Archive of Our Own

It starts when Izuku walks in on Kacchan having a panic attack in the bathroom. 

Or rather it starts years and years before that when Kacchan manifests a quirk so marvelous Izuku stares after him, starry-eyed, and Izuku manifests nothing but an extra joint and his best friend’s ire, when Izuku bends down to help him and Kacchan refuses, when Izuku stares at the only person outside of his mother that he trusted in the whole world and is told to go ‘take a dive off the roof’. 

It starts years ago, but this particular incident starts when Izuku goes to wash up after practice, sweat and grime clinging to his training uniform, Iida laughing and trailing behind him. They were teasing each other about something that Izuku has trouble placing now because in the second they turn the corner to the stalls Kacchan has backed himself into the back corner of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and fingers white-knuckled in his hair. 

“What–?” He starts, because the other boy’s breaths are ragged and panicked, and there was barely any warning before this, nothing but the odd way he was holding himself during practice and the particularly harsh set of Uraraka’s jaw when the two of them were sparring. 

Kacchan had run off straight after, but class had been practically over by that point, so Izuku hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, he wishes he had. 

Iida stops beside him, red eyes taking in their surroundings, as Izuku does his best to pitch his voice lower, to garner the attention of his oldest fri– his classmate . 

“Kacchan?” He asks, slowly reaching out for him. “Are you okay?”

Kacchan jerks away fast enough for his shoulders to thump as they hit the sink. Izuku flinches and snatches his hand back, an action that Kacchan doesn’t even seem to notice, despite the fact that he hit the sink hard enough to bruise. Instead, his eyes are wide and focused somewhere behind, or more likely, beyond Izuku, some distant place where neither he nor Iida can reach him. 

It's disheartening, but sadly, about what Izuku expected. At this point, all of his classmates know the signs of a panic attack. 

“I’m going to get Aizawa,” Iida says, as Izuku does his best not to feel hurt by the way Kacchan curls up away from him. Panic isn’t known for keeping anyone in the right frame of mind, and in their business, that’s a dangerous thing, especially for a quirk like Kacchan’s. No matter how low it makes him feel to leave Kacchan huddles away in the corner, it’s better not to touch until Aizawa gets here and can nullify any dangerous outbursts. 

Izuku nods in response to Iida, already more than aware of his part to play in all this. Just because he shouldn’t touch, doesn’t mean that he should leave Kacchan alone. It’s morally wrong for one thing and dangerous for another because heroes have just as much of a tendency to hurt themselves in these instances. Izuku’s job is to step in if Kacchan gets to that point. 

But only if he gets to that point, he reminds himself, furiously stomping down the urge to step forward and pull Kacchan away from the wall where he is hurriedly, desperately trying to fit himself smaller and smaller beneath the sink. No matter how jerky the other boy’s movements, he’s not doing anything too dangerous yet. The most Izuku should do in this circumstance is keep calling for him, even if it feels a bit redundant. 

“Kacchan,” he says again. “Kacchan, you’re safe. We’re at UA in the locker rooms. Iida is getting Aizawa.” 

He feels a bit like a broken record, but he knows the mantra is important, even if he feels a bit stupid sitting on the locker room floor, softening his tone for Kacchan of all people. He doesn’t attempt to reach out, but he keeps himself close enough that he’d be able to intervene if he needed to and lets another minute of silence ride, in the hopes that Kacchan will come back to them on his own. 

Nothing but that thousand-mile stare and the way Kacchan’s breathing is starting to get impossibly faster. 

“Kacchan , ” Izuku starts to say again, but it’s overridden by the soft humming noise beside him as Kirishima walks through the locker room door, Aizawa trailing behind him. Kirishima’s mouth is downturned in something like grief, features crumpling in on themselves. There’s a furrow so deep in his brow that Izuku could trace a finger in it, press his hand down in the physical manifestation of his friend’s worry. 

“Suki,” Kirishima says, softly, kindly with that sort of gravity that could bring Uraraka’s quirk crashing to its knees. It swirls everyone in the room into its orbit, Izuku, Aizawa, Bakugou all following Kirishima’s movements, planets caught in the path of a star. 

“Hey Suki, wanna tell me what’s going on there?”

Suki, Izuku thinks. That’s not right. Kacchan doesn’t respond well to nicknames anymore, not since Izuku gave him one years ago. 

Except Izuku apparently knows nothing, because Bakugou makes a noise at the name anyway, unclenching some of the tension around his shoulders to stare at Kirishima as if he’d just given him the world. 

“As if– as if you would understand if I told you, Shitty Hair.” His voice wobbles, and his chest heaves, but Bakugou looks present for the first time since they arrived.

And Izuku wants to feel happy about it but instead, he feels small and insignificant.

Suki. He thinks again, as Kirishima’s outstretched hand is met by Kacchan’s own shaking one. Huh. 

Izuku lets Kirishima and Aizawa handle it from there, feels himself blend into the background as if he doesn’t exist. 

As if he doesn’t matter. 

And Izuku feels something in the universe shift and pull everything he knows out of orbit. 

-

The next time Izuku hears Kacchan’s new nickname the circumstances are much less dire. Somehow, that makes it worse. Instead of Kaminari or Ashido or even Sero, Jirou interrupts his breakfast the next week, barreling around the corner without so much as a glance in his direction. 

“Suki!” She hisses, and Kacchan bent over the stove, gives her a grunt in response. Jiro seems to take this as an invitation - it isn’t, shouldn’t be; Kacchan’s wordless arguments are always the lead up to pain above all else and- and- and nothing.

Jiro doesn’t receive anything stronger than a side eye as she stumbles into the kitchen. In her excitement, she seems to miss Izuku’s presence, speeding by him to jerk to a stop at Kaachan’s side. 

“She asked me out,” Jirou says, in a tone that falls somewhere between a scream and a whisper. She bounces on her toes, excited in a way Izuku never sees from the usually even-tempered girl. “Suki, she asked me out !”

Izuku feels something curdle in his stomach. The kitchen now seems to smell like something rotten. His spoon drops to his bowl, forgotten. 

Kacchan stops in his cooking to glance up at her, mouth set in a smirk. 

“Told ya’ you didn’t need to be worried about it, Ears.”

Jiro’s face flushes red as she reaches over to give Kacchan a shove. 

“You’re an ass, Bakugou,” she says, but the roll of her eyes reads as more playful than upset. “Of course, I needed to be worried about it. She’s top of the class.”

“And somehow still finding the time to moon at you every twenty seconds,” Kacchan makes a motion for the pepper, which Jiro hands over without hesitation. “Those big ears blocking your vision or have you just not noticed the glaring signs?”

“Not any more than your ego is blocking yours,” Jiro retorts, but the blinding grin on her face doesn’t budge. She waves at him as she starts to run off, likely to go spread the news to Ashido or Kirishima. “Get some better insults, Suki.”

He tosses one of the spoons on the counter at her. It’s not the one he’s been using on the oatmeal cooking on the stove or one of the metal ones he’d half to reach over to grab. It’s a soft plastic one lobbed with just enough trust to bounce off her retreating shoulder if that’s where it actually hit. 

Instead, it bounces harmlessly off the opposing wall. 

Izuku can’t help but stare. Kacchan’s quirk usually doesn’t require a lot of technical skill, at least in terms of aim. For a lot of their first year, Kacchan relied on these large blasts, explosions of energy that decimated everything in their path, but that was before he accidentally got Kirishima caught up on the edges of one. He hadn’t been seriously injured, his hardening quirk allowing him to escape the worst of the blast, but the resulting damage had still left him out of class for a few days as Recovery Girl slowly healed him. 

From that point on, all Kacchan had focused on training, making his blasts as accurate as possible. Precise and in form, he’d extended that training not only onto the field but off of it as well. As far as Izuku was concerned, he still practiced with Aizawa at least twice a week, each time moving down to smaller and smaller targets. 

And he’d missed. 

He spends another twenty minutes staring at his cereal, attempting and ultimately failing to muster up anything close to an appetite. Eventually, Bakugou’s oatmeal finishes up on the stove. He sits down a few seats from Izuku and begins to eat. 

Izuku’s almost proud of the three minutes he spends sitting in silence before he gets up and dumps the rest of his breakfast in the trash. 

-

He does his best not to think about it for the next few hours, instead attempting to focus on the lecture and then Todoroki’s latest, truly awful conspiracy theory. He’s almost done it too, forced whatever occurred at breakfast to the back of his mind when, just as class finishes up, it all comes crashing back to him. 

“Hey, Suki!” Kaminari yells, and Izuku, attempting to pack his bag, jerks forward in his seat, nearly spilling three weeks' worth of research all over the floor. He covers it up with a truly horrendous fake sneeze that has Shinsou turning around to stare at him, not that Izuku has any presence of mind to care. 

How can he, when Kaminari still hangs off Bakugou, that nickname still dripping off his lips? 

“Suki, Suki, Suki!” Kaminari says, punctuating each word by shaking Bakugou’s shoulders. Izuku watches out of the corner of his eye, waiting for that moment when Bakugou blasts him off, something small and controlled but designed to hurt. 

But nearly a minute passes and there’s nothing, Kaminari hangs off Bakugou like he belongs there, and Bakugou in turn just… takes it. Granted he still snaps at Kaminari to ‘ stop yelling Pikachu’ and swats at him a few times, but none of those things get him to leave. None of those things hurt him . 

Bakugou just sits there, and Izuku doesn’t understand . 

Kaminari doesn’t help either, swinging himself up and draping himself over Bakugou so that they’re facing each other, face to upside-down face. Now that, Bakugou does take offense to, flicking Kaminari hard in the forehead, but he doesn’t use his quirk. In fact, there’s no unnecessary aggression involved at all. 

Izuku stares. He has nothing he can do but stare. 

“ Suki ,” Kaminari whines, rubbing the now reddening spot on his temple. “That hurt!”

It doesn’t. Izuku knows what Kacchan does to make someone hurt and this isn’t it. 

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but Izuku sees a smile play out on his lips, genuine and warm. 

“Shut up. You’re fine.”

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m dying!” Kaminari drapes himself back over Bakugou’s back. “You’ve hurt me so much, Suki!”

“You’ll hurt much more if you fail this assignment again, Dunceface. Get up and do your shit.”

“But ‘Suki!”

Izuku remains surprisingly still at the sound, keeps his eyes focused straight ahead, and doesn’t jump at all. The desk still splinters under his hands. He blinks and looks down at where he’s somehow activated his quirk, green sparking around his fingers. It takes everything in him to release the death grip. 

Blood wells up from his palms after he removes them. Shinsou stares at him, halfway through packing up his binders. 

“You going to cover that up with a sneeze too?” He asks, voice dry. 

Izuku colors, and forces himself not to stammer. 

“It’s just… I mean…. that’s annoying,” he says, with a slight motion toward the two. “They should be quieter. We’re still in the classroom.”

“Right,” Shinsou’s brow goes up. “And everyone else in here is okay?”

Across from them, Iida loudly critiques Sero and Mina who have been using their and Uraraka’s quirks to spin each other around at varying speeds. Uraraka and Tsu giggle a few paces away where they’re safe from Iida’s tirade. Next to them Hakagure and Aoyama curl up together and attempt to bedazzle Dark Shadow with rhinestones without Tokoyami noticing. Tokoyami’s beak is a brilliant red, but he pretends to the best of his ability to still be invested in the card game Yaoyorozu is desperately trying and failing to explain. At the front of the class, Aizawa slurps on a jelly pouch and ignores all of them. 

Throughout this all, Izuku can’t focus on anything other than the way Bakugou slowly walks Kaminari through the lesson for the second time. 

“Yes,” Izuku says. “They’re all fine.”

“ Suki! ” Rings out clear across the room. 

Izuku stumbles to his feet. He tells himself it's because the environment is just too loud to work in. Any more of that, noise, of that name and Izuku doesn’t know what he’d do. 

He thinks cry is high on that list. He leaves before anyone else can see the tears building in his eyes. 

-

After the first three times, Izuku becomes much more aware of what his classmates call Kacchan, of what Kacchan's friends call him, and from that moment on, he hears the dreaded Suki more and more. Kaminari uses it the most frequently, like Kacchan he likes to give everyone a nickname, but Kirishima uses it almost as much. 

“C’mon Suki, we’re gonna be late for class.”

“Suki, you have to go apologize to Denki, he’s been moody since lunch.”

“Can you make us dinner again, Suki? I promise I won’t put protein powder in it this time!”

Every time, Izuku has to fight the urge not to grit his teeth, and the worst of it all is that he doesn’t even know why. He and Kacchan, aren’t, they’re not friends anymore. No matter what Izuku says or how he acts, Kacchan drew that line in the sand years ago. Since that moment Izuku presented as quirkless, he’s been aware of who he is in Kacchan’s eyes. Of what he is in Kacchan’s eyes, worthless, stupid, useless.

Deku. 

There are days he wears that nickname with pride too. As messed up as he knows Ochako and the rest of his closest friends think it to be, that nickname is important to him. Partially because of how much Izuku has risen above it and partially because Kacchan is still important to Izuku, whereas Izuku is… 

Well, he’s seen how Kacchan responds to how own childhood nickname. 

But it still doesn’t truly sink in until the time Kacchan uses Suki to represent himself, comfort and warmth from just a word alone. 

“C’mon Ashido, I need you to grab my hand.” Kacchan grunts, shoving his body further into the rubble. Ashido is trapped behind it, dangling over the sinkhole where the rest of the building’s floorboards had fallen into. Blood drips from a wound somewhere beyond her hairline, into her eyes, and across her forehead, and while she’s still hanging on, she’s desperately upset and confused. She won’t reach out and grab Kacchan’s hand or move away from the edge or look at them without that haze in her eyes. Izuku can’t move the rubble surrounding her either. The entire structure is unstable, wobbling at the edges and creaking under the weight of itself, and Uraraka, the only one with a quirk even remotely useful to helping them, is somewhere with the other team they sent here, miles away. ‘

And Ashido won’t grab Kacchan’s hand. 

Somewhere above them, metal squeals against metal, another broken beam attempting to give way, and all Kacchan and Deku have access to is a barely foot-by-foot opening neither of them would be able to crawl through if they tried and a confused, injured teammate who’s seconds away from falling to her death. 

“Pinky!” Kacchan screams again, as Izuku tries desperately to hold up what’s left of the structure and fix their barely functioning communicator at the same time. “Damn it, of all the times to not be stubborn as hell. C’mon, it’s Bakugou, you have to grab my hand!”

Ashido’s bloody hair clings to her cheeks as she frantically shakes her head, eyes bright and wide and completely unfocused on them. 

“Please, please-” she begs, tears smearing the blood on her face. “Please, please, I don’t- I don’t understand-”

Her fingers slide against the concrete and rubble and she shrieks. Her broken fingernails scramble along the floor. Izuku does his best not to move, no matter how much he wants to shove the rubble out of the way and rush to his classmate. Right now he’s the only thing, holding the rubble up. If he moves, everything will come crashing down on top of Ashido, but if they don’t do something she’s going to die anyway so it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t- 

“Mina, it’s Suki!” Kacchan screams and Izuku jerks up from where he’s desperately trying to hold up the building, only just managing to correct himself in time. “C’mon, you know me.”

Ashido’s breaths hitch, but it's different than the panicked panting she’s been exhibiting. 

“Suki,” she says, voice breathless and desperately hopeful. 

“Yes. It’s me. It’s Suki,” Another creak above them, and Kacchan’s voice goes all the more frantic. “I need you to grab my hand, alright Mina? Get over it, and just grab for my hand. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me?”

Kacchan shoves himself further into the hole until Deku can’t see his head or Ashido anymore. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Deku feels something he’s holding give way, and he scrambles for some way to correct it, but before he can do anything more than stumble forward, Kacchan snags his sleeve and pulls. 

“Ashi-” Izuku screams. There’s no need. Ashido is bundled up in Kacchan’s arms. Blood still drips from her hair, but she doesn’t sound or look terrified anymore. She’s shaky, but secure, curled with her forehead against Bakugou’s neck. 

“Suki,” she says, half breathless but so much more aware. “We need to–.”

“I know. Shut up and rest,” Kacchan snaps, but there’s not an ounce of roughness in the way, he hitches her up further in his arms. He jerks his head to the side. “We need to go. That building won’t last any longer.” 

Izuku gives a spastic nod, something he refuses to call jealousy welling up in his gut. 

“Of course.” He scans the field behind them, fighting to keep the trembling something from working its way up his throat. He finds the landmark on the horizon Aizawa told them was the meeting point and directs a hand toward it. “It should be a straight shot from here. Let’s get going.”

-

Meeting up with Aizawa is thoroughly less dramatic than escaping the collapsing building. They get lectured for over half an hour, the importance of using your damn locators in an emergency, you idiots , being thrown out time and time again, but all in all it’s not the worst of Aizawa’s tirades they’ve had to sit through. Ashido is mostly alert throughout it, though she refuses to let go of Kacchan’s shirt. Eventually, Kacchan gives up trying to hand her off to Aizawa and just lets him monitor her from his lap.

Izuku purposefully doesn’t look at the way Kacchan keeps a hand on her back, thumb rubbing ever so slightly between her shoulder blades. It’s an old motion, one Izuku recognizes from Aunt Mitski and his own Mom alike, and the sight of it, even out of the corner of his eye, makes something in his stomach curdle. 

But it’s nothing compared to when Ashido tilts her head up and acknowledges it with a giggle.

“You’re a softie, you know that Suki?” She says, pressing her shoulders back against Kacchan’s hand so he knows exactly what she’s alluding to.

Kacchan’s face goes red, but his hand doesn’t move.

“Stop talking, Raccoon Eyes, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Ashido rolls her eyes, wincing as she does so. Her smile stays firmly plastered to her lips.

“Right, that’s an emotion. How dare you show one other than rage.”

“I said shut up , Ashido!” 

Ashido doesn’t, laughter ringing out clear and crisp as a bell. Izuku only just refrains from echoing Kacchan then. 

He has no right to tell Ashido to shut her mouth. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to. 

-

It doesn’t get any better from there. 

The rest of the class picks up on the new nickname just as quickly as Izuku expected they would. They’re all getting close these days, and while they all tend to split off into their own individual groups, its no longer a surprise to walk into the breakroom and see Ashido teaching Hagakure and Shoji how to do the latest viral dance trends or Uraraka, Kaminari, and Tsu fighting over who gets Princess Peach in Mario Kart or Iida and Ojiro seconds away from duking it out over something they both refuse to acknowledge was a stupid fight in the first place. With every close call and villain encounter, their class seems to form new attachments to each other, new insults and ways to tease, and console, and of course, new nicknames.

Still, he can’t keep the squeak out of his voice when Uraraka of all people sighs and redirects Kacchan’s latest tirade with rolled eyes and an exasperated ‘Suki’ that has more than one person staring. Kacchan doesn’t seem surprised in the least by this development though, and seems fully content to redirect his anger, previously at Kaminari, and funnel it at Uraraka, who in turn seems just fine with the change of pace. 

Before Izuku can even think to step in, the two of them are somehow commandeering a training mat and duking it out on the front lawn of their dorms. There’s a sense of familiarity to each other’s movements that wasn’t there a few months ago, a ferocity to Uraraka’s fighting style that she’s never shown in any of her other matches, and a teasing tone in Kacchan’s that Izuku knows far too well. He sees it every time he gets to watch Kirishima and Kacchan spar, when Ashido goads Kaachan into putting his all into a fight he normally wouldn’t have taken on, sometimes even in smaller doses when Kaminari and Sero convince Kacchan that he’d be great at a game they’re obviously going to use to wipe the floor with him. 

Izuku would recognize Kacchan’s specific brand of affection anywhere, as starved for it as he is. He just doesn’t know why it's directed at Uraraka. She seems to barely tolerate Kacchan on good days and is seconds away from throttling him on others. Now, they were acting like best friends, or as much as one could act like best friends with Kacchan, which mostly involved a lot of dodging and teasing and arguments you didn’t set out to win but start anyway. 

The sparring match ends in a draw, or at least, that's what Uraraka screams out when Aizawa pulls the two of them apart twenty minutes later. 

“I’ll take you down any day this week,” Kacchan says, struggling in Aizawa’s capture weapon. “You just say the word Round Cheeks, and I’ll end you!”

Uraraka laughs at this like she’s expecting it, looking far too cheerful to be on the receiving end of a death threat. 

“Our usual time then? Or are you scared, Suki?” She says as if the confirmation of a usual time for anything with Kacchan isn’t a rarity in itself. Kacchan doesn’t even have usual anything with Kirishima or Kaminari despite being near constantly in the two’s pockets. 

Kacchan yells out some expletive that's near drowned out by Aizawa’s lecture about sticking to the gyms, and the blood rushing to Izuku’s ears. He doesn’t want to know what expression he’s wearing now but he doesn’t imagine it’d be kind in any way. 

He keeps his face buried in his hood until the situation resolves itself. By that point, Uraraka has called Kacchan Suki at least four more times, and during each one Izuku has to physically stop himself from reacting. At some point, Tsu must notice something, probably the mix of betrayal and sadness in the expression he’s pointing at one of their closest friends because she reaches out to talk to him. 

He’s not certain what words fall out of his mouth at that. He’s just as certain that none of them are kind. He excuses himself after, some horrible mish-mash of excuses ranging from headache to flat lies out that lets him finally, thankfully, have enough time to walk up to his room and bawl his eyes out in peace. 

He doesn’t quite cry himself to sleep, but he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like it. His mouth is dry and his eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed raw and there’s this uncomfortable emptiness in his stomach that reminds him not-so-gently that when he ran off to have his little temper tantrum he very much slept through dinner. 

It’s also two-thirty in the morning, so there’s not much hope that there’s still leftover premade dinner already sitting down waiting for him. Izuku groans, rubbing a hand down his face before he blearily makes it to his feet. 

Torturing himself over something he still is struggling to understand is stupid and frankly exhausting. What he needs to do is make himself a sandwich or something else equally easy, down a water, and probably apologize to Tsu. He’ll send out a text in a minute, and then catch her in-between classes in the morning. 

The last thing he wants to come out of this mess is another friendship where he can’t so much as talk to the other person. 

There’s a half-finished apology in his notes app by the time he reaches the stairwell. The elevators had seemed suddenly unappealing, the idea of being trapped in that small a space with only his thoughts wasn't something he particularly wanted to do tonight, and yet, when he opens the stairwell, and finds it just as much a problem. 

Because of all the people he expected to run into this late at night, Kacchan was the one he expected the least. He and Sero are talking in hushed voices on the stairwell landing below, just before the door. He can barely hear anything they’re saying, being a floor up, but he doesn’t seem to have disturbed them too much. Maybe he can just back up and- 

And nearly slam straight into the door when he finally makes out what the two of them are talking about. 

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you,” Sero hisses, with a shake in his voice that makes something in Izuku’s chest squeeze. “Honestly Bakugou, what would you know about quirk discrimination?”

Izuku’s slippered foot stops still. His breath feels trapped in his chest, a fluttering something cracking its ribs into his ribcage, desperately trying to claw its way out. Below him, Sero continues unhindered. 

“I bet you don’t even read those articles. They never say anything bad about you.”

“I don’t read them because they’re stupid,” Kacchan answers, voice sleep rough but no less irritated. “Whatever those dumbasses said they’re wrong, Hanta.”

First name. Not Tapeface, not Elbows, no other stupid nickname said as affectionately as Kacchan can muster. Hanta. 

Sero must be very upset about this. Obviously, he didn’t try to go to Bakugou, or else they wouldn’t be having this conversation out in the open, much less the dorm stairwell. Kacchan more than likely was doing exactly what Izuku was doing now and was attempting to snag something from the kitchen. 

Izuku doesn’t want to imagine what Hanta was doing alone in the stairwell holding a pile of magazines obviously slandering his name, but the thought is no less sad than it is plausible. 

Kacchan must have run into him then, seen the magazines, and come to the very same conclusions Izuku is drawing now. This is very much meant to be a private conversation, one that Kacchan can start here and then direct towards a location where Sero can be emotional and not have random classmates listen in on. This is something Izuku should let him do, but there’s no way he can move, not now. It’ll give himself away and get Sero to stop talking and Izuku needs to hear this more than he’s ever needed to hear anything else. 

He can still hear that sentence ringing around in his brain. 

What would you know about quirk discrimination?

He leans back against the stairwell wall, doing his best to muffle his movements, and continues to listen.

“I just- I don’t know. It’s not just a tabloid, Bakugou. It’s a hero magazine, a fully functioning one too, has been for years. What they’re saying about me, what they’re saying about my quirk, it's not all wrong. I do have one of the weaker quirks in our class. I’m not able to do as much as you or Todoroki or Midoriya. I can’t even really attempt most hero missions on my own without backup. I just feel useless sometimes,” Sero says, soft and quiet, and something in Izuku’s chest pangs, like searching out like, sympathy and experience longing for another. 

Clothing ruffles then, a soft shearing sound, and something Izuku can’t place, a shift of weight maybe, but Kacchan is never hesitant, not about something like this. When he speaks, the gentle tone in his voice nearly draws a squeak out of Deku. 

“You’re not useless. That's-” An audible swallow, even from here. “Quirks don’t make anyone useless.”

Right, but the absence of one does. Izuku rolls his eyes and starts to push off the wall. He doesn’t make it another step before he’s freezing yet again. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Sero snaps. He’s bitter and angry, but above all else, hurt, and that more than anything else gets Izuku to stay, to keep his hand on the wall and his heart in his throat, and his ears fixed on the conversation behind him.  “You’ve got this amazing quirk, this future practically planned out for you. You’re going to be a hero and I’m-”

Sero’s voice cracks.

“And I’m just not cut out. I’m going to fall behind all of you. It’s like they said, I’m just bringing the whole class down.”

He’s not, Izuku thinks. Sero‘s quirk is incredibly versatile. His tape makes nearly every task from the more combat-heavy part of hero work to the mundane much easier. Izuku has seen it in action more times than he can count. He’s jealous of it really, how easily his quirk can be used for good. How easily his quirk shows that Sero himself is good. 

He wishes he could say that sort of thing without sounding like an asshole, or like he’s boasting. One For All is an amazing quirk, but as much as it is his quirk now, it isn’t. 

Or at least, it wasn’t when it really mattered. 

But the presence of it now means that Izuku can’t say what he wants to say around his classmates when they’re getting down on themselves, when they’re upset about how they’re made or who they are, when all the words he knows by heart are spilling from their lips and Izuku knows his own words would sound cheap so long as One for All remains a secret. 

But Kacchan can, Kacchan can fix this even if he doesn’t want to. He’s gotten better with their classmates recently. He hangs out with Uraraka, gets involved with Kaminari and Ashido’s games, and is dragged around everywhere with Kirishima. In the past few months, he’s started to show that side of himself that Izuku hasn’t seen since he was six. And honestly, hadn’t seen much of when he was six either. The addition of his quirk (and the subsequent absence of his own) changed Kacchan, but that mean streak has always been Kacchan, even when they were kids. 

Kacchan hasn’t always been a good person, maybe he never truly was, but the one he’s growing into, Izuku thinks that person has more than enough right to call himself a hero. Izuku has… not faith but hope. Hope that he’ll help Sero, that he’ll show his friends the kindness he’s never shown Izuku. 

“You’re right,” Kacchan says.

What.

“What?”

Sero’s voice rings out of the dead silence, with Kacchan’s deeper one jumping in straight after.

“Not about the-. Fuck, I meant about the me-not-knowing part, not the falling-behind thing. You’ll be fine as a hero, okay? You’re a better hero than I’ll ever be, right now.”

“But my quirk-”

“Forget the fucking quirk.”

Izuku’s heart hammers in his chest. He shoves a hand over his mouth to stop himself from doing something stupid like whimpering or crying. Behind him, Kacchan continues unprompted. 

“Who cares about your quirk? Aizawa’s quirk doesn’t do anything but stop other quirks and he does just fine as a hero, and Nezu’s a- whatever he is, and he does just fine teaching other people to be heroes, and everyone still counts All Might as a hero and he hasn’t done anything more than smile and be a shitty teacher in months. Your quirk doesn’t do anything but gives you other options on how to fight villains. Your quirk doesn’t even need to be there to fight villains, you’d do just fine without it. Steal one of Aizawa’s capture weapons for a while, have Yaoyorozu make you something similar and you’d be just fine. It’s what you do with your quirk, how you act with or without it, that makes you the damn hero.”

Kacchan takes a moment to catch his breath. Izuku feels like he can’t catch his, despite the fact that he’s been silent for the past fifteen minutes, staring at the stairwell wall as if that will tell him what to do about this.

“And you’ve always been heroic, Hanta.” Kacchan continues. “Even when you’re terrified you always find a way to make a stupid joke or keep our spirits up, and you’re not half as dumb as you seem and you look out for the rest of these idiots when I can’t. You’re a better hero than I am on your worst day.”

What’s thudding in Izuku’s ears, his pulse his heart he doesn’t know. He doesn’t think it matters. All that matters is the conversation continuing behind him, filling the space with words he wouldn’t dare hope for a year ago when he was lonely and desperate and surrounded by so many people and still alone.

“You know sensei’s always talking about how you shouldn’t bring yourself down to pull others up.”

There’s a moment of stillness before–

“There’s no way Aizawa said that shit.”

“No,” Sero laughs. “That’s something from Mic, but they’re practically married so it’s close enough. And I appreciate what you said, even if- even if its hard to believe sometimes. You’re a good hero too, you know.”

“I…” Kacchan quiets. “I’m not that good. I’ve done some things, said some things that would, you wouldn’t have liked me when I was in middle school. I don’t like the person I was during middle school.”

“Well,” Sero’s voice is soft, echoey in the quiet of the stairwell. “I like the person you are now. That has to count for something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Kacchan lets out a scoff that isn’t anywhere near as forceful as Izuku has heard it. A rustle of clothes and a soft thump that Izuku thinks may be a hug he can’t see. Neither of them is crying, but Izuku thinks maybe he should. That maybe, like rain after a long drought, it will heal something in him he hasn’t dared to touch in years. 

“Thanks, Suki.”

“Anytime, tape-face.” 

-

He actually doesn’t end up crying, which is surprising given his track record. What he does end up doing is possibly a bit worse. He runs. He doesn’t think he’s subtle about it either, he’s almost certain he activated OFA at some point, but all that mattered at the time is that he needed to get as far away from Kacchan and Sero before he gave himself away by bawling his eyes out. 

He likely gave himself away when he stumbled over his own feet attempting to run out the stairwell but still. He needs to get away, needs to find someplace to turn over everything Kacchan just said in his mind, someplace quiet and safe and alone . 

A bit ironic considering the reason for it was his own invasion of his classmate’s privacy. 

Izuku doesn’t really know where he’s running to, not until he’s finally there, slippered feet catching on the rough roof tiles. He wanders out towards the edge and then plops himself down, bewilderment morphing into understanding. A few months into living here, Tsu had found the door in the ceiling that led out to the rooftop, and it has been Izuku’s favorite place to just sit and think since she discovered it. It’s peaceful and quiet, and sometimes, as much as he loves his friends, Izuku needs that more than anything. It’s what he grew up with, after Kacchan stopped hanging out with him, hours and hours of nothing but himself and his mom and whatever shitty podcast or video compilation he decided to put on to fill the awkward tension. 

He’s used to being alone. He thinks, somehow, that Kacchan was used to it too. As many friends as the boy had growing up, especially after his quirk presented itself, none of them had seemed as close as he and Izuku were when they were little. None of them hung out for too long after school or really did much of anything besides bully Izuku and fawn over Kacchan. 

And for a long time, Izuku had taken solace in that, his position as Kacchan’s friend had changed but he was still important in some way. He wasn’t Kaachan’s best friend currently, but no one else was either. 

In that way, Izuku still remained important. In Kacchan’s galaxy, maybe he wasn’t a star, but he wasn’t insignificant. Some discarded planet, a meteorite that was just hanging there, far out of reach. 

And then they came to UA and everything changed. All of a sudden, Kacchan had friends, real honest to god friends, who were good for him, who called him out when he needed to be called out and made him laugh in a way Izuku hadn’t heard in years. All of a sudden Kacchan wasn’t just Kacchan or Bakugou or that prodigy kid who was a bit too smart-mouthed for his own good.

He was Bakubro and buddy and Suki, with all the warmth and affection that Izuku used to use. And those names are greeted with the same affection that Kacchan used to use with Izuku, all that long ago, more than that even. 

And with that thought comes a revelation that has him near weak at the knees. 

Maybe it wasn’t the change in Kacchan’s nickname that bugged him, but Kacchan himself. Because if Kacchan got better, if Kacchan made friends like Kirishima and Ashido and Kaminari and Jiro and Sero, real friends, then maybe at one point his position in Kacchan’s life would be swallowed up too. 

And then what else would Izuku have? 

Not a best friend, but maybe, not nothing, he reminds himself. Or, Izuku looks down at his fists, where his nails have formed familiar half-moon crescents, potentially not nothing. He slowly unfurls his fingers, doing his best to count down under his breath to ease the near panic threatening to overtake him. 

There’s a chance for something, he thinks. Kacchan doesn’t seem to respond well to Izuku’s nickname anymore. No one else uses it, and Kacchan has obviously grown since Izuku gave it to him. Maybe Izuku just needs to realize what is really happening here and accept the change. 

Kacchan is becoming something better, someone who is going to be not only a wonderful hero but a wonderful person as well. He sees it, the rest of their classmates see it, it's part of the reason they’ve all gotten so close recently. No matter how much affection Izuku holds for the boy who used to run around with him and get into trouble in the woods behind their house, that version of Kacchan did something this version would never do. 

He can’t imagine the Kacchan that’s friends with Kirishima bullying someone, much less getting away with it, and he can’t imagine Kirishima calling Kaachan ‘Kaachan’ either. The nickname doesn’t fit well with the image of who Kaachan is presenting himself as now. 

It’s time for Izuku to change for the better, just like Kacchan. After all, just like Sero, he likes the person Kacchan is now, and that person for lack of a better word is Suki, or at least that’s the name he seems to prefer. 

It’s probably best that Izuku use it. It’ll take a bit of adjusting, but Izuku can do that. After all, he adjusted to having a quirk in a matter of months. Adjusting to a new name should be just as easy. 

He nods to himself, ready to stand and prepare two apologies for tomorrow. One for Tsu because the half-hearted, sleep-deprived nonsense jotted down in his phone is definitely not appropriate for one of his best friends, and the other for Kacchan. He’s not certain if the use of his childhood nickname has bothered Kacchan as much as the addition of his new one has bothered Izuku, but if it has, he needs to at least apologize for it. 

Sooner rather than later, he thinks before spinning around. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he can catch Kacchan after their classes end, that way he had time to think up a good enough explanation before-

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Before running smack into him on his way to open the hatch. Izuku loses his footing for just a second at Kacchan’s sudden arrival, pinwheeling his arms. He fumbles back a step or two, gains back his footing just as Kacchan jerks forward to catch him, and then both end up staring at each other, panting, as Izuku adjusts his slippered feet on the tiles. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathes, once he’s caught his breath and isn’t seconds away from having his heart beat out of his chest. “You can’t just jump out at people like that! It’s dangerous.”

“Being up here is always dangerous, idiot,” Kacchan counters, in a voice that sounds suspiciously tight. His hand is still out, just a hairs breath away from Izuku’s as if he intends to tug him closer, further away from the precarious edge of the rooftop. His face flushes once he notices Izuku staring and pulls it back towards himself. “It’s three in the morning. What are you doing here?”

Eavesdropping, Izuku’s brain answers. Thankfully, he curbs the thought before he accidentally blurts it out. Telling Kacchan that he had been eavesdropping on him and Sero as they had a very emotional and clearly private conversation in the stairwell is not what he wants to do now. It’s just, too early in the morning for the sort of havoc that sort of thing would bring out. No Izuku needs to downplay that, or frankly outright lie, and maybe bring it up to the two of them privately, later, when Izuku feels less like his stomach is about to cave in on itself. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Izuku finally settles on, which is truthful in its own way. Hopefully, it causes Kacchan to draw his own conclusions on what kept him up. Nightmares aren’t uncommon in their class. Maybe he’ll get lucky, and Kacchan will think that’s what was wrong. It’s got a lot more truth to it than he’d like to admit anyway. 

He forces a smile on his face. 

“I was just about to leave when you got here. We’ll walk down together okay?”

Izuku tries to walk forward and is stopped immediately by Kacchan, who stares down at him disapprovingly. The way he looks screams that Izuku’s beyond busted. 

“Come up with a better excuse, Deku,” he says, with a roll of his eyes. “When you ran off, it practically sounded like someone set off a bomb. The only other person who has a quirk that can make it sound like a jet engine ran through the hall is Four-Eyes, and I doubt he was the one in the stairwell spying on us.” The furrow between his brows grows before he huffs out a breath through his nose. “I’m not stupid, Deku, I know you were listening in. That’s why I came up to find you. I just didn’t expect you to be on the roof.”

Izuku feels his face flush. It’s been a while since he’s been caught in a lie quite this bad, and the fact that it was Kacchan who did so is even more embarrassing. 

Everyone in their class knows Kacchan can’t lie to save his life. 

He averts his eyes, doing his best to sort his thoughts. Across from him, Kacchan doesn’t stop glaring at him. Izuku can feel it even without looking. The weight of Kacchan’s gaze has always felt more intense than anything else, like being stared into by the sun itself. 

“I–” He feels the words get caught in his throat, an invisible vise wrapped tight around him. He swallows and tries again. “What I meant to say was– I mean–” 

He thinks of the cracks in Sero’s voice as he spoke, the soft shearing of fabric he couldn’t see, the way Kacchan had bared himself with so little prompting and feels the noose around his throat break loose. The next words come as easy as water from a brook, clear and crisp and succinct. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Kacchan’s furrowed gaze blinks into surprise. “I didn’t mean to listen in on you two. It was wrong, and I knew that. I was going to leave the second I realized what was happening but then Sero asked you about his quirk, about quirk discrimination and I couldn’t.”

He meets Kacchan’s gaze fully for the first time in weeks. 

“I wanted to know what you’d say. Needed to know how you’d answer him.”

Kacchan stares at him. For a second, Izuku thinks he’s going to speak, but his mouth stays silent, parted slightly as he just stares at Izuku, this expression in between awestruck and horror on his face. So Izuku continues. It’s an easy enough decision. 

For as loud as Kacchan is, Izuku’s always been the talkative one between the two. 

“You answered well, by the way. Sero seemed really comforted by what you said. I was really comforted by what you said, even if I shouldn’t have listened to it.”

“You were comforted,” Kacchan repeats. “And so you came up to the fucking roof?”

The sentence ends like a question, but Izuku can’t help but feel bewildered by how he’s meant to answer it. 

“Yes?” He squeaks, then jerks when this only seems to make Kacchan more irritated. “I thought it would be a good place to think!”

“The roof is a good place to get hurt, you idiot, especially in the middle of the night. Just– stop talking . You can apologize to Elbows tomorrow. It’s too fucking late to argue about this.”

He reaches out and snags Izuku’s arm, dragging him towards the open hatch that leads back to the dorms. Izuku has to practically run to keep up with the pace he’s dragging him at. Kacchan's grip on his arm is near bruising, tighter than there's any need for up here.

“Kaccha– hey wait, slow down. Just stop pulling. Kacchan, Kacchan, ‘Suki, let go !” 

He jerks his arm away just as Kacchan comes to an abrupt stop, wide red eyes staring at him. 

“What did you just call me,” he says. It’s not phrased like a question and Izuku knows not to take it as one. There’s no way Kacchan misheard him. 

Izuku answers anyway.

“S-Suki,” He starts, then swallows when this only seems to blindside Kacchan more. “I- I heard Sero using it tonight, and Uraraka yesterday. And there was that time with Ashido and that building and Kirishima and Kaminari practically call you that constantly and–” He stutters when none of this seems to be doing anything to wipe the practically horrified look out of Kacchan’s eyes. “It’s the name you like now, right? No one else calls you Kacchan, and I don’t– I don’t need to anymore. Not if you don’t like it.”

Kacchan stares at him, looking somehow more distraught and angrier than Izuku thinks he’s ever seen him. 

“Its the one they like not–” He puffs out an angry huff of breath. “Just– Get off the roof. This is a stupid argument, call me by your old nickname, I don’t care just let's get off the damn roof.”

“No.”

Kacchan’s face goes beet red from his cheeks to his ears. He stares as if Izuku has grown a second head. Izuku lets the look harden his resolve. 

“What do you mean no?” 

“I mean no,” Izuku starts, and knows from the second he opens his mouth, he will not be able to stop. “No, I will not get off the roof, and no, I will not call you by your old nickname, and no, this isn’t a stupid argument. You’re happier when everyone uses that name, I see it. Everyone sees it. That’s why they’re using it instead of adopting the one I used to call you. That’s why I want to use it, so maybe we can start to be friends again instead of this awkward, awful whatever we are. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable just so I can keep calling you something you don’t want to be called Kacc– Suki , and I think if I get off the roof now, you’re not actually going to talk to me about this, and it’s never going to get resolved and instead be this big, horrible thing that makes both of us feel disgusting all the time. So what is wrong with me calling you, Suki?”

“Because it's not your name to use,” Kacchan snaps back. “For fucks sake, Deku, I want Kirishima and Kaminari and Ashido and Sero to use that name because it's their name for me. It’s what they call me. I want you to use your name. It’s what you call me. It's– don’t change it okay? I don’t want you to change it.”

His words stutter for a second, and their own panicked breathing fills the space between them. Their gasps almost seem to match, a distorted mirror of a time when they used to do everything together before Kacchan swallows hard and finishes his statement. 

“Their name is a reminder of who I’ve made myself to be. Yours is… it’s a reminder of why I need to keep doing that.”

Izuku chews his lip.

“That sounds bad , Kacchan.”

“Doesn’t mean it is. You gave it to me, it can’t–. It can’t be all bad.”

“Just like how I use your name for me.”

Something crosses Kacchan’s face, a mix of emotions Izuku knows he’ll never be able to decipher, but eventually he acquiesces, nodding without meeting Izuku’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. “Like that.” 

Sometimes, Izuku thinks that there’s no hope left for Kacchan and him. That all the damage that's been done will never be able to be undone, that this relationship he loves and hates in equal measure will one day be a thing so far in the past that he won’t even be able to muster up the energy to despise it. And then there are times like this when he takes a step forward and sees Kacchan’s body go practically limp with relief. 

The next few steps are the easiest he’s taken in a long, long time. He walks his way over to Kacchan’s side and without hesitation, drops down next to him, patting the tiles at Kacchan’s feet. 

He schools his grin as he watches Kacchan huff but echo his motions anyway, legs splayed out in front of him, hand just an inch from Izuku’s own. They lay like that for a moment, staring up at the sky, silence fizzling in the space between them. 

Surprisingly, Kacchan is the one to break the tentative truce. He doesn’t look at Izuku but he does speak, words that would be gruff if they weren’t so absurdly soft. 

“I think it’s selfish, but sometimes, I miss hanging out with you.”

Izuku thinks of the feeling of river water soaking his shoes, his favorite journal near-ruined in the school fountain, his own name twisted into a weapon and shot back at him. He thinks of school festivals, and muzzles, and All Might figurines, and the first time he lined up his sneakers, bright red, at his door. 

When he speaks he tastes Kacchan’s nickname on his tongue and grins. 

“You’re right, that is a little selfish.”

His hand finds Kacchan’s anyway, lacing their fingers together like they used to when they were kids, off on another one of their adventures. 

“But I miss us too, so maybe we shouldn’t worry about the logistics.”

Izuku turns his head up towards the sky and tracks constellations until he feels Kacchan’s fingers curl a little tighter against his. 

“Did you catch the latest podcast Sai did? The All Might one?”

Kacchan stares at him for just a moment, mouth hanging open before he snorts. 

“You’re a damn nerd, Deku,” he says like he wasn’t the one to introduce Izuku to the show years ago. “The one where he claimed Hawks would have the upper hand in a battle? Who says that sort of shit? He’s obviously delusional.”

“Right, like we all know All Might’s capabilities in a fight. How dare he even imply-“

“Imply? The asshole full-on said it-“

“That’s what I’m saying, Kacchan, if you would just listen. Anyway, when he said-“

Izuku continues to ramble on. Kacchan’s voice intermittently spaced between, the two of them laughing and snapping and talking over each other like they used to. It’s not perfect, there are gaps where there shouldn’t be, dead air intermingled throughout, but it’s a step, a start. 

A different rooftop to base their relationship on, a different feel to the hand in his, and a starry sky above them, where two planets are finding their way back into orbit.