”
“I really am fucked up, aren’t I?” Katsuki giggled, tears flooding his vision. He wanted to stop but couldn’t, laughing and sobbing all at once. Fuck. What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here, he was smarter than this. Right? He stared into those green eyes, recognizing a simmering want. To what? Save him? Katsuki didn’t need to be saved, no one was making him do this. “Just go, Deku.” He sighed, manic chuckles subsiding. “I’m too damaged to be helped.” He wondered what he’ll be doing after this. Did he expect to continue on as he had been? He was about as bad at villainy as he was a hero. What else was there left for him?
Deku didn’t say anything, just looking at him carefully, brain racing to catch up. There was a sad, sad look in his bright, confused eyes. Shaking his head disappointedly, he removed his hands from where they pinned Katsuki’s, instead bending down to wrap them around his broad shoulders, pulling him up into a hug. The other teen didn’t know what to say to that either- just choosing to sit there in mournful silence. When was the last time he’d gotten a hug? Thinking back, he doesn’t remember if he’d ever received one in the first place. His mother had never been the affectionate type- their whole family wasn’t, it just happened to be who they were. None of his friends (they weren’t friends. They never had been) had even felt safe enough to even offer one, scared of the backlash it could bring.
He doesn’t remember leaning into it, but suddenly his head is buried in the crook of Deku’s shoulder and neck, breathing in his familiar scent. Only, it had changed. Instead of the old forest smell that had clung to the other’s skin, there was sweat and the beach and hard, hard work. He smelled faintly of smoke and ash, broken but ignited dreams, of freezing nights and burning days. He shuttered a breath, arms laying limp at his sides. His hands remained a warm temperature, but no explosions were brought forth. He felt, vaguely, in control of the beastly quirk in that moment. And so, he let his hands dim into a regular cold, a harsh difference from the usual heat that poisoned the calloused palm. He doesn’t think he’d ever relaxed his quirk before, not like this. It didn’t simmer in the background or threaten to rear its head at any minor convenience. It wasn’t gone, it was just… off. Had… had he never turned it off before? Because surely this feeling was new. He’d always been encouraged to show it off or use it at any moment's notice, at what point did he just forget that it was still on?
“Come with me, UA… it can help you, Kacchan.” Deku shook lightly, urging him to take the offer. “I’ll… I’ll vouch for you, or- or something. Please.” Even though he had said he couldn’t be helped, there Deku was, begging for him to take his hand. Katsuki flashed back to when they were just brats and he was sitting waist deep in river water. The other had been there then as well, an outstretched hand offering to help him. Katsuki hadn’t been able to accept it then, was he ready to now?
“I’m not a hero, Deku.” Katsuki reminded, one arm coming up to finally wrap around the green suit. It was an ugly color, but he really didn’t mind all that much. “I never was, you know.”
“No.” He agreed depressingly, “but I had- I had hoped that UA would help. They would have, and they will if you let them.” He heaved a breath, trying not to shiver with a wave of desperation. The two had always existed together, there was no reason to break that apart. Not now. Not ever. “You’re not a hero, but you can be. I know you can.”
Katsuki pulled back, meeting that hopeful gaze with tired eyes, mind shattered and mangled. He took in the glassy look he was given; the hope and pleads. What made a hero. He inhaled a deep, long breath. Deku wanted to save him, and in that delicate moment, that made him the most heroic of them all. Was that the piece he’d been missing? The urge to save? He’d never had that, he doesn’t think. He compares the observation to AllMight.
Their paths had goals that aligned, but that man was a savior above all else. He wasn’t in it for the fame or the reputation of the defeat of evil, he was there to save people, keep them out of harm's way. Could Katsuki be like that? Did he want to? That wasn’t something he was sure he was ready to answer.
“ Please.” Deku begged, hands gripping harshly into his shoulder, nails biting against the fabric. He bends over, head meeting the other’s muscled chest, just sitting there for a silent moment. “I can't do this without you.”
“I can’t-“
“You can.”
“Not right now.” He says gently, bringing the nerd’s face back up and cupping his cheek with a cold palm. He seems surprised by the touch, lips parts and eyes ever so incredibly wide. He looks like he’s going to speak again, but Katsuki beats him to the punch. “I need some time to think, some shit I gotta work through. Just… be patient?” He’s never asked Deku anything. Demanded, yelled, taunted, but never asked. Requested; “Please, Izuku.” Begged.
“Ok.” Izuku replies, bringing a hand up to wipe at his tears, and it’s then that he notices the broken appendage. He keeps his mouth shut tight. “I’ll see you again?”
“Promise.” Something settles in the blond’s chest at that, firm and strong. He had not lied, and intended to keep this deal. He just… he needed to think first. “Now go, idiot, the villains at the plaza are no joke. There here to kill AllMight with this like… fucking hell, man, it’s a monster. And keep your mouth shut. ”
Izuku’s eyes hardened over, determination sharpening back into that quick sword it’d been before. He nodded, once, before shooting to his feet. There was more he clearly wanted to say, but time was not something they had an abundance of. Already had they wasted too much.
Katsuki Bakugou was not there when the heroes arrived, and no word of his involvement ever breached the news.
—
Izuku Midoriya was a proud student of UA high, but that didn’t always mean that he agreed with how the hero society worked and functioned. It’s true he had known that, should anyone have reported his ex-friend’s wrongdoings then the man would have had difficulty getting into the powerful school. It’s why he always kept his mouth shut tight, because Katsuki could be a great hero if he just mellowed out slightly, and he’s confident that UA would have done that.
But then, one day during Aldera, the man had mysteriously disappeared. Izuku had looked everywhere, and only one horrifying video had been rewarded for his troubles. It was grainy, but the deafening boom was enough proof to know what had happened. Katsuki had blown up and then… Well, Izuku had assumed he ran away. It wasn’t long after that his classmates were saying how they knew the entire time, and treating Izuku with such faux kindness that it’s almost laughable. Even though this had happened, the boy knew that his old friend hadn’t meant it. The other had always struggled with sudden bouts of anger, but being a hero had always been a goal that he would reach, no matter what. Clearly, that hadn’t happened.
And then Izuku had seen him at the USJ. There’d been a numb kind of anger in those shielded eyes, covered by a dark glass that just couldn’t hide the ruby. He hadn’t known it was Katsuki then, but the breath taking explosion had been a blaring sign. He’d been victim to that power one too many times to not know it at first glance.
Katsuki had been so angry, a wave of fury that felt as though it would burn forever. But It hadn’t. The rage had been weak and sudden, and slipped away just as easily, a fountain at first, but a trickling stream after. The man he’d been faced with, pinned under Izuku’s apparently stronger body, had not been the person that he’s grown up with. Whoever this was… it wasn’t Katsuki, and the other seemed to know that just as well. He was lost, in a sense.
Izuku wanted to help, he knew he wasn’t past redemption, but Katsuki hadn’t been ready, and so the green haired teen had agreed to wait. If the other made no appearances on the news, then he’d keep his word sealed and locked away.
And wait he had.
He patiently waited as his wounds healed into scars (the burns had been bad), during the sports festival, where he’d been beaten by Shoto Todoroki (though he lost, it still felt as though he’d won), dealt with Stain (he didn’t speak complete blasphemy, and Izuku would agree with him if he didn’t go around murdering people), beating AllMight at Hitoshi Shinsou’s side (they were paired together because of Hitoshi’s resentment towards him. The purple haired boy saw him as some pitying fool with an impressive quirk, unable to see that Izuku didn’t just understand his struggles, but had lived through them), be cornered at the mall by Shigaraki himself (a terrifying individual that had shivers racing down his spine, he had asked himself how the man had managed to wrap Katsuki into his whole scheme), and then finally; the summer camp. (He’d been captured. Taken. Somehow, they’d found out about his past, and offered a path into villainy. When he’d denied, their Sensei had taken over. If you thought Shigaraki was horrifying, it wasn’t near as heart-stopping as All For One.)
And here he was now, standing in gray rubble with milky skin covered in layers of dust and blood. Noumu’s are fighting and AllMight is there, a beacon in the gloomy atmosphere. Izuku can’t even believe it, awe so strong it overpowered any pain he felt at the moment.
—-
“So, you’re going after Deku.”
The group spun fast on their heels, eyes blowing wide at the sight of the hooded individual. The stranger leaned against the hospital’s wall, feet planted in the moist grass. He partially hid behind the tall structure, really only his shoulder and part of his head being struck by the golden light of the streetlamp. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, and spoke with a kind of nonchalant that only hinted to mild interest.
“That is none of your concern!” Iida shouted, immediately on edge. His arms chopped through the air as his anxiety slowly ticked up, heart beating so loud in his chest Kirishima almost thought he could hear it.
The red head narrowed his eyes at the stranger, arms hardening beneath the shirt he wore. He wanted to panic, but there was something familiar about the guy’s voice. He wished he had a name to put to it, mentally rolling through the list he’d slowly garnered these past couple months. It certainly wasn’t someone from UA… so where could they have met? Kirishima really didn’t get out often, not with his bastard father wondering about. His mom was married now, so he just needed to lay off. Kirishima didn’t want anything to do with him, so he’d just have to accept that.
His mind clicked after a pregnant pause; when the man stepped fully into the light, hands reaching up to pull down his hood, face illuminated for them all to see. “You! You're the one from that diner!” He gasped, mentally patting himself on the back for the recognition. Man, that had been like forever ago! The interaction slowly started trickling back, and suddenly he was falling weary again. “You knew the USJ was going to happen.”
Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki all jumped at the accusation, shooting suspicious looks towards the strange teen. The scarred boy’s face scrunched up lightly, mismatched eyes flickering over his figure. He… he knew this person, he realized. He and Izuku had always gotten along since the USJ, and after the Stain incident, hopped up on drugs, the freckled boy had started spouting all sorts of mutterings of Kacchan this and Kacchan that. Sparing a glance to Iida, he knew the older made the same connection. Gravely voice, blond hair, eyes so sharp they could kill- and hands that sweat a nitroglycerin liquid that could be ignited. This guy standing in front of them fit this Kacchan to a T, excluding the exploding hands.
“Yeah.” The stranger shrugged, swiping the palm of his hands over his jeans absentmindedly. There was a tension to his posture that spoke of anxiety, but overall it seemed as though he was trying to play it cool. “Was there too. Shit was fucked up so I stopped, got help, all that fun crap.” He gave them a once-over, eyebrows raising. “So is this it? We’re storming a bunch of murders hoping to… what, not get hurt? Save Deku? Because if this is it I gotta say I’m real fuckin’ dissapointed.”
“ You’re not doing anything.” Yaoyorozu interjected, brows drawn together as she tried to figure out this person’s character. “We’re going to see if we can be of any assistance, that’s all.”
“Good fucking luck with that!” He bit, almost cracking a grin. “These people you're up against are no joke. You all,” he waved a dismissive hand, “don’t stand a goddamn chance. How do you even expect to find him?”
“Why do you care?” Kirishima asked, though the hostility in his tone was light, more of a genuinely curious ring. “You warned me back then as well. What are you doing this for?”
Before the man can answer, it’s Todoroki who’s interjecting; “You’re Kacchan, aren’t you? Izuku said he was waiting for someone to find himself. That’s you, correct?”
Kacchan opens his mouth to say something, but ultimately closes it with a sigh, breathing in a long, deep inhale before slowly letting it out. Finally, he looked over to him, “yeah. That’s me.” Squaring his shoulders, he stood up a little taller, chin raising in a way that highlighted his intimidating aura. “Listen, I’m helping out whether you like it or not. There’s a better chance that if I’m there none of you shit’s will die.” There’s a tender smile now, fond, “otherwise that nerd will kill me himself.”
Todoroki looked back, meeting Iida’s eyes. The older teen had been against this whole idea, but already they’d agreed they were doing it. A sturdiness radiated in his navy eyes. The scarred boy looked to Yaoyorozu next, and despite her similar reluctance, she seemed to accept that this was how things would be. And lastly, Kirishima walked up to Kacchan, put a heavy hand in the collar of the hoodie. Todoroki could see the ashen blond tensing as he forced his body to not react outright.
Kirishima glanced at them over his shoulder, nodding once before fixing Kacchan in a steely glare. “Alright, we’ll let you join us. But if you turn on us, or warn the villain, or if we even suspect your doin’ something shady, you. Are. Out. Ok?”
“Ok.” Kacchan replied, voice taught. He rubbed the spot where he’d been grabbed, teeth grinding in frustration. He didn’t let that control him, however, taking another couple of breaths to Todoroki’s surprise. Though this was undeniably Kacchan, there was something so much more mellow about him compared to Izuku’s description.
They picked up disguises on their way, following Yaoyorozu’s tracker to a foreboding warehouse. The whole structure stenched of rot and decay, a heavy air floating about the tense atmosphere. They tried not to focus on the random splotches of crimson, or the foul aroma that would sometimes hit so hard they almost emptied their stomachs right then and there. This was a stealth mission, however, and so they had to trod on carefully without much noise.
The ground quivered fearfully under their shoes, rocking them back and forth in dark warning. They took cover behind a tall rock from the flying rubble. Mount Lady had arrived, picking the Noumu up one at a time. Katsuki had met only one of these hulking beasts, all the way back when he’d just been invited to participate in the USJ invasion. Everyone had been somewhat introduced to the monster, stating that should they get in its way then it’d be their fault to whatever happened.
There were so many now, but that wasn’t what really put the terror into their frozen limbs. No. It was All For One. It’s safe to assume that this was the ‘sensei’ Shigaraki had always spoken of. The ashen blond didn’t understand their relationship, for as much as the younger villain looks up to him, there’s a kindling hatred that slowly burns hotter.
At some point, AllMight arrives, as does the rest of the league. Katsuki is keeping his eyes peeled as he scavenges the ground, searching everywhere for that green hair. He… He had to find Izuku. He’d made the other wait so long, but finally did he come up with a decision. He’d taken the time to reflect, and had surely grown from it.
He turned away from the main fight, gaze locking onto a pair of emerald green. It’s barely visible against the torn down building, clouds of dust sheltering any hidden beasts. But Izuku glows like the sun, a vibrant light against the dreary darkness. He bumps Kirhishima’s chest, motioning his head to their target. Quickly, the red-head alerts the rest of their group.
And then they’re flying, soaring high above the land and over the main fight. Katsuki isn’t with them, sprinting across the ground and to the freckled nerd. “Izuku!” He yells. The name feels wrong on his tongue, but this situation is too dire for him to care. He stretches out his hand, and for a flickering moment it’s like that time in the river, only their situations are reversed.
Izuku very well could have dodged, but didn’t, allowing Katsuk to tumble into his weak form. Ruby eyes don’t spare a moment to waste, shooting up to gauge the position of the rest of the group. Izuku’s too out of it to notice them, it’s the reason why the blond stayed down here in the first place. He wraps an arm around the other boy, almost crying in relief when Izuku wraps his own around his neck, mildly sensing the plan as his brain stutters to life.
A single explosion rattles the ground, and they’re rocketing higher and higher into the sky. Palm still warm from the move, he latches hard onto Kirishima’s, holding tight onto the rescued boy. Adrenaline coursing through his veins now, Izuku begins to really wake up, whatever fog that had clouded his eyes before dissipating in the escape to freedom. His mouth gapes open, eyebrows slowly ticking up, registering that they’re all really here.
The land shortly, a tumble of feet and limbs. It isn’t a nice touch down by any means, but they had already known that going in. Katsuki found himself grinning wildly as Izuku oriented himself, immediately wrapping his arms around his gaggle of friends. They all laughed merrily and clung onto each other like they were scared any of them would disappear off the face of the planet the moment they let go.
Katsuki softened at the sight, something dejected curling in the pit of his stomach. He was excluded from this reunion, and for a good reason too- he had done some really fucked up things, and one little action such as this doesn’t make up for much.
Before he can get too into his thoughts, Izuku is spinning around on his heel, tears brimming the corner of his eyes. The explosive teen only has a second before he other’s full body weight is pressed against his in a tight hug. Katsuki can do nothing but stand there, wide-eyed and processing. When his brain finally sputters to a start, he returns the affection, bringing him in as close as humanly possible.
He doesn’t think that they’re friends, not after all this time, but it’s possible that something could be rekindled if they were both willing to move on from the past and try a new start. Katsuki… He’s changed for the better, and he hoped Izuku would see that as well. Kirishima stared at them with an accepting gleam in his eye, already acknowledging that this once villain would be sticking around more often. Iida and Todoroki seemed the same, if not a little more protective. Yaoyorozu seemed the most apprehensive, but she trusted the judgment of her close friends and classmates.
“Kacchan-” Izuku weeped, pulling away when the other’s silver hoodie was drenched in snot and tears, not that the man too much minded. “Why are you here?”
Katsuki thought back to that earlier question, what made a hero? “Just wanted to save you.” He shrugged, earning a cracked smile. Izuku hugged him once more before Iida interrupted and said they had to get the shorter to a hospital. No one was about to refute that, seeing as he did look like he was thrown into a wood chipper and somehow came out alive. They asked Katsuki what he’d be doing, and he just shrugged and told them he was going to the authorities.
A week later, Izuku would speak to Nezu, and the rodent would go down to meet the blond himself. They’d have a calm chat, and at some point a certified therapist was brought in, much better help than any anonymous online person could be. There’d be arguments from the press, and Katsuki himself would appear before the media, stating an apology and promise. A declaration that he’d be better and would protect any of those from going down the same path he’d fallen on.
It would be because of him that UA has a new program, the Villain Reformation Program. It would’ve had its own classroom, but seeing as only one person was in it so far, it felt like more of a use just putting that student into 1-A. Someday, the reformed man would teach that class himself, standing before an array of different students hoping to start a new life.