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Class 1-A of the hero course enjoyed a regular movie night after moving into the dorms. On one such night, while waiting for the last stragglers to make it to the lounge, a game of Truth or Dare started up to pass the time.
Being highly competitive hero students, naturally the dares were outlandish and usually physically taxing. Things like hold a handstand until your next turn or escape from Sero’s tape in under thirty seconds. Since Izuku was already pretty sore from training that day, and he’d promised not to push himself too much, when his turn came around, he chose Truth.
“Oh, I have a good one,” Hagakure enthused. “I don’t think anyone’s asked you this yet, Midoriya-kun. Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Izuku immediately grew flustered as his classmates all looked at him curiously. He stammered a few awkward noises, waving his hands around as he avoided all eye contact. “Um! W-well, no, I haven’t!”
“Liar.”
Everyone turned to look at Katsuki, who was standing by the microwave, monitoring the popcorn. It was his self-assigned role for these movie nights, according to him because no one else could be trusted to make the popcorn right, but Izuku privately believed it was more to do with staying out of these kinds of games and any pre-movie seat-jostling.
Izuku gulped, his heart beating fast. “What do you mean, Kacchan?” he asked nervously. “Why would I lie about that?”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes and punched a button on the microwave, making it stop. A few more pops sounded from within. “Guess you forgot then,” Katsuki sneered.
Izuku said nothing. He knew what Katsuki was talking about, but he was baffled as to why Katsuki would bring it up. Why not let it slide past, unmentioned?
Of course, their classmates were intrigued. “Woah, you know about Midoriya’s first kiss?” Kaminari asked. “Spill, dude!”
“First year of middle school,” Katsuki answered, voice curt. He opened the microwave, pulled out the popcorn bag, and slammed it shut again with more force than necessary. “Girl in our class.”
“Midoriya-chan, you had a girlfriend in middle school?” Asui asked. “No offense, but I didn’t really expect that from you, kero.”
“N-no, it wasn’t like that,” Izuku said, holding out his hands defensively. His classmates all rounded on him, but Izuku’s gaze kept flickering to Katsuki as he dumped the popcorn into a large bowl and sprinkled salt over it. “It was just one kiss. It was the um, girl, who kissed me,” he explained, fumbling over the gendered word. “Nothing happened between us after that.”
The other students glanced at each other. Izuku kept looking towards the kitchen as Katsuki continued to putter around. It made him feel… complicated, that Katsuki apparently didn’t want him to pretend it never happened.
He should really have more faith in Izuku than that. How could he possibly forget?
Ever since they were little, Kacchan had always been a tomboy. For as long as Izuku could remember, she was always running around with the boys in their neighbourhood, catching bugs and climbing trees while laughing and hollering boisterously. She liked to roughhouse, throwing around her weight and her impressive quirk, confident and tough in a way that Izuku admired.
“I don’t like girly stuff,” she often asserted, when the other girls tried to engage her in talk of dolls and dresses and cute animals. Kacchan preferred video games with fighting in them and talking about heroes, the strong male heroes like All Might most of all.
Kacchan was often mistaken for a boy, with her long shorts and her short hair. Apparently she didn’t enjoy brushing her hair, so her mother kept it short to avoid extra hassle. Izuku could relate; his curls could be quite unruly, and sometimes brushing hurt. The biggest clue that Kacchan was a girl at all was the pair of thin silver hoops that shone in her ears; girls didn’t normally have their ears pierced until after high school, but Kacchan’s had them all her life. Izuku was always fascinated by them, the way they glinted in the light and swung when she moved. He liked to poke at them and ask questions like does it ever hurt? or will you ever wear different ones?
One day, after a vendor had bid them farewell by saying take care, boys, Kacchan told Izuku, “I think I was probably supposed to be a boy. It makes no sense that I’m a girl.”
“It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re a girl or a boy, Kacchan,” Izuku replied, earnest and guileless. “You basically are a boy, anyway.”
“Who asked what you think, Deku,” she jeered, shoving him, but she was smiling like she was pleased by it anyway, so Izuku trotted after her like always.
On the first day of middle school, Kacchan showed up furious in her brand new girl’s uniform, looking like she’d been crying. With a red face and puffy eyes, she’d hunched down at her desk instead of sprawling in her seat like she normally did, tugging uncomfortably at the edge of her skirt. Almost all of their classmates were kids they’d known forever, so they poked fun at her for finally having to dress like a ‘proper girl,’ at least until her snarling and explosions got them to stop.
When Izuku leaned forward in his seat to ask her what was wrong, she snapped, “I told my stupid parents I didn’t want to wear the stupid girl’s uniform, and my mom said she would talk to the school about letting me wear something else, but I had to wear it for a week first. Ugh!”
Izuku frowned, immediately becoming lost in thought. His first impulse was to assure Kacchan she looked pretty— because she did, post-crying face notwithstanding— but he thought better of it. Kacchan had never cared about looking ‘pretty’, and in the past whenever Izuku tried to compliment her for anything she always seemed to take it the wrong way, lashing out at him or going coldly silent in response.
“You can wear my gym shorts if you want,” Izuku offered, reaching for his bag.
Kacchan looked at him first in surprise, then with a scowl of contempt. “I don’t need your help, Deku. Don’t worry about me.” She then proceeded to bully the boy who sat next to her into giving her his gym shorts, making Izuku sigh quietly. Of course Kacchan was too proud to accept anything from quirkless Izuku.
Sure enough, after that first week, Kacchan started wearing a boys uniform to school, and although people whispered about it, no one was stupid enough to say anything derogatory to her face, and the difference in her confidence was staggering. She was back to swaggering around, yelling and laughing loudly, boorish and masculine all the way through. The only hint of femininity remained stored in her earrings, which she couldn’t wear at school anyway, but Izuku saw her dutifully returning them to her ears when class let out every day. He wondered why, when she eschewed every other facet of her gender, but wasn’t brave enough to ask. Maybe it was a compromise she’d made with her mother; but then why not wait until she got home to put them back in? Maybe they were the one ‘girly’ thing Kacchan did like after all.
Growing up together as a boy and a girl whose mothers were also friends, it had been teasingly implied most of their lives that Izuku and Kacchan would fall in love and get married one day. Izuku had bought into it a little, even, when they were younger, but that dream faded over time as it became clear that Kacchan merely tolerated his presence out of boredom, and that was when she tolerated it.
Still, Izuku couldn’t shake his admiration for her. Despite the insults and physical altercations, he couldn’t help but think she was amazing. Although she was cocky and mean, Kacchan had good qualities, too. Fortitude, ambition, wit, and self-determination. She was everything Izuku wished he was.
One day after gym class, Kacchan rolled up the sleeve of her uniform to flex her arm, lithely muscular in the way of athletic pre-teens. “I can do more push-ups than anyone in our class,” she bragged to the room at large.
“It’s really impressive,” Izuku mumbled, mostly to himself. He had learned better than to take notes right in front of her, but he was looking forward to writing that down later. “Girls can be strong too, of course, but the way Kacchan boasts really is just like a boy.”
“What did you say, nerd?”
Izuku jumped in his seat a little. “N-nothing, Kacchan, just that you really are like a boy sometimes!”
She narrowed her eyes at him but she didn’t appear to take any offense. Instead she looked away and said, strangely subdued, “Yeah.”
Izuku blinked, trying to interpret that. Her body language and tone had shifted in a way that was unfamiliar. Uncomfortable, almost. Like when she’d been made to wear the girl’s uniform. “Are you alright, Kacchan?” he asked meekly, eyebrows furrowing.
Kacchan glared, her demeanor back to normal, and said her usual line: “Don’t worry about me, Deku.” The words aren’t intended as assurance, though. It was a reprimand. It’s not your place to worry about me, because we’re not friends. Izuku averted his eyes and chewed his lip, chastised but still worried for her.
Halfway through that first year of middle school, Kacchan approached Izuku after class and said, “Hey, Deku, let’s walk home together.” Her expression was serious and slightly tense; one of her hands was white-knuckling around the strap of her messenger bag.
“Huh? O-okay,” Izuku stammered, surprised. He hadn’t walked home with Kacchan since elementary school. “If you want!” He assumed it had to be for a reason, and the curiosity gnawed at him.
So Kacchan put her earrings back in while Izuku gathered his belongings and they left school together, Kacchan walking slightly ahead. It was nostalgic and familiar to trail after her, babbling about heroes to fill the silence as they walked. The longer she let him talk uninterrupted, the more anxious Izuku became. What’s going on? Why is Kacchan acting like this?
When they reached the residential neighbourhood, Kacchan suddenly stopped walking. Izuku almost bumped into her, but managed to trip sideways around her instead, catching his balance with wide eyes. They were in an alley between two fenced homes, a large hedge on one side which filled the air with a crisp, green scent.
The way Kacchan looked at him was uneasy, which in some ways was a small comfort, because it meant that she probably wasn’t mad at him for something, but it was also wildly uncomforting, because whatever could cause Kacchan to be uneasy had to be pretty bad.
She wiped her palms on her black boy’s uniform jacket before sticking her hands in her pockets. Izuku played with his own hands in front of him, nervous.
“Kacchan, did you, um, want to talk to me about something?” he asked hesitantly.
Kacchan closed her eyes. “I did, yeah.” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again she looked determined and defiant. “I’m not going to be a girl much longer. I’m transitioning to male.”
Izuku’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up. Then he broke out into a wide, excited smile. “Really? That’s amazing, Kacchan!”
Apparently Kacchan hadn’t expected that reaction. She leaned back, expression twisting with confusion. “What?”
Izuku fumbled for the words to explain, gesticulating around like he could pluck the ideas he was trying to convey from the air. “I just mean, I think you’ll be really happy as a boy! It suits you, you know? What with wanting to be like All Might, and— n-not that girls can’t look up to All Might too! They can! Girls can be really strong and awesome! I-It just always seemed like you never liked being a girl, so— I’m just really happy for you!”
Kacchan scowled off to the side, but the whole time Izuku rambled, her face had slowly been turning pink. “I’m not telling you so you could congratulate me. I don’t care what you think, Deku,” she said, but Izuku doubted her. If she truly didn’t care, then why tell him at all?
“Sorry for getting so excited,” he said, deciding not to call attention to her little lie.
“Whatever.” Kacchan scuffed the toe of her shoe across the pavement, still looking away. Izuku hesitated, sensing she had more to say. “I’m telling you because… I thought that… While I’m still a girl, I should…”
She huffed after trailing off. Her face was bright red by now, and when she finally looked at Izuku, he felt himself blush as well.
Instead of finishing her sentence, Kacchan’s hand flashed out, grabbing the front of Izuku’s shirt. Izuku flinched instinctively as she hauled him in close, expecting something painful— explosions or a fist. Instead, Kacchan mashed her lips to his in a clumsy kiss. Izuku’s eyes crossed trying to look at her, too shocked to remember to close them. After a few tense seconds, Kacchan pushed him back and let go, a consternated expression on her face.
It wasn't a very good first kiss. Izuku hadn’t expected it, and it wasn’t nice or soft. Like everything else between them, it was unbalanced, a little hurtful, clumsy, raw, and sincere.
Kacchan licked her lips, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve and looked away. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said gruffly. “That was a goodbye kiss. Starting tomorrow, the Bakugous don’t have a daughter anymore. So.”
Izuku touched his own lips and stammered, “Y-yeah.” His mind was going too fast for anything else. A goodbye kiss? What does she— or, he, I suppose? (It’s really not hard to think of Kacchan as a boy). What does he mean by that? I wish Kacchan had told me he was going to do that, I wasn’t prepared at all!
Before Izuku could gather himself properly, Kacchan turned and sauntered off without another word, shoulders hunched. She looked all the world like a male delinquent with her slightly-too-big pants slung low and her shock of short hair. Her earrings glinted in the afternoon sun and Izuku was left standing there, staring after her, still touching his mouth in shock.
In the present, Izuku shrunk under the scrutiny of his peers.
“So who was this girl?” Ashido asked. “What’s her name?”
Izuku forced himself to look at the ceiling so he wouldn’t look at Katsuki. “Um, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, it’s not like any of you would know her, haha!” he said, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. At the start of the school year, Katsuki had made it very clear Izuku was in for a world of pain if he ever let slip to anyone at UA that Katsuki was trans.
Sero grinned and turned pointedly towards Katsuki. “Maybe Bakugou will tell us, since he seems to know all about it.”
Katsuki just scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that? Die, you nosy fuckers.”
Once it was clear that neither of them were willing to say any more on the topic, the game moved on. Izuku didn’t pay much attention, preoccupied with wondering why Katsuki would encourage him to talk so closely around his secret.
He could ask Katsuki about it. The same way he could stick his own leg into a bear trap.
He probably just wanted to be sure I hadn’t forgotten, Izuku reasoned. After all, he understood why Katsuki had kissed him back then; he’d told him directly. That was a goodbye kiss. A closing of a chapter, a farewell to certain possibilities.
Eventually the people they’d been waiting for joined them, and everyone gathered around the couches to watch the movie that’d been voted on. Izuku was distracted though, and kept sneaking glances at Katsuki where he sat between Kirishima and Jirou on the other couch.
The movie got paused around halfway through so people could go use the bathroom.
“You fucking people eat like starving animals,” Katsuki commented as he stood up and snatched the now-empty popcorn bowls, earning a few chuckles and a thanks for making snacks, dude, from Sato.
Spying an opportunity, Izuku said to Iida beside him, “I’m gonna get a glass of water, do you want some?”
Iida waved him off, so Izuku was able to inconspicuously follow Katsuki into the kitchen, heading to the cupboard for a cup while Katsuki busied himself making more popcorn. Izuku filled his cup and then sidled towards the microwave, where Katsuki was staunchly ignoring him.
Apparently Izuku’s leg craved the bear trap. He licked his lips nervously, and said in a low tone, so the others in the lounge wouldn’t overhear, “You don’t really think I forgot, do you?”
Katsuki glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Why lie about it, then?” He spoke in a clipped, accusatory tone. Izuku blinked in surprise, and then sighed, a wry smile twisting across his face. He had a suspicion about why Katsuki was offended.
“It’s not like I’m ashamed,” Izuku murmured, and he knew he was right when Katsuki dropped his gaze entirely. “I just wasn’t sure I should talk about it. I was trying to be considerate.”
Katsuki bared his teeth in a sneer and flexed his fingers against the edge of the microwave, thumb hovering over the stop button. “No use pretending something didn’t happen when we both know it did. You can shove your ‘consideration’.”
Izuku chewed his lip, contemplative, while the popcorn popped loudly. They’d never really talked about the kiss after it happened. It might seem strange to do so now, years later, but there was so much between them that was still unspoken. It made Izuku’s chest hurt.
Cautiously, still in a low murmur, Izuku said, “I know it sounds silly, but at one point I really did believe I might marry that girl when we got older.”
Katsuki swallowed, his eyes still trained on the bag in the microwave. “You only thought that because of what stupid adults were saying. Same as her.”
Izuku shrugged and took a sip of water. “Maybe,” he said eventually, as Katsuki punched the microwave open and dragged out the steaming bag, repeating his motions from earlier. “But I liked her, too. I, um, never got to thank her. I appreciated that she cared enough to say goodbye.”
“Shut the hell up before you embarrass yourself, Deku.” Katsuki turned away from him, cheeks pink.
Izuku sighed, a little relieved that Katsuki wasn’t lashing out worse. He lingered there for another few moments, watching Katsuki divide the popcorn into bowls. He was wearing earrings, black studs as opposed to his childhood hoops, and Izuku was struck with a familiar impulse to reach out and touch, but he curbed it.
“How come you kept your ears pierced?” Izuku asked, feeling bold since the previous conversation hadn’t gone terribly.
Katsuki glanced at him suspiciously. “What’s it to you?”
“Just curious,” Izuku admitted, rubbing his thumbs across the outside of his water glass. “Not many boys wear earrings.”
The look Katsuki gave at that was withering. “Don’t lump me in with most people.” He tossed a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it perfectly between his teeth, crunching vindictively.
Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, just to stand out, then? Makes sense, for you.”
Katsuki said nothing to that, and they both stood there evaluating each other for a second.
As childhood friends, they’d been witness and/or participant to many of each others’ ‘firsts.’ First days of school, first time riding a bicycle, first bad grade, first comic bought with their own money…
First fight with a friend.
(First kiss.)
No matter what their futures held as rivals, their past would always be there.
“...Go away, Deku,” Katsuki finally said.
“Okay,” Izuku said softly. “Sorry to bug you.”