Chapter Text
It should be a happy day. And really, Izuku is happy. He’s been surrounded by friends and acquaintances all day, every single one of them bright and cheerful, excited to see him. As soon as a conversation ends with one person, there’s someone else approaching him to ask how he’s been, what his current agency is like, what his future plans are, if he’s ever returning to Japan for good. They congratulate him on reaching Top 10 in America and praise whatever recent fight of his they’ve seen in the news.
He returns the praise for any pro hero prominent enough he’s seen them in the news recently or who he’s close enough with to keep up with, feeling bad when he doesn’t have any idea what someone’s been up to lately. It’s understandable, he knows, no one expects him to read the news for every hero he’s ever worked with or to have time to keep in touch with everyone, but he still feels awkward every time someone he’s barely heard of in the past five years mentions some mission or fight he himself has nearly forgotten.
Despite him working overseas now, Japan still loves their poster boy for peace. Izuku had always known this, but hadn’t quite realized until he returned just how popular he still is in his home country. In just the few days he’s been here, he’s already seen his own merch, seen himself on the national news, and written several autographs. It’s heartwarming to know the people of Japan not only didn’t forget him when he left, but still actively care about him as one of their own.
And there’s no better reminder of how loved he is than the people surrounding him at this very moment. Everyone in this room has come here because of him. Former classmates, former hero colleagues, even support staff he had regularly chatted with at his previous agency. So many people that an event venue was rented because nobody’s house would hold such a crowd.
The venue is strewn with decorations, streamers covering the entire length of the walls and crisscrossing over the guests’ heads. Balloons hang among the streamers and bounce around the floor as they’re jostled by the flow of people. The centerpiece of it all, at the far end of the room, is a giant sign spelling out ‘Happy Birthday Izuku!’ above a lavish spread of desserts and hors d'oeuvres. It’s three days early, which added to the surprise when he walked in expecting a boring charity event Shouto had invited him to, reasoning it would be more enjoyable if he had a friend there and that Izuku was the perfect choice since they have a lot of missed time to catch up on.
Nearly two hours after his first plate of food, three hours after the start of the party, Izuku finally manages to make his way back to snag a few more bites. He’s deciding which of the many dishes to try when Ochako pops up next to him.
“I thought we were never going to catch you alone!” She beams, her baby pink dress sparkling as she moves.
“Are you having a good time?” Shouto asks from behind her. They’re both holding cups, likely wine judging by the flush on Ochako’s cheeks.
Izuku feels relieved to see them, glad to have a break from the repeated small talk. “It’s been great catching up with everyone! The decorations and food look amazing too, I can’t believe you guys put so much effort into this.”
“We’ve all missed you a lot,” Ochako says, “We wanted to do something big when we heard you were coming back! It was the perfect coincidence you’d be here for your birthday.”
“I’ve missed everyone too.” Izuku gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to visit, I’ve wanted to but…”
“We understand, the life of a pro hero is busy.” Shouto reassures him, nodding in understanding. “Especially one as popular as you.”
“Says Mr. Number Three!” Izuku laughs. He turns back to the food, eyes landing on mini katsu sandwiches. He adds a couple to his plate, excited to taste them, and moves down along the table. His friends follow as they chat about the party. Ochako animatedly relays how Mina and Momo argued about nearly every aspect of the planning, complete with impressions. Izuku can clearly imagine it: Mina insistent about throwing a loud, wild dance party, Momo calmly disagreeing that it should be a mature, elegant party. What they’ve settled on is somewhere in between.
He takes a bite of the katsu sandwich. Clearly well-made, the flavor more authentic than the katsu he’s had in America, it’s a solid 8/10. Delicious, high quality, and doesn’t satisfy his craving at all. Maybe he’ll ask his mom to make katsudon soon if she’s not already planning to.
Even his mom’s katsudon won’t fully satisfy his craving, but it’ll be the next best.
He wipes any sign of disappointment from his face and smiles at something Shouto says. Before long, Tsu and Iida join their little circle. Surrounded by his closest friends, close enough to reach out and touch after seeing their faces through a screen for so long, Izuku feels lighter than he has for months.
He’s happy.
He should be happier.
He’s in a room full of nearly everyone he cares about most - not including those he's met in America - and yet the whole time his eyes have wandered from everyone he’s talked to. Even now, talking and laughing with his best friends, his eyes occasionally leave them to flit around the room. Searching for a certain face, a certain head of hair.
Searching for someone who definitely isn’t here.
Kacchan doesn’t go to parties. Especially not parties for Izuku.
Izuku had hoped maybe, just maybe, that had changed. He thought, from what he’s seen in the news and heard from friends, that maybe, just maybe, Kacchan had changed.
He’d imagined spotting spiky blond hair among the crowd, ruby red eyes meeting his. They’d walk towards each other, drawn to the other’s side as they always had been, meeting in the middle and falling into conversation as easily as they used to. Before their conversations started to all turn into arguments, before they stopped altogether.
It’s been nearly four hours though with no sign of the blond. The room has become a bit emptier as people started trickling out, signaling the end of the party approaching. Izuku excuses himself from his friends to make another round greeting the guests he hasn’t talked to yet. He meets Kirishima and Mina’s daughter, a cute little 3-year-old with horns and salmon hair. Eri, now a pro hero herself, waves him over and excitedly tells him about her most recent mission. Even Shinsou, who’s probably more antisocial than Kacchan, is here. Izuku talks to person after person, and somewhere along the way his eyes stop wandering as much.
Another two hours later and he’s helping clean up. His friends tell him not to, but he insists. When the venue is spotless, they say their goodbyes and promise to make plans to hang out as much as possible before he leaves again.
When it’s Ochako’s turn to hug him, she adds an extra squeeze before pulling back and looking at him sadly. “I’m sorry he didn’t come, Deku. We all thought he would.”
“It’s okay.” He tries to make his voice sound like that’s true. “I had a great time today.”
She still looks worried, but doesn’t push. “He’ll probably come to something else while you’re here. You know how he hates parties.” She laughs half-heartedly.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Before he knows it he’s in his mom’s car and they’re turning onto the street of his childhood home. As they come up to the house three doors down from the corner he makes the split-second decision to turn his head to watch as it passes by. Light from the front windows illuminates the garden in front of the unassuming, cream-colored two-floor build, slightly larger than the one he grew up in.
The first time he was inside was when he was no more than a month old. Still hanging in the hallway of his own childhood home is the photo Masaru took of Inko and Mitsuki that day, tiny Izuku and a not much bigger Kacchan in their arms. Most of his first memories of the house are nothing but photos showing a time he was too young to remember, but he has countless more from the years to follow.
7-year old Kacchan complaining about Deku being invited to his birthday party.
12-year old Kacchan yelling at him about their group project, begrudgingly cooperating just enough to get a good grade.
18-year old Kacchan handing Izuku his birthday present and watching fondly as he unwraps the newest All Might figure.
21-year old Kacchan flicking soapy water at him as they wash dishes after dinner with their parents, Izuku pretending to be mad until they both dissolve into a fit of laughter.
Kacchan probably isn't there now, if he still only visits every few months. Izuku is kind of glad for that. The thought of him being behind those walls, just out of sight, so close yet unattainable, makes his heart hurt more than it should.
He wonders if Kacchan still lives in the same apartment. The little one with a balcony overlooking the road and a kitchen rivaling that of the bigger apartments they'd viewed. The kitchen had been the selling point for Kacchan. "Same size kitchen for cheaper? We'd be stupid not to take this one," he'd said, ignoring Izuku's worries that maybe it'd be better to be closer to their agency or that the rest of the apartment might be a bit too small.
Would Kacchan have sacrificed that for a new apartment without any memories tied to it? Had it hurt him to be there alone, watching tv on the couch Izuku had chosen, eating at the table where they’d shared breakfast every morning? Or had he been glad to have space to himself?
If Inko notices him looking at the Bakugous' house, she doesn’t say anything.
She waits until they’re inside and they've slipped their shoes off to pull him into a hug.
“I’m proud to have a son who’s made such a positive impact on so many people." She looks up at him, eyes full of love. "It's early but," she reaches a hand to ruffle his hair and he thinks he sees tears threatening to spill, "happy birthday, Izuku."
He hugs her tighter in response. They spend the rest of the night eating leftovers and watching a movie, and Izuku goes to bed feeling a little bit happier.
The next two days pass quickly and continue the much-needed break from his hero life. Full of fun and relaxing moments with his mom and friends, it’s everything he could’ve asked for from a visit home.
He accompanies Inko to get groceries, feeling a bit like a kid again pushing the cart as he follows her around the store. She buys pork cutlets and they have katsudon for dinner. It tastes exactly the same as he remembers, and he feels a little bit more satisfied.
Whoever’s free meets up the second evening at Denki and Sero’s bachelor pad. Izuku is reasonably active in the group chat, but it’s been a long time since he’s hung out with his old classmates and truly felt a part of their antics. Though the party was fun, it’s not until in the smaller group he can really feel the bond they all still have.
Regret starts to creep up on him as he thinks about what it might have been like if he hadn’t left Japan for so long. He doesn’t feel left out, at least not on purpose, but it’s clear how much he’s missed when there’s an inside joke everyone except him laughs at or someone references something he had no idea happened. Apparently, Sero dated a girl from his agency for a whole year and Jirou has a cat now.
Izuku flops onto his bed as soon as he gets home, sprawled across the old All-Might patterned duvet. His stomach has been grumbling at him for food the whole way back but he ignores it in favor of staring at the ceiling.
There's still a year left on his contract, but maybe after that he should come home. Going abroad had been a way to get a breath of fresh air, a decision he'd made on a whim when everything felt too suffocating. He'd be following in All Might's footsteps and gaining valuable experience to bring back to his role in Japan, is what he told everyone.
What started as two years became four years became five years and soon to be six years, and now he’s been a pro-hero in America for as long as in Japan. First he wasn't ready to return, then he was deep in a mission, then it was just easier to stay. For all intents and purposes, he's an American hero now. He likes living there and as long as he's saving people it doesn't matter where he is, he tells himself whenever he starts to feel homesick and tells his friends when they question why he’s stayed so much longer than planned.
He knows he needs to come home eventually, though.
While it’s true his main goal is simply to save people, his dream has always been to be a hero in Japan, not any other country. His hero name is supposed to be up there in the rankings with Shouto's, Ochako's, and most of all, Kacchan's.
Kacchan, who didn't come today either.
Kacchan, who he hasn't spoken to in four years.
It's a bit ridiculous, he knows. You're supposed to move on from someone long before four years have passed. If it was anyone else, he's sure he would have.
But when you've spent a lifetime with someone? Four years is like forever and nothing at the same time.
He wakes up with a sharp pang of hunger hitting him, his eyes squeezing shut again at the brightness of the ceiling light. Still groggy from sleep he reaches for his phone, patting the nightstand until he realizes it’s in his pocket.
The first thing he sees is the time - eleven o'clock, three hours later than when he arrived home. The second thing he sees is the messages.
Kacchan
(22:39) Open the door
(22:45) I can see your light on
(22:53) Izuku?
(22:53) I just want to talk
(22:55) I’ll leave if you want me to
(22:55) Sorry
Within seconds he’s out of bed and scrambling down the stairs. His clothes are wrinkled, he can feel his hair smushed weirdly at the back, his arm is covered in little red lines from being pressed into the bed, but none of it matters as he yanks open the door and Kacchan’s head whips around to meet his eyes.
“Izuku,” he breathes out as he stands from his seat on the front steps.
His heart is beating so loudly it’s a wonder Izuku can hear anything. “Kacchan?” He manages to get out, feeling like there’s no air in his lungs.
“I-...” Kacchan starts, and stops. His eyes flick away from Izuku’s for a second before returning. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to your party.”
“It’s okay,” Izuku says, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I mean, it’s not really okay, but it is. I didn’t expect you to come.”
Kacchan doesn’t look happy with that response but nods as if he was anticipating it.
“And,” Izuku ventures, “you’re here now.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see you. I don’t like how things ended between us and… I don’t… I don’t expect to go back to how we were, but I thought maybe,” he pauses, and what comes next is quieter, “we could be friends again.”
It’s possibly the most emotionally vulnerable Izuku has ever heard Kacchan sound.
He seems to interpret Izuku’s silence as uncertainty and continues. “If you’ve moved on, that’s fine, but… if we could at least be on speaking ter-”
“Yes,” Izuku hurriedly cuts him off. “Yes, I’d like to be friends again.”
“...Really? You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Kacchan smiles, a genuine smile that meets his eyes. Izuku returns it twice as bright.
He gently closes the door, stepping outside. “I think Mom is asleep. Let’s go to the park?”
“Good with me. You might want shoes though.”
Izuku looks at his feet, clad in All Might socks. “Shit! I was too distracted by-” He doesn’t finish the sentence, opening the door again and grabbing his sneakers.
Kacchan raises an eyebrow and smirks. “The nerd swears now, huh?”
“That was hardly swearing,” Izuku retorts as he pulls his shoes on, “but yes, maybe I’ve picked up some new things since… yeah.”
“Then I look forward to seeing what else is new.”
It’s such an un-Kacchan-like thing to say but somehow, he makes it feel natural. Izuku glances up at him. “I think you’ve picked up some new things, too.”
“Maybe I have,” he says, as if challenging Izuku to find out what.
Izuku fully intends to accept and ace that challenge. Laces messily tied, he stands up. “Ready!”