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It’s just another sleepy homeroom when a flying object bounces off Katsuki’s shoulder.
“Hah?”
A paper triangle floats weightlessly in the air. He squints at it, suspicious. It looks like a note.
A note from her.
Uraraka doesn’t text in class like a regular person with a phone from the last decade. Nah, she scribbles little notes and floats them to their destination while Aizawa’s busy napping. The notes sail over their classmates’ heads like shooting stars and invariably arrive at Deku’s desk.
Katsuki’s not sure how Deku returns them since it all happens behind his back, too. It’s so annoying, knowing their secrets are flying around in plain sight. Except today’s note didn’t go to Deku.
It came to him.
Katsuki watches the note hang in perfect suspension and plucks it from the air. Its folded edges are tight and crisp. Real origami shit. Hope swells in his chest, a sunrise creeping over the mountains. He turns it over. The note is sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. Gradients shift from blue to purple before a streak of glorious orange bursts free.
For him.
Running his thumb over the sticker, Katsuki bites his lip to keep from grinning like a fool. He’s been soft on Round Face ever since she almost smoked him with that kickass meteor shower. He keeps his crush on downlow to stay focused on school, yet every time Uraraka pulls off an insane move, everytime she looks danger in the eye and says ‘bet,’ he falls harder.
Sometimes, he gets this wild idea that Uraraka wants to get his attention. Like this morning, when Katsuki beat his personal best in a grueling Ground Gamma obstacle course. He covered 100 meters in 30 seconds, with a 360 degree backflip at the end just ‘cuz he fucking could.
The entire class cheered for his victory, but Uraraka burst out of the crowd to compliment his performance in person. She beamed at him so brightly and sincerely, Katsuki felt light as air, no touch required.
He’s never read into her smiles before, that’s just wishful thinking.
Or is it?
Katsuki hooks his elbow over the back of his chair and tries to catch Uraraka’s eye. She sits in the back corner of the classroom surrounded by three of the tallest guys in class, he can barely see her.
When Koda bends down to look inside his backpack, their gazes finally meet.
Katsuki curls his lip into a triumphant half-smile, half-snarl and holds up the message. Look what I’ve got, Round Face. He wants her to know he’s into this before he even reads her little love note.
Uraraka stares back, white as a sheet.
…Hah?
Without breaking eye contact, she purses her lips and shakes her head. Even her hair quivers with urgency. Her eyes are bottomless and pleading. Desperate. He’s never seen her beg for mercy, not even while spewing her guts on live TV. Something’s wrong.
“Psst…Kacchan!” Right behind him, Deku whispers as faintly as possible to keep Aizawa from waking up. “Could you pass that note to me?”
Oh.
Oh.
The shitty note was never for him. It was for the damn nerd all along.
Katsuki’s good mood burns and blackens. The note creases in his grip. He should ignite his quirk and shower the classroom with charred confetti! This piece of paper got his hopes up so high so fast he assumed they’d never plummet back to earth. It deserves death.
But the squishy center locked inside Katsuki’s grenade of a heart still craves Uraraka’s approval. So her waylaid note gets to live.
Still, he won’t deliver his crush’s notes straight into the hands of his rival, fuck that! So that leaves Katsuki one option.
Return the note to Uraraka. Give Round Face a chance to throw the damn thing right this time…
His fingers curl around the note, a malevolent gleam in his eyes.
…if she’s fast enough to catch it first!
Giving no warning, Katsuki lights up his palm and throws. The note flies from his fist in a pinwheel of crackling sparks.
The next second happens in slow-motion.
Uraraka holds up her hands, more than ready to face the paper comet hurtling her way. Katsuki can't help shooting her another feral smile. When she returns it fearlessly, the sun comes back out and he basks in the warmth of its rays.
Who gives a shit about passing notes in class? Right now, Uraraka’s gorgeous eyes are locked on him, she’s focused on him. They’re having what Pinky would call a ‘moment.’ It ain’t much, but he’ll savor every second and keep the memory all for himself.
Katsuki watches the note speed towards her, eager for their moment to reach its perfect conclusion.
Then Koda straightens back to his full height—just in time for the blazing spitball to smack into his cheek.
“Ow!”
Still weightless, the note bounces off his face and sails towards Tokoyami. Dark Shadow rises out of nowhere and bats it away. The note flies forward a row and disappears inside Kirishima’s hair.
“H-Hot! Hot!” Kirishima thrashes his head side to side until the note flutters out.
“I got it! I got it!” Kaminari says, smacking it like a volleyball to keep it airborne.
“You moron!” Katsuki snaps from two rows over. “Quit touching shit that ain’t yours!”
Instead of defusing the situation, his outburst causes every idiot in class to look at what’s going on. The note flits weightlessly above the students, buffeted in random directions as tongue, tape, and tail swipe at it and miss. Japan’s future heroes, the top tier, and none can catch a little piece of paper.
Todoroki looks up from his notebook and blinks. “Is there a bug in here?”
The note suddenly drops mid-arc, its gravity finally released. Katsuki readies himself to snatch it before anyone else does.
When a streak of fabric shoots over their heads and wraps around the note, Katsuki knows he’s too late.
Aizawa yanks his binding cloth backward. He catches the note between two fingers and holds his smoldering prize aloft for the all to see.
“Passing notes is forbidden in my class,” Aizawa says. He steps out of his sleeping bag, irritation carved deep on his exhausted face. “I’ve sensed this going on for weeks, but did nothing because I knew you’d reveal yourself…”
Aizawa fixes his searing gaze upon a single person.
“...Bakugou.”
Every head in class swivels Katsuki’s direction in a swarm of whispers.
Indignation rankles Katsuki to his feet. “What the hell sensei, that ain’t mine! I didn’t write it, I never pass notes in your shitty class!”
“Then how do you explain what we all just witnessed?”
Katsuki freezes. He’s got an explanation—the truth. The truth that Uraraka signed, sealed, and delivered the note to Deku, not him. They should be the ones getting busted for breaking the rules. He won’t take the fall for something he didn’t do.
Except Katsuki can see Uraraka clearly now that he’s standing up, and she’s losing it.
Unnoticed in the back of the classroom, Uraraka squirms in her seat, clutching at her hair before covering her bright red face. She parts her fingers to peek at her classmates, then slams them shut when she catches Katsuki watching her. Her body shudders into a cringe that never ends.
Katsuki drags his eyes away. He can’t sell her out. She’s already mortified and it’s all his fault. He was so greedy for a crumb of affection that he got sloppy and ruined their moment. The first time Uraraka ever passed him a note in class, the first time she actually chose him over Deku, and Katsuki blew it.
Speaking of Deku…
Katsuki whips around to grab Deku by the collar and hoist him out of his chair. “Fess up! You did this not me, admit it!”
“Cut it out Bakugou,” Aizawa says. “I saw you throw the note, not Midoriya.”
“I saw him too, sensei!” Asui chimes in.
“Yeah Bakugou,” Ashido says with a laugh, “you’re really not fooling anyone.”
Leave it to Deku’s little nerd herd to close ranks while Katsuki’s own squad throws him under the goddamn bus! Sensing no one would speak up on his behalf, he stares hard at Deku, willing him to come clean. After all they’ve been through, no way will his childhood friend let Katsuki go down for such a stupid crime.
“Sorry, I can’t,” Deku whispers, gently grasping Katsuki’s wrist until he lets go. Looking anxiously towards Uraraka, Deku sits down at his desk.
Katsuki processes what the fuck that mumbled ‘sorry’ means. Either Deku’s freaking out too, or he’s staying silent to protect Uraraka.
Protect Uraraka. Just thinking the phrase shifts Katsuki’s point of view. It’s not too late to come out of this fiasco on top. He can still salvage their moment and make things right. Uraraka’s got more guts than half this damn school combined, but she always says that even the bravest heroes need saving sometimes.
Katsuki straightens his back and faces Aizawa.
Time to be her hero.
“So what if I did it?” Katsuki drawls. The class titters with curiosity. “You gonna give me detention?”
“There’s only one punishment for passing notes in my class.” Aizawa breaks the heart sticker seal.
Katsuki’s blood turns to ice. Fuck. Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Aizawa’s gonna read it. He’s gonna read Uraraka’s note aloud to the whole class. Right now.
What the fuck does it say?! The question eats him alive. He assumed it’s a cringey love letter to Deku, but all he really knows is that Uraraka meant to send it to Deku and desperately doesn’t want it read aloud. It could be anything.
It could be gossip, a grocery list, or one of Uraraka’s deepest, darkest secrets. Round Face isn’t as sweet and innocent as everyone thought. She could’ve written some twisted shit in that note, he wouldn’t put it past her!
No matter what it is, that mystery will be unraveled in front of everyone and pinned on Katsuki’s meddling ass.
Aizawa unfolds the note and silently reads. His face betrays nothing. The class observes with eerie silence, rapt in suspense.
Katsuki’s uniform feels too hot, too stuffy, he needs rip off his fucking tie but can’t touch anything flammable with his rapidly slickening palms. All of his muscles tense to stop himself from fidgeting. There’s no path to victory here, no escape route. Whatever happens next, Katsuki can only stand there and take the punishment head on.
After a minute of pure agony, Aizawa’s eye twitches.
A cold doom settles over Katsuki. If the note was an innocent grocery list, this would already be over. He’s gonna get eviscerated, he can feel it.
How the fuck did Katsuki go from minding his own damn business to standing on death row in front of all of his peers? He was studying like a good student until Uraraka dragged him into hell!
Aizawa opens his mouth.
The class leans forward. Shoji’s body sprouts a thousand new ears while Jirou points her jacks straight at their teacher. Yaoyoruzo whips an ear trumpet out of her blazer. In the back, Uraraka whimpers softly. Literally everyone is waiting.
Then Aizawa pauses.
Fucking hell! The whole-body sweat underneath Katsuki’s uniform nears its boiling point. His heart teeters on the edge of exploding, his clenched fists shake, and it takes everything in him not to roar, “Just put us out of our misery already!”
Finally, Aizawa reads the note in a dry monotone.
“Bakugou was super super cool in hero training today. Did you see that backflip? He looked so good, how does he do it?”
No one speaks or moves. The whole class is buffering, stuck on a frame.
Katsuki can’t breathe. He’s forgotten how. A handful of words echo between his red, red ears.
Bakugou was supER SUPER COOL!
He looked SO good!
Super SUPER cool!
Holy shit. Uraraka didn’t send the note to him, it wasn’t for him, it was…about him.
Nuclear warheads detonate in Katsuki’s brain, flooding his body with rapturous joy that radiates off his skin. His lips move on their own, pulling into a grin so wide and deranged, his jaw aches. It’s like all his birthdays arrived at once. Every mushy thought he’s ever entertained about Uraraka liking him is vindicated. Because he’s right, Uraraka really is watching him in class. She really is impressed with his skills. She really does think Katsuki looks ‘so good’—so fucking good that she gushes about it to Deku!
His elation falters only when Katsuki remembers two critical facts.
Where he is—in the middle of class.
Who’s with him—fucking everyone!
The class is clinging to its last strand of calm. Sero bites hard into his fist. The veins bulging on Kirishima’s forehead and neck harden like stone. Snickers crackle around the room and quickly hush under Aizawa’s merciless glare. One little push would plunge the class into pure anarchy.
“Bakugou,” Aizawa’s tone is full of warning, “did you write this note about yourself to pass around the class?”
Katsuki sticks up his chin. “Who else is gonna bring it up, huh?”
Class 1A’s self-control snaps.
Most people buckle forward onto their desks, roaring with laughter. Iida’s shouts for silence are drowned out in the noise. The assholes Katsuki calls friends are the worst, collapsing to the floor one by one while they cackle like a pack of hyenas. Kaminari turns purple gasping for breath on the floor. Everyone’s losing it but—
Shit, Uraraka!
Katsuki’s eyes flick to her desk. It’s empty?!
He looks up.
Uraraka is on the ceiling, passed out cold.
Amid the chaos, Iida gets on his chair and starts snapping in her face. “Wake up, Uraraka! I too am appalled by Bakugou’s pathological hubris, but you’ve got to pull yourself together! We are future heroes and must conduct ourselves as such, especially in class!”
Uraraka stirs with a groan, her face reddening all over again as Iida guides her to the floor. Katsuki does feel a pang of guilt, being the cause of her embarrassment, but the majority of their classmates have no idea she’s involved at all. Whatever happens between them now, he’ll keep it that way.
Aizawa looks murderous at the bedlam unfolding before him. “Cleaning duty for a week,” he grits out to Katsuki. “You know where the supplies are. Next time, you’re expelled.”
Katsuki sits and leans back in his chair, smug as hell.
Class 1A is incapable of focusing in any class as they constantly comment about how ‘super, super cool’ their assignments are for the rest of the day. Kaminari circulates a note around the lunchroom to stoke debate about his sexy hairstyle. Word reaches the Class 1B kids, who goad Katsuki into showing them his super, super cool backflip in the hallway.
Nobody gets the rise out of Katsuki they’re expecting. Extras and their little jokes just don’t matter when he’s looking down on them from the top of the world.
That evening, Katsuki stops by the trash room to drop off the garbage he collected during his first shift of cleaning duty. When he turns around, he finds Uraraka standing in the doorway.
“Hi!” Uraraka blurts before dropping into a deep bow. “I’m so sorry you got in trouble because of me! I had no idea Aizawa would get so mad, I’ll never pass another note in his class for the rest of my life. I really appreciate what you did to help me though, so…thanks Bakugou-kun.”
Before he can reply, Uraraka pops back up and sticks an accusatory finger in his face. Gone is the awkward girl cringing in a corner. The fire’s back in her eyes, blazing with determination.
“But you can’t pull that shit again, okay? I'm a hero who fights her own battles. I can’t hide or faint whenever I embarrass myself. Next time, just let me have it. You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
That last sentence comes out quieter, unsure. Uraraka steps back and fiddles with the ends of her hair, waiting for him to say something.
Katsuki stands stock still while she speaks, wary of ruining yet another moment, but his posture loosens as tension quickly fades into relief. Uraraka is embarrassed, but she isn’t really upset that Aizawa read her note to the whole class. She’s more worried that Katsuki thinks she’s weak. That he took the blame because he thinks she lacks the strength to bear the punishment herself. That couldn’t be further than the truth.
He opens his mouth to say so—but has a better idea.
“Do you actually wanna know how I do it?” Katsuki can’t help smirking. “How I look so good–”
Her pink cheeks heat to a blazing red as Uraraka waves her hands in front of her face. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant!”
“Oh yeah? Then what did you mean when you were praising me behind my back?”
“Pfft, praising you?!” Uraraka exclaimed. “I–I was just curious about your moves and asked Deku for pointers!”
Katsuki takes his chance. “Then meet me at Gym Gamma tomorrow after school. If you’re so curious about my moves, then you gotta learn them from me.”
Their eyes lock and the air between them shifts. The gauntlet’s down, the challenge set, and the unspoken spark between them burns a little brighter. It’s not a date, but it's close enough to send his pulse racing.
Uraraka bites her lip, considering his offer. “Okay,” she says, “I’ll be there. But I’m serious, no going easy on me!”
She spins on her heel and skips out of the trash room.
Katsuki has no doubt she’ll master a measly 360 degree backflip in one session, so he gets to work planning other techniques they can practice together. He’ll speed-clean the dorms everyday for a month to capture more intimate moments with Uraraka. And he’ll make damn sure every moment is more noteworthy than the last.