Chapter Text
Kota has three items on his mental list of problems that will very likely keep him up tonight:
1) He should call his aunt more often.
2) That hat he's wearing might actually look kind of ridiculous, after all.
And:
3) He seems to have done really badly in the Sports Festival.
Naturally, he had already prepared himself for the hypothetical scenario where number three would happen anyway (because being eliminated in the last round of close-range matches by that damn Blade Hands Kei Yoshio was, in fact, a very real possibility for Kota "Always Second Place" Izumi).
He made peace with that idea pretty quickly and decided there were (and definitely are) much worse ways to lose. For example: being humiliated on national television.
However, Kota absolutely needed to update that third point to what was currently happening right in front of him, on the board, next to his name:
One line.
Just one.
A single damn line and only one goddamn internship offer.
What the hell.
And yes. Hell indeed, because while winning all but guarantees you get more internship offers than the average student, finishing second usually still treats you a bit better than most.
And absolute hell because Kota must’ve seriously screwed up at some point during the entire festival to end up with just one offer.
Because otherwise, it didn’t make sense.
He trained until his bones hurt.
He used that technique that took him forever to master.
He did well in the races.
Managed to place in the top five in the first event and was part of the winning team in the second.
He was literally second place for the entire first year.
How the hell did he end up with just one damn internship offer?
Kota stared at that number one longer than the rest of the class and couldn’t think about anything else.
Shame overtook him instantly.
Shit.
How could someone from ex-hero Deku’s class have just one offer?
No.
How could I have just one offer?
Shit.
My brother’s going to kill me.
He’s probably thinking about how to do it right now. No. He won’t even need to think or move a finger.
Izuku Midoriya will just raise his eyes, lift one eyebrow, and Kota will die officially of shame—probably sinking three meters underground too.
Damn it.
So he looks at his own hands while his brother—being the kind of teacher who just can’t stay still—walks past him and says, “We’ll talk after class,” and Kota practically fuses deeper into his seat. He nods out of mercy and holds back the visceral, primitive urge to slam his head against the desk. Or to hide underneath it. Something like turtles withdrawing into their shells. Not the sea kind, of course. The ugly ones. The wrinkly, land-dwelling kind. The kind that would probably only get one internship offer too.
Kota guesses, on the other hand, what his brother must be thinking:
"After saving you when you were a brat and training you all this time just to get you into UA, is this seriously all you’ve got? You’re supposed to be my protégé. Do you realize how stupid you make me look?"
Yeah. That’s probably what he’s thinking.
Kota didn’t really pay attention to the rest of the internship explanation (which was essentially about what they were not allowed to do during them, because if Kota’s a disappointment, his classmates are a disaster or a less-evolved version of human beings. And still, Kota managed to get just one offer. Seriously).
So when Izuku asked them at the end of class to come up and pick up the hero name list at his desk, Kota stayed in his seat, waiting for everyone to leave, like a damn cowardly, ugly turtle.
His brother, in a world full of pathetic orphans like him, must be something like a goddamn dolphin or something. Smart and pretty, but truly terrifying. Terrifying when he pretends he’s not in the room while sitting back down and staring right at him. Endearing when he whistles and murmurs, “You’re biting your nails.”
Kota stops immediately. “Sorry.”
“For someone who works with his fingers, Kota, you’re definitely old enough to quit that habit,” he murmurs carefully. He might’ve leaned back in his chair. Kota wouldn’t know. He refuses to look at him. “Come here.”
So, of course, Kota does. Looking down at his shoes. Red. Feeling even dumber. Shit.
“Jeez, Kota, you look like you just killed someone,” his brother murmurs, and Kota can’t hold it in anymore.
He exhales. “I’m sorry, brother.” And then, “I don’t know what I did wrong, but—” and when he finally looks up, Izuku Midoriya—the saint—is smiling. He’s smiling. Kota shrinks even more. “I really did my best. I don’t—”
“Kota,” he says, and Kota immediately goes silent. “If you carry so much worry on your back at your age, you’re going to have gray hairs before you’re thirty.” And he scratches his own head, making Kota let out a shaky breath. A short puff when he sees him wince from the stretch. Izuku Midoriya rests his head against his fist and mutters, “Trust me, there are worse fates than finishing second—”
“I’m not conflicted about that, brother.”
“Then what’s with that face?” His brother closes his eyes. The black outline around them darkens. Traces of fatigue. A few wrinkles that shouldn’t be there at his age. But mostly: scar tissue, faint freckles, and brown skin. Kota thinks that maybe he’d get someone if he at least bothered to comb his hair once in a while. Or sleep, for that matter. From what Kota’s seen in Eri’s magazines, scruffy guys are only attractive until they cross the line into auto-negligence. “The festival… It’s not the best thing you’ll ever do in your life, but it’s definitely the best thing you’ve achieved so far. You should be proud, Kota.” He yawns. “And no hospital visits. That’s more than amazing, believe me—”
“But I—”
“In that last match, when you crossed the boundary without realizing it… it looked like you had everything so meticulously planned... I really thought for a moment you were cornering Yoshio into a trap.” A grimace. “But it was you who stepped out of bounds, in the end.”
“That was the plan. I wasn’t… I dunno.”
“Well, that pressure move of yours was more than solid. Very smart... But yeah, we definitely need to work on your technique—” another yawn “—and your reflexes. Time works against you more often than not.”
“I— Is that why I only got one internship offer, brother? Because I’m bad at technique?”
His brother lazily opens his eyes, glances sideways—where the board with everyone’s names is—and sees Kota’s. He waits a few seconds, opens his mouth, and lets out a sound of recognition.
“Ah. So that’s what’s got you like this, huh?” He chuckles. Low and short. But he does. And Kota, for real, feels a weight slide off his chest.
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you—”
“Kota.”
“Yes?”
“How could I ever be disappointed in you? Common. What an ridiculous thing to say” Then, “At least, no disappointed of you.”
“Huh?”
The teacher sighs, picks up the lone sheet left on his desk and reads it lazily. A single name. Kota’s tempted to look too.
“Kota.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think you’re going to like this.”
“What?”
“You might need someone who acts faster than I can teach you to, yeah. Still... this... uh... guy is always one step ahead.” He hands the sheet over, inviting Kota to read the name. Kota does—and immediately furrows his brow.
“I’m so sorry, Kota.”
“What.”
“He always pulls this kind of things to leave people no choice but to go along with him. He’s always been like that. I’m sure he shut down anyone else who tried to recruit you before he could... Well, you know him well enough already.”
Kota reads "Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight" at least four times before letting out a single sound of surprise.
What?
“You should know how Kacchan is— Or at least remember him— How old were you at that—”
“Dynamight doesn’t take interns,” Kota argues, unaware of the headache his teacher seems to be developing. “You said—”
“Yes. Apparently this year he does, so listen carefully: This is a big opportunity,” Izuku says. “A really big one for you. You don’t always get a top 10 pro calling you for internships. Take advantage of this. There’s a lot you can learn from Kacchan—things bigger than anything I could ever teach you. You have to use this situation to your advantage... Oh, I made you a notebook with notes. Study them.”
“But— Isn’t Dynamight a bit crazy or something?” And it's not fair that Kota says that, not when they call him crazy in his class. Not that he’s ever told his brother, of course “He is not Mustafu's hero. ”
“His agency’s in Shinjuku. A bit far, but—”
“Brother,” Kota raises a hand and rubs his forehead with the other. “Tell me you had nothing to do with this, because—I didn’t... He wasn’t even in my top choices, to be honest.” But what he really meant was: I didn’t ask for this. Dynamight is insane and that’s public knowledge and I don’t want a madman for an internship mentor. Especially not if he’s the bastard who wiped half the names off my list.
Deku goes quiet instantly. Kota braces for a scolding, but instead, he shakes his head and sighs again.
“No, but I don’t think this has much to do with you, Kota.”
“What?”
“I think... I should’ve been more careful.” He scratches his head again. “Apparently a few people know you’re under my guidance this year... including Dynamight, of course.” He covers his mouth. Kota’s not sure if he’s stifling a laugh or trying to hide one. He stays terrifyingly stoic, anyway. But Kota does pick up one thing: the faint trace of fondness in his voice when he murmurs, “I think… He must be bored, huh.”
“What?”
“He just wants to compete a little, that idiot. Test me like always.”
What the hell.
Kota suddenly feels euphoric.
“What an asshole.”
“Kota,” Izuku warns.
“So if I show him how good you’ve made me, the stupid leaves me alone?”
“One more insult...”
“Sorry.”
“But- Yeah, I suppose… It’s still a big opportunity for you, Kota. This— This is not the end of the world. Shinjuku's crime rate has dropped dramatically since-”
“Two weeks,” he mutters.
“Right, you’re not even listening to me anymore.”
“Two weeks and that bastard leave us alone.”
“You shouldn't see it that way.”
“I won’t let you down. That jerk won’t bother you again.”
Deku stays quiet for a long few seconds, then stretches out that same smile he always gives him—and that’s all Kota needs.
“I know you won’t, Kota.”
Ha.
“Now come here. I’m pulling that ear of yours. Where the hell did you learn to swear like that, huh?”
• • •
Call for help.
(23:45)
You need to see the face of the man who will very likely kill.
(23:46)
-attached image-
Oh my God.
(23:46)
It’s Mr. Kacchan.
(23:47)
Gross.
(23:47)
Don’t call him that.
(23:48)
He’s going to kick your ass, Kota.
(23:49)
You’re so sweet Ers.
(23:49)
I have to tell you something btw
(23:50)
Can I come up to your floor?
(23:51)
if this is about some fight you’ve had with someone, I’m going to turn you into a sperm, Kota.
(23:52)
Come.
(23:52)
Don’t make any noise. papa’s home.
(23:53)
I’ll open the emergency window for you.
(23:53)
They both agreed to pretend, like the good friends they are, that they never actually saw each other that day or talked about what they had talked about. Or at least Kota pretended that nothing really happened. And he push it deep inside his head.
• • •
“Are you bringing your toothbrush?” Izuku whispers as they walk with the class toward the station, and Kota tries to soothe the itch in his fingers by rubbing them on his pants. He nods anyway. “And your coat? Did you check your room before leaving?”
“I’ve got everything, bro—Professor.”
“If you forgot anything at home, call me and I’ll bring it to you.”
“It’s just five days. I’ll be back this weekend.”
“Your battery? Is it charged?”
“Brother,” he whispers, making sure no one’s looking at them because he really doesn’t want to deal with people staring today. Not with how much he hates talking to his classmates, at least. “Chill.”
“Call your aunt, okay, Kota? She said you haven’t called her this month.”
“I will. I promise.” Kota sighs. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
"Call me when you get there." He squeezes Kota's shoulder one last time, then raises his hand to fix his cap. "You need a haircut," he adds, and Kota feels a little embarrassed.
He adjusts the cap himself as his brother turns around to join the others.
"Alright, class! Over here!" he calls. "You all have a big responsibility. You're representing the school out there. Learn everything you can. Work on the things I mentioned before we got here. You'll arrive today, but patrols start tomorrow, so make sure you get plenty of rest. I’ve got nothing else to say. Behave yourselves, please!"
When Kota boards his train, Deku waves at him with one hand and gives a thumbs-up with the other.
Still, Kota doesn’t miss the nervous twitch of his fingers as the train begins to move.
It hits him, then—
It’s been years since he’s been this far away from him.
Kota arrives at night.
The first thing he thinks is that he's very far from home. Then that the city is huge. Then that it’s loud. Finally—that it’s amazing.
He has to ask around a couple of times before he’s sure it’s the right street where someone from Dynamight’s agency is supposed to pick him up.
So, he waits.
And waits.
And waits. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes.
And it keeps getting later.
And it starts to rain.
And Kota starts to get anxious.
Should he call his brother?
No.
He should just go straight to the agency.
But Dynamight had left very clear instructions to wait there.
But…
Damn it.
The shops around him were closing. Kota tightened his scarf, feeling more irritable—and hungrier—with each passing minute.
Then a chill ran down his spine, and he suddenly felt alert.
Goddamn it, this is such a pain.
What if he went back to the station?
No.
Sensing—ominously—that something was watching him from afar, he recalled the training on what to do if confronted by thieves or something. Well, actually, he couldn’t really do anything. The government had gotten very strict about using quirks—even in self-defense…
Or maybe he was just overthinking things again, as always.
Honestly, Kota would rather face a group of robbers than a giant rat or something like that.
He looked around and thought of the notebook: Dynamight likes to provoke.
Quick thinking.
Ah.
Wait a goddamn minute.
He looked over his shoulder. At the corners. Into the shadows.
Oh.
Shit.
Obviously...
He cursed himself for being a complete idiot.
“I know you're there!” Kota called out, not to anyone in particular. “I know you're watching me!”
No answer.
He felt kind of dumb, honestly.
Naturally, the shopkeeper peeked out, and Kota ignored her.
“I know you're watching me right now, man!” he said, taking a few steps forward. “We can do this all night if you want! If you’re looking for a challenge, I’m right here! But rain doesn’t suit you! I can wait as long as you want, but this isn't going anywhere!”
Kota stood in silence a few seconds more, feeling stupider by the second—until he heard a laugh from the rooftop above the shops.
And there he was, looking down at him like a goddamn demon.
Dynamight was sitting comfortably up there, shielded from the rain, but still hidden from view.
Clever. Evil. Jerk.
“Took you long enough,” he said, the moment their eyes met—and Kota suddenly felt there were worse things in life than staring directly into that man’s eyes.
“One hour and thirteen minutes, huh.”
Shit.
But Kota wasn’t an idiot. Not really. No matter how much he looked like one right now.
He didn’t flinch. He raised his chin. Shifted his weight to the other leg. And barked,
“What if I was the one making you wait?”
The demon threw his head back. Laughed once. A single laugh, but it sent a terrible shiver through Kota’s spine. Terrible in every sense.
“If that were the case, I would’ve known, kid.”
“Would you?” Kota walked up to the store just to get a better look at him. “And you were willing to waste an hour and thirteen minutes of your precious life watching a kid stand there? Doesn’t sound too smart.”
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll be sure to let Izuku know about the time you made me waste,” he replied, and—mocking him—stretched.
A shark. That man was a goddamn shark.
“Took you way too long to realize someone was stalking you. I counted at least fifty ways I could’ve killed you without you ever noticing I was here. Then I got bored. If I were a villain, you’d be dead right now.”
Kota decided he hated him on the spot.
“Oh yeah? What are you trying to prove with all this?”
“You’re distracted. You’re slow. You’re small. Is this the Izuku kid everyone's talking about?”
And Kota barely registered when Dynamight jumped down from the roof in a single leap, now towering over him.
Jesus.
He scanned Kota from head to toe and seemed to decide he wasn’t even worth the effort.
“What a disappointment.”
There was nothing left of the teenage boy Kota once met when he was a child.
This man was big. Dangerous. Powerful.
Kota looked at him more closely and hated him even more.
“Try me again.”
“Change your clothes,” he said instead. “We’re patrolling right now.”
“What—? But—it’s raining! I thought you—”
“You said rain didn’t suit me, and that rain was your element,” Dynamight smiled and leaned close, baring his teeth in the most terrifying grin Kota had ever seen.
“Go on, mini-Izuku. Let’s see who’s faster.”
Well. Kota must’ve done something really wrong in a past life to deserve such a terrible fate.