Chapter Text
[Beabadoobee - She Plays Bass]
Katsuki was in their dressing rooms, drying the sweat off his face with a towel and silently remembering that he needed to buy more drumsticks tomorrow - given he broke three sets on stage today. He looked around the room, a small, dimly lit place at the backstage of a local music festival they’d been performing at for the past three days. The room was littered with Jirou’s headset and instruments, Eyebag’s clothes, and, worst of all, the nerd’s notebooks. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get his band to act like human beings. He’d have to berate them and get Half-n-Half to clean all this up before they left later that night, finally done with the festival.
That’s when he hears it.
“Bakugou, we’re going to be playing together this summer!”
He doesn’t have to turn around to see who it is. Red hair and shark teeth greet him, a smile so blinding you might think it was 5 in the morning, and not just past 11 in the night. “What are you talking about, Shitty Hair?” He says, dismissively. He knows exactly what Red is talking about.
Ground Zero had been selected to perform at the Plus Ultra Production Agency’s festival this year. Plus Ultra was a once-in-a-lifetime music group - think The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, but bigger. All Might, or Yagi Toshinori as he was called off-stage, had changed the face of j-rock music and was the reason Katsuki was a drummer himself. Katsuki would never admit it, but he yearned to prove himself to that man. Knew he would eventually surpass him, needed to surpass him, and claim the indisputable spot as the greatest musical act in the country.
Long gone were Plus Ultra’s performing days, however, and the members had all since pursued other passions. Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi, or their stage names - EraserHead and Present Mic, taught at UA, Japan’s leading performing arts school. Kayama Nemuri, or Midnight, had started her own talk show where she’d host musical guests and actors to talk about their work. And All Mi- Toshinori Yagi had started his production agency about ten years ago, with the sole focus on fostering up-and-coming musical acts in the country and bringing them to the global stage. It was, of course, one of the most sought after contracts in Japan. Katsuki would stop at nothing to achieve it.
His chain of thoughts was broken by a nagging voice behind him. “Oi, I told you to stop calling me that!” Red walked over to where Katsuki was standing, his back still turned from him, and took a seat on the couch next to what looked like everything Jirou’s ever owned. “We’re going to be playing at the Plus Ultra Festival, man! RIOT got selected!”
At this, Katsuki turned to look at him. A mistake on his part, he’d realise months later. Red’s eyes shining, his smile blinding. Suddenly, Katsuki realized, the room didn’t feel as dim as it had moments ago, as if someone had opened the curtains and let the midnight sun in. His red eyes had flecks of orange in them. He was looking up at him from his seat on the couch, waiting. For Katsuki’s response.
He’d have something to say if the wind hadn’t been knocked out of him at the sight. “Tch. I’m shocked to see you made it through, what with Dunce Face stumbling over your chord progressions in your last song like he was just handed the guitar.” He busied himself with folding his clothes, wrapping up his drum kit, anything that would keep his eyes away from the redhead.
“You know, for all your brash, devil-may-care attitude, you’re not that bad of a dude,” Red says matter-of-factly, lounging on the couch like it was his. Katsuki’s sneer formed on his face before he had the time to think. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, you red-haired idiot?”
“Your comment about Denki,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “you’re insulting him - not cool, by the way - but you were clearly observing him. Watching our performance even though you had no reason to. Not like you ever stick around for one of our jam sessions, anyway.” Red looks up at him, lazily, like he sees right through Katsuki’s antics. “And, more than anything, that was advice. You saw that there was some struggle with the song, and zero-ed in on the reason. I won’t be surprised if you gave Denks some actual pointers the next time you see him.” The fucker was smirking. Like he’d just figured out some missing piece of the puzzle he’d been trying to crack for years.
Katsuki’s blood burned in his veins. It was rising to his cheeks for some kind of escape.
“As if, hair for brains. A child could figure out the flaws in Dunce’s playing. I just want my ears to stop bleeding whenever he’s on the stage.”
“So you watch us play, is that it?” Red got up and stood right next to Katsuki. “Any feedback for me?” His tone was slow, voice low, his eyes looking down at Katsuki through his eyelashes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Katsuki noted that the red of Kirishima’s eyes was only a shade or two darker than his own, matching the dye job he sported around perfectly. He noticed that his hair seemed to be long enough to reach past his shoulders, like a lion’s mane. His ears were littered with piercings, and his throat with necklaces. This idiot always wore at least three necklaces, no matter the occasion. Not that Katsuki had seen him outside of backstage run-ins or the ten minutes he’d agreed to stay for his bandmates’ parties or bar night outs. He also noticed that Kirishima seemed to be doing this without thinking. Like it was so normal for him to invade his personal space, get so up close and personal.
“Whatever, go find your gaggle of idiots and leave me alone.”
He shut the door on the sound of Kirishima’s booming laugh. He could finally breathe.
--
[Tears for Fears - Everybody Wants to Rule the World]
He remembered the day Deku broke the news to them that they’d been selected for the Festival. It brings a grin to his face.
They were in their practice room - a small, sound-proof and functional room in their agency’s studio (Best Jeanist Agencies, of fucking course) - where they spend most of their time. Jirou on the mic, humming some tune or the other, Half-n-Half sitting behind her on his keyboard, and Purple Eyebags to her right tuning his bass. Katsuki was hunched over his drum kit, trying to figure out the lyrical pentameter for the new song they’d been working on.
The shitty nerd had burst into the room, no warnings, and shrieked so hard Katsuki was disappointed his lungs didn’t explode. “Guys, Kacchan! You won’t ever guess what just happened! We did it!”
Katsuki looked up instantly, flinging the pencil in his hand to the ground. “What the hell are you saying, Deku?”
The nerd - their manager - just nodded at him, eyes gleaming. Even Half-n-Half broke his cardboard face into a smile. “Are you serious?” Jirou breathed.
Katsuki felt his blood coursing through his veins. His heart was beating a little too loud. “Of fucking course, he’s serious. You doubted us, Earphones?” He tried to sneer, but he could feel the grin eating up his face. He let it.
Deku crossed the room in three strides, pulling them all into a hug. Jirou pulled at Katsuki’s arm, forcing him to join. In that moment, Katsuki could move a mountain. He even let shitty Deku snot all over his black tank top, his favorite one. The nerd will be doing his laundry for weeks. “We’re going to be performing for Plus Ultra agencies for the next few months. All Might is going to be there. We’re going to be playing in front of All Might.” Deku spoke directly to him. An understanding passed between them, an acknowledgment for everything they’d been working for in this band for the past five years. Everything the nerd and Katsuki had been working towards their whole lives. It was so close, Katsuki could taste it. It tasted sweet, like victory.
He grinned at the nerd, a rarity that did not go unnoticed. Todoroki and Shinsou joined in, a look of satisfaction on their faces. “We’re going to kill everyone with our performance,” Katsuki could feel the fire burning the inside of his palms, like explosions going off in his chest.
--
They met Hakamada Tsunagu, better known as Best Jeanist, shortly after. “Yo, Jeanist, you heard?” Katsuki grinned as he took a seat in their agent’s board room. “Yes, Bakugou, as your agent and the head of this agency, I heard. Congratulations, Ground Zero. You have earned this.” Jeanist smiled at them - Katsuki thinks - based on what little part of his face you can see over his over the top jean-mask. The band looked at each other, exchanging grins and - in Deku’s case - a stream of tears and sniffles that hadn't stopped since the announcement two days ago. The nerd really needs to get a grip.
“Let’s go over the details,” Jeanist, ever the professional. “You will be performing at the Plus Ultra Festival, set to begin eight weeks from now. We don’t have a lot of time to prepare, with your Mustafu alt-rock music festival performance just two weeks away, so we will have to put in the work. More hours at the studio, more songwriting, more perfecting. This is your chance to display your strengths as a music piece to a very captivated, and a very powerful audience.” Jeanist looked at each of them individually, finally resting his eyes on Katsuki. “You’re all extremely talented, even more so as a group. Let’s show them what we got.”
An echo of cheers rang through the room, each of them pumped by Jeanist’s dedication and his own brand of passion. “Who’s the competition, Jeanist? Who are the other bands?” Shinsou asks. Katsuki sees Deku from the corner of his eye, already pulling out his worn-out notebook, ready to start analysing the competition. He can live to be the band manager another day, he decides.
“We don’t know yet, but here’s what I can tell you. The festival aims to showcase a wide range of young talent, bands that have painted themselves in the vision of Plus Ultra’s glory days. There’s going to be a total of three to four acts playing, each with a unique sound that’s rooted in alt-rock. Given your selection process - which was done on the basis of your discography, current chartings and streams, fanbase support and your personal statements - it seems that they are looking for other groups that have some kind of a following already, a clear direction of where they want to go, and a display of passion that ensures that they have what it takes to make it there.” Jeanist is flipping through their application as he speaks. “I anticipate acts like Sun Eater and RIOT to make the list,” he hums in thought, “maybe even The League, or Phantom Thief….” Deku is writing all this down furiously. It is, after all, his job to best position the band in a place where they could win. Katsuki is, however, ready to steer the conversation back to them.
“It doesn’t matter which extras share the stage with us. We are going to win. An indisputable victory. A Plus Ultra acknowledgement. We are going to be the number one band All Mi- Yagi has ever seen.”
“I admire your passion, young Bakugou, and I'm sure you will stop at nothing to achieve it,” Jeanist starts carefully. He does not need another glass-breaking incident in the very same board room. “However, know that Plus Ultra is not looking at this festival like a competition. They are scouting you, of course. Watching how you perform, seeing if you are not just good, but incredible. The other bands are your co-performers, not your competition. There isn’t a prize at the end of the festival, no clear indication of who won Yagi-san's favor.” Jeanist pauses for a second.
“There is, however, a global audience that is likely going to be watching your performances, seeing if you’re someone they want on their roster.” Jeanist grins, he knows he has him. “You really need to behave properly. Show camaraderie with the other bands. Smile a little, interact with your fans. Good publicity, that sort of thing.”
“Like hell.”
“Like hell, yes, but isn’t it so? Do you want that contract or not?”
“Like hell.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks towards the door. He heard his bandmates sigh next to him. They’ll get over it.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
--
The scheduling came a few days before their Mustafu festival. Plus Ultra was really going all out for their ten-year anniversary festival, it seemed. About eight months of touring all over the country, with a mix of local artists performing from the cities they visited and the four bands that had been picked as the main acts. Guest performances by big names in the industry littered throughout the shows. Katsuki was sure (read: he hoped more than anything) that they were going to end the festival with a Plus Ultra reunion performance at their Tokyo show. One that he hadn’t had the pleasure to see live since he was twelve years old.
They also got the list of their co-performers, as Jeanist had called them. Katsuki preferred the term shit-eating extras. He had been informed by their agency’s PR team that he could not refer to the other bands as such during the festival.
Sun Eater, The League, and RIOT. Just as Jeanist had suspected. Katsuki’s mind was suddenly filled with images of red hair and red eyes.
They’d been around each of these groups multiple times over the past few years. All up and coming bands in the alt-rock space, they had similar goals (and very different sounds). Sun Eater was a force to be reckoned with, a trio consisting of Amajiki, the blonde idiot Deku was friends with, and their blue haired singer. Their sound focused on more indie themes, weaving the vocalist’s voice through whichever instrument Amajiki decided to land on that day and the blonde idiot’s passable drums. They were good, but Ground Zero was better.
And then there was The League. A cool band, Katsuki admitted begrudgingly to himself. Their sound was more emo than alt-rock, but they made it work. Half-n-Half’s older brother, the crazy-eyes chick, Two Face and Shigaraki - not a bad lineup so far. Katsuki smirked to himself as he realized that both the Todoroki brothers had gone into music basically just to spite their hard-ass lawyer of a father. At least they had the rebellious spirit.
And finally, there was RIOT. Their sound was like five different personalities being blended together to create something - Katsuki admitted - compelling and incredible. They were primarily an alt-rock band, but had everything from rappers to beatboxing and absurd shenanigans on stage to keep their audience hooked. Katsuki had had the displeasure of meeting that bumbling bag of idiots a few times over the years. Not only were Deku and Pink Cheeks, RIOT's drummer, practically joined at the hip - Jirou and RIOT’s guitarist, Dunce Face, were exes. They’d dated briefly about three years ago, when the bands were still finding their footing, and it had ended in a spectacular yet cordial display of what is she even doing with a dumbass like him? Since then, however, began a whole lot of friendships intertwining the two bands that Katsuki had no intentions of partaking in. Pinky, their vocalist, Round Face, and Jirou seemed to share a single brain cell and had become fast friends during the relationship that lasted long after the breakup. Half-n-Half and Soy Sauce, their band manager, were the same brand of plain-faced idiot, and even Dunce Face and Purple Eyebags seemed to be hitting it off lately. Katsuki decided to file that away for investigation later.
And then there was Kirishima.
They’d all hung out a few times over the years, performing similar shows, even going on lives on each other’s social media. Pinky threw a larger-than-life party each year on her birthday and they’d yet to miss an invite, much to Katsuki’s dismay. Katsuki wasn’t particularly close to any of them. He would rather spend time on his music, writing lyrics and perfecting his drums. If he were to go out, he’d rather work out, go hiking by himself, or go hang with his bandmates (read: friends). Everyone else was just noise.
Kirishima was always there.
Always smiling, always looking to include Katsuki in their idiotic hangs. Kirishima had a radiance about him that always cut through the noise as though it was as easy as walking through a summer garden.
Katsuki had to admit that he was the easiest to handle out of the five. He was loud, annoying, and had no understanding of personal boundaries, of course. That was RIOT’s whole brand. But he was also interesting. A talented bassist, an even better vocalist, and if Katsuki had sifted through their lyrics only to find that he was credited as a writer for most of their songs, that was Katsuki’s business. He was just scoping out the competition.
Either way, he was interesting to Katsuki. And now he had to spend the better part of a year hanging out with these bumbling idiots as they wreaked havoc all over the country. He couldn’t, but not really, wait for this to be over.
He could, however, not shake the feeling that this festival was going to change his life in more ways than one. More recognition, a global stage, that All Might contract - of course, he knew they would get it. They were the only option. Ground Zero was the pride of his life.
But also, red hair and passionate red eyes. That blinding smile in close proximity. Killer bass, compelling lyrics, and a melodic voice to back it up. Katsuki was intrigued to see how this was going to play out.
He pulls out his notebook, worn and tattered from holding together years of lyrics, notes, and plans - and begins writing.
“He plays bass, he plays bass…” [Beabadoobee - She Plays Bass]