Chapter Text
PART I: Bitter coffee
To divide periods of time into shorter periods and categorize them based on significant, successive and/or correlated events is human nature; it’s how you get historical eras.
It’s during those periods certain events happen. Like wars, revolutions, the rise and fall of influential people, serendipities. Of course, you can also give specific examples for them. Perhaps you think of the discovery of fire, the War of the First Coalition, the first quirk that was officially recorded, etc., etc.
And then, if an event is important enough, either on a personal level or a world-wide scale, people tend to use it as a landmark, and then say "before [x]", "after [y]". They use those terms because time is fickle and always on the run from them.
This need for a before and after, too, is human nature. And despite what Kusuo Saiki would like to think, he’s always been human. Barely human, but still human. So like everyone else, he cuts his life into segments akin to two slices of chocolate cake.
The smaller slice he has appropriately named “the mostly peaceful life of Saiki K. before enrolling into U.A”, whilst the bigger one “the disastrous life of Saiki K. after enrolling into U.A”.
Do you see what he's quietly spelling out? His previous life is now a disaster, and it’s all Midoriya's fault.
Ψ
“Breakfast is ready!”
He wakes up to the sound of his mom’s call, and wishes he hadn’t. Monologues, rhetorical questions, images crafted by strangers, that settle on his shoulders like the weight of the sky, attack his mind all too vividly.
"Rent prices have gone up again.", "No! I’m going to be late for school!", "I want to be a pro hero when I grow up.", "Should I send Kusuke to wake up his brother?"
They’re annoying. They're a headache. They're a part of him he's starting to want to scrub away with a sponge like the residues from his good-for-nothing-dad's dirty dish. He's old enough, now (sweet seven), to understand that telepathy is his sworn enemy.
"Is Kuu-chan really not going to come to breakfast?"
Case and point: his mother's worries. He sighs, and manages to throw himself out of bed to make his way downstairs.
His family is having breakfast at the table. His dad is reading the daily newspaper, while his mom is setting down coffee cups. Kusuke’s there too. He can see his brother’s back, the way his shoulders shake because of how fast he’s inhaling the food. Which, for Kusuke, is out of character and therefore means something's amiss.
It’s his dad who spots him first. “Oh, morning, Kusuo.”
“Morning, Kuu!” His mom greets too.
He’d reply, but he’s sure he’s developed something akin to selective mutism. He sits down in his designated chair, barely reaching the table, just as his brother turns to him with his mouth full.
“You were too late, Kusuo!” The words sound like the gibberish of cavemen. “Too bad, but I’m already done eating!”
Kusuo narrows his eyes. First of all, that’s not true. His brother still has plenty of rice stuck in his mouth he needs to swallow to be able to say he finished. Second of all, he hasn’t been informed this was a competition. It’s unfair to withhold the terms and conditions, and he says as much telepathically.
“You’re only ahead because you didn't wait for me.”
“Ah ah ah!” Kusuke turns his pair of chopsticks in Kusou’s direction. A munch, and then a swallow. “That's where you're wrong! It’s only fair that I get one. You’re probably thinking a 9 year old shouldn’t cheat against a 7 year old, right? Why, of course—under normal circumstances! Except I’m quirkless, while you, my dear brother, have telepathy, flight, teleportation, transformation that lets you both morph and—”
It’s not like those would help me in an eating contest. Whatever, even with a quarter of the time left he can win. He could ignore Kusuke, but that’d probably make his parents upset. (He feels a shiver go down his spine at the image of his mom’s glare.) Not to mention, he's just as competitive as his brother when he wants to be.
“—I guess I’m the winner of our ‘who can eat faster’ contest!”
“Oh, you boys…” His mom coos, wearing a pleasant smile. She moves behind him and sets down his tray of food, consisting of white rice, miso soup, fish and a fried egg.
Kusuke fills his mouth with the last portion of rice. “Now, Kusuo, take all the time you need with your breakfast,” he says between the last bites, only to spit his food out when the bowls his mom just set down spin around like coins, empty.
There, Kusuo thinks, crushed the competition.
Kusuke’s head turns towards him in slow motion, so Kusuo looks back at his brother with a blank stare and puffed cheeks, mouth full of food.
“I win.”
His mom is the first to react. She looks at him with a curious expression, but her thoughts are all sappy and gooey. "They finished so fast! I’m glad everyone loves my cooking so much!" Ah, well if she wants to believe they did it for the food, then he won’t correct her.
“Good job, Kuu!” She presses a kiss to his forehead and takes the dishes away. Kusuke looks at him in shock the whole time—eyebrows pinched in confusion and rice grains falling from his open mouth—before he breaks into tears.
“I lost again…” he mumbles. “Me, the super genius with an IQ of 218, got bested by a multi quirk user…”
His dad takes his nose out of the newspaper to look at Kusuke in confusion. “IQ doesn’t have anything to do with how fast you eat,” he says, embarrassed. “And you don’t really look like a genius right now.”
And that’s Kusuo’s sign to get his backpack and get out of here before Kusuke demands a rematch. He sits up as fast and quietly as he can.
“Hold on!” Kusuke spins around in his chair, pointing an accusatory finger towards Kusuo. “You used your powers to put everything in your mouth, didn’t you?!”
Who? Him? Kusuo merely turns around and shakes his head, swallowing down all the food at once.
Kusuke looks like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “You’re obviously lying! What’d you use? A quirk that makes you inhale breakfast made by mom in under a second?”
“What?” That would almost be as useless as the beam that upgrades any computer to Windows 10. “No, I used telekinesis.”
Kusuke’s lips quiver. “Damn it… I lost again…”
In the state he is right now, barely suppressing the sobs threatening to wreck his body, you wouldn't guess Kusuke's the older one between the two of them. Or that he's older than five years old. Kusuo opts to ignore him and look at his mom, ready to disappear. “I’m going to school now. Bye.”
“Good luck, Kuu!” She sings over her shoulder.
Kusuo doesn’t even take two steps out the dinning room before Kusuke springs up from his chair, interrupting his departure again. “Wait! Best of two! Whoever eats the second portion is the true winner.”
“No.” He makes one of his dad’s figurines switch places with his backpack, using apport. By his calculations, if he leaves in the next 10-20 seconds, he'll be able to walk right past the neighbors outside without giving a required, awkward greeting. So he needs to get going, quickly.
“How about chess? I’m sure I can beat you now. I’ve read multiple books on the topic of manipulation and I'm itching to use the information for a chess match—”
“No.”
“One round of rock-paper-scissors!”
He closes the front door with more force than intended, and so he finds himself with a doorknob in hand. Good grief.
Ψ
Kenritsu 31st Elementary school is as loud as always. Those months even more so. His classmates getting smarter by the year (allegedly) meant hearing them critique the newest pro hero on the scene, or coming to class to brag about new ways to use their quirk now that they’ve developed the left side of their brain.
Like how this kid named Takashi was doing right now by spinning his pen incredibly fast.
“So cool!” Some boy Kusuo never bothered to learn the name of says, leaning over Takashi’s desk. “Do it again!”
“How’d you do it?”
“It’s my quirk,” Takashi gloats. He shows off a blue inked pen to the others. “You can’t do it, but for your information, you’re supposed to hold the pen like this… and then you just—” The sound of something fast passing by, or in this case spinning, cuts through the air.
“Wow!” A girl gasps.
“You’re so cool!
“Yeah, only you can do that, Takashi!”
Apparently his quirk has something to do with air, controlling the breeze. Completely useless, and yet, he attracts all sorts of attention from their classmates.
I can do that too, Kusuo thinks. He can do even more tricks than this kid, he’s convinced he can. With his reflexes and agility, it would be a piece of cake.
But he’s not allowed to, because his mother had said, right before his first day of school: “Kuu. You mustn’t show anyone any of your other quirks, okay? If they ask you what your quirk is, tell them you only have telekinesis”, and he couldn’t disrespect her wishes like that. Even if he wanted to show off too… desperately…
He sighs, staring at the board with a thousand yard stare.
Quirks… They’re superhuman powers people can possess. Roughly 80% of the world-wide population has one. Usually, you manifest a quirk anytime before the age of four, sometimes even straight after birth. The number of quirks a person can have is, on average, one.
And that’s where Kusuo had to go and be special. His parents both have useless quirks, while Kusuke doesn’t have a quirk at all. But him having a powerful quirk isn’t the bad part, and the fact he doesn’t have one quirk—no—he doesn’t even have two, or three. He has so many he’s lost count of them, and every couple of months Kusuke makes him do a checkup, they find out he has even more. Most of them are useful, too.
For the sake of a normal life, he’s only registered as having telekinesis in official documents. A blessing in disguise, really. If his parents would have let him reveal his powers, everyone would be gathered around his desk now to watch him spin a pen too.
Living in solitude… he’s not sure it’s his thing…
He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a cacophony of thoughts approaching. Actual ramblings, full on paragraphs by the minute. His face falls as the person’s breath brushes against the shell of his ear, voice sounding oddly cheerful. “Good morning, Kusuo.”
On second thought, solitude doesn’t sound that bad.
Touma Asumi circles his desk, coming to stand in front of him. Once again, Kusuo is disgusted at how much this boy can talk whilst having a dead eyes look and a big smile.
Because Touma Asumi is the only one in his class who finds his quirk interesting, the boy keeps trying to talk to him, even if he only receives silence. Kusuo could simply tell him to leave and Touma would still talk his ears off before he actually takes off—that’s how bad the situation has gotten.
“Did you finish all your homework?” Asumi queries. “For me the art project took a lot of time. I didn’t even know what to make at first, so I spent the whole day thinking. It’s great we didn’t have anything else. Ah, but of course it makes sense we didn’t; we are still in elementary school. Though, I suppose that aspect is subjective. How much homework is too much homework? Would you say a math sheet with 20 exercises and an art project is a lot to do for the next day? Hey, what do you think?”
Hit me, meteor, hit me. I do not care for this paragraph at all. Apparently he has made his displeasure known enough through his facial expressions for Touma to notice.
“Hey! That’s a mean face to make when I’m right in front of you,” the boy says, sweating.
Then maybe go away. How long will it take for you to realize I'm not going to entertain a conversation?
“I guess you don't want to talk about homework. That's fine…By the way,” Asumi moves on, “what’s that trash you’re holding?”
Kusuo looks down at the robot he made for art class from a pocky box, two of Kusuke’s chess pieces and dice to make sure his precious robot was indeed the one referred to as “trash”. He glares at the boy.
You’re on strike two, Asumi. Strike one was talking to me in the first place, by the way.
Asumi gulps loudly at his ferocious aura. “Ah, you mean it’s your art project?” His voice gets higher with each word. “It’s really nice! Wow! I’m impressed! I’m, uh… sorry, for calling it trash.”
Kusuo sighs. Fine, I’ll erase the second strike because you apologized.
“I made something too! Wanna see?” Without waiting for an answer, Asumi reaches into his bag, searching for what Kusuo finds out from his thoughts is a cardboard house. Just as he takes it out, and Kusuo begins to see the beginning of the roof, the boy with the pen from earlier, Takashi, bumps into Asumi and makes him drop it. It could have been seen as an accident, however, Takashi then brutally steps on it, crushing it under the weight of his shoe and leaving no room to doubt his intentions. Asumi makes a shocked noise, between a gasp and a wheeze, while the bystanders turn to look at the commotion and giggle.
“Don’t bring garbage like that to school,” Takashi gags.
Then please take yourself out, Kusuo thinks while rolling his eyes. He watches Asumi crouch down and cradle the crushed model of the house. Kusuo's kind of proud of him for not crying.
“Don’t be so mean, cheap-pen-tricks,” Asumi says in a distressed tone. “I put a lot of work into this.”
Takashi splutters made-up words in anger. "Cheap?! Who—As if!—you wouldn't even—Ugh!" The boy goes silent. Kusuo watches curiously as he flicks his wrist. A powerful breeze pushes into Asumi that makes his house go flying out of his arms and under a desk, further away.
Asumi's eyes widen, barely. "You're so immature."
“Go get your ugly house,” Takashi spits. “I swear, all quirkless people do is fret over school all the time. ‘Cause it’s the only thing you have going on for you.”
Asumi hesitates to get up just yet. “So you admit you’re no good in school?”
This time, Asumi gets punched in the forearm and by the way he winces, it hurts quite a bit.
"Shut up, stupid! Or I'll hit you again,” Takashi says, seething, and then he’s off, leaving the classroom with two of his buddies. There's a moment of shocked silence, but it doesn't last long at all. Asumi gets up quietly and goes looking for his house, while the rest of the people in class return to their mundane tasks.
Kusuo feels himself frowning, with a sort of misplaced anger in his heart. Wait… frowning? Why would he be upset enough to frown? He doesn't care. He doesn't.
He scolds his expression. What he saw isn’t uncommon. People like Asumi—people who don’t possess a quirk at all—get treated this way at least once in their lifetime. In this world, it’s better to have a useless quirk than not have one at all. Asumi is just unlucky to be quirkless.
While it’s true… Kusuo could have easily saved him…
I'm no All Might. No way.
Right. It’s better to pretend not to see anything. He wouldn’t want to reveal his other quirks, or use his telekinesis at a higher capacity than the situation asks for.
Obviously, it’s not right, but he’s no hero type to step in and save the day unless it's for his own convenience. If Asumi is lucky, the situation will be a one-off and people will choose to ignore him, instead of pick on him.
Ψ
It’s not a one-off. The bullying incidents keep adding up.
Last week, Asumi’s shoes had been taken from his locker and thrown into the cafeteria garbage can. On Monday, Takashi and his group of dull-minded idiots wrote on the chalkboard all sorts of insults, varying from “Asumi’s a dummy!” to “chatterbox” to “null” for having no quirk.
Then the incident happened.
Ψ
Kusuo makes it out the school door, frowning as other kids pass by him like kites. Usually, his already sour mood would turn murderous because of the loud greetings and cheerful conversations the other kids would have with their parents—and then Asumi, the brat, would psychoanalyze him for it—but not today.
Today, he's walking alone.
He left Asumi behind, having teleported out of the classroom discreetly, if only to not hear the boy's chorus of pitiful thoughts. As of late, it's always "Are the bullies here too?" and "I really wish they would leave me alone". He has to admit, it's a new low even for Asumi. It’s become painful to even be in his presence with how loud, how bold, those thoughts have gotten.
Therefore, to maintain his peace and quiet, Kusuo started avoiding him.
He tells himself it doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t, not to him at least. Everyone has their own problems they need to take care of; he can’t be the one to get Asumi out of this trouble. Why should he? Because the strong protect the weak?
He kicks a rock, watching it hit a fence.
While it’s true his mother told him not to do bad things using his quirks, she never said to help others, either. Surely, if that's what she wanted, she would have told him so. Should've. It's her fault she wasn't more explicit.
He passes that same rock with his head hanging low.
In the end, he blames his mom for not being a better moral compass? It's a weak excuse. Maybe he's always frowning when Asumi's getting pushed around because he feels bad for the other boy. Maybe he's pitying him?
He makes a face at the thought. Disgusting. Who knows what he's feeling? Maybe he doesn't do feelings.
That’s when he picks up on Asumi’s current thoughts (“Ow! H-Hey! Stop it!”), followed by a scream.
Kusuo stops in his tracks, drawing in a shallow breath. What's going on? I just left him. He spins on his heels and lets his backpack crash to the ground. He doesn't think much of anything on his way back inside the school, too busy trying to listen in on more thoughts.
He's hurt, he determines. Why is he hurt? How bad is it?
He races up the stairs, jumping two at a time. Once on the correct floor, he throws the classroom door open, so fast, so violently, that it hits the wall. It's dead silent. His eyes fall on the familiar shape of Asumi, slumped unconscious against a desk as Takashi and two other kids scribble on him.
So it's you bastards.
Strands of Asumi's hair had been cut unevenly. His pale skin was covered with marker in different places, crawling from his forearms to face. Disheveled, beaten up. A trail of blood runs down his nose and drips on his T-shirt.
Kusuo's lips tug downward.
"Oh, Saiki," he thinks he hears Takashi say. The boy twirls a marker between his fingers, then lifts it towards him. "You want a turn too?"
Kusuo can't talk. His hand slips off the doorknob.
Takashi looks at him with a weird expression on that rat face of his. "What are you glaring at?" He scowls. Glaring? "We'll write on you too."
The threat is the thing that finally does it for him. Never before then has he felt rage like this.
He only remembers bits and pieces after that. Fragments. In one picture, he's crushing Takashi under telekinesis, in another he grabs papers and lights them on fire. He thinks he shatters the glass from the class windows when he throws one of the other boys through a wall with too much force.
It doesn't matter. By the time he regains control over himself, he's staring down at to-be corpses. Arms twisted, necks in odd positions from impact. Taking a look at the classroom, the weight of what he's done finally presses down on him.
They could be dead, he thinks. They might actually be dead. So much for not being All Might…
He decides right there and then to erase the memories of those three and then heal them, alongside Asumi. He teleports the infamous nanana crowbar in a glass shard's place.
(For more information regarding the nanana memory eraser, consult "The Disastrous Life of Saiki K." manga and/or anime.)
If I use it, it will erase a small part of their memories. I know it's different from telepathy, but do I really have it in me to rewrite what happened? He thinks of his mom and how disappointment would roll off her in waves if she ever found out what he's done.
There's no other way. Kusuo clenches the crowbar and takes a step forward.
Ψ
While he uses restoration, he holds Asumi's wrist (He's not gentle with the touch. He doesn't do gentle. He holds it like it's the paper of an old book, and that's it). Not for the first time, he ponders if he's some sort of god. Only gods wouldn't save those they cared about.
Ψ
Despite the fact no one knows about the incident, despite the fact no one will ever find out about it, he transfers schools.
It doesn't mean he confesses to anyone about what happened with Asumi, though. He tells his mom, one evening when they're having dinner, that he thinks he's too advanced for Kenritsu 31st. It's not a lie, either; he is too smart for the year he's in, school as a whole, even. It's an off-handed comment, but he talks so little that it goes straight to his mom's head, and so she immediately worries about his substandard education and starts looking elsewhere. Somewhere more pretentious.
The only one who figures out that his desire to change schools because he's too smart is a pretext is Kusuke, who, for all his coy smiles and curious eyes, only tries to push for an answer in private. Kusuo obviously doesn't tell him, but he thinks Kusuke might've at least figured out the skin and bones of the situation on his own, with how much of a genius he is.
A month later, Kusuo attends elementary school somewhere else. Time passes, faces change, and one day is the last day he thinks of Touma Asumi and the shards he left on that classroom floor.
To forget is to breathe again.
There isn't another incident, not like the one before, but Kusuo would admit he's become… paranoid, ever since Asumi. Some kids around him aren't stupid to fall for his excuses, and most adults don't turn a blind eye when they spot him alone, which is why as soon as those people grow suspicious of him in the school environment, thinking there might be more to him than he's letting on, he transfers schools without a second thought.
He can't let anyone get too close to figuring out this rotten, growing power inside of him. Because if he learned anything valuable at Kenritsu 31st Elementary school, it's that getting to live a normal life, either by being quirkless or having a lame, good-for-nothing quirk, is the best thing that could've happened to you.
The best he can do is pretend to have even an ounce of that ordinary life by hiding and hiding, and running away each time someone gets too close again.
("You've backed yourself into a corner, Kusuo," Kusuke answers after a moment of contemplation. He spins his work chair around to properly face his brother, but he doesn't bother to take his goggles off.
Kusuo narrows his eyes. 'I'm aware,' he says telepathically, but of course Kusuke doesn't hear him while wearing his canceller.
"I'm guessing you're aware! Well, your situation is a cardboard copy of a metaphor from one of my philosophy books," Kusuke muses. "They call it the hedgehog's dilemma. Have you heard of it?"
No, but you'll tell me anyway, Kusuo thinks.
"The closer hedgehogs get to one another when sharing warmth, the more they hurt each other," Kusuke explains. "You, Kusuo, are a little hedgehog who doesn't cuddle with anyone; you stay alone and bear the cold. Though if you're afraid you might hurt people, or you're afraid people might hurt you, I can't tell." He pauses. "Hehe. But you're not asking for advice on how to get out of this cycle, right? You just want to seek confirmation, that in your situation, it's the right thing to do. The distancing, I mean."
Kusuke suddenly leans forward, wearing a grim smile. "I'll bite and ask: is it the right thing to do?"
Kusuo glares. 'Obviously.')
So he does anything to avoid spilling his secrets; and if changing schools every year is the cost of experiencing a somewhat normal life? Then so be it.
Ψ
So let's do this one more time, he thinks. My name is Saiki Kusuo and my quirks can be narrowed down to psychic abilities. That's right, I am a PSI user, who…
He looks up at the imposing building in front of him with boredom.
… hates his quirks with a passion.
He'd like to say everything went wrong the moment he was born, but the statistics and logistics would show you that the start of his bad decision taking and ultimate downfall began the moment he enrolled for his third year into Aldera Middle School—a nice, if not ordinary-looking school in Musutafu, Shizuoka Prefecture.
Although it's his first day here, Kusuo already concluded that every single person in his class, probably even school, is, without exception, a weirdo. Sure, he met weird kids before, who had straight-up disgusting or shocking habits, or were missing a few screws, but those were few. In Aldera Middle School, everyone has their oddness meter turned up to 120%. (Huh, what does that say about him?)
The first thing he does after finding his classroom is secure the best spot in all of fiction: the window seat. From there, he watches classmates come in through the door, giving him long, assessing looks. Some of them even try striking conversation with him. Unfortunately for them, Kusuo only gives basic information while using the ultimate weapon in his arsenal: his dry tone. It never fails to put people off.
The second thing he does, that he'd prefer not to, is introduce himself once the teacher is in the classroom. He is called to the front and given a piece of chalk to write his name on the board with, which he does so calmly. Once he's written 'Saiki Kusuo' down, in somewhat elegant strokes, he looks back at the class.
'Hello.' He says telepathically. 'My name is Saiki Kusuo. I hope we'll get along.'
A chorus of "nice to meet you"s greets him back. Every single eye in this room is turned towards him, watching, unblinking. Like he's an experiment. It reminds Kusuo too much of the times he'd have the complete attention of… never mind.
"Alright, class!" The teacher takes hold of the conversation. "How about you all introduce yourselves to Saiki one by one and ask him a question too? Bakugo, since you're lazing, you can go first."
The boy the teacher refers to, Bakugo, sits a few rows ahead of his own seat and has—he swears on his limiters—the most spiky, sea urchin hair Kusuo's ever seen. Katsuki (name he founds out from the blond's thoughts) scowls at him with a sour expression.
"Tsk, this is a waste of time," he grumbles. "Name's Bakugo Katsuki. My quirk's explosion. Better learn that name, four eyes. It'll be the only thing you hear the upcoming years."
I'm guessing he's going to be this fanfic's endearing bully who gets a redemption arc along the way.
"Bakugo, please address your new classmate nicely," the teacher scolds. "Ask your question so we can move on."
Bakugo rolls his eyes so hard Kusuo wonders if he got to see into his empty head. "What's your quirk, bubblegum bitch?"
Wouldn't you like to know, explosion's boy? The other students lean forward in their seats, waiting with bated breath. "I wanted to ask that!", "I wonder if his glasses have anything to do with his quirk…," "Yes, Bakugo! Good question!". Kusuo kind of hopes he'll disappoint them so they'll never talk to him again.
'Telekinesis.' He says in the end, voice devoid of emotion. He watches closely for a reaction, but the class just… stares dumbfounded. That is to say, at first. It only takes a second for the room to erupt into gasps, exclamations. All their thoughts are a combination of "that's so cool" and "I wonder how strong that quirk is."
"Hahhhh?" Bakugo drawls on, louder than the rest. "So you can bend spoons? Big fuckin' deal."
That would've been preferred.
"C-can you lift stuff then?" It's a nervous, high-pitched voice. Kusuo looks after the source, at a boy with green, fluffy hair and freckles that look burnt on. He holds a notebook tightly in his hands. He seems comparably more mature and shy than Bakugo. "What's your weight limit? Would you be able to recreate flight by lifting yourself? Or—Oh! What's the range for your telekinesis?"
Kusuo actually pauses at that. He quickly realizes he genuinely doesn't know. Maybe he should test it the next time he teleports to Mt. Owari.
"Shut up, Deku!" Bakugo interrupts before he can give a proper response. "Going on and on about other people's quirks like a sore loser. Just shut up!"
A few kids snicker, peeping at "Deku", who's sinking into his chair. Kusuo stares and stares. Something comes over him. A feeling? A resemblance? A memory. He thinks Deku acts like someone he knows. He has a name on the tip of his tongue. It goes like—
Asumi. Asumi. Touma Asumi.
Just great. The past's haunting him again. If that day in elementary school was supposed to be the last time he saw Touma Asumi, why is it that he sees the ghost of him in the lonely eyes of this green-haired boy? This is bad. He can't let another incident happen; he has to mind his own business.
Once he answers (vaguely) everyone's (mostly everyone's) useless questions (he's convinced more than half the people forgot to introduce themselves too), he goes back to his seat. The teacher lets them do whatever they want for the first hour so it's not too "stressful" and then skedaddles away.
In the corner of his eye, he sees Deku's head perk up when he takes his place, like he wants to say something but he keeps quiet because Kusuo's so far away. One look in the front, and Kusuo spots Bakugo giving him a cold glare over the shoulder.
He lets out a sharp breath through his nose. Deku's pretty observant. It'll be a pain to hide his quirks with him around. And Bakugo's really loud. Even just a rumor that Kusuo's weird in some way could blow his cover.
I guess I'll just have to avoid and pay attention to you two specifically. Challenge accepted.
It goes like that the whole hour. He makes no effort to talk to anyone, doesn't answer unless spoken to, and disappears mid-chat when no one's looking.
Try as he might, not even Midoriya (yes, he found out his name's not actually "Deku", thank goodness) could try to rope him into a friendship with his puppy eyes staring at him from far away; although they do talk, if by talk you mean Kusuo listens when Midoriya gets his chance to interrogate him. Just not enough for others to think they're friends, not enough for people to pick on Kusuo too.
Midoriya's shy, but nice; Bakugo's mean, but confident. What's new?
At the end of the day, talking is a strategic interaction, one out of the subpar three he needs to have. He's your average, neighborhood antisocial, who doesn't stand out whatsoever and it's great.
Ψ
He's quickly realizing he might've made another sworn enemy besides telepathy. Luck. As his is so astronomically bad, he might end up competing with Midoriya.
Talking about Midoriya: the boy is currently fidgeting in front of his desk, wearing a tiny smile. As soon as it was break time and Bakugo had left the classroom, he approached Kusuo (but not before taking a few minutes to stare and psych himself up for this conversation). Now Kusuo can't ignore him.
"You don't have to reply if you don't want to!" Midoriya's quick to reassure him, though he's more nervous than Kusuo might ever be. "I just… have a lot of questions."
Better to get it done with. 'Ask away.'
Midoriya beams. "Thank you! Thank you very much!" He bows a couple of times too. "Is it okay if I write it down? I-I'm not going to put this on the internet or anything like that, I promise! It's for personal use!"
Kusuo looks past Midoriya, at the clock reading two more minutes before the start of another hour. He looks back at the boy. 'I believe you.'
"So, uh, Saiki—Wait, it's okay if I call you Saiki, right? I know some people like to be addressed by their first name instead… Ah, wait! Did I introduce myself?" Midoriya panics, closing his notebook on accident. "I forgot, s-sorry! I'm Midoriya Izuku! I hope we can be friends!" The last part is said with almost desperation, Kusuo registers. "Even if… I'm missing… a quirk…"
An unsuspecting change of topic that won't give Midoriya enough time to ask his questions? Lucky me.
'I don't care.'
"S-sorry?"
'That you're quirkless,' he clarifies. He's not lying just to get him to leave either. Shouldn't it be obvious he doesn't care about anyone here with the way he acts?
Midoriya stares at him like he misheard. Then his eyes go wide, wider than they were already. His whole face lights up so suddenly it makes him look awestruck. Kusuo follows the red thread of a thought going through his mind, "He doesn't care?", sounding both shocked and ecstatic, and realizes a moment too late he's an idiot.
This is... my fault. For basically telling the local bullied kid I won't bully him like everyone else. Kusuo pinches the bridge of his nose. For goodness' sake, I think my favorability meter just exploded.
"Really?" Midoriya asks, voice small and hopeful.
What hole did he dig himself in? He nods slowly, mind racing with thousands of possible hiding spots he could use to avoid Midoriya, who no doubt thinks he's just found himself a friend—when the bell rings. Saved by the school system. He leans back in his chair; Midoriya gasps.
"Already?" The boy mumbles to himself, before straightening. "Well, uh, thank you, Saiki! Maybe you can answer my questions later…" Fat chance. "I'll see you around?"
Sure, although seeing is all you'll be doing. He tilts his head. Midoriya waves, unaware he'll never get to write a page on Kusuo's quirk if he has a say in this.
Ψ
It's during a quiet morning, a few weeks later, that their homeroom teacher talks about high school applications while moving a stack of papers around animatedly. Now that he's settled in, those boring days feel like they've sped up.
"Since you're all third years," the teacher says from the spot at his desk, "It's time for you to think seriously about your future. I'll be passing out handouts for your future plans so I expect you all to look closely at them, okay? Really consider what domain you want to pursue."
Wow, they really take high schools seriously here, Kusuo thinks dryly. One look around and he realizes the teacher has captivated, somehow, every single student. Midoriya's cowering in his seat like usual, but his eyes are for once on the teacher, and not on the pages of his notebook. Even Bakugo looks like he's half paying attention. Guess they really care about their future education. Kusuo rests his chin on his palm, overlooking the papers.
"Think carefully, even if…." the teacher trails off, before breaking out into a smile. "You're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?"
His classmates celebrate loudly, collectively letting out a "yes!". Kusuo blinks. Considering mostly everyone here has a quirk, it makes total sense, yet, not even one person wants a normal, every-day job? It's kind of insulting.
"Yes, yes, you all have wonderful quirks!" The teacher praises. "But no using your quirks inside the school!"
The class quietens down significantly.
"Teach," the voice of public menace and nuisance #2, Bakugo Katsuki, calls out, breaking through numerous whispers. Here he goes, ready to start something. Slowly, Kusuo turns his gaze towards Bakugo, watching his relaxed position: head resting against the back of the chair and feet propped up on the desk.
"Don't lump us in into the same group," Bakugo spits. "I'm not gonna be stuck at the bottom with the rest of these rejects."
You’re aware this ‘bottom' group includes you too, right? The "stuck" implied it.
The class rises to the bait and escalates into an uproar. "That was uncalled for, Bakugo!" Some boy in the front with an elasticity quirk says, while the other people in the vicinity nod vigorously.
Bakugo immediately crushes his fists onto his desk, fuming. "You all should shut up like the extras you are!" In the seat next to him, Midoriya has a full-body spasm. More yells tear through the air.
"Quiet down, quiet down! I'm looking for something!" The teacher flips through the stack of papers he's holding, until he grasps a certain one. He holds it up, towards the blond. "Oh, yes, here it is. If I remember correctly, you want to go to U.A High, right, Bakugo?"
The classroom fills with screams once more, and Kusuo really begins to worry for his sanity if this noise complaint continues. Not only are their voices loud, but their thoughts are all going a mile a minute, as if this was a big reveal.
"U.A?" Some girl gasps. "That national school?"
Another boy leans over a classmate's desk to whisper. "My mom told me it was in the top 0.2% this year. Crazy, right?"
"Their acceptance rate's always really low, too!"
"That's exactly why you guys are just extras!" Bakugo lashes out. He springs up, like a puppeteered doll, and jumps to stand on his desk. "I aced the mock test, so I'm the only one at this school who could possibly get into U.A." He gestures wildly. "I'll definitely surpass All Might"—Are you sure about that?—"and I'll become the top hero! You'll see, you shitty extras! My name will be inscribed on the list of top earners."
"Oh, hey, Midoriya wanted to go to U.A too."
Silence again. The awkward type.
Huh, for all my psychic powers, not even I saw this one coming. The clock on the classroom wall ticks once, twice. Kusuo counts the seconds—three, four, five—until the room finally reacts by laughing.
"Huh? Midoriya? No way!" One of the voices overlapping rings out louder.
"He's gotta be pulling our leg…"
"You can't get in the hero course just by studying!"
Without realizing so, Kusuo furrows his eyebrows. I agree that Midoriya aiming for U.A. is dumb, but do you really have to egg on him like that?
The boy in question shoots up from his chair, with wild, restless eyes. He looks one second away from bolting out of the classroom in shame.
"Th-They got rid of that rule!" Midoriya tries to defend himself, voice clipped. "There's just no precedent…"
He's interrupted by the sound of a loud explosion setting off. The moment Bakugo's hand makes contact with Midoriya's desk, sparks and smoke go flying in the air, as does the boy.
"Hey Deku!" Bakugo shouts.
Kusuo stares in silence at the pitiful form of Midoriya on the floor, gaping like a fish, then at Bakugo, looming over him.
"You're below the rejects," the blond sneers. "You're quirkless. How can you even stand in the same ring as me?"
Midoriya is shaking. Badly. "No, wait, Kacchan! It's not like I'm trying to compete with you or anything. Believe me!" He scrambles to get away, except his back hits a wall. He genuinely looks… afraid.
Kusuo picks up a handful of his thoughts—"Don't get mad, Kacchan… it's not like that, Kacchan", "You're incredible all on your own", "I know all men are not created equal, but I still want…"—and looks away from the scene, back at the board.
Bullying is neither fun nor entertaining to witness. Someone should help Midoriya; potentially the teacher that's acting blind by looking through the handouts.
[Why don't you help?]
The idea, as soon as it appears, disgusts Kusuo. There's no reason for him to do anything. Matter of fact, this is the part where he minds his own business, fulfilling the role of a witness to a T.
"It's just that…" Midoriya's distant voice rings, "it's been my goal ever since I was little. And well, I won't know unless I try."
Kusuo doesn't see it, but he's pretty sure smoke curled up in the air from Bakugo's hands. He's bound to burst a blood vessel.
"Whaddaya mean unless you try?" Bakugo snaps. "Are you taking the test for fun? What the hell can you even do for the practical exam? You're quirkless!"
Laughter echoes again, this time heavier, loaded with mockery.
Kusuo listens to the exchange, listens to the teacher scold both of them, then the whole class for being too loud too early in the morning. He could have helped—and that's putting it lightly. But he didn't. Because I'm not a good person, he reminds himself. He refuses to help Asu—Midoriya, unless trouble befalls on him too. And that's final.
Ψ
It's a blur from there. Classes pass like they never took places and for once Kusuo's drowning in an ocean of his own silence. Contrary to popular belief, he does have days when he second-guesses himself. And today's painting itself to be one.
When the final bell of the day rings, all he wants to do is take a hot bath and eat one of the coffee jellies in his hidden stash.
He stuffs his school supplies into his backpack roughly to be done faster, yet it irks him. He can’t bring himself to leave at the thought of his books sitting inside disorganized, so Kusuo wastes his precious free time to organize his books again.
As he slides the books so all their edges line up perfectly, he hears Midoriya mumbling to himself, a few desks away.
"The incident this morning is all over the headlines," he says. It sounds like he's tapping on his phone. "I really wanna hurry up and go home so I can write it in my notebook…"
Mt. Lady's debut, huh? Another hero who shows up out of nowhere and captures people's hearts.
Midoriya suddenly goes quiet, so Kusuo takes a necessary glance at him, only to see him accompanied by Bakugo, who's holding a notebook too tidy to be his own out of Midoriya's reach. Two other loser classmates roam in the back.
"Hey," Bakugo says coldly. "We're not done talking yet, Deku."
You're bullying him? Again? You, Katsuki Bakugo, are a walking TV trope, Kusuo groans mentally.
One of his idiot friends studies the notebook in Katsuki's hold, while Midoriya tries to stammer something out.
"Bakugo, what's that?" The guy says, going to read the title on the cover. "'Hero analysis for the future'? That's hilarious!"
"Gosh, Midoriya…"
Let the poor fanboy exist in peace.
The two idiots share a laugh. Kusuo pointedly looks down at his books, stacking them up faster than before. He has to get out of here before they realize they're not alone.
"I-it's fine, isn't it?" He hears Midoriya say, voice wavering. "Give it back."
He doesn't know exactly what the heck happened during those three seconds he was arranging his books for, but by the time he looks back at the four, the book's engulfed in fire and fumes. Flames lick the edge of the notebook, the cover fully black. Overall, it's in a sorry state.
"That's mean!" Midoriya shrieks.
As if to add salt to injury, Katsuki simply smiles and throws the notebook out the window.
Midoriya freezes. "…what? Hey!"
Wait, "throws the notebook"—
Oh no, you don't. Kusuo's hand lifts before he even registers the movement. Telekinesis stops the notebook from free falling, lifting it and pushing it onto the window sill. Kusuo risks a glance at the group. Not one of the four idiots noticed.
He wants to sigh. This is the first and last time I help you out, Midoriya.
"Most top first-string heroes have stories about them from their school days," Bakugo goes on like a broken record, unbothered. "I want the shine of being able to be called the only student to make it into U.A from this mediocre city junior high school. I mean, I'm a perfectionist."
You sound like you're part of the Dark Reunion.
"So, anyway…" The Dark Reunion worker says, gripping Midoriya by the shoulder, probably burning him. "Don't apply to U.A., nerd."
With one last threat, Bakugo&Co walk away, looking too smug for their own good.
"Come on, you could at least say something back," one of the idiots taunts Midoriya.
"Ehh, don't say that. He still can't face reality."
Kusuo's beginning to realize 1) he really hates teenagers, and 2) everyone here must have a -20.00 diopter prescription. There is no way no one noticed him by now.
And then Bakugo speaks up again.
"If you wanna be a hero that badly, there's a quick way to do it." He looks back over his shoulder, at Midoriya. "Believe that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life… and take a last chance dive off the roof."
Kusuo freezes, somehow without warranting attention. The sudden rage nags at him, blinding. I haven't been this angry in years, he realizes. Odd. Someone might have to die—
("Kusuo," the image of his mother says. "Promise me and your dad you won't use your powers for evil.")
Kusuo internally bangs his head against the desk. Calm down. Calm yourself. He convinces himself to take a few deep breaths and see if the situation escalates further. Midoriya's frightened, disgusted, certainly devastated, all of the ones listed and more; yet he, like Kusuo, doesn't do anything. He merely clenches his fists and stares Bakugo down.
For a second, he has Kusuo thinking he'll say something…
"What?" Bakugo snarls.
Midoriya starts trembling all over again, eyes falling to the floor.
…but alas. If Kusuo's no hero, Midoriya's no stand-up. Bakugo leaves the classroom victorious, with the two idiots trailing after him like lost ducklings. The outcome of the match is as follows: Bakugo 1—Midoriya 0. Though Kusuo might as well give another point to Bakugo for what happened earlier today.
Now that the nuisances are gone, Kusuo clears his throat. (Telepathically. You don't expect him to actually talk, do you?)
Midoriya jumps a feet up in the air, spinning around with big, doe eyes at the sound. He'd make for an interesting deer. "I-I–Oh! Saiki! Did you… uh… Did you hear… any of that?" Seemingly realizing how dumb of a question it is, Midoriya chuckles sadly. "I mean, of course you did. You probably heard all of it."
Of course. Kusuo inclines his head in agreement.
Midoriya takes a shaky breath, looking down at his hands like they've wronged him. "I wish he wouldn't say things like that. He's such an idiot! If I really jumped, that would mean he instigated a… a suicide! He only says those things because he isn't thinking, but I still… it still hurts."
You have to stop thinking so highly of him. He means every word. I'd know, I hear his thoughts every day like some sort of make-believe prison sentence.
"He's not wrong either. It's no surprise no one takes me seriously. A quirkless person wanting to enroll into U.A? Yeah, good luck." Midoriya shrinks into himself. "Ah, I know I'm rambling. I-I'm sorry. I should find my notebook—or, what remains of my notebook, ha ha."
Kusuo blows a breath. Points a finger behind, towards the window.
Midoriya's face lights up like a Christmas tree. "How?" He whispers, before he basically throws himself at the window sill, grabbing the notebook and flipping it over again and again. "Whoa! How'd you do this?! Wait, that must've been your Quirk! You used telekinesis!" He faces Kusuo again. "Ah, thank you so much, Saiki!"
'You're welcome,' he says telepathically, and shows a thumbs up for good measure.
"Seriously," Midoriya continues, "I thought it'd get soaked with that pond right below. The fish would've been nibbling on it." He chuckles. "I'm so glad… Hey, do you want to… hang out… "
Kusuo closes the classroom door after himself. Even through the door, he can hear the other boy's "A-Ah… he left."
Don't take this personally, Midoriya, he thinks. I have a premium coffee jelly waiting for me to devour it. See you tomorrow.