Chapter Text
Katsuki Bakugou had not come to U.A. to be distracted.
He had come to win.
The morning air bit at his lungs as he inhaled. Early April was supposed to bring spring, but the cold still clung to the hills surrounding campus. He stepped out of his car, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.
The dorms towered visibly over the parking lot, settled at the top of the incline. Brown bricks were laid on white pillars, the words ‘1-A Alliance’ printed in an enormous scale at the front of the building.
Katsuki silently waved his parents off as he eyed the deep stairs he was supposed to climb.
Multicoloured balloons speckled the structure, just far enough to fade into the background. Students dragged suitcases and boxes up the path in staggered clusters, laughter dying in the wind.
Katsuki adjusted the box in his arms and began walking.
Pink sakura petals dappled the pavement. Some stuck to the soles of his shoes before being crushed into the unforgiving concrete.
He reached the stairs, focusing on where he stepped. Other students joined behind him on the double-wide passage.
“Hey! My name’s Eijiro Kirishima.”
Katsuki looked to his left. A boy had joined him, walking giddily up the stairs. His spiky hair was unaffected by the wind. The box he was carrying was open at the top, a few bottles of red hair dye poking out.
“I’m Katsuki Bakugou.”
“Cool name! I play baseball. What about you?”
“I play sepatakuro. I’m the Killer on my team.”
Eijiro nodded, looking up at the dorms. The bottom half of the building was coming into view the further they climbed, revealing a small plaza. The ground was decorated with cherry blossom trees and streetlamps, dotted with more people. It connected to the other dorm, ‘1-B Alliance’, next door.
“It’s kinda unreal being here, you know? I’ve wanted to get into the U.A. 's athletics program forever. My parents wanted me at a baseball-only school, but this place…The split training, the facilities–”
“Get to the point,” Katsuki strained, chucking his box down on the plaza.
“Yeah,” Kirishima brightened, “I’m gonna be a triple threat. Super manly.”
“Tch.”
The dorm doors were still locked. It was 6:23 AM, and their homeroom teacher, Aizawa sensei, wouldn’t be there until 6:30. Boxes littered the courtyard, decorating the crowd in muted shades of khaki and white.
“Ever since I touched a takraw, I knew I had to come here,” Katsuki offered. “U.A. is the highest ranked school for sepatakuro. I’m gonna be the best player this sport’s ever seen. I’m gonna be number one.”
“Lofty goals, huh?”
Katsuki’s attention snapped back to him.
“What does that mean?”
“No, I meant, like, it’s good. If you set your mind to it, I'll be right behind you. Very manly.”
Katsuki smiled crookedly, laughing. Kirishima put his hands on his hips, taking another moment to appreciate the scenery.
“I heard this building was built a month ago. A bunch of the U.A. students were being attacked on their way home by rival teams,” Kirishima whispered, marveling at the basic-looking architecture.
Katsuki rolled his eyes, looking ahead.
Green hair?
His eyes snagged, drawn to the figure.
A girl was bent under the weight of two heavy boxes, struggling. As she reached the top, she let out a quiet laugh. Another girl beside her cheered.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, dragging her fingers through its length. It fell back into place, but she knocked loose a sakura blossom that had wedged itself in her bangs.
Katsuki’s fingers tightened around the edge of his box.
Plenty of idiots dye their hair.
“Mmm,” Katsuki hummed, half-listening.
“Do you know anyone here?”
Katsuki shrugged.
“You should meet my friends! I saw one person I recognized, a girl named Mina from my school, and we started talking.”
The boy blushed rather feverishly at the memory, scratching the back of his head and smiling.
“Oh, really?”
“It’s not like that, she’s just…really cool.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She breakdances.”
“I’m sure.”
“Is there anyone that’s caught your eye?” Kirishima interrupted, “That brunette girl is pretty cute.”
Katsuki looked where he was pointing, but didn’t see any appeal. She looked just like every other girl he had seen that day.
“No. I’ve never been interested in that sort of thing.”
Kirishima hummed.
“Maybe there’s someone here who’s caught your eye and you just don’t know it yet.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Sure.”
“You know, I’m gonna call you Baku-bro. Because we’re bros now.”
“What the hell?”
Interrupting the low babble of the crowd, a loud, distorted voice crackled over the courtyard speakers. The dorm doors swung open, cheesy music blasting from inside.
Bakugou joined the growing horde around the front of the building, cutting in front of a few people to stay close to Kirishima.
“You have to meet my friends,” Kirishima said excitedly. “Oh my god, they’ll totally love you. Once we get our keys and everything.”
“Welcome, students! Please make your way to the left-hand doors when your name has been called. Mina Ashido, Kaminari Denki, Eijiro Kirishima, Tsuyu Asui–”
“Shoot, that’s me! I’ll find you at orientation, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Ochako Uraraka, Toru Hagakure, Katsuki Bakugou–”
Kirishima paused, looking back and smiling. Bakugou barked out a laugh, maneuvering through the crowd to join him again. They were walking to the same place anyway.
“Tenya Iida, Minoru Mineta—”
The voice thrummed on slowly. Bakugou punched the red-head lightly in the arm, tuning out the voice. They were already there.
At the entrance, two teachers handed out slippers and room assignments. One, an eccentric woman he recognized as Kayama sensei, was talking to a small line of girls. Another, their homeroom teacher Aizawa sensei, was talking to the boys.
The two made their way over. Katsuki lingered near the back.
“Katsuki Bakugou?”
He stilled.
Kirishima nudged him, encouraging him to the front of the line.
“Bakugou. Room two-twenty-two. You’ll be sharing with Izuku Midoriya. Is Izuku Midoriya here?”
For a second, nothing registered.
It couldn’t possibly–
“Here! Ohmygoshi’msosorry, I’m here, sensei!”
Katsuki turned.
Midoriya was running towards the line, out of breath. His suitcases were nowhere to be seen. He stopped beside Katsuki.
“Midoryia. You’re in room two-twenty-two with Katsuki Bakugou. Here’s your key.”
Midoriya blinked, unsure of what he’d heard. His head turned slowly, looking up at the blonde. Their eyes met.
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki looked back at the teacher.
“I have a roommate? Since when?”
Aizawa didn’t look impressed. He dropped the keys into Katsuki’s palm. “You’ll live. Move.”
The metal bit into his skin.
He shuffled over, stepping into the Genkan. Midoriya followed after him.
“Kacchan, I—”
“Don’t.”
Bakugou untied his shoes and shoved them into a cubby, sliding his feet into a plain looking pair of house slippers. The white, fuzzy material caught against his socks. His hand, holding the keys, curled into a rigid fist as he approached the stairwell.
He could hear Deku following behind him. The corridor, with green and sand patterned walls, trailed up to the very top floor. It swallowed the noise of the courtyard more with every step they climbed. One flight. Two. Three. By the fourth, the chatter below had thinned into a distant murmur, replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet drag of slippers against carpet.
Bakugou turned right. Thirty-something doors stretched down the hallway, identical.
There it was.
222.
Bakugou slid the key into the lock, swinging the door open.
Two beds and two desks sat on opposite sides of the room. There was one glass door in the center of the back wall. From the small open pane above it, a spring breeze wafted through the room.
On the right, an empty doorframe led into the bathroom. The short hallway contained two small in-the-wall wardrobes.
The room was showered in golden light, the sun slowly ticking away from the hills in the distance. Their room had a clear view of the ever-iconic U.A. building.
After taking a second to observe, Bakugou walked toward the left side of the room. He ran his hand along the slim wooden desk and nodded to himself.
“I’m taking the left. You go get your shit.”
Izuku tilted his head. “You’re not… coming?”
“You go first. I don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of extras in an elevator anyway,”
“Ah, right, yeah, okay. I don’t know why I thought you’d—uhm… yeah.”
A few sakura petals danced into their room. From just outside, two sakura trees wrapped around each other to form one being. The petals protruded slightly over the edge of the deck, decorating it in shades of pink.
Katsuki reached out to one that flew by him, but let it brush past his palm.
He sighed, kicked his slippers off, and flopped onto his mattress.
God.
Deku quietly left, clicking the door shut behind him.
Katsuki let his hand reach up to his face and cover his eyes, palm digging into the sockets until he saw static.
Of all places.
Another petal brushed by his face. He flinched, grabbing it. It wilted in his grip.
Volleyball. That had to be it. Deku had always been obsessed with volleyball back then, even when he was terrible at it.
Bakugou shifted on the mattress, watching as more petals floated in.
Deku had stopped asking Katsuki for help eventually. Stopped hanging around after school. Then one day he was just… gone.
So why was he here now?
The blonde stood up abruptly, slamming closed the window that was letting in the cherry blossoms. He waited until the wind ebbed, then rolled back onto the bed. It was higher than his bed at home.
The once-quiet hall filled with muffled laughter. Bakugou didn’t bother looking up from where he was lying.
“This is, ah, my room!” Deku strained, pushing the door open.
A thud.
“Well,” a higher voice laughed, “I’ll leave you to unpack so I can go grab my things, but just text me if you need any help,”
Deku jogged to the door, where the girl had presumably gone.
He stuck his head out, “I- uh, yeah! I-I will! Thanks again, Ochako!”
“It’s the least I could do!”
Katsuki grimaced. Good to know the kid hadn’t learned any social skills in his time away.
“Hey, ah… you can go get your stuff now, Kacchan,” Izuku said quietly. “That was all of mine.”
Bakugou sat up. Izuku was standing by the door, leaning on the wall. He looked away.
“We need to talk, Ka-”
“We don’t.”
Izuku furrowed his brow, “Well we’ll need to if we’re gonna be roommates.”
“We don’t.”
“Well what do you want then, Kacchan? To live in silence forever? Because I’m not going to.”
Katsuki blinked, looking back at Izuku.
“I’m not going to hold the past against you. I’m not going to rob you of a fresh start, if that's what you want out of U.A. But I’m also not going to act as your personal punching bag. That’s not who I am anymore.”
He hesitated.
“I hope it’s not you, either.”
Bakugou hummed, gliding his hands into his pockets.
“You’re amazing,” Izuku swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “I can only hope to catch up to your talent. But if you don’t think of me as a formidable rival, it’s going to stab you in the back. I won’t just stand back and let you win, Kacchan.”
A single cherry blossom fell from the closed windowsill, drifting onto the floor.
Katsuki smiled, tilting his chin up.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
~------------------------------------~
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° :. *₊ ° . ☆
“So, you play supatakuro now, huh?”
“Oh, ah, yeah. I found out about All Might and his story—it made me curious about the sport. And you, of course! So I started, and I’m much better at it than volleyball. I broke quite a few bones before I figured out I could use my legs, though.”
Izuku shuddered.
“Thank god for kick volleyball. No more broken arms.”
The blonde clicked his tongue, “It was horrific.”
“Agreed.”
Bakugou had just finished unpacking, placing the final cardboard box in the trash can. He had brought the bare minimum—training equipment, school supplies, a few books, and, under his bed, a few manga.
He peeked at Izuku’s side in comfortable silence. Strewn about the floor were hoodies, figures, posters…
Izuku’s belongings were colourful, to say the least. His desk was already overflowing with manga, twenty-something notebooks, and textbooks. The floor next to his desk had tall stacks of books that didn’t fit on the benchtop. Open and scribbled inside, a notebook entitled ‘Sports Analysis For The Future’ laid on the chair. A few figures were on their sides, tossed beside the books.
There was an entire stack of posters ready to be put on the wall. His bed had All Might themed covers and a few childish plushies.
On the other hand, Katsuki’s side of the room was already clean. He’d started with clothing, taking the left closet, then moved on to decorating with what little goods he had brought. He thought he may have taken too little, but after having seen what Deku had brought…
There was enough in those boxes for the two of them. He didn’t need to bring anything.
He hopped onto his bed, soft blankets moulding under his hands as he sat. Pale orange-and-white pinstriped sheets and a white quilt adorned his bed, along with a couple of pillows and an Explosion Gods: Tokyo Dome poster on the wall. Under his bed were a few weaved baskets; one for dirty clothes, one with extra blankets, and one with extra towels.
His desk had his laptop and a few notebooks placed neatly on the benchtop. The shelves above were stacked with his textbooks, a sign language book, and some trophies.
On the floor next to his bed, a Takraw and some weights lay in a row.
“Kacchan, are those All Might manga? Are you still a fan?”
“I don’t think you’re in much of a place to judge,” Katsuki scoffed, gesturing at Izuku’s trashed side of the room.
“Well, I did have to bring like, all of my stuff. I moved straight from my dad’s to here. I threw out some of my clothes to fit all of this.”
Silence.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I should've kept the clothes,” Izuku added, tired. “I still have another box.”
The boy stood up and stretched, cracking his back. His shirt rode up slightly.
Katsuki looked away.
“Well, I’m gonna take a break. I think it’s almost time for breakfast, anyway.”
“Mm.”
Izuku reached for the doorknob. The brushed chrome handle twisted before he could touch it, moving on its own. The door flew open, smacking him dead-center in the forehead.
Wincing, Izuku took a few steps back to balance himself.
“Bakugou! Are you ready to go to breakfast? I found out which dorm you were in from Aizawa Sensei! I-”
“Shitty hair, knock next time.”
“Ow.”
Kirishima gasped, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“Ah, yeah, I’ll be fine!”
“Let’s just go to breakfast,” Katsuki suggested, walking past Izuku.
“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Kirishima hesitated, “Are you okay to be left here? Do you need to go to the nurse?”
The blonde slipped out the door, brushing past Kirishima.
“Oh, no. I’ll be fine, it's about the same as getting a volleyball to the face, actually.”
“Are you a volleyball player?” Kirishima asked, tilting his head.
“Not anymore. Supatakuro.”
“Oh! Just like-”
Kirishima turned around, an empty hall behind him.
“Bakugou! Where did you go?” he shouted, forgetting about the conversation and jogging down the hall. “You’ll have to tell me about it later, uhm..”
“Izuku Midoriya!” Deku said, waving.
“Yeah, Midoriya! I’m Kirishima. I’ll see you at breakfast!”
“Seeya!”
Eijiro reached the end of the hall and turned left, spotting Katsuki leaning by the elevator, waiting for him. He sighed in relief, walking over and clapping the blond on the shoulder.
“You get away fast, huh?”
“Maybe you’re just slow.”
Kirishima shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, my friends are gonna love you. C’mon, let's go.”