Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lately, Izuku had been going on walks more often than usual.

He strolled slowly along the asphalt, eyes lifted toward the clear sky. The rain had just stopped, so the blue stretched endlessly above his head, reaching all the way to the horizon without a single hint of cloud in sight.

He spotted a black cat tucked deep inside an alley, its sharp yellow eyes glaring up at him. Across the street, he saw a student around his age helping an old woman cross the road. The earthy scent of damp soil slipped into his nose, the noisy hum of traffic brushing against his ears. The cosmos flowers blooming along the roadside were in full flourish, still glittering with droplets of rain. A breeze swept past, making the tiny beads of water tremble on the petals before falling and soaking into the still-wet ground.

This should’ve been unusual, since Izuku spent almost all of his free time at home. His room was the safest place in the world or, the only place he could freely do whatever he wanted. In there, he could watch hero footage as long as he wanted without being laughed at, muttering a storm about all of his analyses without anyone sneering at him.

He suddenly remembered that one time he’d accidentally watched a newly uploaded clip of Edgeshot, and couldn’t hold himself back from frantically jotting analysis notes down right there in class. He didn’t recall exactly what happened afterward, but his ears had been ringing for hours thanks to Kacchan’s explosions.

Speaking of Kacchan… He was right in front of Izuku now. From where Izuku stood, he couldn’t make out the boy’s expression, but from the tense set of his shoulders and the heaviness in his steps, Izuku guessed his mood was very sour.

Izuku swallowed, unsure if Kacchan had noticed him walking behind. Almost every day, he intentionally left home a bit later than he’d like to avoid running into him; he knew that if Kacchan saw the eyesore that was him first thing in the morning, he’d definitely snap. Still, there were times when Izuku miscalculated and bumped into him anyway. On those days, he always returned home bruised with a few new burn marks.

He and Kacchan always took the same route from home to school since they lived in the same neighborhood. Because they lived close, he used to see Kacchan often at the playground, and they’d play together with some other neighbour kids. Everyone wanted to play with Kacchan because he was the coolest and wasn’t afraid of anything. But Izuku had always been the closest one to him, at least until Kacchan awakened his quirk and gradually drifted away, convinced that a quirkless kid wasn’t worthy of being his friend.

Izuku smiled faintly at the old memory, only to jerk in panic when he looked up and realized Kacchan had turned around and was staring straight at him. Izuku instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and raised his hands to cover his head—a habit born from years of being bullied, bracing himself for the anger he knew was coming from his childhood friend. He yelped, an explanation spilling from his trembling lips.

“K-Kacchan! G-good morning…! I swear I’m only walking the same way today by coincidence! I’m not trying to cause trouble, a-and if you want, I can go back home right now and wait until you get to school before leaving! Ah… but if I do that, I won’t know what time you’d arrive at school so I could know when to start leaving…”

Izuku half-expected Kacchan to explode at him, to yell something along the line “shut up, fucking nerd”, but nothing happened. Several long seconds passed in utter silence, and Izuku mustered the courage to crack one eye open.

Kacchan was still standing frozen in place. The permanent scowl on his face was even worse than normal. His brows were furrowed tightly, his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets, but his expression was strange. Izuku couldn’t guess what it meant.

Finally, Kacchan drew in a shaky breath and turned back around. He muttered something, but Izuku missed it, drowned out by the blaring horn of a passing truck.

“… Damn Deku.”

Izuku widened his eyes in shock, and though his mind still couldn’t make sense of what had just happened, his feet automatically followed after the boy ahead of him.

Aldera Junior High was an unremarkable school. There was nothing special about it at all.

A five-story main building with four floors of classrooms and the rooftop above them (where Izuku often hid during lunch to eat alone), its walls worn and faded with age; a tiny sports field barely big enough for three PE classes at once (Izuku always finished last in the running drills, while Kacchan was always first, obviously); a basketball court even smaller than the bleachers that could fit, at most, forty people (Izuku constantly had to find excuses to be up there rather than on the bench because of how many times he’d had balls thrown at his head); and a cramped storage shed for equipment (where Izuku had once been locked in until late at night, only getting out when the security guard heard his cries for help).

For three long years, this place had always been tied to a deep, heavy sadness and bitterness in Izuku’s eyes. He had no fond memories here, and each school day left him exhausted down to his bones. In his hazy recollection, he always left home with his head bowed, shoulders tense, hands gripping his backpack straps as if trying to make himself as small as possible.

But today, as he stepped through the rusted steel gate, Izuku felt an odd sense of peace settling over him. He lifted his head and wondered how he had never noticed the way the morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, shattering across the steps and filling the chipped paint on the gate with something almost cheerful. Or the chirping of birds in the branches, the steady voice of a female student speaking through the crackling hallway speakers, or the tiny wildflowers sprouting wildly at the corners of the walls. They were the smallest, most insignificant things, but somehow, they made his chest buzz with a foreign warmth.

He walked across the leaf-strewn courtyard (still trailing behind Kacchan), passed the cracked stone benches, and headed leisurely toward the classroom. The bell rang, and students slowly filed in. He noticed that his classmates’ expressions were heavier than usual, and the laughter that normally filled the room was conspicuously absent.

The strange things about today didn’t end there. Izuku walked to his seat and froze, eyes widening.

The desktop that was normally covered in scribbles of those cruel messages his teacher always waved off as “pranks,” messages that took him hours to scrub off after school, was spotless. Not even a speck of dust. As if someone had actually taken their time to clean it. A few white chrysanthemums were lying quietly on top, and Izuku tilted his head, puzzled. Was today some sort of occasion? But even if it was, there was no one in this school close enough to him to give him flowers.

Before he could process what any of it meant, Kacchan suddenly stormed over. Izuku startled as the boy snatched the delicate flowers from the desk and, without hesitation, incinerated them using his quirk.

Izuku immediately stepped back, heart pounding in his chest. Out of fear, perhaps? The petals, pure white just a second ago, were now drifting to the floor as ash, falling from Kacchan’s trembling, smoke-stained hand. The sharp, acrid scent of smoke seeped into Izuku’s nose, making him flinch. Memories of all the times his skin had been the target of those explosions instead of the flowers flickered through his mind, making his head ring painfully.

The classroom, which had already been strangely quiet, fell into an even deeper silence. Yet that was strange too: normally everyone burst out laughing whenever Kacchan yelled at Izuku, didn’t they? But now, though every gaze in the room was fixed on them, not a single soul dared make a sound, as if the entire class was holding its breath.

What the heck was going on?

It took a long while before Kacchan spoke. His voice was unnervingly calm—so calm it terrified Izuku more than any shouting ever had. There was a simmering anger beneath that low, rough tone, but something else lingered behind it too. Something Izuku couldn’t identify.

“Try this again and see what will fucking happen.”

With that, he shot Izuku a cold, chilling look, crimson eyes piercing straight through him. But somehow, he didn’t think those words were for him. With that, the blond turned and walked back to his seat, leaving Izuku frozen in place.

For the rest of the morning, a heavy gloom hung over the classroom. Izuku couldn’t focus on the lesson at all. Instead, he kept staring out the window. The sky that had been so clear earlier was now thick with dark clouds. Long streaks of gray spread across the horizon like smoke. He quietly hoped it wouldn’t rain when class let out, but it didn’t seem likely.

Every so often, he stole glances at the boy sitting just ahead. Kacchan leaned his elbow on his desk, eyes fixed on the board. From here, Izuku couldn’t see his expression. The teacher was saying something, but his voice and the chalk scraping across the board barely reached Izuku. He simply watched the last slant of sunlight fall across Kacchan’s ash blond hair, sliding over the broad line of his shoulders.

Then, as if sensing he was being watched, Kacchan turned. Their eyes met, and Izuku jolted like he’d been caught doing something bad. Those fiery eyes burned intensely, drilling into him, stealing the breath stuck in his throat.

Izuku whipped his head away, his face burning. Outside, the rain had begun. Raindrops beat steadily against the window. A moment later, he looked up again. Kacchan was facing forward once more, but for some reason, his shoulders were drawn just a little tighter.

Lately, Izuku had felt weightless.

His mind often drifted in a constant daze. His body felt as though it was floating somewhere between memories, except those recollections were tangled, fragmented, and hazy; like he’d just woken from a dream that stretched on forever. He found himself enjoying the act of simply watching the world around him, taking in everything at a slow pace while he remained perfectly still. It’s as if he’d become a narrator, sensing things reveal themselves to him from a third-person vantage point. It was new, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he rather liked it.

Though, sometimes he got so caught up staring at the sky he almost crashed into people passing by. And no matter how frantically he apologized, no one bothered responding or even giving him a second glance. Every time he tried to shield his eyes from the midday heat, the harsh sunlight slipped through the gaps of his fingers and shone directly into his squinting eyes.

Izuku realized he didn’t really like the feeling of being ignored, even though he’d spent his whole life trying to get used to it.

Where was he again? Ah, right. Lately, his memories had been a bit blurry.

The last thing he remembered is waking up beside Kacchan, right where that villain had taken him hostage. Izuku had never seen so many heroes gathered in one place before. (Strange, wasn’t it? Was that sludge monster really strong enough to warrant that much backup?) Civilians had also crowded around the scene, their faces a mix of shock and fear.

He looked around, and that was when he spotted All Might. The hero was reporting the situation to a police officer, his back turned toward Izuku. Izuku turned to Kacchan, ready to share the sheer excitement of seeing his idol up close, but Kacchan just sat frozen like a statue, face buried in his hands.

Death Arms had a hand resting on Kacchan’s shoulder. He was saying something to him, but the moment Izuku noticed Kacchan’s whole body trembling violently, the sounds of the world dissolved into static. Worry flooded Izuku so fast it nearly drowned him. He dropped to his knees in front of Kacchan at once, calling his name over and over the entire time.

Izuku had followed him ever since that day, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He remembered trailing after him all the way to the Bakugou household—a place Izuku hadn’t visited in years. Kacchan walked straight to his room despite his parents’ attempts to stop him. He locked the door, headed right to the bed and collapsed onto it. No lights. No shower. No change of clothes. He lay facing the wall, shoulders quivering every now and then.

Izuku sat at the edge of the bed, watching him. He reached out, intending to brush a hand through the light blond hair dulled by dirt and mud, but something inside him urged him to stop, so he did. A small, sad smile tugged at his lips.

“Are you still mad at me, Kacchan?”

Kacchan didn’t look up.

Well… back to the present, he supposed.

Usually, he would write down his daily thoughts and experiences, but now, he just spoke them out loud. People around him always ignored his existence anyway, so no one seemed to mind his rambling. But Kacchan still noticed him, somehow. Even though the only things Kacchan ever spared him were murderous glares. Well, at least he’d stopped throwing vulgar insults left and right or using his quirk on Izuku. Maybe he’d finally realized how wrong that was. Izuku was glad for him, maybe even a little proud.

Speaking of which, why did he keep following Kacchan everywhere again? Sure, when they were younger, he used to stick to him like glue, even as their relationship grew more and more sour. But later, when Kacchan escalated beyond childish shoves and taunts, Izuku had stopped that habit.

And yet, these last few days, Izuku found himself trailing after that familiar back. The same back he had chased after all throughout their childhood. Kacchan knew he was being followed, but for some reason, he never told Izuku to go away. And that was enough, that was all he needed. Whenever Izuku felt lost or unsure of what he was doing, Kacchan’s silhouette ahead of him always made him feel strangely safe.

Maybe he liked Kacchan more than he thought. Because despite being an indecisive person, Izuku was certain about one thing: if Kacchan allowed it, he would follow him like this for the rest of his life without a single moment of hesitation.

The rainy season had passed, and the once-lush green branches had slowly turned and shed themselves, painting their leaves yellow with veins like faint crow’s feet at the corner of an eye. Winter came swiftly after that, with snow blanketing the ground in white and settling on eyelashes. Then spring arrived once more, with blooms bursting open in every color imaginable. Everything around Izuku withered, revived, and transformed ceaselessly under his quiet gaze, yet he himself remained unchanged. Still the scrawny middle schooler he had always been, with messy hair and a mind drifting somewhere in the clouds. Only now, his posture was no longer timid, and his steps no longer aimless: they carried him toward one person, and one person only.

There had been something deeply romantic, and faintly melancholy, about watching someone he knew better than himself slowly change for the better or worse. Izuku had witnessed in real time how Kacchan, once loud and domineering, grew silent and withdrawn through the remaining months of middle school. He no longer bullied or picked fights with those he deemed inferior. He cut himself off from the world, obsessively throwing himself into training and studying. He no longer hung around that troublesome group of jerks either, and he seemed to ignore nearly everyone who tried to approach him.

Izuku had always known Kacchan wasn’t the outgoing type, nor someone who enjoyed mingling with people he saw as “background characters”, but to outright reject the praise and admiration they willingly offered him? That had certainly been a first.

Yet Kacchan hadn’t rejected him, the one person he would have avoided first thing back then. Or rather, he simply ignored Izuku.

Throughout the long, tempestuous days Izuku spent watching him, he had failed to restrain himself from blurting out countless words of admiration (but honestly, who could blame him? Who could possibly stay calm after witnessing Kacchan’s flawless physique and incredible combat skills with their own eyes?!). But no matter what Izuku said about his technique or the way he trained, Kacchan never responded. At most, he cast him the occasional strange (and almost frightened?) glance before returning to whatever he had been doing.

That was fine. Izuku had told himself that. At least Kacchan wasn’t angry with him, and wasn't chasing away the person who trailed behind him almost everywhere. And that alone was enough. The most valuable lesson he had learned as a powerless child was this: be grateful for what you have instead of demanding more, because no one knows when everything might be taken away. And Izuku would be perfectly content with just this—remaining behind Kacchan and chasing after his back for as long as Kacchan allowed him.

Until the UA entrance exam.

Izuku had walked to UA with Kacchan that morning. And although Kacchan was the one taking the exam, Izuku had been the one nervous and restless beyond belief. During Present Mic’s explanation of the test rules (Present Mic! A real Pro Hero! An UA teacher!!), Izuku couldn’t stop muttering under his breath, breaking down every detail Mic mentioned, excitedly telling Kacchan everything he knew about the hero. Kacchan only listened in silence, his face tight with concentration, his brows furrowed.

After that, people were sorted and the exam began. Izuku ran after Kacchan, turning left and right to marvel at the examinees battling the robots with their quirks. Naturally, his eyes followed Kacchan most of all. He had always been mesmerized by the way Kacchan carried himself in combat. The decisiveness and certainty in every action, every counter, every feint; the blazing red eyes like summer festival fireworks; and that feral, fanged grin full of reckless pride. Izuku admired them, was enchanted by them, loved them so much that his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

A deafening rumble shook the battlefield. Nearly every student looked up in horror, then bolted the moment they saw the zero-pointer advancing. It towered over them like a colossal giant. Izuku stood at a distance, right behind Kacchan. Just one look at it was enough to drain the color from his face. How could any student defeat something like that? And even if they did, it wouldn’t earn any points. Clearly the best choice was to evade and retreat.

Izuku was about to open his mouth to say exactly that to Kacchan, when the sight before him turned his voice to stone.

A brown-haired girl with rosy cheeks was trapped beneath rubble from a collapsed building, directly in the path of the massive robot. Everyone else was too busy running for their lives to notice her, except Izuku.

His body moved on its own. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to save her, but he knew he couldn’t stand still and watch her get crushed. In that fleeting moment, he didn’t even realize this was the first time in months he had run away from Kacchan.

A faded memory flickered across his blurred mind.

Kacchan was trapped in sludge, eyes wide with terror, thrashing as the viscous muck constricted around him like it meant to swallow him whole. His hoarse screams echoed through the frozen crowd. But everyone stepped back, no one dared to move toward him. No one except Izuku. Always Izuku. He had sprinted straight toward the struggling boy with no plan, no power. Only a heart pounding violently in his chest and the overwhelming thought “he looks like he’s asking for help.” He had hurled his backpack at the monster’s eyes, then plunged through the rising black smoke, desperately clawing at the sludge engulfing Kacchan.

He remembered… Kacchan shouted something at him, though he couldn’t recall what, or perhaps he simply hadn’t heard. He remembered being yanked away; he remembered darkness, no air to breathe, no voice to scream with. He had only known he was sinking. Sinking so deeply. As though lying on the ocean floor, body heavy, mind drifting into emptiness.

And then—

A familiar figure sprinted past him effortlessly, and Izuku froze, eyes widening as if waking from a dream. The vision shattered, leaving only the sight of that boy glancing back at him with a smug, triumphant smirk.

“I could practically hear you begging me to save that girl, damn Deku.”

Kacchan had snorted.

“Quit mumbling and just spit it out already, you fucking nerd.”

Izuku stood stunned.

At that moment, everything else vanished. He didn’t hear the screams of the crowd, the clashing metal, the stampede of fleeing students, or even the looming robot tearing through the field behind them. Kacchan’s words cut into him like a blade, yet they also struck the still surface of his soul like a heavy stone, sending tremors of emotion rippling outward, spilling feelings he didn’t have names for.

It was the first time, the first time in nearly a year, that Kacchan had truly looked at him, truly acknowledged his presence.

Then, those striking red eyes that had imprinted itself in Izuku’s soul and memory flashed with fierce resolve (but why, why now?). He turned and sprinted toward the troubled girl and the zero-pointer closing in on her. Izuku watched, rooted to the spot, as Kacchan blasted himself into the air with a huge explosion from his palms, dodging the robot’s attacks using rapid, precise bursts, before finally spinning mid-air and striking its weak point in the neck.

Metal shattered with a thunderous crash, engines groaning as they sputtered and died. Gray-white smoke billowed across the scene, obscuring the world, and in the haze stood Kacchan. He turned his head, those blazing crimson orbs always finding Izuku’s exact spot. One corner of his mouth curled into a proud, arrogant smirk.

And suddenly, clarity washed over Izuku like sunlight breaking through storm clouds: I could really spend the rest of my life watching him.

He didn’t know whether this marked the beginning of something marvelous, or devastating for the both of them.

“Stop rambling about how worried you are while we are waiting for my UA entrance exam results, Deku. You’re driving me fucking insane.”

“I swear, if you mention how cool Aizawa is one more time, I’ll blast your scrawny ass out of this classroom.”

“Why the hell do I go around asking every damn extra in this room what their quirks are just so a nerd like you could analyze them? Do you seriously think I need that?”

Those were a few examples of the things Kacchan had said to him lately.

Ever since that day, Kacchan had been far more proactive when it came to talking to him. At first, it had only been sharp complaints whenever he babbled too much, but gradually, the blond started responding to questions Izuku never expected answers to. He would tell him what he was about to do, where he was going, or grumble about whatever was bothering him.

Izuku didn't know how to feel about it. He knew he should have been overjoyed or on the verge of tears even, since he was finally not being treated like he was invisible after years of shrinking himself into a shadow under other people’s gazes. Yet, an immense fear had wrapped its claws around every frantic heartbeat whenever Kacchan acknowledged his existence. A harsh voice hissed in his mind, whispering “this is wrong”, “give up”, “don’t go near Kacchan anymore.”

Izuku didn’t understand why. He craved those searing red eyes sweeping over his face until he thought he would lose his mind. He longed to drown in the light surrounding Kacchan after spending his entire life suffocating in darkness. Like an addict desperate for another fix. Like a moth willingly plunging into flame.

And because of that, he couldn’t understand where this fear came from. Was he destined to live in perpetual loneliness and tragedy, never meant to have anything different? Izuku refused to accept that.

So Izuku stayed with Kacchan everywhere he went.

He had been there for the physical exam on their first day, when he got to see Eraserhead in the flesh for the very first time. He’d watched carefully and tried to memorize the quirks of all of Kacchan’s classmates. Everyone had amazing abilities, and even though studying them wouldn’t help him become a hero (since he wasn’t one), he didn’t care. He’d been doing this for years, it was his joy. Not to mention two students had even scored higher than Kacchan. Kacchan had blown up the moment Izuku muttered an analysis of their skills and told him to shut up (class 1-A had stared at him very strangely for that).

He had been there for their first practical exercise with All Might (Izuku had nearly fainted from excitement being that close to his idol). Kacchan had been paired with class A’s class representative—an uptight student with glasses and overly-serious in everything he did, called Iida (Izuku secretly thought he could’ve been friends with him if he were also a UA student). They fought against the girl Kacchan rescued during the entrance exam and a purple-haired guy with eye bags almost identical to Aizawa’s. Izuku knew the girl’s name was Uraraka; she had thanked Kacchan afterward and asked to be friends (of course Kacchan refused).

He had been there when the League of Villains infiltrated the USJ for the first time, panicking as he chased after Kacchan when he and that spiky red-haired boy charged into danger only for Kurogiri to warp them away. He stood behind them as they handled the low-tier villains around them, amazed by their skills but also quietly jealous of the redhead. Maybe somewhere deep in Izuku’s heart, he was still clinging to that childhood dream of becoming heroes together with Kacchan. Everything afterward happened so fast it blurred. All Might had stopped the creature called Nomu while all he could was watching. Izuku remembered the urge he had felt to run to his childhood hero after the fight, and Kacchan had done it in his place (even though he’d nearly been grabbed by the hand guy, Izuku had sighed in relief when the other teachers arrived just in time).

He ignored every terrified warning echoing in his mind and continued staying by Kacchan’s side. It had been so long since he’d felt this kind of happiness, even though the invisible dread still wrapped around him, clinging like vines around his worn out legs. Maybe it really was a mistake. He felt it every time fleeting joy sparked when Kacchan agreed with something he said; every time those deep red eyes looked at him with anything other than hatred; every time the faintest curl of Kacchan’s lips directed only at him, sending a tightening flutter through his chest.

Deep down, he knew this borrowed time would end soon. But he didn’t know how to let go, didn’t know how to refuse the warmth that had seeped into every nook and cranny inside of him.

“Didn’t expect you to go this unusually quiet, Deku.”

Kacchan had been lounging back in the waiting room chair, boots propped up on the table in front of him. He’d shot Izuku a sideways glance, his voice dragging him back to reality.

It was the day of UA’s first-year Sports Festival. Kacchan had made it into the finals easily, exactly as Izuku predicted, and he was going to face the son of the number two hero, Endeavor. Izuku remembered Todoroki’s icy stare when they’d passed him in the hallway and had shivered.

“I-I’m just… a bit nervous. Not that I doubt you or anything, but that Todoroki guy seems kind of scary.” Izuku laughed weakly, but Kacchan obviously knew he was lying.

The truth was, the two of them had secretly overheard a conversation between Recovery Girl and Aizawa in the infirmary. Izuku had covered his mouth to stifle a gasp when Recovery Girl suggested the burn on Shoto’s face might have been caused by Endeavor or something related to him. Aizawa had also commented on the man’s cold attitude while watching Shoto compete, likely because Shoto refused to use the fire quirk. 

Unlike Izuku, Kacchan had listened with a thoughtful expression, and he hadn’t spoken since.

“You want to save that half-and-half bastard, don’t you?”

Kacchan had asked suddenly, making Izuku jump and stare at him. He didn’t look back, eyes fixed somewhere distant, tinged with exhaustion. Izuku couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

“No need to answer. I know you fucking do.”

Izuku had fallen silent, waiting.

“I can’t stand assholes like that.” Kacchan had scoffed, voice dripping with mockery, though Izuku caught something sad beneath it. Why? “Stuck in the past, clinging stubbornly to the only thing they trust, and in the end, just torturing themselves in a loop they created.”

“Kacchan, you sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Kacchan had stiffened for a moment before letting out a dry laugh. Silence followed until Present Mic’s voice boomed overhead, announcing that the final match was about to begin. Izuku watched with curiosity as Kacchan stood.

“I’m gonna force that bastard to use his left side.” He muttered. “Not because I want to save him like a nerd like you. Hell no. I just want a worthy opponent. He thought he could win against me while using only half his strength? Delusional idiot.”

Izuku hurried after him as they stepped out toward the arena, a small smile tugging at his lips. Kacchan walked with unwavering determination, never looking back. His posture radiated confidence and pride, but Izuku somehow sensed a quiet fury and a deep loneliness beneath it.

“Keep your eyes on me, Deku.” Kacchan said without turning his head, stepping into the roaring stadium. “No matter what, I’m taking an absolute victory. I don’t half ass anything.”

And after hearing that, what else could Izuku do, except trailing his gaze after him?

The award ceremony unfolded in all its grandeur, with the top four finalists standing on their respective podiums and receiving their medals directly from All Might. One of the podiums was empty because that class president Iida seemed to have some family matters to attend to, so he had to leave early. Standing in third place was a boy with a crow head named Tokoyami. Second place went to Todoroki. And first place, was of course…

Kacchan stood on the highest podium. All Might approached him and placed the gleaming gold medal around his neck. He gave him a gentle hug and whispered something to him. Izuku couldn’t hear it, but he could see Kacchan’s eyes brighten just a little before he ducked his head and bit his lip, as if trying to hold something back. Kacchan’s gaze swept through the stadium, his mouth lifting into a victorious grin. Cheers and chants of his name echoed through the vast arena. The sight left Izuku stunned. Kacchan truly had been born for moments of glory like this.

He closed his eyes, recalling the match from earlier.

Back then, the battle had been reaching its climax. Todoroki had gradually realized that none of his ice attacks worked on Kacchan who was countering him with ferocious intensity. The relentless explosions from Kacchan’s hands shattered and melted every chunk of ice hurled his way. Each sturdy wall Todoroki built was torn apart with almost zero effort.

“You think you’re the only one here with a fucked up backstory? You think you’re stronger than who? Using only half your power and expecting to beat me?”

Kacchan had roared, and Izuku saw Todoroki freeze for a split second. Yet the boy’s handsome face was cold and rigid like the walls of ice he kept creating. It betrayed no emotion, growing even frostier instead. His mismatched eyes flickered with a spark of rage. The air around the arena seemed to freeze, thickening into something heavy. People in the audience shivered half from the cold, half from excitement.

“You know how many people would kill for your power? That your dream isn’t even an option for others?” Kacchan snapped again, his tone unusually steady and low, and a chill ran down Izuku’s spine. “And you’re standing here, fucking wasting your potential.”

“... What do you mean?” Todoroki had frowned, confused.

Another wave of ice surged forward, and Izuku gasped. Todoroki seemed to have lost his composure. The wall he created this time was far too tall, blocking even his own line of sight. Kacchan clearly thought the same, and he seized the opening instantly. He blasted upward into the air, but instead of charging straight at Todoroki as before, he used the height of the wall to slip into the boy’s blind spot, then shattered it from the lower left. Heterochromatic eyes widened as their owner spun around to defend himself, but it was already too late. Kacchan closed in, twisting his body with the propulsion of an explosion to dodge the outstretched right hand trying to freeze him, and landed a clean kick right under Todoroki’s chin.

Todoroki let out a soft cry of pain. His chin snapped back, frost bursting into glittering fragments that scattered through the air like shards of glass. But Kacchan showed not a hint of mercy. Before Todoroki’s body could even touch the ground, he lunged again, unleashing another massive explosion meant to blast him out of the arena in a single hit. Todoroki only managed to save himself at the last moment by forming a slab of ice to brace his fall.

“You're still looking down on me, bastard?”

Kacchan growled again, his eyes burning with a blistering fire. His whole body tensed, coiled in the adrenaline of the fight. On the other side of the arena, Todoroki pressed his lips together. Something like a tremor, or a fleeting weakness, flickered across that cold gaze.

Kacchan suddenly charged again, his palms glowing a terrifying shade of red far more horrible than anything like before, a telltale sign of a much bigger explosion. His muscles tightened like a spring compressed to its limit, tiny crackling pops erupting from his palms like premature fireworks. Izuku recognized what he was about to do immediately. Howitzer Impact. Izuku held his breath, thinking that this would surely be the end. Todoroki’s ice had no chance against a technique with such massive range and destructive force, especially not in his current state.

But if, just if… If he used fire…

“You know there are lives you can’t save no matter how fucking hard you try, right?! If you really want to be a hero, you have to use everything you have to win!”

Suddenly, Kacchan shouted. His voice was still rough and gritty as always, but there was something urgent, aching, and full of despair in it. A tear slid down Izuku’s cheek.

“I don’t give a shit how messed up the reason behind it is. That power is still yours, isn’t it?”

At that moment, Izuku saw Todoroki freeze in place. 

His eyes widened, his pupils trembling as though someone were staring straight through him, digging into the deepest part of his soul, forcing him to remember the core of who he was. Something rippled around him, in the roar of the audience, in the trembling air. Heat suddenly surged over the cold, triggering a massive blast that shook the entire arena and pushed Kacchan backward. He managed to land before he was blown too far, lifting his brows in exhilaration.

Steam billowed out like mist, spreading across the arena and swirling around Todoroki’s body. The left side of him was engulfed in a breathtaking flame, and the expressionless, eternal mask on his face vanished. The corner of his lips lifted into a smile.

Kacchan grinned back with his usual feral, excited grin, completely free of irritation or anger. As if he was genuinely happy that his opponent had found the courage to fight him properly, not just because he finally had the evenly matched battle he’d wanted.

Then he suddenly turned toward Izuku, still wearing that triumphant smile.

“Told you I’d make him use it, Deku.”

Izuku smiled back. 

He felt relieved, happy. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. As if the universe had flipped upside down before his eyes and he was watching his own story from the perspective of a stranger. His chest tightened and tears spilled down his cheeks. What the hell was happening? Why did he feel like this? Why, in a split second of collapse, did he see himself on that battlefield instead of Kacchan? Had he become so desperate that he was hallucinating some parallel world where he could become a hero?

After that, Izuku neither heard nor saw anything clearly. The world blurred into meaningless shapes. His chest throbbed painfully, his body felt lighter than ever. It was as if he was being pulled upward into the sky, as though gravity had suddenly decided to turn upside down just for him.

When his senses returned, the match had already ended and Present Mic was shouting something about the award ceremony. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew one thing for certain: in this current state, he could no longer endure emotional pain the way he used to.

Izuku felt happy for Kacchan. Not just because of his overwhelming victory, but because he had chosen to save Todoroki. He truly had changed. But deep down, something bitter stirred in Izuku’s chest.

And he couldn’t help but wonder. Even though Kacchan had won so fairly and so deservedly, why did his face still carry a faint shadow of sorrow?

Since that day, he gradually realized that Kacchan tended to risk his own life to save others. Although he was glad that Kacchan finally cared about the people around him, he couldn’t help but feel that the sudden change over just a couple of months was unusual. After the sports festival, Kacchan only confirmed his suspicion further by refusing every internship offer from top heroes’ agencies (including the famous Best Jeanist, needless to say Izuku was utterly shocked), accepting an offer from a less famous hero in Hosu City instead.

And the reason? Because he knew that Iida would be there hunting down Stain to avenge his older brother. Not stopping there, Kacchan had tried to protect a boy named Kota at the summer training camp when the League of Villains attacked again, and because of that, he didn’t have any fight left in him when he got kidnapped. Although All Might and the other heroes rescued him afterward, he seemed even more reserved (All Might defeated the faceless villain, but Izuku felt that battle had taken something away from the hero). Furthermore, when the second semester began, after third-year senior Mirio introduced him to an internship at Sir Nighteye’s office, he had nearly died fighting the villain Overhaul. He was saved only by the quirk of a little girl named Eri whom he had rescued.

Kacchan seemed to increasingly disregard his own life. And Izuku’s presence, for some reason, grew stronger.

Although others still didn’t notice him, they seemed to sense when he was nearby (though “sense” here was merely a frightened glance or a shiver the moment he passed). And Kacchan?

His reaction was entirely different.

When Izuku stood close beside him instead of trailing behind, Kacchan’s breath seemed to pause for half a beat. When he unconsciously reached a hand toward him, Kacchan’s fingers twitched as if wanting to touch him. Whenever he was tired or losing his temper, his gaze wandered as if searching for something, and it always stopped at Izuku’s figure.

A selfish part of Izuku wanted to feel happy that at least he still meant something to Kacchan, while the rest of him was like a flashing warning sign repeating, stop, stop, stop before it was too late, but Izuku didn’t know what to do about it.

He couldn’t just suddenly stop following Kacchan, leaving him alone with that self-destructive nature. Especially since he was the only one the blond voluntarily kept close, though he himself didn’t understand why. Thanks to his talent, cleverness, and countless heroic acts, Kacchan could make friends with anyone he wanted. Izuku recalled the brown-haired girl who had asked to befriend Kacchan after he saved her, the two-colored-haired boy who clearly respected him after being convinced to use his fire, and the bespectacled class president whom Kacchan had stopped from seeking revenge for his brother. Then there was the red-haired boy who stuck to him like glue, and all the teammates in his group during the second round of the sports festival.

Of course, Kacchan didn’t completely separate from his classmates. But between him and everyone else, including peers and even family, there seemed to be an invisible distance he built himself.

Kacchan spent time with Izuku instead of the people truly important in his life. It seemed that clinging together as if they were inseparable still wasn’t enough for Kacchan. Because for the first time since childhood, he decided to take Izuku out of the dorm. They sneaked out late at night, when every room in the building was dark and the crescent moon hung over the pitch black sky.

“Kacchan, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Izuku bit his lip nervously as Kacchan effortlessly used his quirk to push himself over UA’s towering back gate. Did he really think Izuku could climb this? Even if he could, it didn’t mean he should, especially when it might get Kacchan into serious trouble with Aizawa. Sure, tomorrow was Kacchan’s day off, but at this hour… where did he wanna go? Couldn’t they wait until tomorrow?

“You talk too much, Deku.” Kacchan said, jumping down to the other side of the gate, annoyed. “Hurry up, nerd.”

He sighed. Once Kacchan’s mind has set on something, no one or nothing could sway him. He stared at the huge metal gate before him. It stood tall, almost mocking him, the patterns on top twisting like branches reaching out.

Izuku grabbed the metal bar with both hands and began to climb.

Kacchan led him deeper into the forest behind the UA dorm. He moved neither fast nor slow (so Izuku could keep up? Maybe?), guiding them along a narrow path. Everything around them was blanketed in snow, the dark green of the trunks and thick leaves barely visible, contrasting sharply with the pure white. The maple trees stood bare, their rough, bent branches blending into the darkness.

He glanced at Kacchan’s broad back. The way he didn’t shiver even slightly in the biting wind almost made Izuku forget that he hated winter (ignoring that he wore two thick sweaters underneath a heavy coat, plus a wool hat and scarf). Kacchan didn’t look back once, but each step carried a strange certainty, as if he had memorized this deserted path.

The further they went, the more Izuku wondered where Kacchan was taking him. He wanted to ask, but Kacchan seemed uninterested in talking, so he silently followed.

About ten minutes later, Kacchan suddenly turned left, leading him to a narrower, steeper path with fewer trees, the snow so deep that his feet sank with each step. Izuku guessed they were climbing a hill. They walked a little further before Kacchan abruptly stopped, nearly causing Izuku to bump into him.

“We’re here.” Kacchan said, slightly turning toward him, his voice low and hoarse from the wind.

Izuku stepped closer, and Kacchan shifted aside so he could see the view ahead. 

He gasped.

Before them, the forest abruptly ended at a sloping cliff, revealing the entire city of Musutafu below. The city was dark, dotted with countless yellow and red lights, like a sky of stars flipped onto the ground. Snow continued to fall, covering the world in pure white. Izuku could only stare, stunned by the breathtaking sight.

“… Kirishima told me about this place.” Kacchan murmured softly. “That idiot said it’d feel right here when I want to be alone.”

Then why did you bring me here? Izuku wondered. But instead of asking, he quietly turned his eyes from the view to look at Kacchan. He was leaning against a tree behind them, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the city below, the lights reflecting like two flickering embers in his red irises.

The last time Izuku and Kacchan had done something like this was in childhood. Back then, they had a place Kacchan called their “secret base” when he was tired of kids in the neighborhood always clinging to him. But knowing he couldn’t escape Izuku, Kacchan reluctantly let him know his hiding spot.

That “secret base” was just a corner of an old playground behind an apartment building, rarely visited by anyone save for some stray cats. It wasn’t anything special—just a cracked wall, a few rotten planks for windbreak, the ground littered with dry leaves. They would bring toys or comics there to pass the time, sometimes pretending to be heroes plotting “secret plans” from TV.

They often stayed there until the sun nearly disappeared below the horizon, and Izuku had to beg Kacchan to go home. Kacchan would stubbornly pout until he finally gave in, often grabbing Izuku’s hand too tightly, leading him back to their houses. Each time, Izuku would look down at the firm hand holding his and smile through his tears. It was a pure, childlike joy, negligible but was everything he ever wanted and more, because Kacchan chose him above everyone else to be by his side.

And now, many years later, in the freezing winter, Kacchan led him to his private secret place, again.

As they stood side by side on the cliff, gazing down at the city glowing below, Izuku realized that feeling was still intact. Only now, it wasn’t something trivial and possible to ignore anymore. It’d spread in his chest, taken roots deep in his lungs, so large he was forced to breathe slowly to keep his body from trembling.

The truth was, Izuku wanted them to stay at that secret base forever. The only thing making him demand Kacchan go home was knowing his mom would panic if he returned late, running all over the streets to find him.

Speaking of his mom… Was she okay? He hoped so, since the last time he saw her was…

Izuku frowned. When was it?

He tried to recall, but his memory was like a messy old drawer cluttered with disordered fragments. He realized he could only vaguely picture the person he had loved most in the world, the frustration and helplessness in his chest remained the clearest proof.

But, Izuku swore to god, he couldn’t remember anything else about her. Except her faint, kind smile and the slight nod toward him back in the old days when Kacchan came to invite him out.

But why? Izuku couldn’t understand. Why couldn’t he remember anything about the most important person in his life? And why only now, after all this time, did her memory resurface? He closed his eyes slightly, rummaging through the scattered fragments of memory, trying to piece them together like shattered glass. They cut into his skin, making his breathing heavy, his heart ache even more. In the end, he realized he remembered no one from his life before the day he decided to follow Kacchan.

And he felt even more terrified realizing the only face reflected clearly in all the fragments he had left was Kacchan’s.

He didn’t understand what that meant.

“Deku?”

Izuku looked up at the sound. Kacchan was staring directly at him, brows furrowed, red eyes glinting with worry. He quickly wiped something wet from the corner of his eyes. When had he been crying?

Kacchan suddenly stepped closer, and Izuku flinched. At this close distance, he could see just how long his eyelashes were. The boy’s hot breath brushed over his skin, and he stiffened. Kacchan’s warmth seemed to transfer through the air, making his cold body shiver.

With a thoughtful expression and an emotion Izuku couldn’t name on his face, Kacchan raised his hand, hesitated near his wet cheek, but didn’t quite touch.

For over a year and a half, they had never been this close. Except for the day All Might saved them, when he sat beside Kacchan curled up on the bed, unsure whether to comfort him. Kacchan had never initiated contact, and Izuku never dared. It was like an unspoken rule since he was allowed into Kacchan’s world, always staying behind but never by his side.

Kacchan’s fingers trembled slightly. Just a little more, and that warm hand would have brushed his cheek. And a touch from the boy had always longed for more than anything.

But he knew it was something he could never have.

“Don’t fucking cry, I…” Kacchan whispered, pleading. His broken voice brought tears to Izuku’s eyes again. “Don’t ever cry because of me, please.”

His expression held no anger, or the emptiness that had replaced his usual scowl more often. The red in his eyes flickered like dying embers, showing panic and a pain so miserable Izuku couldn’t fathom at all. Kacchan’s hand still hovered in the air, as if afraid to discover the truth, afraid to shatter this fragile illusion 

Izuku couldn’t bear it anymore. All he wanted was to lean into that touch and press a kiss onto the hesitant, fearful hand, to grab it firmly, to bury his face in Kacchan’s soft ash-blond hair, to feel the cold cheek beneath his fingers. He wanted to inhale the sweet scent of nitroglycerin like burnt caramel, to plant burning kisses on his face until the anguish behind those eyes disappeared and was replaced with peace.

But he couldn’t. He knew that better than anyone. So he just stood frozen, crying and crying. His heart was porcelain, shattered in pieces.

“You… you hear me, don’t you, Deku?”

Kacchan whispered, his voice trembling. Izuku let out another sob, tears streaming uncontrollably.

“Kacchan, I—I’m still here.”

Kacchan flinched, his red eyes lighting with a glimmer of hope. He stepped closer, so close Izuku could feel his rapid breath and racing heartbeat.

“I beg you, please…” His voice broke. “Don’t disappear before my eyes again.”

Izuku froze, eyes wide. Tears streamed down his face, some trickling into the corners of his mouth. Again? What did he mean? Had he… disappeared before Kacchan before?

Kacchan closed his eyes slightly, took a deep breath as if gathering courage. His hand moved closer, but still hadn’t touched him. Izuku closed his eyes too, letting another tear fall.

He could faintly feel Kacchan’s fingers, like a warm breeze across his face. Too quick to fully sense, too light to linger. But it was enough. That was enough. His borrowed happiness stopped there. Izuku dared not ask for more.

But Kacchan didn’t.

He jerked his hand back as if shocked by electricity. His face contorted, teeth clenched. Both hands curled into fists, knuckles white. The scorn and rage on his face made Izuku almost believe the precious moment had been only his imagination.

“God, fuck this! What the fuck am I even doing…?”

Kacchan muttered, running a hand over his face and exhaling sharply. He looked exhausted. Izuku didn’t even have time to process what just happened when a sudden pain shot through his head. He winced, swaying slightly.

But Kacchan didn’t notice, or rather, he didn’t see him. Izuku realized this even as he writhed in pain, from the way Kacchan stared into the emptiness ahead with a blank, misty gaze.

Then, he turned his back without a word. He descended the slope they had just climbed together, leaving Izuku behind.

Izuku’s vision exploded with sparks. The world before him blurred with pain and tears. Everything turned pitch black.

When Izuku woke up, his head still throbbed like it had been split open.

His whole body felt heavy and drained, every muscle aching as if he had just run an impossibly long distance. He forced his eyes open, only to squeeze them shut again immediately when blinding sunlight poured straight into them. His vision kept clearing for a moment before turning hazy again, like a camera lens struggling to focus. It took a while before the soreness in his eyelids faded and the scene in front of him finally came into view.

Kacchan.

And… Todoroki?

Both of them were in their hero costumes. They stood near the edge of a rooftop, discussing something. Izuku guessed it must be about a mission or something equally important. Even though he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, the mere fact that Kacchan hadn’t exploded within a twenty-meter radius of Todoroki already counted as a miracle. Todoroki still wore his usual calm, detached expression, though his brows were knit together with unusual seriousness.

Curious, Izuku tilted his head. Fighting through the lingering dizziness, he stumbled closer to the two of them.

“… I’m serious. If you’re feeling tired, just head back to the office and write today’s report first. The mission Endeavor assigned can be handled by me alone. We’re just questioning a few random thugs about the League of Villains’ whereabouts anyway. It’s not like we’re confronting them directly.”

“I already told you no!” Kacchan snapped, though there was none of his usual fury in it, only exhaustion. “I came here to do my internship, not sit behind a damn desk.”

Todoroki sighed. “Alright, suit yourself. If you want to go that badly, we should leave now. Lunch break ended over ten minutes ago.”

“You go ahead. I’ll stay here a bit longer. Got business to take care of. I already remember the address.”

At that, Todoroki raised an eyebrow. His mismatched eyes glinted with suspicion.

“What kind of business?”

“None of yours,” Kacchan growled.

Fortunately, Todoroki wasn’t the nosy type. He simply rolled his eyes and turned to leave without another word. The door leading to the rooftop slammed shut behind him, and the space fell into silence.

Izuku looked at Kacchan.

He was standing half-turned toward the railing, staring down at the city below. Those dark red eyes reminded Izuku of the sky right before sunset faded away, heavy with something he couldn’t quite name. His face was still as striking as ever, but the usual sharpness of his scowl had dulled somehow. Izuku wondered why.

“I know you’re staring, fucking Deku.”

Izuku jolted, his heart skipping a beat. Yet the dizziness and soreness that had weighed down his body suddenly vanished, so abruptly it stole the breath from his throat. As if this fragile existence of his only needed the slightest acknowledgment from Kacchan to come alive again.

“Listen. About the other day…”

Kacchan continued, still refusing to look his way. But the words that had just left his lips were cut short as he took a shaky breath, as if even saying this much was already too much for him.

“Kacchan, are you oka—”

“Forget it.”

Now it was Izuku’s turn to stare at him in confusion. Why was Kacchan always like this?

After watching him gradually change for the better, Izuku had thought that stubborn habit of keeping everything locked inside himself would eventually fade too. But apparently not. Was this some kind of requirement to become a hero? Suppress every inconvenient emotion so you can focus on what needs to be done until one day, it all becomes too much and you finally fall apart?

The two of them stood there in silence.

After a long while, when the communicator at Kacchan’s ear finally buzzed, he moved. He started walking quickly, still stubbornly staring straight ahead instead of giving Izuku even a single glance. Yet when he passed by him, his steps slowed for just a moment, though he didn’t actually stop.

“Just don’t leave my sight.”

And with that, he walked through the door leading downstairs, leaving Izuku behind with countless unanswered questions.

Everything went back to the way it used to be.

After the afternoon on the rooftop, Izuku felt mostly fine, though his head still throbbed with a faint wave of dizziness every now and then. And even though it wasn’t nearly as severe as what happened back on the snowy hill, he couldn’t help wondering what was causing this strange symptom.

Aside from that, Izuku kept following Kacchan, and Kacchan continued going about his routine as usual. He interacted with Izuku less and less, except for the occasional sidelong glance, as if only to make sure Izuku was still within reach. A few weeks later, he finished his internship and returned to class after the holiday break. But he seemed more and more distant from everyone. Outside of class, where he was forced to interact, he spent all his remaining time throwing himself into brutal training and pushing his limits.

Kacchan never bothered explaining any of it to Izuku, but Izuku had already put two and two together from the cryptic conversation between Endeavour and Hawks, to the strange incidents connected to a group calling themselves the Meta Liberation Army spreading across Japan—a major war was coming. After the fight with All For One, the public had learned that All Might’s strength was no longer the untouchable force it once was, even if he had won. Izuku felt that the hero of his childhood was hiding something, and many others seemed to sense it too. But of course, because it was All Might, people still put unconditional faith in him, no matter how unrealistic it might have seemed.

UA also seemed to be trying to prepare the Hero Course students for the incoming upheaval through joint training sessions between Class A and B. But that alone wasn’t enough for Kacchan. Izuku had lost count of how many times Kacchan woke up heading to the school gym in the dead of night. His insomnia itself wasn’t new. Izuku had witnessed Kacchan’s countless sleepless nights due to nightmares ever since the day he started staying by Kacchan’s side. But before, he always forced himself back to sleep instead of training until sunrise like this.

Izuku had tried convincing him, telling him his health would suffer if he kept going like this, that without enough sleep he wouldn’t be able to focus in class. Izuku knew Kacchan was far too smart for him to spell out something that obvious, yet every time he voiced his concerns, Kacchan brushed him off.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Kacchan and Izuku were in the school gym. With a quirk as destructive as Kacchan’s, training outdoors would’ve been more reasonable, but blowing up the dorm courtyard in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly ideal. So he had settled for physical conditioning instead. Though after a few simple dumbbell exercises and push-ups (Izuku had stopped counting after eighty), he still didn’t look satisfied. Which was why the two of them were now standing in a much emptier room compared to the previous one filled with gym equipment. 

This bigger room with a higher ceiling was the space Hero Course students used for combat practice. The walls were reinforced to withstand the insane quirks of the students. The cold fluorescent lights spilled dimly across the mats, making every breath, every bare foot sliding across the floor echo a little louder than usual.

Kacchan said nothing, but Izuku guessed he wanted to work on the precision of his smaller blasts and his airborne movements based on how he was moving. Izuku quietly watched the way he furrowed his brows with each mid-air flip and each sharp burst of orange light from his palms. Sweat streamed down his face after hours of nonstop training, soaking through his tank top until it was a nearly black sheen.

Izuku had always been captivated by Kacchan’s fighting style. He’d followed him since they were little kids, watched him grow more polished and confident with every battle. Kacchan was the first hero of Izuku’s life, the closest one to him, and the person he’d learned the most from. He briefly thought of his old analysis notebooks and wished he had one on hand, so he could scribble frantically about everything he was lucky enough to witness.

And because Izuku observed him so closely, he immediately noticed the way the muscles in Kacchan’s shoulders tightened before he launched himself, the slight stiffness in his wrist each time he changed direction. He saw the uneven, harsher breaths, his usual fiery aggression was replaced by urgency, and a razor-sharp focus that bordered on desperation. But beneath that expression, Izuku felt he was holding something back.

“Kacchan?”

His voice echoed in the silence of the room. Kacchan landed, head tilting just slightly toward him, one eyebrow twitching upward in a silent question.

“It’s just…” Izuku murmured, unable to meet those red eyes directly. “I’ve been watching you train, and I think you’re, well, pushing yourself too hard.”

For a few seconds, Kacchan said nothing. His breaths were still ragged, his chest rising and falling sharply. Under the cold lights, his face looked pale, or maybe just exhausted.

“So?” Kacchan finally responded, slow and sharp, and Izuku swallowed dryly. 

He knew how to deal with Kacchan’s anger, not his indifference.

“I’m worried about you.” Izuku bit his lip. He had to say this, even if Kacchan kept shutting him out. “If you keep training like this, you could—no, you will hurt yourself. Your wrist isn’t moving as smoothly as usual. You’re… producing more heat than you want during small blasts. And you’re not regulating the output as well as you normally do.”

This time, Kacchan stayed quiet. Something flickered across his face, as if Izuku had touched a nerve he’d been trying to bury. His crimson gaze bore into Izuku like he was trying to rip the thoughts straight from his head.

“I know you’re worried about the upcoming war. Don’t ask me how. I mean, anyone with a brain and a pair of eyes can see UA and the pros are preparing for the worst-case scenario. But there’s still something I really don’t understand about the motivation of this ‘Meta Liberation Army’ group. Maybe it’s in the book Hawks gave Endeavour, but I doubt I’ll get to read it anytime soon. I’m wondering what they have to do with the League. Are they actually allies? Shigaraki doesn’t look like the type who can cooperate with anyone—ah sorry, I’m rambling again…”

He shook his head, trying to steer himself back on track. He took a breath, gathered his courage, then met Kacchan’s eyes. But the second he did, the breath in his throat caught.

Izuku had noticed the way those dark red eyes held so much regret and hurt whenever he muttered excitedly to him before. Which was bizarre, because in the past, moments like that always ended with yelling or a searing hot hand grabbing his shoulder threateningly. What did this change even mean? Izuku had no idea.

But right now, the priority was getting Kacchan to stop destroying himself like this.

“No matter how arduous the upcoming battle is, you don’t have to push yourself to the brink.”

Izuku said softly, every word a quiet plea.

“You’re not alone, Kacchan. Everyone around you, your friends, your teachers, your parents—they’ll fight with you.”

The room fell silent again. Izuku had hoped his sincerity would make Kacchan finally see that he didn’t have to shoulder everything alone. But instead, it backfired badly. Because Kacchan shot him a look simmering with anger, almost hatred, but the way he forced out each word, cold and sharp, made Izuku’s heart break a little.

“You don’t understand anything, Deku.”

Kacchan turned back to the mat and began training again, completely ignoring Izuku this time. And he could only stand there, frozen in place.

After a few hours of quietly watching Kacchan, he watched him drink water, wipe his sweat with a towel, then turn off the lights in the training room to head back in silence. He slowly walked out of the room and stood by the door, waiting for him to pass in a wordless habit the two of them had formed over countless nights like this.

But the moment Izuku stepped into the hallway, he immediately let out a startled scream when he nearly collided with a tall, lanky silhouette already standing by the door. Kacchan heard him and rushed out, only to stop dead in his tracks when he realized who it was.

“Bakugou.”

Once Izuku recovered from the fright, he turned toward Kacchan with worry. Just as he expected, Kacchan’s face tightened. Those usually bold, unyielding eyes dipped slightly, filled with embarrassment and exhaustion.

“... Sensei.”

Aizawa sighed.

Izuku couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, but he could make out the dark circles under his eyes were worse than usual. His normally unkempt black hair was tied back, and he was wearing casual clothes instead of his hero outfit.

He leaned against the wall, as if he had been waiting there for quite a while.

“I received a report last week that a student had been coming in and out of the gym late at night. At the time, I already guessed who it might be. But I assumed someone like you would be smart enough to stop before things went too far.” Aizawa crossed his arms, bloodshot eyes scrutinizing the student in front of him. “But it seems I was wrong.”

Kacchan glared at something on the floor, refusing to look up or answer. Aizawa only shook his head, as if far too used to this behavior.

“Who were you talking to in there just now?”

Both Kacchan and Izuku froze. But before Izuku could even process what had happened, Kacchan answered far too quickly.

“No one.”

Aizawa raised a brow. He knew perfectly well that was a lie.

“I know you hate being coddled, so I’ll be frank with you. If you keep this up, you’ll be expelled.”

At that, Kacchan’s head snapped up. His eyes showed shock, betrayal, and of course, rage. But Aizawa continued before he could get a single word out.

“Never mind the damage caused by unstructured training for hours after a full day of classes and practical exercises in the early morning. Because I know you clearly understand the consequences and still throw yourself into it.” Aizawa dragged a hand down his face. “No hero is stupid enough to try getting stronger by destroying themselves. That’s irresponsible toward your own body and ability. And you know that, don’t you?”

Suddenly, that tired but stern voice sharpened. Both Kacchan and Izuku held their breath.

“At first, I couldn’t understand why a student as sharp as you would do something like this. But when I recalled all the reckless things you did after entering UA, everything made a lot more sense than I expected.”

“Aizawa sensei—”

“You’re trying to save someone, aren’t you?”

Kacchan fell silent. His face went pale. A wave of dizziness washed over Izuku, but he still hurried to Kacchan’s side.

“As I’ve said, you’re a smart student. But that intelligence always turns into impulse and recklessness the moment you think you have to save someone. Like your match with Todoroki at the sports festival, the Stain incident, Mandalay’s nephew at training camp… and most recently—Eri.”

“And what exactly makes you think that?”

Kacchan growled like a wounded animal. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. Aizawa didn’t flinch at the hostility. In fact, his expression only became stricter. 

He exhaled once more then inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself for what was about to happen. 

“The Sludge Villain incident, last spring. When you were taken hostage and got saved by a classmate. All Might didn’t get there in time, and that boy died in your place.”

Kacchan went still as stone. Izuku’s vision blurred, pain split his skull in two.

“Everyone in Class A knows about that incident. Some students have expressed concern to me about how you sometimes talk to yourself, and how closed-off you are from your peers. Hearing all that, I could only wonder…”

“Don’t. Please.”

Kacchan raised a trembling hand to his face, pleading. But Aizawa stepped forward and gripped his shoulders, keeping him upright.

And then, he said it.

“Are you really saving people because you want to? Or are you only doing it to chase the ghost of someone from your past? To atone?”

Kacchan squeezed his eyes shut. A tear slid down his cheek, tracing the shape of the hopeless expression on his face. His shoulders, normally broad and unshakable, now shook violently and looked so small in Aizawa’s arms.

Izuku collapsed to his knees. He could feel his consciousness unraveling with every word echoing in the air.

“Bakugou, I can help you. But you have to let me.”

Aizawa pulled the student everyone thought was hopelessly stubborn into his arms and held him as he cried quietly. He sighed, but his voice softened as he rested a hand on the boy’s back.

“Before you think about saving anyone else, you need to learn how to save yourself first.”